The past few days have been a true testament to the people I’ve surrounded myself with, a display of how much people mean to me, and how much I mean to them.
On Wednesday, I turned 20, and I was greeted (jokingly rudely) with many greetings from all the dear people in my life. My Facebook exploded, of course, even though I’ve tried to hide the reason for ‘celebration’. Throughout the next few days, so many people took the effort to wish me happy birthday and let me know how much I was appreciated. Friday night was another story when I came home to over 20 people crowded into my apartment, thanks to the efforts of my closest friends, ready to cake my face, and present their tokens of appreciation (to which with words I cannot even begin to explain my gratitude. I have names down…). It was truly one of the happiest nights I’ve had in a long time, and I owe it to them.
And then, Saturday night, there came a point where I had to bring myself to my senses. I had a talk with my closest friend. It was brought to my attention just how much it appeared that I was burdening myself, by caring so much about solving everyone’s issues and caring so much about what people thought about me – why this is really the first true public blog I’ll have ever made since coming to college. It was also brought to my attention just how much that great burden on myself, created a burden in myself on my friends.
And I realized I had yet to really tell my story, why I am the way I am today.
When I was growing up, I didn’t have many friends. As the one Asian kid in your entire class, one out of maybe five in the whole school, it wasn’t that hard to make me aware that I was different (I was also a weird kid to be totally honest; societal American norms weren’t exactly something my immigrant parents taught me), whether directly by others or reflectively by myself. I was sheltered, and it was really just with my sister that I spent time doing anything fun, up until I was approaching high school. I guess my sister and I were our own cases of awkward, raised in the same way and never really thrown to the judgement of the public until school.
And I know I’m not pleading a unique case, from hearing the stories of all the people I’ve met after crossing 2,500 miles to the other side of the country. I’m just telling my story now.
After all the embarrassment I incurred through elementary school and middle school, for being different and being ‘weird’, I took the steps to rapidly change that. Gone was the shell, and I took it upon myself to seek the respect and appreciation of my peers. I threw myself into work, partly to blind myself to the emotional and psychological connection of “hanging out” like normal teenagers, and because I grew up on the principle that by working hard, you will be rewarded. And I guess rewarded I was, by the time I graduated I climbed my way up, academically, socially, and extracurricularly (Is that even a word?). At the same time I also drove myself away from my sister, who was fortunate enough not to have to endure the same pain I grew up with. Something I will always remember is how a peer (I remember who it was, M.D.) thanked me for all I did for the school. And I was confused, and of course appreciative of the gratitude, but mostly confused and in denial. That it was nothing, when in reality that person had completed the equation, the principle of give-take I lived by.
But of course, all those emotional and psychological connections weren’t entirely blinded. Some of my toughest years were during high school. It was a true wonder how I got through all of it actually.
And then I realized, after these past few days, that I’ve lived on graces of my friends. The people who got me through it all, and the people who get me through it today. The peers, the coworkers, the colleagues and associates, the friends – the people I have the privilege of being surrounded by, two decades after forming who I am. That’s why I care so much about my friends and the people I’m around – they’re the reason why I live.
Last night, I was ready to close the latest chapter of my life, a part of what makes me live. Everything was neatly packed away, and the tape was ready to seal it away, only to be glanced at through the semi-transparent membrane from time to time. I wanted to do it so badly, because of how it was affecting some of the people I’ve mentioned above. But I didn’t. While there’s still the chance and the window to do it, I don’t know if I want to. Because I’m now in the situation where, unlike many chapters where I’ve been forced to close them, I’m being given the option, for two of them. I want to close one of them, for the sake of everyone else, but that means closing another one, that’s just between the two of us. And I don’t know where to go from there.
I don’t know. And I’m sorry for that.
But the one thing I do know is that things will be fine in the end. “This too shall pass.” All it takes is time.