Category Archives: Life

Dear Me, Part One

I have been reading a lot of Dear Teen Me stories. It got me to think, what would I write to myself? Did I want to recall such memories like those of whom I read? Memories filled with regrets, hate, decisions to make us who we are today. Do I want to think of my bad memories as the memories that helped make me a better person?

Was being disregarded by my uncle, when all I wanted to do was follow along in the walk and he told me to go back home, a memory I want to use. When my neighbor kid would come over and say that our dog liked him better, and we had to force the dog back home. Following girls into the boy’s bathroom because I thought it was cool, but we got caught by a teacher and was told on. Being lifted upside down by a boy who I considered a friend, were these memories to be used? Did I want to remember how I had gotten a reward for something and my name was listed with others in the lunch room. How my sister was trying to show me, but the girls sitting across from us thought my sister was pointing her fingers at them. A few minutes later, my sister would run to the girl’s bathroom in tears. Is this how I want to remember things?

I just realized… These are all my memories of California… I was just a kid, younger than eight, and I was going through all that. I wonder what it would have been like if my parents decided to stay.

Is it better that we moved?

Do these memories mold me in anyway? Did I learn from them? Did I become a better person?

I learnt that family, although I cannot live without them, is better to be missed than hated.

I learnt that our family is just not cut out to take care of animals, except for goldfishes.

I learnt that true friends will stick by you, even after all the hard times you go through together.

I learnt that I lived in a racist world, were people I loved get hurt, yet we had to deal with it.

Remembering all these memories, I am kind of glad to get away from that harsh environment. Sure there were some bad times here in Wisconsin too, but it did get better. I can’t even imagine the person I would be if I still stuck around those people. Even if I did have a childhood friend there, would they be willing to deal with a girl like me? Would a girl like me being okay dealing with people like them?

There are many more moments in California, too much to write out now. Some I would not like to remember.

Friendship

I seriously don’t think I deserve friends. I am horrible at making them and even more horrible at keeping them. I am such the awkward turtle that no one even wants to come near me or even bother to talk to me. Surely people cringe at the thought of bringing me into a conversation.

I’m not sure if I was always this way or life messed me up that bad. Back in elementary I remember having friends, and was still shy, but I had friends who I talked to. When I moved, I was shy. But the new girl at school is always shy, right?

There must be something wrong with me. Trying to keep a friendship alive is hard for me. I think since I lost all my childhood friends in the move, I continued to believe that if I moved than that friendship comes to an end too.

I had a friend in the first elementary I went to in Wisconsin. It didn’t last long though, since my family moved house and I was being transferred to another school. We would write letters to each other, but that soon stopped.

Another friend I made during middle school was lost during the transition to high school. I’m not sure if our group of friends were just going in different directions or what, but we moved on from each other. The summer before school started, I was getting more into my culture and my own race. It made me change.

So am I the reason for such a shitty relationship with people. I know I am. While the others tried, I pulled away. There is something wrong with me.

Sad reality is that I am a horrible person. While I don’t trust others, it should be the other way around, others should not trust me. I suck at being a decent human being.

 

Finding Chemistry in Chemistry Class

I have a story to tell. It was the first time I ever regretted rejecting someone. The first time I realized that I really did like the boy who asked me out. The first time I found out the true meaning of you never realize what you have till it is gone.

It was my junior year in high school and I had taken Chemistry. In that class, we had assigned seats, and it changed every so and then. I kept on having the same person to sit by. Some random boy who was loud and annoying.

Finally, it was the third time we switched seats, and I finally got someone new. This boy who was in my class. I never really paid him much attention. He was just like every other boy. Well that was the case till we started talking and I started to notice him more often.

We talked, we flirted. He wanted more. He wanted to go out on a date. So he asked me out one day. That was before he told me that he loved me in my own language.

Maybe if I wasn’t contemplating his motives. Maybe if I didn’t go through all those teasing in the past. Maybe I would have taken him more serious and maybe I would of never regretted saying no.

