This fluff is feeling a bit low

I haven’t been on here in a few weeks. There’s just a lot on my plate and like everyone else, we all need to fluff our “feathers” to get back to tackling all the shit we were tackling before. The one thing for sure…you just can’t run from it… it’s going to still be there. Take as many breaks as you need, but face it to knock it out.

Mental Health:

It’s such an important part of our being. But it sucks when my culture in particular doesn’t recognize it. I’m labeled different “possible reasons” for my reaction when really it’s my mental health tearing down. Maybe you’ve heard a few and you may or may not be from my culture. I’m of East and Southeast Asian descent. My mom is Taiwanese and my dad is Burmese Chinese. Here’s the thing, neither of them really acknowledges what mental health is. Trust me for years I was living with my dad and the conversations would just fly over his head. It’s not just him, all of his siblings don’t acknowledge that as well, and it’s disheartening. I would say the same towards my mom’s family but there’s a huge language barrier on that end so that’s a bit of a grey area.

***First off, before I continue I just want to stress that this is the shit that I grew up with. I’m not speaking for anyone but only my experiences.

What does Independence looks like in my childhood…

I don’t have the strongest relationship with my mom. That’s another few posts that I will decide whether to break that down and whatnot. My dad and I have a tight relationship but we also don’t have any of the same beliefs. My mom taught me about independence but in a non-conventional way. Her way of life is career-oriented and family last. My dad’s way of independence is family first and career, meh, in the middle. But my dad’s family that he put first was his parents and his siblings. My mother and I were always in the mix of family time with my dad but we kind of got the burnt end of him because he worked late nights. For example, in elementary school, it was a bit different. My dad worked three to four jobs when I was younger and my grandparents would pick me up from school and I would wait for my mom or dad to pick me up. In middle and high school he would pick me up from school or practice, make sure there was food on the table cooked and ready to eat, and head off to bed. My mom would come later in the evening and I learned to enjoy my own company within that 3-4 hour window. I’m not complaining about my childhood. I actually loved that I got to enjoy my personal time and cherish it. I read so many books, played online games, dug deep into the inter-webs, learned to cook snacks, and just find out things that I liked to do.

Where shit started…

When it came to school it was pretty strict. The rule was more of if you failed, you’re a disgrace. and I failed quite a bit in private school from 4th to 8th grade. I hated it. Yea St. Brigid…I’m calling you out. I was bullied for bringing a homemade lunch from home, being the big girl, the newcomer that came in and interrupted their flow in the 4th grade, and for I guess being different. There were times when my punk-ass classmates would push my lunch box on the floor and say my dad’s fried rice with sweet Chinese sausages and veggies stank. Dumplings were bad option, anything delicious from my culture was rudely rejected…I’ll tell you this…rice may be great, but it’s a bitch to pick up from cold red brick tiles let alone eat off the floor while assholes laugh at me cleaning it up. I always wanted the American lunches of a sandwich or Lunchables. But basically, I would cleaned it up and just sit there, hungry throughout the day, and waited till after volleyball practice to get picked up and eat whatever snacks my dad got in his car. I never told my parents about the bullying I dealt with. They just got so many problems to deal with already like paying a high tuition fee and the bs from their jobs. Why bother burdening them with it. I did tell my cousin about it and he told me if anyone tried to pull that, to punch them in the face. Every time we had a family party he would secretly show me how to punch hard. I didn’t back then and I still don’t have the intention to physically harm anyone or thing. Just can’t

4th fucking grade:

I absolutely hated my experience attending St. Brigid School in the city. Fucking hated it. But as a kid, I did everything to make my parents happy and that meant no complaints, don’t get in trouble, shut up and listen or get your ass beat. My parents weren’t abusive, they just believed in discipline especially since they were both immigrants and were raised like that. Here’s why I hated St. Brigid. The kids were all shitty non-cultured rich kids who were catholic and made sure you knew you were different. Here’s the kicker, my class was diverse. If you’re wondering; if it’s a diverse group of kids how can they not have culture…trust me. There were never any talks about one’s culture or ethnicity. It was just gossip, cheating on homework, and Catholicism. The amount of pressure from the nuns, priests, and monsignors to convert to Catholicism was ridiculous. I found that I was out of 3 students who were Buddhist and that was a fucking crime. We read the bible every day and as a Buddhist at a young age…Jesus wasn’t my god, Buddha is. I read the bible for the stories because who doesn’t like a good story. But the misinterpretation of the stories was also ridiculous. I did really like my 4th grade teacher Sister Gloria. She was so nice. She wasn’t the one that misinterpreted the bible but there were other nuns out there that did and I legit think this is one of the avenues where hate is taught based on the ignorance of how the teacher is raised and how they teach their beliefs to kids.

I remember this one kid who was so pissed off with whoever that he carved his arm by stabbing himself with a pen. He would take apart the pen with his teeth, use the metal portion of the ink and file it down to get it all pointy. Once it was sharp enough, he would cut into his arm and sit there watching his blood ooze out. Looking back on that, that’s some Mark Wahlberg action from the movie Fear. I made a couple of friends but it didn’t last past graduation. I was friends with people who also picked on me. There was a big girl who would legit kick me every day…she had her sidekicks and all of them were on the same team with me in volleyball. Her name was Vicky A. and mannnn I feared her and also hated her…but wanted to be friends because she treated her friends well. Here’s the thing, when you’re with the same group of kids for four school years…you tend to have love-hate relationships especially as kids when we still can’t fully use our voice to mouth off or fully express ourselves.

