Growing Pains
Introducing a New Node, “Breathing through Stillness”
“It’s all about the finish,” was how my dad decided to end a heated discussion that ensued after my mom asked me when they could meet my partner (suffice it to say he needs more time, cue my mom rolling her eyes at him).
It’s my second day back in my parents’ house after spending two weeks away. It’s a Saturday morning, and we’re downstairs waiting for my sister to finish getting ready for lunch in Chinatown (my treat for her being voted the junior class’s homecoming princess— she is that girl).
I’m not even sure I could call it an argument because two distinctive logical points were not being presented. The same conclusion was reiterated: my parents want what’s best for me. Okay cool, I believe that’s the case. I just have to extract the well-meaning sentiment from my dad’s obstinate approach, a routine I’ve cultivated in the last few years, thanks to four incredible therapists and my mom, who helps translate the distortion in his intentions. Tears escape through rare breaks in her usual stoicism. We are a passionate bunch, that’s for sure. [Spoiler: we later ate lunch at a dumpling house, and hangry-ness may have been a factor in the emotions running high during the discussion.]
I’m not writing this to psychoanalyze my dad or to intellectualize the emotional labor of being the eldest daughter in an immigrant family (I do too much of that outside kanto anyways, and it’s a draining pasttime), but to take the time to pause and re-ground myself. I haven’t really stopped since the early spring of this year to reflect, and I’m not sure of what to make of the time passing me by.
Welcome to a new branch of kanto that I’m calling “Breathing through Stillness.”
In the last nine months of having this platform to hold space for (un/re)learning, I’ve unconsciously put pressure on myself to write long, multi-modal essays that read like thesis chapters, and it’s taken away from the simple joy of the writing process. And frankly, as someone working two to three jobs, it’s hard to find the time to do intensive research. Here, I’m giving myself permission to detail a stream of consciousness, writing plainly and breathing deeply (shoutout to a yoga instructor I had who was trained in Filipino martial arts, known as arnis or eskrima).
You’ll learn a bit more about the specifics of my life through personal vignettes. I think of this as the acoustic version of “Disturbing the Sediment,” heavier on the everyday moments (raw vocals, stripped-down instrumentals, subtle harmonies) and lighter on theory (no synths, backing tracks). I hope something written here resonates with you, especially as my audience comprises mostly twenty-somethings.
There are always waves in life to weather, some more treacherous than others, and if I can’t take the time to notice them washing over me, I’ll be adrift, left to the whims of the current. With vignettes being almost like a parable, this node’s title makes me think of the biblical miracle in which Jesus Christ calmed the sea of Galilee as he and his disciples were crossing during a storm. I don’t subscribe to organized religion anymore, but I am ~spiritual~ so this title is a gentle reminder for me to be still, aka chill tf out. I invite you to notice your breathing and the sensations in your body and the thoughts passing through your head, and I’ll attempt to do the same. Thanks for reading. ( っ˶´ ˘ `)っ
When my parents aren’t butting heads (cheers to over two decades of marriage, good Lord), they’re quietly enjoying PJ’s coffee and beignets or binge-watching season two of Rings of Power, or at least that’s what they were doing before the whole pre-lunch debacle.
I’m not exactly sure when it happens in a child’s development, but you come to realize your parents don’t have all the answers, and they have flawed takes, i.e., they are people. Oh, shit… I have to think for myself and be my own person? Scary. Going back to those five words my dad kept returning to (“It’s all about the finish”), my mom and I asked in response (or tried to ask, since, truth be told, he wasn’t having it) what constitutes a “finish,” death? As in, he’ll only celebrate life or feel fully satisfied when I take my last breath on this earth and I’ve accomplished everything I’ve ever intended?
Of course not, he insisted, he just meant he’ll be more assured when I become a tenured professor or when I get a stable job (disclaimer: I am gainfully employed). [Additional context: he made this comment in regards to me having a long-term relationship in graduate school, which he worries will distract me from my career goals and delay my financial independence.] My mom sympathized with that point, but added that he could still celebrate small victories instead of being critical (all the firstborn brown daughters said amen to that), and it would be unsustainable for me to be hyper-focused on school and forgo having a personal life in the meantime (not to mention he was already married to my mom when he entered a Ph.D. program, and I was five or six by the time his doctoral degree was conferred… so dad, if you’re reading this, the evidence is not evidencing).
I’m not sure why the disconnect occurred since my parents’ underlying principles are the same (i.e., they want me to be a self-sufficient adult). My mom wanted my dad to consider a tactical perspective (short-term steps) in addition to having a strategic plan (long-term, broad goals), but he seemed fixated on the latter.
Something valuable I learned in dialectical behavioral group therapy is that you can’t make people understand you; you can only present them with more information. I realized that trying to prove myself to my dad, even if he didn’t necessarily want me to do that (disclaimer: I don’t think he does), or even if it was someone else, would be a disservice to myself. I’d be sentencing myself to a fate similar to that of Sisyphus’s, rolling a boulder up a hill for eternity and never reaching the summit. It would be, as cultural theorist Lauren Berlant termed, “cruel optimism”— “A relation of cruel optimism exists when something you desire is actually an obstacle to your flourishing.”