He had actually taken the time and asked someone how to say “I love you” in a different language. At first I wondered what he was saying, the accent was off, but when I figured it out. I didn’t know how to respond.

He asked me out to McDonalds. He let me choose anything from the dollar menu. But I still said no. It was not the best of time. My eldest sister was having troubles with going out with her boyfriend who was a different race. My parents gave her a hard time. I had to see everything and I did not want to go through the same things.

I gave him that story. But did I regret it soon after. I regretted every single day after.

He soon left the class. I was left wondering what to do with myself.

It was probably half a year to a full year later that I saw him again. My friends and I decided to go ice skating. To my surprise, he was there too. We didn’t talk to each other though. But I could tell that he was not over the situation. I wasn’t either, but I guess I hid it better.

While I played around with my friends, he skated at full speed and even fell. I wondered if he still had some grudge against what had happened between us.

Today I regretted my actions the most. I have worked my job for 4 years, and never had I seen the boy who haunted my dreams. I wondered how it would be if he walked into shop one day. I would have never guessed the day to be today.

I walked into work, thinking it was gonna be like any other day. But it wasn’t. He was there. Shopping with his friends.

I had a chat with my best friend about this. She told me that I should of at least talked to him. And truthfully, I should have. By the time I had clocked in for the day and got back on the floor, he was checking out and gone already.

I am never going to get the chance again. I will probably never see him again for a long time. I am going to continue living my life full of regrets..

Dear CB, My Biggest Regret In Life

Dear CB,

We haven’t seen each other in a long time. When we finally did bump in to each other, I was in shock, I was unstable. I was scared and was shaking in fear.

Life for me at the moment is going good. So when you popped back up, it made me remember. I do have regrets in life. Life was teasing me, shaking something in front of my face, telling me that I had missed opportunities.

You are the biggest regret in my life. I regretted not ever knowing what your favorite color is. Who your role models are, what your dreams and goals are in life. I regret not knowing who your favorite actress and singer is so that I could get jealous over it.

Back in my school years, I did not have the best of knowledge about boys. I thought I did, but I didn’t. In my younger days, I was traumatized from experiences I had with boys. I was teased by boys since elementary. Ever since then, I never knew if boys were teasing me or trying to give me hints.

I believe that you changed everything for me. It was from you that I opened up my eyes and realized that people might actually like me. The first boy to learn how to say ‘I love you’ in my native language. The first boy to offer me anything from the dollar menu from McDonalds. The first boy to flirt with me.

But I was so stupid. My choices made without thought. I was so caught up in the actions around me. Believing that I may end up like everyone else. So I gave you a bullshit answer on why we couldn’t go out. It was the biggest regret of my life.

I know better now. Even though I am scared to get hurt, the hurt would be worth it for all the beautiful memories. In the end, I should never compare my life to others. I am my own person, who can do things to change an outcome if I wish. I wish I could have the courage to find you and tell you this, but I may just be another girl to you now…

There is nothing else but wishes of happiness for you. I hope you find the one who will give you everything you could ever expect. I hope you have the best of your life, because after everything I put you through, you deserve it.

Sincerely, LY

 

Depression Hurts.. Something I Wrote Back in March 2013

03.03.13

I didn’t think I was still depressed, but it seems like it is still here. This has been following me around for a year and a half now. It has been a year now that I have gotten a bit better but now, all of sudden, I am in the schedule I was before. Wake up, stay in bed, get ready in bed, try to eat something in bed, take a shower, go to work, come back, stay in my room, on the computer in bed, sleep (or try to at least), wake up and go back to work. I either stay hidden from the world or am at work. I talk to no one but to the people who I have to at work. I even stay hidden from my family.

At first it was because I didn’t want my family to know, and I was ashamed. But this time around, they are starting to become the reason for my depression.

Every time I see someone it is always, “Lucy, do this.” “Lucy, do that.” “Lucy, give me that.” “Lucy, I want this.” “Lucy, why are you not good enough!”

