I grew up in a Taiwanese household (though in America), which means that I was told repeatedly that everything I did/thought/was was wrong. I know that my family was particularly dysfunctional in addition to being extremely East Asian. (The latter at that time meant never saying anything positive about your child to your child.)
“You’re too loud.” “Don’t run.” “Sit with your legs crossed.”
My mom likes to recount a story of how when I was two, I chased my brother’s bullies away (he’s three years older). By the time I was seven, I consciously wanted to die. I had lost any spark I had for life–and I was but a pale copy of myself.
I spent the next thirty years absolutely hating myself. I wanted to die–or rather, I did not want to be alive. There’s a slight, but distinctive difference between the two. I was not suicidal*, but I would not have minded if I got, say, hit by a bus. I aws fast and loose with my life, which changed when I had my medical crisis.**
For a year or two after my medical crisis, I was simply grateful to be alive. It was a miracle (as I was told over and over again), and I felt it in my heart.
But, as you know, any kind of big feeling cannot last forever. It’s inevitable that it’s going to fade over time. How do I feel now? I’m not feeling life at the moment. Partly for personal reasons, but more so because of the state of the world. Many times, I’ve felt like, “I came back for this?!!” It’s been really difficult, especially this past year, and I am just not sure I’m up for it.
I don’t want to live in this world. I know we all have to work to make it better, but I feel beaten down and why bother? Look. I’ve been a lefty since I was born, basically. In ideology, I am about as far left as you can get. I’m more pragmatic in real life, but in my dream world, I’m almost a communist. I’m definitely an anarchist at heart, if not in practice.
Well. That was not what I was going to write about.
So let me switch over with no segue because that is how I fucking roll.
I was writing yesterday about how hard it was to gauge how well I was doing with my Taiji and Bagua because I have nothing to judge it against. My teacher’s classmates have all been studying songer than I have (though maybe not by much), so it’s not really fair to me to judge by them. On the other hand, none of my classmates do weapons. Wait. There’s one person, but he’s just started, so it wouldn’t be fair to him to compare myself to him.