A lot of people don’t understand the extent of this, or don’t know this, or can’t seem to fathom it, and it’s not a thing to bring up ever, nor is it ever easy to articulate, but I have to write this down somewhere or I’ll probably explode or collapse or both
It’s a lot of intergenerational, immigration, cultural, housewife depression stuff all mustered into an emotional mess
Reading this paper makes me feel like I can rationalize this stuff better, but if I dwell on my parents too long I end up crying
This affects me and my family a crazy lot, subconsciously and consciously.
It’s why I don’t want to even try to see friends/people sometimes, or go out, or talk, or do anything! I just want to be alone so much of the time! I either just want some quiet or constant noise/instant gratification to block out the anxiety.
My dad smashed and broke the cupholder in the car today because they got into another crazy intense argument. My mom either went on another religious tirade or soapbox about how she thinks the neighbors are spying on us/oppressing her/teasing her/coming into our backyard and messing with stuff (when clearly, it’s nothing. a folded corner of the towel, a slightly moved plant. probably the wind. probably a cat. should we put in a security camera for proof? who knows.).
And when we say it’s nothing, that the neighbors aren’t doing anything to hurt us, she retaliates full force, and argues how we only care about others but never her. She never trusts anyone. She criticizes everybody. She is her own martyr.
I want to help and understand her. I know she feels trapped, powerless, useless. A lonely housewife who took care of 3 children all by herself when she immigrated to America while my dad was away at work-of course that’d be a formula for utter disaster. She left a life in Hong Kong where she had a job, friends, and relatives. In America, she was alone. In such a trial, you either grow stronger or succumb.
Religion gives her authority, control, spiritual transcendence and superiority. So of course she forces us to listen to her religious lectures. Monitors whether we’re reading the bible or not. Disciplines us with yelling when refuse to listen. Yells when you come home too late. Or spend $1 more on sesame oil. Turns it into an entirely different issue once she starts the vocal engine.
One time when she and my dad got into an argument she forced my sisters into the car and started driving recklessly (!!!!) around for half an hour, my sisters scared to death. My dad texted me while I was out at the time to come home immediately, as he had no idea where she went with my little + older sister. Do you know how irresponsible and dangerous that is? I’m so terrified of the blind, mental rage that makes my mom into that kind of person.
I think of the time she was screaming in the backyard at nobody, screaming and crying to sky for “them” to leave her alone (them being imaginary neighbors). To stop messing with her. And my dad grabbing hold of her to calm her down. I think of the time we spent the afternoon duct-taping cracks in the walls to keep "eyes” away. There are so many instances, so many insane outbursts.
Whenever I see spectacle videos of crazy religious people yelling at their family or whoever, I mean, I’m supposed to laugh at how ridiculous these people are right? But I end up feeling like crying because it reminds me of my mom.
I hate looking at my mom like some dehumanized case of psychology, but when her eyes are glazed over and inflamed and she’s screaming screaming screaming and SO involved with her own mental narrative, I can’t help but look at her with a distant, morbid fascination and horror. Her mental issues are one case, her fervent, relentless belief in God is another.
It’s not like there’s a proper diagnosis. Schizophrenia, paranoia probably? I’ve suggested sending her to a psychiatrist but my dad doesn’t believe in it. How can we get her proper treatment? Mental illness, therapy, psychoticism is taboo in Chinese traditional culture. It’s a blemish on reputation. Something no one ever really wants to acknowledge. Just chew and swallow your food and hope it doesn’t happen again.
But of course it does, because the problem is never fixed, just evaded, temporarily. And then you teeter across the minefield once more.
I don’t know what to do, so I’ll just graduate, find work, and move out. I can’t do anymore.
I’m grateful for my parents’ sacrifices. I’m sorry how it turned out. I hope our hearts find some peace.
