You judge me b/c I am pretty and I can smile…thinking I have lived a peaceful life….but my beauty only shines the most when I am shedding tears about the past that made me who I am today…
What a success story….people always say that to me….and I think I am starting to agree. I am not gonna say I am blessed with the perfect life. I am not by any means….I have struggles and guilt issues through the roof…but at the end of the day….I have two families who have made selfless sacrifices for me and that I am thankful for every minute of every day. My birth mom gave me up in hopes that I would 1) receive a better life. Which I am thankful for because…believe me, I did go on to be in a better place.
I used to hate her for it. “That bitch ruined my life by sending me to America and forcing me to deal with all these racist assholes” That was my tagline for life through my teens. Yes, I went through the racism…with how I am now, i bet a lot of people wouldn’t believe it. ….it was so bad in middle school that I skipped school just to avoid being called a “chink.” When I was 12, I would sit in front of a toilet all night to convince my mom I was too sick to go to school~ I remember how tired I was….how all I wanted to do was go to sleep….but I knew if I gave in and quit faking my illness, I would have to go to school and be harassed for 8 hours….that wasn’t worth 9 hours of sleep..
In high school I was surprised to deal with the same senseless shit I tried so hard to run away from. I don’t understand the logic of attacking people’s skin color. It’s mindless and its the lowest blow imaginable. Go ahead and make fun of me for my haircut or my clothes….but DON’T think your gonna get away with attacking me for something I DIDN’T choose.
In high school, I wasn’t nearly as proud to be Korean as I am now. I didn’t know anything about being Korean nor did I befriend any of the Koreans in school. It wasn’t dear to my heart and I think I was still assuring myself I was the same as anyone else.
In college, while my friends were enjoying class and hanging out with friends…I was working on bettering myself…and frankly, understanding myself. I would do research day in and day out trying to find the piece of my puzzle that could explain why I was so miserable and so damn confused. People still always ask me why I hated college. It wasn’t college itself that I hated. I want to emphasize that….I didn’t hate college (because…whats really to hate about partying, 2 hours of class a day. and tasting freedom??) I hated college because I was not a full person through the entire four years. I was merely existing. Imagine waking up every morning and beginning the countdown of when you can go back to bed….that’s how I lived for four years.
It was only until my senior year of college when I read an article about adopted children and the commonality of attachment issues. That is the moment I had my epiphany and realized my adoption still played a intrusive role in my life. And for the first time, I wasn’t ashamed to discuss this issue. I was rather proud to say “Ya, I understand myself and I would be honored to share my story with you.”
I used to be convinced I was gay. I think i convinced everyone I was gay just with the way I couldn’t keep my attachment issues under control. I have 10 diaries scribbled in manic episodes. They depict how angry I was that my attachment chose another person over me or talked to someone else for 10 minutes and to me only 8 minutes. Endless posts about how they didn’t text me back or returned my call 5 hours after I initially called them ….
I remember laying in bed and thinking “this isn’t love….this isn’t what love is supposed to be. Why do I stress 24/7 about these people?” I want to clarify my attachment issues. It isn’t sexual….I don’t want to lay beside these women in any sorta way (How could I have sex with them if I don’t even let them touch me?) It is about me giving a twenty some year old woman reasons to keep me in their life…and more importantly my constant fight to halt any sort of reason for them to kick me out of their life. (My mother was 22 when she gave birth to me). I am placing my issues with my birth mom on unsuspecting victims who are just simply unlucky to fall along my path. I apologize to them for my chaos…they didn’t do anything to deserve it.