Crying on the street after confronting the private, outsourced visa company was not on my bucket list. It would be funny if it was not so mundane - but I had to overanalyze every slight body language and had to realise then and there that I had to travel to fuck all and be all alone again. Had to stutter with my words and feel like a tied knot because I had the audacity to stand up for myself and complain that I have waited way too long to get my fucking passport back.
Crying because I feel like my stimulant isn’t working. Which fucking sucks because I spent a large sum for travelling. The fucken meds. Makes me calm sometimes, but sometimes just makes the self-hatred more lucid and center stage. And the “crash”, - reminded me of my lowest days in high school. I told myself, it’s fine, I just have to tolerate its side effects until my supply’s done and can try another.
Crying because I crossed a boundary that my therapist had tried to push towards: opening up and accepting support from the people that hurt me the most: my own parents.
Crying because I feel both like a kid and an adult at the same fucking time.
And yet, feeling like shit, my heart breaking - realising I may have to actually be fully vulnerable with my parents for once - and the drug-fuelled anxiety simmering beneath, I still don’t wanna escape this life I live in.
Why the fuck would I? My own life, the only thing I have. Still feels shit most of the time, but there’s that annoying shithead voice that says: so what? You had a tough life. This is apart of it. You have handled worse. Still would not want it any other way.
For most of my life I dissociated. Life was merely a series of pictures and I was the audience. From birth to now. Never felt like I was in the driver’s seat.
Adult diagnosed Autism and ADHD. Figured that out just this year. Before, I “just” had GAD and SAD - which I also had to practically self-diagnose and asked to see a doctor.
The shrink said crying is a good release. Figures I had to do it in public. And yet, the world continues to spin, everything feels bad now, but apparently I am too stubborn to go back to feeling nothing and holding it all in.
Clawing on the floor and struggling, but I know it will happen. I will change. I will improve.
And I know it to be true because I already have.
Today’s been a good day. I say this with the wholehearted knowledge that my life will be very different and yet all too familiar at the same time.
Finally had a proper conversation with my parents since I was alive.
No more hiding. No more “negative peace”.
I told them how I felt. How they treated me throughout my childhood and teenager years. The religious trauma. The corporal punishments.
My dad’s a tougher nut to crack but I think in the end he understood and respected my feelings. It feels like a whole chapter of my life just closed in an instant. Just from one talk.
I know that may be the optimist in me speaking but I think I can finally slowly move away from the past and look forward to the future.
I can finally be at peace knowing that my relationship with the family is finally moving to something I can be happy with.
13 year old me would have not imagined this day whatsoever.
My friend joked that this isn’t how “normal” Asian parents would have reacted. Well I wouldn’t know, my experience is that everyone’s parents are different. We won’t know until we try.
I guess I did live up to my childhood name after all - “the destroyer”. To ashes the trauma burns, and in the soot a new tree sprouts.
Funny that this had to take place on October 7. I guess I can say many good things have happened on this date.