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Changing, Discovery, Dreaming, Gender Roles, Greatness, Growth, Knowledge, Media, Questions, Reflections

Crossroads

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This is part three of a four-part series

My mental health journey has had many ups and many downs. That’s to be expected when you’re willfully living life like it’s a rollercoaster. Like I’ve said, the pre-therapy version of myself was not in control of his emotions, not very discerning, not overly knowledgeable. I wouldn’t say I was dumb. I was far from it. But I wasn’t nearly as smart as I made myself out to seem. Nor was I as unintelligent or as worthless as I believed. I resided somewhere in the middle, but for the longest time I didn’t really know where. I’ve said this a few times already but I’ll keep saying it: I’m not like most people. I think some people understood this pretty early on, but I most assuredly wasn’t one of them. You’d think my music choice would’ve tipped me off (I’ll touch upon this in more depth later), but evidently I was highly imperceptive. Being different, however, didn’t necessarily translate to tangible results such as more friends, a bigger social media following, more money, or what have you. In all honesty, I’ve never really cared about that stuff—at least not as much as your average millennial. 

After puberty, I had become the weirdo, the loner. That had always been the role that was meant for me, the niche that had already been carved out for me. It just took some time for me to finally embrace it. It took me a long time to learn how to love myself. But once I did, my outlook never looked rosier. I won’t go back to the way that I used to be. I can’t. Regression is the genesis of decay. Stagnation is its precursor. If you’re not growing, you’re dying. If you’re not improving, you’re deteriorating. You know where I’m going with this right? Sorry to say but I’m somewhat predictable. Be great! In everything you do. Excel at all things and strive to improve at every turn. It’s one of the many mantras that I’ve been repeating to myself since I embarked on this journey. 

Life in general is a journey, we hear this time and time again. It’s become cliche. But where did cliches stem from? Real truth. There will be ups and downs. There will be peaks and valleys. That’s just how it is. That’s how it always will be. How you deal with your adversity speaks more to your character than what you deal with. The only way to improve is to self-critique and to take constructive criticism into consideration. The former lays in the palm of your hand. It is wholly within your control. The latter generally proves to be more informative, but is not always a reliable source. Not in the sense that what others say is necessarily wrong, don’t mistake my intent. But in the sense that not everybody will tell you what you need to hear. Some people hold back, they don’t want to hurt your feelings. Others overlook your flaws in the name of friendship—there’s such a thing as taking “having your back” too far. Still others may be afraid of having a dissenting opinion, and would rather tell you what you want to hear in order to avoid conflict. 

A little disagreement is healthy. You don’t want your life filled with only Yes Men. You NEED varied opinions. You choose the people that you surround yourself with. But you don’t choose how they are, how they act, or how they react. That’s not up to you; that’s up to them. Everyone has a different way of coping with things. That’s just how it goes. You can only control yourself. You can’t control other people, you have to remember that. Manipulation is not a healthy way of getting what you want. The last thing you want is to be the reason why a friendship/relationship is toxic. The only thing worse than being around drama is being the drama. I’ve talked about cutting out toxicity from your life before. That doesn’t just mean distancing yourself from people or situations that drain your mental well-being. It also means self-evaluating, and changing the way you interact with other people (if you think it needs changing). We are quick to blame other people or circumstances when things go wrong. But we need to keep ourselves accountable. Hold ourselves to the same standard that we hold others. Sometimes culpability for toxicity falls on us. We have to be willing to accept that. We are not detached from it.

I’m not a relationship expert and I’m not going to pretend to be one. But I can say that the mark of a healthy relationship is having great communication. It’s imperative to have an equal partnership. It’s not optional! You give as much as you take. You respect them as much as they respect you—if not more. You help your partner with chores around the house. You help them raise your children. You do anything you can to be of use. But most importantly you talk about things. You clear the air, you say what’s on your mind. You likely won’t agree on everything. But in any case, you need to talk about it. Your intentions and beliefs should be clear to your spouse/partner and vice versa. Of course all of this is easier said than done. Communication (or lack thereof) is something that many of us struggle with. Oftentimes we’d rather bottle up than open up. It may seem easier that way in the short term, but that’s not the case long term. But it will take time, it will take effort, it will take persistence. It won’t just change overnight.

Unfortunately we’ve been stuck in an antiquated mindset for decades. Maybe the old way of thinking worked for the 19th and (early) 20th centuries, but it didn’t work in 2012 and it doesn’t work in 2022. We seem to have a hard time letting that go though. You know how it is. The people in power want to stay in power. But I won’t get into that here. For many many years we’ve lived in a patriarchal society. That’s not liable to change anytime soon. As such, we’ve been conditioned to see the world in a certain way. For the longest time we’ve had firmly defined gender roles, especially when it comes to family. The traditional view is to see the man as the breadwinner, and the woman as the homemaker. But times are changing, and we need to change with the times. This way of thinking doesn’t work anymore and it hasn’t worked for a while now. Thankfully, we’ve steadily moved away from it, but progress has been slow. Some people continue refusing to believe that this is the new reality. But it’s something that needs to happen. We can’t keep seeing the world in the same way that our forefathers saw the world. This world is not the world that they lived in. We as a society, therefore, need to adapt. A man can be a stay-at-home dad if he wants to. A woman can prioritize her career if she wants to. Both adults can work non-traditional jobs if they want to. As long as it’s what’s best for the family. What may be ideal for one family may not be ideal for another. Just as each person is different, so too is each family.

We need to change our view on non-traditional families. I don’t just mean same-sex marriage, blended families, or multi-ethnic. Our thinking on gender roles needs to change as well. It’s not the 1950s anymore, when women mostly stayed home. Career options for women are more than just teacher or nurse these days. I know we’ve become more progressive since then, but we’re still not progressive enough. In my view, the ideal society is a feminist society. I know that’s not what a lot of people want to hear, but it’s the truth. Unfortunately for us, many people misunderstand the meaning of the word. Many people take it to mean, “more power to women at the expense of men.” But that’s not what it means at all. Feminism is merely ideology that promotes the equality of genders. Nothing more, nothing less. But you know how it goes. Misinformation runs rampant in this day and age. It was bad enough when I was in school (only eight years ago!), but it’s somehow even worse now. Of course it doesn’t help that we have a cohort of politicians that don’t actually know anything about politics or how the US government works. Part of that responsibility falls on us for allowing such inept individuals to gain power. Voting for “someone like us” doesn’t help if they don’t know what they’re doing or what they’re talking about. It seems logical (at least to me). If they’re like us—uninformed and ignorant—then what makes you think they’re capable of leading? It’s the blind leading the blind. 

That tangent aside, it’s our duty as active members of society to combat misinformation in the media. It doesn’t take much. It starts with something as simple as fact checking before reposting things you see. It doesn’t take much time or effort to look something up. Of course, you could also take a class about topics that you don’t know about—it could be a college course, online tutorial, or a self-help book, etc. Know what you’re talking about before jumping wholeheartedly into a heated debate! Don’t be the person who misinterprets the meaning behind movements such as Feminism, Black Lives Matter, or “defunding the police”. Don’t be so quick to jump to a conclusion. Understand the context first, then make a decision. But even after doing so, be open to listening to differing opinions, and continue being respectful. They say there are “two sides to every story,” but that’s selling it short. It’s not just your side and my side. There’s also the truth, which they like to say, “often lies somewhere in the middle.” The key word there is often. Somewhere in the middle isn’t always the case either! What if both sides are lying or misremembering the facts? Be informed! Seek knowledge! Gain information! 