There is always a demand, a want, a need. So I give it all, and I try my best at it too, because I hate not giving it my all. I receive nothing or little in return, which is fine with me. I love quotes and one of them is “to give more than you receive”.

Yet there is a time when you get sick of it, and I am sick of it. For the last two years, I have lost all my time, and not only time, but also money. I have nothing to show for the last two years of work. Only have I started to save this year and still there is not much.

I was supposed to take time away to be a good sister, and to find myself. But being a good sister took all the time, and I’m not even sure I did a good job of that. At first I thought I was doing great. Then it became too much about money, and buying all their needs and wants. I started to become their mother. Driving them where they wanted and needed to be. Taking in all the whines and giving in to what they wanted.

When all I want is to live a normal life, they are expecting so much out of me. Why is it so bad to just live a normal life? Does having a diploma from college have to be considered normal?

I’ve even distanced myself from my extended family. As much as they are all great, sometimes they get on my nerves so bad. Sadly they are the reason to me going into depression. Right now, I am not in contact with any of them, and I am actually okay with it.

They also had expectations out of me. All my older sisters are married, and my older brother has a severe case of ADHD, so I was left the oldest. My dad being the oldest too, I had a lot of responsibilities that I was not ready for at the young age of 18/19. Yet I took them all. I had to grow up fast and my rebellion age was taken away from me. I grew up and at times I practically ran the house when my mom was not in her right state of mind.

With this depression running around, it didn’t help that I was single for so long too. I started to see myself as never going to find that special someone. I’ve had “boyfriends” but I was young and still experimenting on what I expected in a boyfriend. Those two “boyfriends” ended in a month or a little over a month. Looks never was a big factor to me. But their personality and life style threw me off.

I sit here in my room, staring at Korean boys, waiting for a boy to come to me and sweep me off my feet. I realize that it doesn’t do me any good and that I should be out there, but I still don’t much about it.

Why? Because I saw how my parents reacted with my other sisters boyfriends. And as much as I want to believe that if a boy loved me enough, he would put up with it and stay, I actually don’t want to put someone I love through that, unless I was serious about him or trying to scare him off.

So I’m waiting until I move out, but I have to wonder if that is going to make a big difference at all. I have these day dreams where I am living away from home and I go out and out of nowhere I have a boyfriend, but will it be that easy?

The topic of moving out comes out. I have been trying to do so since I graduated high school, but it hasn’t happened yet. Because I have no money, it has been donated to the needy sisters/family. I am trying and hoping to move out this year, but it keeps being delayed month by month. I want to wait for the snow to end, but it is March already and there is supposed to be a snow storm tonight! Then in April my parents are going out of the country for the whole month. So now I have to wait for May.

I guess it doesn’t help when I fall in love with all the wrong people. Sorry for the random tangent…

Growing up, I see things around me and I learn from it and remember them for a long time. I saw such independent ladies when they were single. Yet when they got with a guy, their level of insecurity shot down and they changed.

I’ve been independent for all my life. So when people actually start caring… I am confused as what to do. How do I explain myself for them to understand? When I don’t even understand myself?

My past makes me, but my future molds me. I am me because of my past. I distance myself in fear of what people will think. I walk through a crowd of people with a cold stone face because I don’t care what they think.

Who am I? What makes me, ME!? When I was younger, all the older ladies would praise my looks. I have nothing to prove though, being single for all my life. Should a man prove my beauty though? Can’t I be beautiful and independent?

I am never happy? Or where did my happiness go? Or maybe it is because that happiness was never there in the first place. Is it wrong that I am tired of being happy? Tired of pleasing people with an image of what people want to see.

Don’t miss judge though, because I am not depressed, sad, mad, or even angry. In fact I don’t know what I am feeling right now. I am socially awkward. Even I admit it. But do I have to go and explain myself to everyone? Do I have to shout to the world that the words are there, but they are a jumbled mess, because I have three to four different things going on in my mind at once?

