In Some Ways

In some ways, I'm relieved. In others, more worried about the disappointment. I didn't know how else to tell her...

It was coming sooner or later, and so, I’m relieved that it finally came sooner. That she finally knows and in the end, understands. Supports it despite everything. It's almost funny how we both didn’t want to say what we actually thought because we believed that’s what the other wanted.

It's funny how love is sometimes.

I can't change these things. My mother really does know me the best. I don’t know why it has to be this way. I guess things really do have to be learned the hard way. Really, I wish it didn't have to be. Now that I’m older and understand, I want to spare you every second of worry and concern.

I'm taking it for the better. I'm acknowledging my limits, but I’m using it my advantage. I’m using it to strengthen myself in order to set new limits.

And, I'm so, so sorry.

Lessons of an Impromptu Garden

I’m slaving away at my computer when I happen to overhear a phone conversation my mother’s having with my grandaunt, currently in Atlanta. In a mix of Chinese and Taiwanese, they were discussing how to grow my mom’s winter melon, which was starting to show signs of emerging. I didn’t even know our garden was growing winter melons! Then, I’m not that surprised…twenty-one years of experience as her daughter has taught me to be ready for anything.

“I dried some seeds for a full year before planting them. I think that helped.”

Good god! A whole year, and then another year before you knew whether the seed you planted was going to survive or even grow to a respectable size. Talk about patience. And, trust.

“How did I plant them? Like I planted everything else, I just threw a handful of the seeds into the ground and patted some dirt and home-made fertilizer over it.”

I bite back a smile. Through the phone, I can hear my grandaunt’s laughter of exasperation, and I understand how she feels.

A garden is associated with neat little rows and careful planting. I always thought of gardeners as very serene people who were patient and/or possessed a diligent green thumb. Or, they were rambunctious kindergarteners in the school garden. Whereas our garden started out as a whim of my mother’s, a person who liked very much to experiment and didn’t believe in boxes. Who knew I’d start associating the word garden with daily battleground?

Think 53-years-old Asian mother versus the suburban squirrels. Oh, it was awesome.

Okay, I’ll admit. Over the past two years, this whimsical garden behind our house has yielded some tangible and yes, even edible goods. Branching out from the herbs, my mom now tries to plant anything and everything she thinks might be suitable in our climate. And it has certainly been amazing to see what sprouts up because sometimes she forgets what she planted where.

In fact, I’m always some kind of amazed that things are actually sprouting. It goes to show that while knowledge can take you far, a willingness to keep trying is a true confirmation of the words, ‘you reap what you sow.’

Kudos to you, ma.

From the Side

Conversations of Note:

“You want to know what I think?”

“No, not really.”

“You can think like a guy, but you’re a girl.”

“I’m confused, so are you saying this as a good thing or bad thing?”

“I’m saying it’s the thing that screws you over.”

“I almost resent that.”

“Should I continue?”

“By all means. Enlighten me as to why I’m so screwed, please.”

“You can see both sides but like a typical girl, your actions are driven by your emotions. You’re controlled by them. THAT screws you over.”

“I resent being called a typical girl.”

“You don’t resent being screwed?”

“Oh, I love being screwed.”

“Top, bottom or behind?”

Truth Of The Matter Is...

…you can’t just passively hope that the time frame for moving on will somehow miraculously shorten. Because when reality reveals again and again that this is not the case, it fucks all sorts of shit up. All sorts.

…blindingly trusting both yourself and time to heal things is not the way to go. It’s also a form of avoidance. You need to know where you want to go, and then...purposefully trust yourself to put that first step forward. Otherwise, as time passes you by, you’ll just realize that your fears held you back. That they held you even tighter to the past you're trying to progress from.

…being able to give yourself to another person is a wonderful thing and a precious gift. But! Just because you gave a part of yourself away does not mean you’ve lost yourself completely. It’s a chance to rediscover yourself, stronger and better than before.

…when you make a decision and have all the intentions to stick with it, you best make sure that it’s not only because you know it’s the right decision. It’s one thing to need it, and another thing entirely to want it as well.

