This is me, peeling back layers of protection, of self-denial, poking myself and wondering what it is that I feel. Sometimes, I don’t know how I feel and then I feel tears rolling down my cheeks. Dissociation they call it. Sociopath is another label I’ve heard from people who like to slap on labels to make themselves self-important.

I look down and wonder why I am the way I am. I hear birds singing outside. I have no knowledge about animal behavior but do birds care when one is acting differently? Do they wonder about insecurity and question their self-esteem? I doesn’t matter really how I got to be the way I am. How do I function so that I can succeed with what I have, improve upon my strengths, and diminish my weaknesses so that they don’t get in my way?

I’m number six of nine kids, the youngest of the first six and then the oldest of the next four. In a large family like ours, we tend to use numbers to identify ourselves. It reminds me of the Star Trek: the next Generation series. Hopefully, I didn’t just date myself. It doesn’t matter who I am talking to in my family, I can be both bossy and accommodating- I don’t always defer to the elder out of habit. Maybe I stopped doing that when I realized that as an older sister to the younger set, I really don’t always have more wisdom than they, nor do I have the right answer. I’ve learned that you have to discern wisdom from who ever can share it, from even the most unlikely people regardless of age. In fact, you can learn a lot from children if you can set aside your ego. Children, as contradictory as it may seem, have preternatural wisdom which they seem to lose as adulthood approaches and we become jaded and lose faith in magic and miracles.

In this past year I have found myself talking to all my siblings more frequently than ever before. It’s been both good and bad. It’s been advantageous since we realized we needed to reconnect in order to plan out our mother’s long term care which came sooner than we anticipated. We were lulled into complacency with our mother’s relative good health and independent living but as life always does, it gave us a rude awakening about how precious and delicate life can be. Lives can change in an instant and you can’t really plan for the abrupt change. Its disorienting and feels unfair but who decides fairness in life? Sometimes, you just have to push past the discomfort and see whether there is an other side. But no matter what, things keep changing and nothing lasts forever, good times or bad times.

Then there’s the bad. Maybe, “difficult” is a better word to describe it. There are a lot of latent conflicts in my family, with many iterations: sister with sister, brother against brother, mother against each kid at some point. It’s exhausting just to recount them. You would think there would be some overarching bond that would override the conflict, like maybe the power of love? But no. Instead there are just a lot of big gigantic egos at play, vying to be the victor. Come to think of it, ALL my siblings are strong willed. Even me. I’m just more outwardly quiet which throws people off. I think my stubbornness was borne out of necessity to stand up to the rest of my family, especially our mother.

Generally though, being the middle child of sorts, I am always seeking harmony in my life. I hate discordance, I shy away from rough or unkind language, I am gentle in manner, in speech, and in action. I seek to understand and wish to be understood. Being easy going, it’s also to be taken advantage of. You need to set and maintain boundaries and can’t be the nice guy all the time. You have to fight for what you have, otherwise, others will take what is rightfully yours. Needless to say, this part is what I’ve been working on. A lot.

The fighting part is hard. It feels unnatural to me. I’m soft by nature. Too soft. But the last few years, especially this year, I’ve been sparring, constantly sparring with my siblings. It started with T in 2019 and then in 2022, I’ve had confrontations with all eight of them (!) with varying degrees of tension and dissension. I’m getting pretty bloodied but I think I’m becoming tougher, more resilient.

Some think I am meek and passive and then I turn around and surprise them when I confront problems directly rather than avoid them. I prefer frank and honest conversations mainly because it’s more efficient. Why waste time when you can get straight to the point? I figure people who know me would know I would never be unkind on purpose. But sometimes, my words are too concise to the point of brusqueness and I have to remind myself to preface with some perfunctory niceties. I see the wisdom of practicing the norms of social etiquette especially with people who don’t know me – I am more socially aware than some give me credit for. I just sometimes choose the more straight path that can be perceived as being tactless.

Some see my accommodating nature and take me for granted or they try to bully me into submission. Kindness is not a weakness. Kindness is frequently underestimated and undervalued until you become the recipient of it in your darkest moments and you realize its healing power.

I do my best to be cooperative and collaborate and my patience can be legendary but I’m only human. I do have my limits. The inner lioness can come out unbidden when she’s being constantly provoked undeservedly. During the rare times I lose my temper, my sense of remorse is swift. My anger is short-lived only to be replaced with disappointment in myself for having lost my peace of mind. When there is a cause that I’m passionate about that tests my sense of justice, such as taking care of our mom, the inner lioness makes her presence known with more grace. She speaks calmly and with resonance because she is speaking her truth.

