Before I landed in the hospital, I had a pretty boring. life. We’re putting aside the pandemic because that wreaked havoc on everyone. I will say that it affected me less than it did many people because I had worked from home before the pandemic and spent 90% of my time alone, anyway. I ordered food from Amazon, attended Zoom Taiji classes, and only went out once a month to get my meds. In other words, my life wasn’t that much different than pre-pandemic, except for levels of anxiety.
You hear about people who did all sorts of amazing things during the pandemic. Learned a new trade or craft, for example. Making sourdough bread seemed to be a big deal for a hot minute. There was so much crap about improving yourself and what the fuck ever. In the middle of a pandemic, most people were just trying not to lose their shit. But, it’s the American mentality to think you have to make something out of nothing, even during a pandemic.
I hate the saying, “That which does not kill you makes you stronger.” It’s saying that going through tough times is actually good for you. I’m not arguing about the veracity of the statement, but more about the smug tone in which it is usually said. Also ,the strident ignoring of the terrible thing that the person went through to get to the point of being stronger. Also, not every thing has to be a teachable moment, but that’s a lesser point.
K and I were once in a bar and discussing this very saying. It was probably 25 years ago, but I still haven’t forgotten the conversation. I was grousing about this saying for whatever reason. Intellectually, I know it’s just twaddle and that I should ignore it. For whatever reason, however, whenever I hear it, I want to rake my eyes out.
I grumbled that it’s such bullshit and puts the burden on the victim to be the better person. Which is abusive in my eyes. And it’s toxic positivity by denying that something awful has happened. I know it doesn’t have to be that way, but that’s usually what it ends up being.
We kicked the saying around a bit. I came up with, “That which does not kill you does not kill you.” I thought it was better, but it still didn’t express exactly what I meant. It was clunky and skirted around the point. We chewed it over a bit longer and K came up with, “That which does not kill you still fucking sucks.” “Perfect!” said I. And lo, it was done. I still use that saying because it expresses my feeling succinctly.
Anyway,, that’s all background for the point of this post. Which I’ll get to in a minute. Let me continue with more background. I come from a culture that is frustrating to me. I am much more American than Taiwanese so having to deal with old school Taiwanese people can test my patience. Things like people announcing they’re coming over and them not caring if you actually want them to come or not. They just assume you’ll be there and that you’ll welcome them. They say whatever’s on their mind and you’re just supposed to…agree? I say this because yesterday, a couple (man and woman) dropped by and it was…not great. For many reasons. For the purpose of this post, however, I want to focus on an exchange we had that is emblematic of how Taiwanese people think.
The man is a heart doctor and told my brother while I was unconscious that my prognosis was not good. Fine. Dandy. That just is what it is. During this discussion, however, both of them brought up that I was a miracle. Again, fine. I’m tired of that word, but whatever. But then they started saying I had a grand purpose because I was brought back. She mentioned God to boot. I didn’t say what I was thinking and merely fixed a weak smile on my face.
What I was thinking, however, was, “Isn’t it enough that I’m just alive?” Why did my pulling through mean I had to do great things? Later, after they were gone, my father said something about a Chinese parable or lore or something about any man who goes through something really terrible is destined to do something great with his life. And my mother has said more than once that there should be a movie of my life because it’s so inspirational.
Here’s the thing. I’ve said this before. I don’t begrudge people that because it’s been such a shitty year. Year-and-a-half! But, it makes me uneasy because I’m a human being and this is my life. I’m not some character in a novel or movie–I’m a person. The expectation from Taiwanese people that I’ll do great things is slightly different than just being an inspiration. It’s Tiger Mom on steroids. There’s the general consensus that your life isn’t yours alone, which I’m not completely against, but I’m not for it, either. Especially in the sense that I owe anyone anything for being alive.
Look. I have enough guilt about being alive as it is. When I was younger, I used to feel as if I started at negative, ah, karma as it were every day and had to work my way back to zero. I never made it into the positive side–that was folly! I just wanted to get back to neutral. I thought my being alive was toxic and bad for the earth. It took many years of therapy and Taiji for me to rid myself of that belief. I never quite made it to me being an asset to the world, but I was sitting at neutral when I went into the hospital.
All this talk about me being a miracle and owing something to someone for coming back in such a ballsy way has had a negative effect on my self-esteem. There’s a voice in the back of my head saying, “Why isn’t it enough that I survived? Why do I have to be an inspiration to other people or do something extraordinary with the rest of my life?”
K, bless her heart, has fiercely assured me that me being alive is the best thing in the world. Ian has backed her up on that as well. Both of them have told me repeatedly that they are just so happy I’m alive, nothin else matters. That’s why they’re my best friends. They appreciate me for who I am and don’t demand that I be something more. I cannot tell you what a gift that is though I’m still irked by the other people who want me to continue being a living miracle. Look. I didn’t ask to come back in this way. I know that makes me sound like an ungrateful lout, but it’s true. And it’s difficult for me to have this expectation on my shoulder as I go about my life.
It might sound like the American expectation and the Taiwanese expectation are the same, but it’s not. The former is more positivity-based (supposedly) with me being an inspiration to other people. That’s a good thing, right? Who wouldn’t want to be an inspiration? And if it’s simply that it gives them a boost in their own lives, then fine. But there is often this weird expectation–ok, look. People like to tell me their life stories. It’s the psych major in me. I ask questions that lead to more confessions and I can’t seem to stop the cycle. Anyway, this seems to be one of the reasons people want to impart things upon me and my recovery.
The Taiwanese viewpoint is that you owe God (my family is Christian) or the gods for everything you get. And you shouldn’t tempt/taunt fate. So me coming back miraculously means that I have to pay it back somehow. In this case, by doing something incredible with my life. I’m not a Christian, but this kind of quid pro quo doesn’t seem to be the bedrock of Christianity. Oh, who am I kidding? It’s how many Christians feel about God, even if they won’t say it out loud. But it’s also a very Taiwanese way of thinking–that you can’t do anything just for yourself. That you owe something to someone, usually family. Your life is not your own–it’s communally owned. Which, I’m not against to a certain extent. I believe in doing what’s best for the community and to an extent, the family. But when that family is dysfunctional, those expectations get warped as well.
The more people gush about how miraculous my recovery has been and how I’m destined to do great things, the more depressed I become. I don’t need that kind of pressure and as I said to my mother, “Isn’t me being alive good enough?”