The HEART of the matter is…

The fact that I don’t want to let go of our close friendship really meant I didn’t really want to let go. Period.

Some things really are all or nothing.

So, I want it all.

And, it will have nothing to do with holding on to the past anymore.

Debatable Debacles

Yes. I am a nerd. This has already been established.

So really, it shouldn't come as a surprise that sometimes I like to play a little devil’s advocate with myself. This format of expressing thoughts is taken from This Fish, whose writing I adore. It helps me shift through the emotions a little more smoothly. Just a little, mind you.

And sometimes, if I’m lucky…I’ll hit upon an epiphany.


So, are you secretly wanting more?
Well, I've sent him the email where I admitted some things, guaranteeing we'll both step back.
This is a yes or no question.
Um…
Well?
Yes, damn it. Of course, I want more. But silliest thing is that I don’t even know what I want more of anymore.
Then why keep torturing yourself w/ such close communication?
It’s just called keeping in touch.
Okay, then. Who else do you ‘just keep in touch’ with daily and with over page-long emails?
Um. No one else. Ever.
Then why are you doing it, you idiot!?
Fine! I’m a masochist.
That’s an excuse. Old and lame.
Maybe so, but it’s forcing me to get used to thinking of him as just a good friend and not my lover anymore.
Or potential significant other?
Or potential significant other.
So, you mean if he found a hot Swedish girl, you’d be alright?
NO!
You’re pathetic.
Shutup. I’m honest.

Okay, so not quite the epiphany I had hoped for.

Months x 3

-------- Sometime in May 2007 --------

It’s that silence.

I utterly despise that kind of unexplained, sudden, and complete silence. I don’t care if it’s brief or stupidly one-sided or even irrational. I hate it because every second is so damnably…tense.

I can’t relax in that sort of silence, that kind of not knowing.

With other people, it’s not like that. I cut all my friends a lot of slack because they’re tolerant of me in all my crazy entireties. And, for the everyday people who don’t claim an emotional part of me.

Bluntly put—with others, I don’t obsess. We all have our own lives to tend to. Shit may (and will) happen, and we are totally allowed to lose our minds for a moment.

But it bothers hurts me like no other when it’s from you. Because that’s exactly what you’re doing. Hurting me. I don’t fucking care if something came up and sorry, you got busy and forgot.

Because under all my layers of bravado, I do care.

Too much.

-------- Sometime in June 2007 --------

I don’t want to realize that your indifference and at times guarded distance is for me, for my damned pitiful sake. Then it takes all the justifiable steam out of my anger towards you. Self-pitying SUCKS and tears make my eyes hideously puffy. I’d rather have that anger back and a fighting will.

You once explained to me that when you worried, it wasn’t for yourself. You said you worried for me.

God, how I despised and loved those words. In that instant, I realized you held in your hands the power to melt away my anger, my frustration, my fears…and my heart.

So, I hated that. And, you.

All the while wishing you’d do that again.

Again and again and again…

-------- July 1st, 2007 --------

I want to hear that you’re hurting as much as my heart is bleeding. I don’t care if that means you’re exaggerating. I want to hear it, damn it.

Sometimes, I fear all that bleeding will cause my heart to dry out and shrivel up into an ugly prune. So, I beg for a quick-fix and say fuck the consequences.

I beg that somehow you’ll let go of me. Then beg for you to be unsuccessful.


I don’t want to hear that you’ll hold back because it’s what I need to move on. I secretly wanted to hear you say how much you wished you could hold me instead.

But then again, I know that if you were to actually say so, you wouldn’t be the person I adore and cherish. No, you wouldn’t be the person who’d respect my wishes to avoid certain topics because they reminded me of my past…with you.

You wouldn’t be the person who’s anxious that an ocean away, I might be sad because of the hurt you’ve caused. The person who’d send me hilarious YouTube videos to make sure I can still laugh and smile because of you.

Once more, I hate you for melting away my frustrated anger and my broken heart.


And yet, I can't help but still...somehow...wish to thank you.