My dad likes to ascribe his pessimism to being an occupational hazard (he’s a mathematical statistician), but his probability calculations are skewed (sometimes, I need to speak in scientific language to get through to him; I also told him his life experiences aren’t generalizable because his sample size is too small, n=1, so he can’t use his data to then form conclusions about an entirely different dataset, aka my life, not to mention he’s extrapolating) from the traumatic hardships he faced growing up. It served him then, and I honor that truth.
At the same time, I recognize that doesn’t serve me now. I’m not going to catastrophize (shoutout therapy vocabulary) or frame my life through a deficit-based lens. That doesn’t make me better than my dad. It does, however, make me a separate person from him. [I think there’s a psychological term for this, individuation. Or, as I titled this entry, “growing pains.”] I know my dad is über results-oriented, and I won’t knock him for that since he went through so much shit getting my family to the U.S. after all, but I’m a girly who’s passionate about the process. That was my whole deal with starting kanto late last year.
I write a lot about organizing work in kanto, but I’m also a regular-ass person with a still-developing frontal lobe trying to figure out the next right move. Here’s a speed run of what my life has looked like in this last year and a half:
In the spring of last year, I graduated college with double Distinctions in Research and in the top 10% of my class. Those quantifications, yes, are describing academic achievements (as my 4th grade Gifted/Talented teacher would say, you could say I’m smarter than the average bear), but what they really signify to me is that it was no small feat for me returning to college after going on medical leave (involuntarily…) during my sophomore year and having to regain my footing. I was able to graduate in four years with those honors because I had (have!) a robust support network made of strong, kind women like my mom, friends including the tenderest men, and healthcare providers, etc.
I spent the summer after graduation submitting 54 job applications. Even though it was a drag, I count myself as on the luckier end of the spectrum since I know that many college graduates have to submit 100+ applications. I was invited to interview for four different positions, got rejected from one of them after the first round, and then finally, after four months of listlessness and despair and avoidance, I received two full-time offers from the same place, just in different departments. I accepted the offer that came from the hiring manager who got back to me faster. The funny thing (except, it wasn’t really funny at the time because it involved me writing a strongly-worded letter with receipts) is that I quit four months in… My mom still gets pissed thinking about how unfairly I was treated at that job.
At the beginning of this year, I was back on the job market, and this was not accounted for in any post-college plan of mine, especially because I had tens of thousands of dollars in student debt. I had to apply for economic forbearance, which I still don’t really know how that benefitted me because interest kept accruing. I submitted another 42 job applications, but this time in just one month. [Out of necessity, I was on X games mode.] By the end of February, I once again received two full-time offers. I accepted the offer with more flexible accommodations, and I’m about to hit seven months in that new job, woooo.
I’ve also been doing side hustles. My small photography business just finished its second season. It’s also been over a year since I started tutoring Asian(-American) high school students and helping with their college admissions essays as part of a local small business.
At the beginning of this year, I thought I’d be moving to New York City for a Master’s program at Columbia University. My senior year of college, I applied and got accepted into Master’s programs at schools like Stanford, Brown, and Johns Hopkins. Following the advice of some faculty I respect greatly, I decided to take a gap year (warding off the burnout), deferring my enrollment to Columbia. I ultimately decided to withdraw my attendance for a variety of reasons. I’m glad I did because…
…I was able to pay off thousands of dollars in student loans (additional context: I live with my family and am not paying rent). I’m readying to move out next year. 0_0 I have mixed feelings about living on my own because I won’t have many days ahead of me when I wake up on a Saturday morning hearing my mom blasting 80s music downstairs while the vacuum is going; when I finish work on a weekday and my dad decides to karaoke in the living room just because; when I have to pick my sister up after her varsity colorguard practice; and when I get to cuddle with my dog who’s 12 years old now anytime I feel like it. I’m just grateful I have this extra time with them. Call me a sentimental hoe.
…Oh, and I met someone (I’m so smitten I can’t even believe it) over the summer, and now futures I never thought likely for myself have materialized. I’m thankful I get to speak candidly with my mom, whose foresight and compassion are exactly what I need in a time such as this, when revelations about what I want for myself have baffled me.
I’m allowed to change my mind, and that doesn’t mean I’m making aimless decisions. I’m allowed to make mistakes, and that doesn’t mean I’m going about life recklessly. I’m allowed to learn by doing (shoutout Mao, knowledge derived from practice) and then change course. And I’m going to take pleasure in how it all unfolds.
The love and goodness I’ve encountered abundantly carried me to where I am now. I’m in a pretty darn good spot, and I found great company along the way.
If everything goes to shit, I’ll try to write my way through it. ;P Anyways, it’s 2:30 a.m., and I have work tomorrow. Until next time, kanto readers.
Take care,
Ysampagita
P.S. I’m going to an XG concert next month with some of my favorite people, so enjoy this dance practice by the cvntiest girl group ever.