5th-6th grade

This was kind of the start of coming in to terms of fully acclimating to my classmates. My 5th grade teacher Ms. Doyle, wore super strong perfume used to admit to eating dog biscuits and liking them. She was a great teacher and I remember she didn’t have any favorites, she saw you for who you are. It didn’t matter if you were the prince of peaches…if you’re in the wrong, she would cut you with her words and professionally make you sit back down to think about what you just did.

6th grade was Sister Clara. Man she was nun that had the meanest scowl. Didn’t laugh or have emotions, she was very stoic and standoffish. Honestly 6th grade it was all a blur. I do remember having to go to the doctor in the middle of the day for a volleyball injury and Sister Clara said before I can finish that I needed to lose weight. Looking back on it, I did take that to offense and honestly used to it. But is my body, my ish I have to deal with. I get it, the older generation’s way of helping out is to give their suggestions…even though they come off as criticisms that can kill a kids self-esteem.

Volleyball

Since we only had a class of 39 or so kids…there was about 12 of us girls on the volleyball team. For some reason, we didn’t really mix different grades for one team so when we practice…I could never catch a break from these girls except for 2 of them that I didn’t mind. It sucks when majority of your teammates were yours school day bullies. One of my bullies was on the same team as me…Pauline T. This bitch got me into so much trouble with my mom. She had the nerve to cry to my mom saying I was being mean. Couple of days prior, she followed me into the girls’ bathroom, growled, told me I wasn’t allowed to have a crush on one of the popular boys in our class, and to fuck off. She then took my tie and tried to choke me with it. Like who does that? Trust me present me would be all over it and would definitely get suspended big time.

My mom believed Pauline.

I was crushed. I got scolded at for being mean and supposedly accused of being a liar. So I fought on it. How dare Pauline tarnish my name and turn my family against me. I was furious. My mom stopped talking to me for a few days and I was angry. My dad must have seen something change within me because he told me to use Volleyball or any sport to release my anger. Boy did I. I started focusing on destroying my anger with volleyball. When you’re a kid and you feel like whatever you say gets brushed off, or it doesn’t matter, or accused of being a liar it adds up. Every spike, dig, ace, serve…all geared towards all the hate and anger built up. However, as I continued to focus on releasing my anger, it actually strengthened me to be one of two freshman in my high school to make the varsity volleyball team. Can’t hate right?

7th & 8th grade:

In 7th grade I was bullied by the boys a mix of the so-called popular boys for having my period…it was the most awkward feeling ever because I started to question whether I was doing things right. Plus being accused of leaving my bloody pad all over the girl’s bathroom really cheesed me. I’ve always been a quiet kid, never fought physically fought back. However ever since I got choked in the girls bathroom, I had vented to my cousin and he had suggested certain ways to fight back. My dad and aunties have always joked about threats where you either fight back like a crazy person or aim where it hurts. Unfortunately, shit hit the fan for John that day. He put his hands on me while him and his friends of 6 cornered me in the classroom. All this to try and gram my pad that was in my hands because I refused to show any of you my business. All you fuckers pulled my hair kept pushing my to show it, you all touched me in my dangers zones without any thought. I had it. I didn’t look fully and kicked unfortunately, but fortunately, John in the balls and lifted him off the ground. Of course while John on the ground crying, his “homies” had to fight and try to beat me up by punching me. I got punched in the shoulders…meh. Got punched in the arms…meh, kicked in the thighs…meh. I punched back and just ran for it. Left them in the classroom. Y’all can rot for all I care. I’ll tell you this gonads or sensitive areas with a lot of nerves…when you get kicked right on the bone…its also game over. I made sure to aim for all those parts. Was I scared? after fighting them off and running, surprisingly no. I did worry I was going to get in trouble at school the next day. But nothing happened. After that those 6 sacks of shit avoided me but also weirdly tried to be my friend. Nah I’m cool, kiss my grits!

Friends

Out of 4 long miserable years at St. Brigid. I didn’t make friends. I made acquaintances. I did have a somewhat of a deeper connection with this one girl named Patricia Q. I couldn’t really deepen this friendship because once we started to get to know each other, she started coming less and less to class. I thought she was really sick, something terminal. It turns out her high school boyfriend got her pregnant. She was 11. She was definitely younger than me even though we were the same age. I remember I would stare at her empty desk wondering when she was coming back. It wasn’t until i gave her my number that she called to tell me and that she was leaving. Her dad was a mechanic and the nicest Chinese parent. He would say hi no matter who you were. I think I bumped into her once in high school and I never saw her again. Overall great people. I actually do think about her from time to time so Patricia Q. wherever you are. I hope you and your family are doing well.

I think I’m going to stop here for now. This will continue but I found out while writing this that i’m reliving it in a sense and it takes me a couple of days to replace all the pieces or “eat my past” so it no longer bothers me.

If you’ve read out this far, thank you and hope to fluff ya later!