Again, there are many ways to do this. The Internet is great for that. That’s what it was created for: the sharing of knowledge & information. But you also have to be wary. Not everything you see is true. Not every source is legitimate. Watch out for unsubstantiated rumors. Most news media often has an inherent bias. Fox News and CNN may report on the same story, but you will likely draw different conclusions from each outlet. That is because they have different target audiences, and as such, have a different bent on their coverage. Understand the context of what you are reading, hearing, or watching. Know that news media thrives on sensationalism. Yes, the world is a fucked up place, but it is not nearly as violent or as corrupt as they make it out to seem. Shock and awe makes money, as does panic; happiness does not (at least in their eyes). Learn to understand the thought process behind news media. Be deliberate in trying to improve your media literacy.

Most of what I say here I say from experience. I like to know what I’m talking about. I like to be informed. But most of all, I do not want to be the purveyor of false information. It goes against my ethos. I don’t usually talk just to talk. Of course, I don’t always choose my words carefully. I’m not perfect! But I try my best to be a positive influence on a conversation. What that looks like depends on the conversation and the audience. Sometimes I get carried away when I get too passionate. Sometimes I end up putting my foot in my mouth. I’m much better at writing than I am at talking. I’m more coherent that way. But even so, I still try to say meaningful things and give good advice. Now I wasn’t always like that. I know for certain that there were times when I was not a meaningful contributor to a conversation, and there were times when my input either ended a conversation prematurely or made it uncomfortable or was tainted with pessimism. We all had a darker past. We were all immature or ignorant at some point (maybe we still are in some ways). Sometimes we just didn’t know any better. Other times we thought we knew more than we did. Some of us were trapped in our own world. Others were just plain delusional. But when it came down to it, we were all trying in our own way. Right or wrong, good result or bad, most of us are trying to make something of ourselves while also striving to be good people. Doing that takes a lot of learning and growing. Trying and changing. 

For many of us, this process can be jumpstarted through higher education. Of course, higher education wasn’t meant for everyone. Some people aren’t interested in it, others can’t afford it, some aren’t good at it, and some just don’t need it. College is not the be-all and end-all like it’s made to seem. There are other options. As for me, college is and was a part of my life experience. Truth be told, I was not mature enough to transition directly from high school to adulthood. The four and a half years that I had spent in college was necessary and fundamental. Now I do have my gripes about the cost of higher education, but it certainly wasn’t a waste of time. Life truly is what you make of it. Nothing is ever really a waste of time; good or bad there are always lessons to be learned. You just have to adopt the right mindset. Don’t be the person who grumbles their way through hardship. A debbie downer. A complainer. Don’t be the person who can’t see the good in life. Nobody wants to be around that person. I would know. I was that person for well over a decade. Learn from your mistakes. Face your adversity and understand that there are ALWAYS lessons to be learned. Count your blessings, you’ll be better off for it.

Unfortunately for me, I have let too many valuable lessons fall to the wayside. For a long time I didn’t learn from my mistakes. I didn’t understand the reasons for my hardships; I couldn’t see past them. I muddled through life because it was the easiest option. The life lessons I could’ve learned at 20 or 21, I instead learned at 29 or 30. These things could’ve made a huge difference early on, but would’ve ended up taking me on a completely different journey. It wasn’t the path that was intended for me. The right things happened at the right time. I wouldn’t be the person that I am today if the timing had been any different. Like I always say, your adversity is a part of you. Your hardships play a role in who you are as a person. The lessons you learned in life were learned at exactly the right time. There is a time and a place for everything. There is a reason for everything that happens. You just need to dig deep, do a little soul-searching, find the answers within yourself. But don’t worry if you can’t/don’t find them right away. Hindsight is a powerful tool. Introspection and reflection uncover many hidden truths.

Thankfully, I’ve been blessed with a great memory and excellent recall. Otherwise these unlearned lessons would’ve gone to waste. If there’s one thing I can thank my anxiety for it’s that. My constant overthinking has proven to be a boon in some instances. Just because you didn’t learn something at the time of your trauma doesn’t mean that you can’t learn from it still. The only wasted lessons are ones that remain unlearned. The only pointless adversity is when your behaviors and/or attitudes do not change as a result. The only time mistakes do not precipitate progress is when you repeat the same ones over and over. Learn from your mistakes, learn from your adversity, learn from your struggles. There are reasons why you’re going through what you’re going through. Dig deep, and persevere. It won’t be like this forever. Things do get better. But not if you don’t put in some effort. You can always perform better. You can always learn more. Something can be picked up from every circumstance or experience—positive or negative. The more life that you experience, the more wisdom and knowledge you’ll possess. With this comes clarity and an altered perspective. This allows you to view your past through a different lens. You know more now than you did then, and with that, you should be able to continue learning more life lessons.

During my time in college, I had learned a lot of things about myself. But there was always more to learn. I don’t think I quite understood that then. I said ages ago that there are people who go through life acting like there is nothing left to learn, and there are people that act like there is everything left to learn. Be the latter. You don’t have all the answers. You won’t have all the answers. But that doesn’t mean you don’t constantly strive to find out more. Isn’t that the essence of human existence? Finding out more? If you spent years not seeking knowledge or looking for answers, don’t fret! Again, hindsight is a valuable tool. There are many lessons hidden in your past just lying there for you to uncover. Sometimes you have to find a way to relive your past. Therapy is a great way of doing so. A way to address issues that you had conveniently ignored. If you’ve read past posts of mine, you know that conveniently ignoring things was a crutch of mine. Something I relied upon heavily. I was so non-confrontational back then that I ran away from everything—even myself. I avoided introspection because I didn’t want to deal with it. The war within my mind may as well have been a street fight. I was my own worst enemy. I neither liked myself nor respected myself. 

But I was already more accomplished than I allowed myself to accept (or at least I wasn’t the failure that I had already labeled myself). At twenty-years-old it’s way too early to determine that. You haven’t experienced enough life to say that. Your life really hasn’t even started yet. Your brain is still developing at that age. You couldn’t have failed if you hadn’t even had a chance to try. Oftentimes the pressure you feel is internal; it’s unnecessary strain that you put upon yourself. Being your own worst critic has its upside and its downside. For me, I was a double major: business management, and sociology. Not everyone is capable of that, but I didn’t seem to realize it. It didn’t matter that the business program required me to double major or minor in something. Being a hard-working student was still the primary prerequisite for completing the program. It doesn’t say it on the program notes or the syllabi. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Yes, not every college graduate is smart or hard-working (it’s all relative), but it took some level of competence and some level of effort to finish.

