Humble

Spiritual. I believe in a power beyond me, omnipresent, and present within me. I am the vessel. I may not know exactly what my calling is, but It is calling. I can hear my self. Strength. Spirit. Freedom. Love.

However, I was not always like this. Within the confines of white walls, I bashed like personalities in a schizaphrenic's brain. My parents were absent and that created a void I tried to fill with sex. Why sex? Something about affection, temporality, and care drew me to its grasp, yet it abandoned me. I was familiar with abandonment and tortured myself with it. I could not escape, neither house, school hallways, or the backseat of cars. It was lonely where I lived. The more I escaped to sex, the more my parents tried to tie me down. The more they tied me down to cultural values, the more I broke out of them, broken their hearts. We were all broken. Broken English meets clashing cultures means my life in a 4 bedroom 3 bathroom house. We, all separate, in our rooms engaged in our own digital bubbles. Whether it was TV, the computer, video games, landlines, cell phones, or Chinese dramas, we all ran away from each other because we could not face our own heart break, our own disappointments.

I cannot say that my parents were wrong for beating me, for working and not having the time to spend quality time with us, for yelling, for making us pay for our own excesses, for staying up all night while I was out....

Nor will I admit that I was wrong in staying out late, crying, yelling back, attempting suicide, running away, trying to act older than I was, pretending I knew it all, using my education against them, mending my soul.....
All I wanted was to be free.
Because if all those things didn't happen, then I wouldn't be the way that I am today.

After a talk about religion, spirituality, faith, sexuality, disowning children, raising children, and love, I called my parents.

I said to my mom, "I know wah duh si nang (literally, roused the dead=caused a lot of trouble), but wah jing gao LUCKY that luh nang syeuht wah." I caused a lot of trouble going out late at night, and you stayed up for me, but I am very lucky that you love me. My mom laughs at me as I bawl, stuttering for her to listen. "I love you. Thank you. Can you tell dad?" She hands the phone to dad. And I repeat in daddy's little girl sobs, "I roused the dead but am lucky you loved me." Very my dad-like, he tells me about his childhood in Vietnam and tells me to play with the good friends and leave the bad friends behind. I tell him I have them. He asks me if I need money. I ask him if he needs money. He thought I was crying because I was homesick. I told him I was. He told me to study hard. I told him to go to sleep. I said, "Bye." And he said, "I love you."

Despite all the hardships, they loved me and never stopped knowing that I was their child. "It's okay. You were a no gyeah," my dad said. No gyeah, child. Gyeah...walk...no walk...I was a child who did not walk the world and I was blind, but now I see the roots that have been instilled within me. Freedom. Spirit. Love.


The paths I have taken have had many obstacles and they've all led me to healing and feeling more connected to my self, my spirit, my freedom, and my love. To my parents, to all the parents, I am forever grateful for your patience, kindness, and love. Your legacy of love and understanding lives.