QAQ

Last night I spent a good hour or two getting traumatised by people who call themselves my parents. Sometimes I wonder, what the fuck did I do in my past life to deserve people like you??? It must have been some grave sin indeed, to incur this kind of karma. 

There was a lot of name-calling, I was a monster and a shame of the family. They reinforced that I was mentally ill, but they meant it as an insult. I sat there in the face of all this abuse, and I would have left but my mother was clinging onto me, crying, begging me to "be normal". It was a bit of a trainwreck scene. 

For the first time in my life I didn't cry. Initially I thought I felt tears welling up behind my eyes, and I feared I was going to have another one of my classic breakdowns where I cry and I yell in frustration, then I run away from everything. I hated myself for those times. So I sat there, and that brief moment of panic passed, and I endured. I think my non-response to the situation triggered my mother some more, and she wailed on, saying I was too cold, that I will end up all alone and that no one will love me. Apparently the friends I currently have are not real, that we are only friends because they have nothing else to do with their time, that we CAN only be friends because my existence does not negatively impact their lives. 

...I did not think my existence negatively impacted my mothers', but from what she told me last night, evidently I was wrong. 

When I distanced myself a little, I felt as if I were an outsider looking in on some shitty family drama. Here was my mother, crying as if I had died (perhaps she would be happier if I had, sometimes I do wonder), and I was sitting there, motionless, unable to stop her and unable to become a completely different person as she had wished. I will read in textbooks that the mentally ill lack insight, and to her that must be how I appear- unfazed, stoic and certain in my actions. Those are qualities I wished upon myself, and I was so proud that I did not act out last night, that I stood my ground and I was oh-so-polite, like I always wanted to be. 

Then I looked at this woman with pity as she clung to me. I could barely recognize her as my mother, the words she spoke were not very motherly by my books, and her actions far from loving. Though I suppose they were very culturally appropriate, I didn't expect (though I wished) that she would act any other way. Am I too "Westernized" for her? Of course I am, I grew up in Australia, but I love Australia much more than I love classic Chinese culture. I don't mind the conservatism, but I DO mind the fear and hatred covertly endorsed, I mind the sexism, the racism, and the stubborn unwillingness to learn or consider alternate points of view. My parents displayed a myriad of such insufferable qualities last night, and I left feeling thoroughly disgusted. 

In a moment of awakening I knew that I despised them all the same, though I cannot bring myself not to care. I found assurance and peace, because in that moment I knew I would never be like them. It was one of my biggest fears, but when I realized the gulf between us, I knew my fears were unfounded. I was already a vastly different person. Not perfect like I aspire to be- still too cold, too bitter, unwilling to forgive and unsociably cynical, but I am learning to be warmer, kinder, patient and pleasant. One day I will be able to reflect on myself and decided that I had tried, and that trying mattered, and perhaps I will even be satisfied with the person I had become. I know that I am satisfied with my progress now.

I wonder what my parents will have left.