That already is a great accomplishment, don’t diminish that for yourself. If you completed something that you set your mind to, that makes you a success. You only fail if you give up. You may not see tangible results right away, but you will see them as you keep on plugging. I finished college because I had set my mind to it. Receiving my Bachelor’s Degree was something I got to check off of my to-do list. But just because I finished, doesn’t mean that I had found my calling in life. I never had been all that interested in business management, I’m still not. But it was the thing that had kept me grounded. People respect business majors, they expect great things from businesspeople. So that’s what I had gone for. But unbeknownst to me, I had boxed myself in. I had limited myself from fulfilling my potential. I had shoved a round peg into a square hole. It took slogging through six years at the same dead-end job for me to finally realize that I could do better. That I was meant for so much more. I wasn’t destined to be a Customer Service Rep or a Salesperson. That wasn’t me, although I was good at the former (not so much the latter). It wasn’t my passion. It wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. It wasn’t even my greatest strength. I only excelled at it because I had put it in my mind to do so, but I couldn’t have been more disinterested. I WAS DOING THE WRONG THINGS WITH MY LIFE. 

But years before I had made that discovery, I had come to an entirely different crossroads. Who I was clashed with who I was becoming. But this change didn’t come about through business school. It was through sociology—women’s studies in particular. My first women’s studies class was during the spring semester of freshman year. I didn’t take it because I wanted to; I took it because it fit in with my schedule. And I’m glad that it did. The first thing that it taught me was that although I had been a Christian my whole life, I did not have much love in my heart. Ironic for a religion that is touted as the religion of love. But that was who I was then. Someone who was hard-hearted. Close-minded and ignorant. I was low-key racist, misogynistic, homophobic, whatever you can think of. I was covert in my mentality as opposed to overt. But it doesn’t make that mindset any more acceptable. It didn’t change the fact that I was a bigot. It really didn’t matter how I framed it—my world view was offensive. Of course I dug my heels in at first. I had always been a stubborn person, and regrettably, quite sheltered. I hadn’t mentally prepared for the culture shock. In one semester, my world had been flipped on its head. What I thought was right, what I had thought of as “my truth” was slowly becoming the opposite. Truth be told, at the age of nineteen, my education had only just begun. Up until then, what I thought I had believed was not actually that. It wasn’t what I believed, it was what was indoctrinated into me through theology and pseudo-theology. Things I had been led to believe, which I later questioned. Ironically, many of these misconceptions had been taught to me from close people around me: mainly the church and family friends. 

Regrettably, not all churches teach Biblical truth. Nearly every church is liable to err on certain things. Some aspects of church doctrine are subjective. You will differ on some things as a result. It’s inevitable. You’re likely going to struggle to find a church whose world view lines up perfectly with your own. That being said, just as there is no such thing as a perfect Christian, there also is no perfect church. It does not exist. Humans are imperfect creatures, as such, any human institution will also be imperfect. Growing up, I had attended a Chinese church. I have many issues, but I don’t want to get into them here, so just a word of warning: be wary of ethnic churches. Very wary. Of course, I can only speak for the culture I grew up in, but it can also be applied to others. I’ve noticed that Chinese cultural mores are sometimes passed off as Christian theology. For example, filial piety and obeying your parents are very similar things, but they are not the same. They can coexist, and maybe they should. But the former should not be portrayed as Christian theology, because it isn’t. If something doesn’t sound right, don’t be afraid to look into it further. Ask questions when opportunities arise. Not doing so is one of the few things I regret. I hadn’t asked the right questions when I was younger, and I never really received satisfactory answers anyway. Oftentimes questioning was conflated with doubting. The former does not necessarily lead to the latter.

Unfortunately for me, for most of my youth I had been told not to ask questions. Not from my parents necessarily, but from those around me (especially at church). For a time I obeyed. I tried not to ask questions because I didn’t want to show others my lack of faith. But I was doing myself a disservice. By not asking the right questions, I was blindly believing what was taught to me rather than getting a better understanding of what it was that I actually believed. Of course, this never sat well with me. Everyone knows that I have always been very inquisitive. It’s part of my nature. But also part of my nature (at least previously) was lacking self-awareness. I knew something was off about the vibe but I couldn’t pinpoint what. I would go to all the church functions and act like a “Christian,” but something always felt like it was missing. But I never knew what. And it did not materialize during my time at church or during my hiatus away. It took leaving and coming back for me to figure out what it was. 

I never actually had a relationship with God. I knew how a Christian was “supposed” to act and I knew all the Bible stories, but I had never felt Him at work in my life. And that was because I wasn’t asking questions. I wasn’t able to get to the root of my belief. Up til then (and even past that) all I had was knowledge, with no application. Knowing about the Bible will only get you so far (likewise, having that relationship but not knowing the stories will leave you with the same amount of understanding—which is to say NOT ENOUGH). My view of who God was was heavily skewed. I saw Him as a vengeful god, not a god of love. So it’s no real wonder that I didn’t have much love in my heart when I got to college. But that wasn’t just it. That wasn’t the only thing that was missing. Not asking the right questions went deeper than that. It wasn’t just about my faith. It was about not knowing who I was, or who I wanted to become. Not knowing what interested me or what I wanted to do with my life. But more importantly it was about not knowing what happiness felt like and not knowing what would make me happy. It was about not finding fulfillment in what I did and not knowing what it felt like to live a fulfilling life. My life felt meaningless for many years. Because I had stopped dreaming. I had stopped dreaming a long time before. What dreams I had had been suppressed. Because I was easily influenced and swayed. I had spent so many years substituting what I wanted with what I thought was expected of me, that I had lost sight of what it was that I had wanted. And that to me was the greatest travesty. My life had become dominated with “woe is me,” and “will I meet expectations?” and “am I capable of what they think I am or am I destined to disappoint?” It wasn’t about doing better and being better, it was about not failing. I wasn’t thinking about how prosperous my life could be. I was focused on what it wasn’t rather than what it could be. What kind of life is that?

Be great! Ask questions! Seek knowledge! Find improvement! Keep dreaming! Continue chasing! Strive for better! Make a difference! Cause an impact! Never give up! Good things may come to you, but you need to seek greatness. Elevate yourself to a higher mental plane. Mediocre isn’t good enough. Okay isn’t good enough. Good enough isn’t good enough. There is no destination without a journey. Continual progress makes for a more fruitful journey. The only way forwards is up. Be better today than you were yesterday. Failure is not an option. To fail is to give up. Life is full of lessons. Success comes when you learn from your mistakes. Stop making excuses and take control. Grab life by the horns. You are the rider, not the bull.

Brokenness, Changing, Discovery, Greatness, Mental Health, Reflections

Line of Delineation

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I would like to start this post with a disclaimer. If you get to the end of this and feel that it’s incomplete, that’s because it is. I don’t quite know how to describe it, but I know a post is done when it’s done. There’s no set word count or guideline that I follow. But in everything that I post, I stop writing when I feel a sense of completeness. I guess the perfectionist in me has an inherent feeling for when that is. I may meander in my posts, but they generally come full circle, connecting the beginning with the end. 

