I am the product of a time of great cultural upheaval in the U.S. In many ways, my personality was impacted by American culture in disproportionate levels than most native born U.S. citizens because my course in life was forged by these following things.
I am the first generation of my family to be born and raised in the U.S
I was born in a time of social upheaval. In 1971, second wave feminists had already convinced young females that the way to success was achievement in education and the labor force. The Civil Rights Act of 1968 was being implemented into legislation, and the 1965 Immigration Reform Act was increasing the Asian population exponentially (which still meant that I was generally one of the 2 Asian American kids in any endeavor that I participated in. Usually, the other kid was my little brother). To add another variable into this mix, the U.S.’s cultural response to the Vietnam war added another layer of instability to my childhood.
I was raised as the daughter of two conservative Christian traditional Taiwanese parents in a middle class, functional home. I grew into a woman whose belief system diametrically opposes my parents’ belief systems. In order to deal with the difficulties of being a child stuck in the nexus of culture and socialization, I learned how to explain and justify every emotion and action in multiple languages as well as in terms of the way I managed my own body.
As a good Taiwanese woman, I had internalized the idea that my worth was tied into the 3 obediences for Chinese women – to their father, to their husband, and to their son. My little brother was also male, so I tied my worth into his wellness.
As a good Christian, I had internalized the idea that I was unworthy of God’s love, and that next to God, the ultimate authority was my mother and father.
It was with this baggage and responsibility that I entered into my tumultuous teenage years. At that point, I was a highly sensitive introvert who was taught that any emotions that I felt, any response to external stimuli was a weakness. I was taught that I was a weak American spoiled crybaby. This message has stayed with me for my entire life. My central nervous system was wired during my teenage years to stop acknowledging the emotions evoked by external stimulus. Why is this relevant? Because if I had allowed myself to trust in my adult self, I would have probably been a much calmer person. Instead, I started slowly shutting down my body, including the biological instincts to emotion, over the course of 45 years. Rather than being weak, I had trained my body ignore itself while I rationalized every action I made.
Raised in a culture that acknowledges that health encompasses intellectual, emotional, and physical wellness when I was taught that health was only related to physical wellness had the following impact: At age 45, I had to review every formative experience in my life to see how my life would’ve developed had I been emotionally healthy. And, as a result, I had to reteach my body how to interpret external stimuli in a way that was healthy intellectually, emotionally, and physically.
I had slowly shut down any pleasure receptors to any physical stimulus: touch first, because in my parents’ culture, physical and verbal affection were nonexistent, then smell, then sound, and ultimately, taste. Sight was the last to go because, even though I have been almost legally blind for most of my life, reading and writing had become my lifeline.(
Before my PTSD break on Aug 12th, I was a highly disciplined overachiever who subconsciously believed that I wasn’t worthy of any of my accomplishments. I had chronic stress related illnesses for the last 27 years and had become so traumatized that I blamed myself for being overly sensitive and weak.
I am writing this because I was wrong. My entire life, I have been keeping a secret and protected myself from it in the only way I knew how. The secret was that if anyone knew who I really was, they would realize that I was unworthy of any love, respect, affection, and honor. This secret is a lie.
The truth is this: I am finally putting myself first for the first time in my adult life. It has taken me 3 weeks to get to the point where I am able to write this without anxiety – physical, intellectual, or emotional.
I’m going to be just fine.
(No wonder I am frustrated. It just took me an hour to write 3 pages!!! An hour!!! WTF???)
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