Since the talk regarding my previous dad, my mind has been doing a lot of time traveling. Not really reliving my past, per se. Just recalling and observing. Dad said not to think too much of that for now, because he wanted to catch me in person if I were to go into a negative spiral. It’s easier said than done. Certain emotions tend to bring out certain memories. When one memory pops up, rest tend to follow. It’s hard sometimes to tell the brain to stop. So I’m coming here more often to write and clear my head.
In the past, whenever I write something, I’d let Hubby and Dad know right away. I’d get their feedbacks and we’d talk after. Recently, I’ve been coming here alone to write. Not even sure why I want this “privacy”. I mean, they can check on this blog any time they want. I just didn’t want to alert them to some of my thoughts right away. I suppose this is a journal of some sort. Just have this odd urge of wanting to distance myself from any of my transient thoughts.
Was flipping through suggested YouTube channels today and stumbled upon a short documentary of an adopted black-asian kid growing up in Shanghai-China. He grew up with his adoptive grandparents and something the grandmother said had struck a cord with me. The grandmother wanted the grandson to succeed not only for himself but for her as well. A little cultural lesson to insert here. In China, it’s really common to see grandparents raising grandchildren while parents were busy off working. I was raised that way. For the first 11 years of my life, I hardly knew my parents other than their voice through our weekly phone calls. So there has always been this saying of making the grandparents proud for kids like me: a product of grandparents’ sweat and tears…
After I came here to live with my parents, I felt personally attacked at times because my personality was not what my parents had expected. I was too shy, was too quiet, too lazy, too slow. Many times, they blamed my grandparents for not raising me right. Some times, I felt the need to defend my grandparents, but most of the time I felt like a failure. I had failed my grandparents because I did not meet my parents standards.
I know now that was not the case. I didn’t fail. In fact, given the circumstances, I did the best I could to represent my grandparents, especially my grandmother. I had showed my parents patience, tolerance, and grace. I never was a brat, I was always considerate even at a young age, I was docile, I was me. I was not a failure but a child who did not fit with their parents ideal image. It still hurts thinking back to those days. I just can’t help it at times to let my mind wander.
I suppose that’s enough of recalling. Only a few more days until Christmas. For those of you parents out there, your kids are not you. Don’t raise them to be like you or push them to acheive a dream you did not acheive. Yes, you created your children. It’s your job to guide them, protect them, and show them way of life. It’s not your job to ask them to be someone they are not.