However, that won’t be the case here. What started out as a single premise has quickly ballooned into something that will not fit in one post. The more I write, the more I understand that sometimes your writing has a mind of its own. This monster here is no different. This post will be the first part of three or four. I’m not quite sure yet how many times I will split this. I’ve been trying to lower my word count (not trying very hard evidently), but it hasn’t really been working. But since I am preemptively splitting it, hopefully I won’t make your eyes bleed too much. That being said, let’s begin.

I’ve always been different. Always thought differently, always acted differently. As a kid it came to me naturally. Simply put, I just wasn’t wired the same. I zigged when others zagged. In my teenage years it became somewhat intentional and exaggerated. I wanted to be known. I wanted to be unique. I wanted to be remembered. One of my biggest fears was being forgotten. So I did whatever I could to stand out. I wanted so much to make a name for myself. But I didn’t need to try so hard. I didn’t need to stress as much as I did. When you do great things, your actions speak for themselves. It’s not necessary to embarrass yourself for the sake of name recognition. Not all press is good press despite what they say. Fame and popularity are not even things that you can catalyze or manifest (frankly they’re overrated anyway). They don’t come as a result of your actions or your behavior. They are rather, people’s reactions to things you have done or created. Excel at what you do and be confident in who you are, and all things will fall in place. 

Trying too hard is honestly an easy mistake to make. As we grow up we slowly discover who we are. We find what we’re capable of, we learn about ourselves, and we discover what motivates us. But oftentimes in doing so, we don’t remain true to ourselves. We try to be someone that we’re not. We attempt to live lives that aren’t the ones that are meant for us. We don’t make the best use of our gifts, and we try to pursue paths that we aren’t optimized for. It comes with the territory. Growing up and finding who you are also includes discovering who you are not. Finding who you are involves trial and error. We don’t start pursuing greatness from Day 1. We’re not capable of it. That’s why we go to school for 13+ years. Our rudimentary tools need to be developed and honed. They tell us from the start to dream big. The motivational posters and banners hanging up in classrooms may be corny, but they generally hold some semblance of real truth. Dream big. Always. But make sure that it’s your dream that you’re pursuing and not someone else’s. Life is more satisfying that way. 

I can attest to that. We can all agree on that can’t we? If you’ve been reading along with me, you know by now that I like to distinguish between pre-therapy Justin and post-therapy Justin. What can I say? It was a definite turning point in my life. We are ever-changing, so each year we show a different version of ourselves to the world. But I like to break up my life so far into three phases. No it’s not childhood, pre-teen/adolescence, and adulthood. That seems like a reasonable line of delineation, but it doesn’t quite work for me. The main crossroads in my life didn’t line up that way. For me it’s childhood, pre-therapy (disheartened youth), and post-therapy (mended human). We all know that I am quite open about my struggles with mental health. After all, that’s been my thing ever since I started posting more regularly on this blog. It’s been the drum that I’ve been beating and will continue to beat. I do not hesitate to talk about it. It may be taboo for others but it’s not for me. It’s a necessary discussion and relevant to us all. 

I don’t find myself meeting new people that often—I don’t go out much after all. And although I don’t generally take initiative in starting conversations, I am open to conversing with people I don’t know. I don’t have a problem talking. I can carry a conversation just fine; I’m just not much of a conversation starter. When I do find myself partaking, the conversation generally flows in much the same direction. They ask me what I do for work—no surprise there. I rehash recent history: this is what I used to do, but I quit in January, and now I spend my time writing. The conversation usually continues in much the same way. I don’t go out of my way to talk about myself (I’m not that conceited), but if someone is asking me questions about myself, you’d best believe I’ll answer them all as thoroughly as possible. That being said, I routinely find myself being asked something along the lines of, “what spurred you to quit your job and start writing?” I’m glad you asked! The short answer is that I went through dark times, I sought out help, and I worked on my mental health. We’ll get to the long answer later on.

Mental health might seem like a heavy subject to discuss during a first-time conversation, and I have to admit that I agree with you! But if we sidestep the discussion in order to stay within our comfort zone, won’t it become easier to just sidestep it every time? If we don’t talk about it when it comes up naturally, then when will we ever talk about it? There won’t be a better time!

Willfully ignoring a prime opportunity like that wouldn’t sit right with me. Are we ready to jilt ourselves out of a genuine conversation with life-changing potential? I don’t know about you, but that’s not a risk that I’m willing to take. I don’t want that blood on my hands. There’s already enough artificiality in this world as is, we don’t need to doctor our conversations. Of course there are some things that should be kept to yourself when meeting new acquaintances, but in my opinion this is not one of them. If profound subject matter makes you uncomfortable, then great! It means that it’s working. It made you think. It was thought-provoking. I’d rather have that than go through the motions with small-talk. Get to know people truly. You’ll be better for it.

As much as we like to think that we’re empathetic and observant, we simply do not know everything that others are going through. That’s part of being human. And although we regularly engage in nuanced communication such as body language, tone of voice, and facial expression/non-verbal cues, nothing beats communicating through conversing. We can only imply so much, we can only hint at so much. Some people are better at reading non-verbal language than others. Some people are utterly clueless. That’s just how it is. The best way to understand another person has been and always will be talking to them. Listening to them. Discussing consequential subject matter. Having a back and forth. The preeminent method of characterizing how you’re feeling is verbalizing it. Bring your thoughts to life in the form of word or action. I know us males don’t like to talk about our feelings. It’s seen as weak, feminine, vulnerable. But if we don’t communicate, then how will we foster healthy relationships with other people? So let’s start a conversation. Let’s talk. Let’s facilitate a safe space. Let’s come to an understanding. Let’s discover what it means to be mentally healthy. I can and will talk to anybody and everybody about mental health. I think it’s that important. It bears thinking about. Think deeply and profoundly. Reflect on your life. Be proactive in addressing your issues. Discover who you are through active contemplation.

A fruitful life calls for introspection, so be sure to make time for it. If you don’t understand yourself how can you expect others to understand you? Be one with yourself. Ensure that your mind, body, and soul are in sync. You need to discover who you are. It’s imperative. As I said, discovering who you are includes discovering who you are not. This encompasses but is not limited to the following: finding your strengths and weaknesses; discovering your interests, passions, likes/dislikes; figuring out how you think; making honest assessments about your good or bad habits; recognizing areas that need improvement. 

Of course, each person’s mind works differently, so I can only speak to what goes on in mine. That being said, for a long time, I had been conditioned towards passivity. It was in my nature. As you know, I was an extremely shy kid, which resulted in lack of confidence and eventual anxiety. I never really told anyone what I liked or what I wanted for fear of reprisal or rejection. I never really pursued what I wanted to pursue for fear of tipping the boat. From a young age, I was afraid to tell even my parents how I truly felt about certain things. I was afraid of liking things too much. Whether it was due to fear of it being taken away or being told that I couldn’t like it or have it, I don’t really know. I remember when I was 6 or 7 my mom had bought me a beautiful Philadelphia Eagles winter jacket. It was puffy, reversible, and oh so warm. I loved it. But I rarely wore it. I spent more time looking at it in my closet than I spent wearing it, but it was still my favorite thing that I owned up til that point. I never told my mom how I truly felt about it. I was too afraid. Of what you ask? I’m not even sure if I knew back then, I certainly don’t know now. Regardless, even as a young tyke, I just didn’t think I was allowed to have nice things. I don’t know where this misconception stemmed from, but it stuck with me far into my adult years. Sometimes it was overt, other times it remained suppressed.