My College Essay a.k.a Realizing My Dreams

The truth is that I want to be a writer. I have great PASSION for it. But for the longest time I was in great denial about it.

In high school there was a big career decision that everyone had to make and my parents set the goal high. So it put me in confusion. I put myself in general studies for the longest of time with no idea on where to go in life. At the current moment I am just stuck in my studies aka not going to school at the moment.

But at the beginning of this year, I thought about myself a lot. Who I am and what I loved, I even thought about my past, my present and future. The outcome of it was that I wanted to write, or should I say continue writing.

During high school, I spent a lot of time writing. Journals and plots for stories were half of what I wrote throughout the whole day. Right after high school though, I was in a slump. I could not even pick up a pencil or look at a piece of paper. I thought I was suffering from writer’s block. Though I did look up writer’s block and found out that what I was going through wasn’t writer’s block. It was the great denial of wanting to write as a career, and having to do better than a writer.

The pressure of doing better was always there. But in the back of my mind, there was writing. All my stories that I wanted to come to life. A world was building in my mind and it was screaming to come alive.

I had asked myself constantly about what I wanted to do. There were days when it was all I thought about, it got to the point where I was even dreaming about it.

The one dream that will always stick with me, as if I had it last night, happened on a pathway. On each side of this pathway were doors. There was this famous Asian singer there, and he was acting as a dream guide. I meet up with him and he questioned my career path. He took me into this pathway and opened up a door. I was in shock to be honest, because there on the floor was a pile of books.

For the longest time when I thought about goals, I kept thinking about publishing a book. That is what I dream of. Publishing a book of mine is my dream goal. No other idea’s pop into my mind when I think of goals. Every time it is to publish a book.

Why? It is not only that I love to write. I love to read. When I was introduced to books, I was an ecstatic elementary child. I could not wait to line up to go to the library to choose a new book to read. The fact that I could borrow books to read amazed me.

I read every chance I could. I remember the pride I had when my family went to the public library and I could point out all the books I had read so far.

There are memories of wanting to keep reading to find out the progression of a character and the story plot, and it kept me up throughout the night until I could not open my eyes anymore. The excitement when the hero wins, or the sadness that engulfed me when a character passed away, there was also the hatred of evil characters. The climax of story that made me squealing or screaming, sitting at the edge of my chair, too scared to keep reading, and the curiosity that kept me reading. I loved it all.

I loved it so much and it made me that much happier. Every time I finished a book, I would sit there and hug the book, and just take a moment of silence. Thinking of all the great times I had with the book. I felt fulfilled.

That was what I wanted to do. Give that great feeling to some child/teenager who loves reading as much as I do. I wanted to give a fantasy to a reader who wanted to go on adventures, the reader who relied on books to get through the day. I wanted to give a way of escape to readers who needed it.

Writing is what I want to do. I have great passion for it. I have to go through steep mountains and deep rivers for it to happen, but I will climb and learn how to swim if I have to.

Finally, I want to go back to school, for a creative writing degree. I am done with fulfilling others dreams. I want to run and catch mine.

Just a beginning…

Little girls born and raised in America get to hear tales of Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Snow White. They are given the hope that one day they will also meet a prince so charming he will save the day. Only if that were true, being born Hmong and raised in America, there were different stories. Most of them were romantic, but of course there always was a twist. If not tigers were involved, then some sort of magic. It might not even be the type of magic you think it is.
For me, I had to read about Cinderella and Snow White, to know of them. If my sisters and I wanted to hear stories, my mother would tell us about how a Hmong girl went to her white friends’ house. Instead of them playing, the Caucasian family would cut the Hmong girl up and feed her parts to their dog. My mother was always trying to scare us into not going over to friend’s house. They wanted us to be friends with only Hmong’s. When my mother wasn’t trying to scare us, she was busy trying to get us ready to be perfect brides. At the age of 7 she had me doing the dishes, because they believed that practice makes perfect.