Of course it became a hindrance for me as the years went by. It played a huge impact on my life, but at the time I was incapable of identifying it let alone quantifying its effect. I never would’ve known it. Reflection and introspection weren’t really a part of my vocabulary back then. I’ll admit, I was delusional in some things, and misguided in others. I just didn’t know myself all that well. My self-awareness was nearly non-existent. Which came in conflict with my self-image in an odd sort of way. I worried so much about my self-image when I was younger, but I likely did more harm to it than good. I certainly didn’t help it with some of my outlandish behavior as a teenager. In trying so hard to stand out, to be unique, to be memorable, I only brought attention to the less than desirable aspects of my persona. But I didn’t know that. I did what I wanted to do, I said what I wanted to say in the moment, without a second thought. I didn’t care about others. I didn’t even care about myself. But even so, I was still too self-absorbed. Focusing on what I was doing at the moment rather than looking ahead to my future; or looking within at who I was; or improving my image and reputation to who I wanted to be. 

So where would I be without introspection? Where would I be without therapy? That’s where we see the three phases of my life come into play. I had a fairly decent childhood. Like most, I had good times and I had bad. I went on playdates with friends, I hung out with kids at recess, I talked to kids at church. I was just a regular kid for all intents and purposes. But even so, I still spent a lot of my time alone. Being the only boy and the middle child will do that. I don’t know if I would call it a double triple life, but there were three versions of myself that I showed the world. There was who I was when I was at church, there was who I was with friends at school, and there was who I was when addressing adults and authority figures. There was also who I was at home, which was also somewhat different.

I was most comfortable at church. I was a goody-two-shoes. I always tried my best in Sunday School and during the youth programs. I read the Bible regularly and I was a pretty consistent participant. Oddly enough, the adults that helped out with these programs didn’t scare me all that much. If there were ever a shell-less version of me in elementary school this was it. But at the same time, this version of me may not have been the real me. Like many other church kids, I put up a facade. I was a holier than thou type so my church image was sacrosanct. It was cleaned up and immaculate. I cared a whole lot about my reputation before the word even became part of my vocabulary. Of course there were certain kids that I did “rebel stuff” with, like swearing or gossiping, but who hasn’t done that? I did that stuff in secret, only my compatriots knew about it. I didn’t do it in a way that allowed for the general public to see. I had always selfishly seen myself as the kid that parents brought up as an example to follow.

Who I was at school with classmates was quite similar but without the religious overtones. This was another relatively opened up version of me. I didn’t really try to hide who I was. I didn’t talk about my faith at school because I didn’t know how and because it never came up, so that aspect of my life remained separate. Due to the lack of a facade, this was likely the most genuine version of me. I didn’t try to clean up my image. I was who I was, and I had no issues with it. That is until 4th grade. That year I had started needing glasses. At the time, wearing glasses in public felt like a death sentence to me. I was embarrassed and scared. I decided I would rather squint and have trouble reading than wear them. Of course, that only made my vision worse, but the thought had never crossed my mind. I didn’t know it at the time, but that year was the start of a major downturn in my life. That was the first critical event that caused my self-confidence to steadily wane. And in my pre-therapy years it never fully recovered.

The face I showed adults and authority figures like teachers, store workers, or restaurant staff was completely closed and guarded. I was afraid. I couldn’t talk to them and I wouldn’t. I couldn’t even look them in the eye. I didn’t participate in school. I didn’t raise my hand. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t ask for help. At times it felt like it was physically impossible. There was too much pressure. I did my best to follow along with the lessons, but I was too shy to speak up. Talking to someone who was more than a few years older than me was too daunting a task. I couldn’t even order a cheeseburger at McDonald’s. It gave me too much anxiety. Getting up even the slightest sliver of courage to say a simple sentence was too demanding. My pint-sized brain couldn’t handle it. I didn’t like being this way, but I couldn’t exactly help it. Certain triggers shut off my communication skills. Unfortunately, over time it just got worse. Being a recluse went from being my alternate mode to my default mode.

As my confidence ebbed, I found it easier and easier to clam up. To build up walls. Puberty pushed me in that direction. Throughout my elementary school years there were a number of traumatic experiences that stuck with me and replayed in my head over and over. I won’t rehash all of them here. There are way too many for me to describe in detail (not all at once anyway). I never could get over them. Not for the next 10-15 years. I struggled immensely with letting things go. There were two monumental events in 6th grade that catalyzed the direction that my life was headed. Although not the most damaging experiences ever, they were the precursor to something dark. The first incident was maybe not a huge deal when it came down to it, but in the moment it was devastating. 

I don’t remember when exactly it had happened, it may have been in the spring. I had gotten a 75 on one of my math tests (the first of many sadly), mostly due to careless mistakes. And of course I freaked out. That had never happened to me before. I was a good student, a kid who had always thought that he was on the right track. Who took school somewhat seriously and enjoyed it. This result was the first time in my life I had started to doubt my abilities. Before this exam I had total faith in myself. I had never before felt any insecurity about my academic capability. Unfortunately this was only the start of a troubling trend. 

In 5th grade we had transferred schools within the district. From 2nd grade to midway through 5th I had attended what my siblings and I refer to as a “hippie” school. We called our teachers by their first names, our assignments weren’t graded (I’m not sure if they were even pass/fail), and we took sloyd instead of art class. Instead of learning drawing, painting, and sculpture we basically had a woodworking class. I remember making a rainstick, a güiro, and a mbira amongst other things. My parents hated it. They didn’t think that alternative education would prepare us well for junior high let alone high school. But we were new to the town, and the wait list for the “better” (read that as more traditional) schools was long. Victoria and I had been put on the wait list as soon as we had arrived in town. As you can see, it had taken three and a half years to get off of the wait list. 

Back then, there weren’t as many east Asians in our town. They didn’t start moving in en masse until I had gotten to 8th or 9th grade. All of my friends at my first school were white. At my second school, I was one of four Asians in my class, which unsurprisingly changed my school dynamic. My priorities shifted, as did my identity. This was when I first started coming to grips with my Asian-American heritage. Sure, the majority of people at my church were Asian, but that was different. I didn’t see those kids everyday, I only saw them on Fridays and Sundays. So for me to finally have classmates that looked like me, that was life-changing. But regrettably it was beneficial for me in some ways, but detrimental in many others. 

I became more focused on doing things that fit into Asian stereotypes. As a preteen I thought that it was the proper way to show pride in my culture. I didn’t know how to identify as Asian-American without being a cliche. Of course some traditions were rooted in my cultural upbringing—it’s hard for the offspring of immigrants to be completely whitewashed unless it was done so intentionally. It does happens, but it didn’t happen to me. My parents had tried their best to instill Chinese culture into our upbringing. We went to Chinese school, we took piano lessons, they preferred to speak to us in Cantonese and Mandarin, and we had homework to do outside of school (both Kumon and extracurricular workbooks from Costco). The things that they say about “tiger parenting” are true for the most part. All traditional Chinese parents use this technique to some extent. It’s just a matter of how much emphasis and how strict. That being said, I rejected this approach somewhat. It just didn’t work on me all that effectively. In any event, I grew up rather whitewashed—if I were to put a percentage on it I would put it at 70-75%. So it wasn’t for lack of effort on my parents’ part. That falls on me, not them.

In Cantonese they have a term for it: jook sing. It refers to a Chinese person who was born in a Western environment who identifies more with Western culture than they do Chinese culture. It is a somewhat derogatory term that our parents’ generation uses to refer to us. The opposite of this would be FOB (fresh off the boat). Ideally we want to be somewhere in the middle. Acknowledging your heritage from both angles. But while it may be easy to bond over things such as the cuisine, filial piety, and academic excellence, it doesn’t quite hold the same meaning if you’re unfamiliar with the language. And unfortunately Chinese is a difficult language to learn. It’s not intuitive. There are thousands of characters, and five or six different intonations. It doesn’t have a traditional alphabet. It’s easy to fall behind in class. Especially if you’re a Cantonese kid trying to learn Mandarin for the first time. I dreaded Chinese School. I had never really been interested in it to begin with, because I had been forced into it. But it was also easy to get discouraged by its difficulty.

Unlike English there are multiple aspects of the language that you need to learn. It’s possible to excel at one aspect but be mediocre in another. In English we have verbal and written forms. If you know how to speak English then you’ll have no problem understanding it and vice versa. If you know how to read it, then you’ll also have a basic understanding of writing it at a minimum. In Chinese it’s not the same thing. All four things are separate. Generally when speaking to your elders they’ll ask you if you know Chinese. And depending on what you know, you’ll tell them you can read, write, speak, and/or understand Chinese. I will usually say that I can understand a bit, but I can’t speak it. My vocabulary is poor and my accent is off. Due to the nature of the language, it’s imperative to be able to nail down the correct intonation, otherwise you risk saying the wrong thing and/or embarrassing yourself. My grasp of the written form is even more atrocious. The characters are hard to remember, and even if you do recognize a character it doesn’t mean you know what sound it makes. Not unless the pinyin or jyutpin is written above the character. Pinyin and jyutpin are romanizations of the sounds that each character makes. But just because you know what the character sounds like doesn’t mean that you know what it means necessarily. Are you thoroughly lost yet? So am I! So do you see why I had so little interest in learning Chinese? It was difficult, so I rejected it. And instead, embraced what I knew. I knew how to act white. It was easy for me because all of my friends were white. Up until 6th grade, I hadn’t necessarily adhered to traditional Chinese principles. But then things changed, simply because I had made some Asian friends.

I suppressed who I was on a personal level in exchange for emphasizing who I was on a socioeconomic level. Which in theory may sound great. Especially for Asian-Americans. As a culture we don’t like to rock the boat. We’d rather conform than show individuality. It’s safer that way. If you don’t draw attention to yourself there’s less of a chance for disappointment or failure. And boy, let me tell you, failure is the last word that Asian immigrant parents want to hear or say. If you fail, you bring dishonor to your people, to your family, and to yourself. I didn’t necessarily feel that much pressure from my parents. They were much less strict than many others. You know the mom from Turning Red? That wasn’t my parents, but I knew parents that were like that. It has a transcendent effect on their kids, and in turn on us—their classmates. I certainly felt a whole lot of pressure from church aunties, my parent’s friends, and most of all my peers. It’s draining. Mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. 

Greatness, Mental Health, Questions, Reflections, Small Talk

As Kids

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Adults are all basic to some extent. Have you noticed that they ask young kids all the same questions? What’s your name? How old are you? How’s school? What do you want to be when you grow up? What’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite animal? The first three are easy peasy. They don’t require much thought at all. The others are a little bit trickier. At least they were for me. They required more contemplation than I was capable of providing at the time. I usually ended up saying the first thing that came to mind. Which was likely true in the moment but wasn’t true as a generalization.

If I was already extremely shy when conversing with other children my age, you can only imagine what it was like for me talking to adults. I was even intimidated talking to my parents’ friends. Not all of them. Some of them I was rather comfortable with—the ones that they were closest to—but up until 5th or 6th grade I was scared out of my wits. I didn’t know why adults would choose to talk to me. I was secretly hoping that they wouldn’t. But my hopes were always in vain. You’d think I would’ve caught on though. You’d think I would’ve been prepared to answer the same questions over and over again. But kids really aren’t that observant. It doesn’t occur to you that the conversation is so predictable that it would behoove you to formulate a stock answer to give. But kids don’t think like this. Awkward, demure adults think like this.

As kids the explanation for the nervousness we feel is, “I’m shy, so in-depth conversation scares me.” We don’t know what social anxiety is. We don’t think to ourselves, “man I hate small talk,” or “stop asking me so many questions!” or “why am I so damn awkward?” If we’re too terrified to talk, then we stop talking. We don’t stand there trying to think of an unconvincing excuse to dip from the conversation. We’re not tactful (or antisocial, depending on how you see it) like that because we haven’t developed those tools yet. Instead, if we’re feeling particularly brave we try to come up with the quickest answer to the questions, hoping that the faster you give an answer the faster someone will leave you alone.

Unfortunately that’s not how it works either. Adults are always prepared to ask followup questions. The first questions that they ask may not always be the only questions that they ask. It may not seem that way, but adults aren’t intentionally trying to frighten kids. Curiosity gets the better of them same as you. They’re trying to make a young kid feel welcome. They’re trying to get to know someone early. It’s interesting to some—seeing a child evolve, seeing how they mature and how they handle the world. It makes some people feel accomplished, proud, or encouraged seeing where someone started and seeing where they end up. Even if they were not directly involved in that child’s development. Some people do it for selfish reasons. They do it for bragging rights, especially if said child becomes famous. They want to be able to say that they’ve known this individual since before they blew up. Others do it because they genuinely care about the child, and some do it because they care about the parents.

For me, I pick up random facts about people out of pure curiosity. I do ask people questions because I want to get to know them. But it isn’t entirely intentional. The thousand followup questions are a result of my mind needing to know the answers to certain questions. Sometimes it feels like a subconscious response; a need to find out the complete story. My mind works in a certain way, craving certain tidbits of information. Such as how many siblings someone has, the number of cousins, the birth order—just generally how people relate to one another. I’m not trying to pry or make people uncomfortable by asking so many questions. But I can’t really help it. I’ve always been a curious kid. I’ve always asked questions—they might not’ve been directed at teachers or adults, but I always at least asked them internally. My shyness prevented me from asking these questions out loud when I was younger, but inquisitive minds don’t really change. If you’re inquisitive when you’re young, you’ll most likely be equally as inquisitive when you’re an adult. 

That was definitely true for me. In college, given more stimuli than I had been used to, my brain developed even further. I was a business and sociology double major. At the time, it made sense for what I had wanted to do. Long story short, after shifting my focus slightly a few different times I eventually settled on market research. I was interested in numbers and people and demographic trends. Marketing and sociology fit hand in hand. Business/marketing was the front end stuff. The information that I needed to understand how market trends worked. Sociology was the backend stuff. The background that I needed in order to understand people. However, I never ended up pursing that career path for various reasons. Maybe I’ll get into that some other time. Either way, it’s not a choice that I regret. It wasn’t for me, simple as that. It wasn’t what I wanted. It was merely what I thought I wanted.

I won’t say that college was a complete waste of money, I did learn some valuable lessons after all. But I will say that it’s not the only avenue towards attaining financial success. It’s not the only way to make money—despite what they say. This is certainly not true of every high school in existence, but it was certainly true of mine. My high school promoted the misconception that college was the only path towards success. I get it. Higher education brings prestige. And in certain fields higher education is the best way to earn more money. But the key word is certain (read that as not all). 

My school was a blue ribbon school that was consistently ranked in the top 25 public schools in Massachusetts. As such, the pressure and expectation was excessively high. Too high in fact. It was certainly not a place that helped me to develop self-confidence in the slightest. I was not and am not a dumb kid. I scored an 1870 on my SATs. But that wasn’t good enough. In that school, in that environment, sometimes a 2100 wasn’t even good enough. That’s insane. My pretty good score landed somewhere in the 85th percentile in the country, but for whatever reason it was still lacking. That’s not a culture that I would want to raise a kid in. That’s too much pressure, and it’s unnecessary and uncalled for. The only way a student would be satisfied in that type of environment is if they became the best of the best. Striving for greatness is not the same thing as trying to be the best. Trying to be the best will always lead to disappointment. There will always be someone smarter than you, there will always be someone better than you, richer than you, what have you. From an early age we were taught the cutthroat nature of the rat race. It’s a cruel, crude world out there. Treachery abounds enough as is, do we really need to encourage teenagers to let their competitiveness spiral out of control in an un-constructive way? I know I’d rather not. True, pressure does create diamonds, but pressure also creates explosions.

Higher education should challenge young adults to try and become a better version of themselves. That’s without question. That’s what we should all be striving for. To be great, to be incredible. To always be improving, to always be looking for better. We’re not looking to be mediocre and to stay mediocre. Being stagnant is detrimental to growth. As such we must have motivation, we must have drive to become better than what we are. Outside pressure is good. It builds us up and makes us stronger. But too much can break us. It can cause promising young students to lose confidence or to lose focus. We want our kids to grow, to progress, to make a positive impact on those around them. But we don’t want to push them too hard. Too much outside pressure can create lofty expectations, expectations that even the brightest minds cannot reach. Balance is necessary. Don’t push too hard or you may see bright minds extinguish. You may see apathy and disinterest. You may see burn out. You may see nihilism. Do not push so hard that you inadvertently smother the light. Once the light is extinguished it is much harder for it to reignite.

So although I believe higher education to be overpriced, I am still grateful for my experiences there. Some young adults are capable of being on their own after high school. Others aren’t ready until after college. And still others may need even more time to develop after that. I certainly did. Sure I built up tools along the way, but who I was as an 18-year-old was different from who I was as a 22-year-old, as a 26-year-old, and as a 30-year-old. The 18-year-old version of me could not have survived on his own. The 22-year-old could at least wipe his own ass without assistance, but needed roommates to bolster his financial situation. The 26-year-old thought that he had his shit together, but was ultimately miserable with his life trajectory. It was likely clear to everyone else, but unbeknownst to me, I had a lifetime of trauma to unpack. I had a lifetime’s worth of healing that I needed to seek. Without healing there was no hope or optimism for me. You can’t go through life running away from adversity, acting like your trauma doesn’t exist, or acting like everything is okay. Eventually all of that shit catches up to you. And I assure you, trying to sift through decades of pent-up despair is a hell of a lot harder than dealing with it one thing at a time. 

So until I sought out therapy, after I had turned 26, there was no upwards trajectory for me. Either I regressed or I moved laterally. Moving side to side instead of onwards and upwards. That my friends is not progress, that is stagnation. Stagnation is the worst thing that can happen to you at this stage in your life. In times of adversity the going may be tough, but there is better—you can see it clearly. You may not know how to get there, you may not know how to seek it, but you believe that things couldn’t possibly get worse. When you’re at your lowest, there’s nowhere to go but up. But when you stagnate, you trick yourself into believing that everything is fine. You believe that since things are fine, that what you have is good enough. You believe that there aren’t areas that need improvement. You’re comfortable with where you’re at, you’re good with the status quo. You get lazy, you get apathetic. You lose focus. You lose sight of your goals. Because you stalled out. You stopped moving. That dear reader, is the most dangerous outcome. You inadvertently locked yourself out of higher blessings. You capped your potential at what you thought was good enough. You saw that things could be worse, and you left it at that. But things could always be better! You can always be better. You can always be greater. You can always accomplish more. 

Understand that and believe it. You are always capable of more. You were beautifully and wonderfully created and given a certain set of tools. A set of tools unique to you. No one else has the same exact set as you. That means that there is a place in the world for you. There is a role set up specifically for you. You owe it to yourself to discover it, pursue it, and excel at it. Dream big! But also be realistic. Again, balance is key. You need balance in every area of your life. You can’t spend all your time having fun, but you also can’t spend all your time working. You can’t be emotional in every decision you make, sometimes you have to be logical. If you have too little drive you aren’t doing what is best for yourself, but if you have too much drive you oftentimes hurt those around you. Find a balance. Outside pressure can motivate you, but it can also overwhelm you. Take constructive criticism to heart if you think that it’s valid. If it’s not valid then don’t worry about it. You can’t please everybody. Some people will always be jealous, some people will always be haters. You can’t change them, but you can change yourself. 

That being said, none of us are finished products. We’re all still growing and learning. We’re all looking to become the best version of ourselves. The journey continues. The ending will come eventually. All living things must perish. But it’s up to you to write the middle. Live in the moment and live to the fullest. Make each hour, day, year, decade the greatest it can possibly be. Write your own legacy. Make a positive impact on yourself and those around you. Pursue greatness. You can do great things. You are incredible, you can be incredible, you can do incredible. Just keep dreaming, and striving for better. It is safe to say that the 30-year-old version of me is the best version of me (so far). But that’s not good enough—I won’t just sit on my laurels. I haven’t accomplished everything that I want to accomplish yet. And I never will. When I meet my goals, there will be new goals to come. That’s the only way to keep progressing: to get better at what you do and to continually set new goals. 2022 has shaped up to be a pretty good year so far, but 2023 will be even more breathtaking. I will always strive for better. Who I am today is not who I will be tomorrow. I can promise you that.

I’ve been working diligently at my craft, but above all things, I’ve been working on myself. That’s the biggest difference between who I am now and who I was ten years ago, fifteen years ago, twenty years ago. Previously, I did not have the mental fortitude to take constructive criticism and create a better me, nor did I have the awareness to work on myself preemptively. Ten years ago I was in a toxic relationship (this isn’t to say that I wasn’t at fault, so please don’t read it as such). I had been carrying around my baggage in a black trash bag for many years at that point. After twenty years of pent up trauma, the bag started to get heavy. I was no longer able to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders, so I started dragging the bag behind me as I inched forward in life. But at some point, the bag ripped! Spewing my shit everywhere for all to see. Don’t be that person. Don’t drag your bullshit behind you, leaving a trail of brokenness and despair. 

Take care of yourself! Resolve your issues early before they become bigger problems. Don’t let them snowball. Your mental and emotional health are vital to your well-being. If you get your mind right first, everything will follow. Be the best version of yourself that you can possibly be. You owe it to your loved ones; your friends; those who look up to you; but most importantly you owe it to yourself. Be proud of who you are, be proud of what you’ve become. You’ve come a long way. Who you are now is not who you were as a toddler. If you still have the same mindset now as when you were a child you have plenty of growing up to do. As we get older, we’re given more responsibility because people trust in our ability, they believe in us. But more importantly, they’ve started to rely on us. We don’t think about it much—we often take it for granted—but someone putting their trust and belief in us is a leap of faith. Who’s to say that you won’t renege on your agreement or not follow through? They don’t actually know that, but they inherently accept that you will come through for them. They believe that you are fully capable of doing what they expect you to do. That’s not nothing, although we often overlook the significance of it. 

This added pressure is good for our growth. We have an obligation to do the right thing. To do the thing that’s expected of us. Oftentimes we’re more afraid of our parents’ disappointment than we are of their anger. Why is that? It’s because in letting them down, we also let ourselves down. We never verbalized it, we never really attributed that feeling to anything, but that’s what it comes down to. We knew what we were capable of, and we knew what we were supposed to do, but we didn’t do it. In not doing it, we failed to live up to our parents’ expectations of us, but they only placed those expectations on us because they thought that we could handle it. They didn’t just assume that we were capable, they knew that we were, because of how they raised us. As we grow older, we start to suppress the selfishness that we exhibited when we were younger. It comes with the territory of being an adult. The things that didn’t make sense to us before, have started to make sense to us now, because of what we’ve seen in life.

We started to look at things from an outside perspective. We realized how tough it was for our parents. It finally hit us that they were just learning on the job. They didn’t have all the answers. They didn’t know everything but they certainly knew more than we did. Now we know what it’s like to walk in their shoes. That’s a part of growing up. We were on the receiving end, but now we’re slowly approaching the giving end. It will be tough. We know that and we understand it. But life goes on. The cycle begins anew. 

We’re no longer kids answering adult questions. We’re the adults now. Everyone expects us to act like it. But at age 30 we’re likely not who we expected to be when we were looking ahead at age 5. I know I certainly am not. I never expected to be a writer, an artist, an aspiring author, a world builder. None of this was in the cards for me when I was that young. My answer to the question, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” had always been “I dunno,” or something that I thought people would like and respect. Something like an astronaut, or a scientist, or a doctor. Those were never honest answers. The fact was I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up, but I knew that I wanted to be myself. That never wavered. That never changed. Sure I hit some rough patches. Sure I was deluded at times. Sure I was led astray at others. But eventually I found my way to where I needed to be, and I stayed true to myself. 

I’ve always walked to the beat of my own drum. That has never changed and it never will. At times in the past, I had tried to suppress certain aspects of my personality, hide certain interests. But that never worked out. It always found a way to rear its head. It always found a way to peek out and say, “this is me. I am a vital part of Justin’s psyche.” And that is really the only real way to live. Be who you want to be. Like what you like. Do what you want to do. Live the life you want. Live the life you think you deserve. Don’t be ashamed of something just because it’s not in the mainstream. You don’t have to like what other people like. You don’t have to do what other people do. There isn’t only one particular career path that you need to pursue. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat,” as the idiom goes. 

As a kid, I was more worried about what other people thought than I was about what I wanted or what I liked. I chose to give basic answers because my brain hadn’t developed to the level that it needed to be at, in certain aspects. My curiosity ran rampant, but my intuition and discernment were not advanced enough to follow the convoluted nature of my mind. It was easier to give a simple answer. It was easier to say the first thing that came to mind. It spared me the discomfort of telling an adult to, “let me think about it.” But if they had let me think, they likely wouldn’t have gotten a simple answer without a lot of back and forth. 

Sometimes my favorite color was red. Other times it was blue. For a while it was green. All of these answers proved to be accurate at certain times in my life. But these were all shallow answers. Not digging particularly deep. If we had dug deeper we would’ve come up with this: I like earth tones. An answer that nobody else has given. An odd answer coming from an odd person. But it’s true. It’s the root of it all. Yes, I like browns, beiges and greys. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t also like color. I just like colors that are deeper and richer. I prefer cooler colors. I like reds, blues, greens, purples, yellows, but I’m particular about the shade. Bright or pastel shades don’t do it for me. There couldn’t be many things worse than baby blue or cerulean! But something like a midnight green or an Egyptian blue? I can dig that! I’m somewhat OCD, we know this. It’s not debilitating but it’s there regardless. But we never would’ve known any of this early on. I just didn’t think as hard as a kid. Not for lack of trying, but rather for lack of capability.

Likewise, I was incapable of verbalizing my favorite animal. To be honest, it’s kind of a shitty question. In biology class they teach us basic taxonomy. We have that little rhyme that teaches us different classifications such as kingdom, phylum, class, order. What do adults actually mean when they ask you what your favorite animal is? Do they mean domesticated animals specifically? Do they mean mammals? Reptiles? Birds? Fish? Do insects count? How about single-celled organisms? What do you mean? That was the question I always asked myself. What do you mean? What can I choose? Sometimes my answer was dog, sometimes it was cat, horse, or snake. I honestly didn’t know, because it’s not exactly the best question. But I was thinking too far in depth. This wasn’t the purpose of the question whatsoever.

But as kids we didn’t know that. We weren’t able to process to that extent. And that’s perfectly fine. Our brains were still developing, as were our people skills and our ability to discern and cogitate. It’s a part of growing up. Our brain capacity slowly catches up to the level of our inquisitiveness. As kids we always asked a thousand questions. What’s this mean? Who is that? How does this work? But there were some things that we just weren’t able to verbalize. I always wanted to know what was meant when people asked me about my favorite things. Give me a list to choose from! There are too many options! 

But questions like these weren’t meant to be thought about in so much depth. As a five-year-old, that’s not what’s expected of you. These questions are icebreakers. Ways of getting to know you. Nothing more, nothing less. The answer you give is not as important as the conversation that you have. It didn’t matter that it made me uncomfortable. I had to learn to socialize and talk to my elders somehow. It didn’t matter what answer I gave. What mattered was that it got me thinking. And that was a better lesson than I could’ve learned anywhere else. Your brain is a tool, a weapon, a defense. Those who think deeply thrive in high pressure situations. Those who think deeply are able to problem solve. As kids we may not have the words to verbalize our concerns. But we have the semblance of profundity building. It’s our duty to keep feeding it and nurturing it. Encircling it in an environment that allows it to flourish. Keep thinking. Keep asking questions, but in doing so don’t lose sight of yourself. Be authentic.