I know my inner lioness is here. If she doesn’t respect you, she doesn’t care how you think of her. She does her own thing. And please don’t go keep poking at me or take advantage, thinking I’m so sweet and passive. My inner lioness will very well just pay you a visit.

Averse to change. That’s me. This characteristic aggravated my past three romantic partners who seemed to be the opposite. T was a consultant who travelled Monday through Thursday in the first few years of our relationship. During that time, his office environment changed every few months as he was assigned to a new project at different clients. R was a teacher who was teaching at an international school. The Narcissist was a Jekyll and Hyde personality so I guess that counts, changing from meek, wide-eyed to sullen, prone to inexplicable rages and silent treatments.

Then there is me. I have worked for a state program for the last 23 years, basically my first job. I hate throwing anything anyway, always thinking there will be a use for it someday. Somehow I managed to move from a 3 bedroom house or at least my half of it without downsizing any of my stuff to sharing a two bedroom apartment. Since I was a bit of pack rat and Virgo one to boot, I made every bit of space in my room functional by putting my organization skills to work. I even installed lights with a dimmer in my closet. T would have been proud.

I think I chose my opposites as my mates because I sought those qualities that I thought I lacked. I wanted to be adaptable, nimble, and flexible. I didn’t want to be attached to one place, or things. I loved to travel except I usually dreaded the actual going part and would always contemplate cancelling my trip a few days before my departure. It was as though there was almost too much effort required for me to move from being fixed to one place to actually moving. If I lived alone, I believe I would not be going out much. I needed someone to compel me to go out, to push me. T was good at that, perpetually planning trips for us until we moved to our San Francisco house. R was a teacher overseas for whom I considered quitting and relocating. I wanted to but couldn’t in the end, however much I loved him. It was too out of character, it was too far of a reach for me at the time. Besides there were other factors involved that made me question his commitment to us as well.

Yet in the last few years, nothing has stayed the same for very long. I’ve spent the last three summers in Vermont, South Korea, and Southern California. I’ve become a nomad not by design and not because I chose to move but because of the changing circumstances in my life. My relationship with R meant I had to travel to be with him. My sense of responsibility to my mom and my siblings brought me to southern California. I was even forced to clean out my apartment because of a beetle infestation.

I’ve needed change but I’ve resisted it for so many years. Especially, now while my work is remote, which I would like to be permanent, I can be anywhere except international at least until my company’s policy changes. Unexpectedly, I like it. I like not knowing what my life is going to look like in few months. I like that I’m free to choose. I’ve always had the freedom. I think all of us do to a certain degree. Because my point of view has been so narrow and because I’ve been so afraid or unmotivated to take steps away from my comfort zone, I just didn’t know there were so many options and that I could exercise them. I realize now that you can’t do anything simply by waiting it out. There may never be a good or convenient time to make necessary changes to your life. Every change is a disruption to the status quo that will be uncomfortable. Yet it forces you to adapt, to flex some unused muscle you never even knew you had. You just need to make the first step and with each step, you gain a little more confidence to take the next step and the next step after that. Fortunately, I’ve had a lot of unexpected changes these past few years and being open to what it brings, has started a spiritual transformation that is still ongoing. If I don’t think about it too much, I would have to say it’s pretty exciting!

Previous posts have been about love lost. Sometimes it’s easier to ruminate over what we don’t have and forget to acknowledge the love we do have.

From my magic carpet ride in 2020 (two summers ago?!), I remember saying to R with wonder in my voice, that there is love all around us. Yet why are we unhappy, plagued by mistakes we committed, unable to detach from lost love, lost success, loss in general? We don’t realize that we have a choice in what to receive and what not to receive. Our human tendency is to run after what we desire and don’t have rather than to receive what is directly in front of us. Sometimes, what we don’t have isn’t what we’re meant to have. And sometimes, what is directly in front of us all along is what we need but didn’t even realize its value until it may be too late.

In my last new year’s resolution, I promised myself that I would try to build a relationship between two estranged siblings, Justin and Chi Ha. If nothing else has happened, I can say with honesty that I tried, over and over again this year. I’ve never spoken as frequently or as much with all my siblings than this year.

My birthday this year reflected the change in my relationships to family. It was the first birthday in years which I’ve spent with family specifically with the sisters who I’m closest to. Being the half life time mark, makes this birthday even more significant. My 30th and 40th was when I was still with Troy. In the weeks preceding my 50th birthday, I was feeling some self pity that I would be spending it without a life partner. I couldn’t think of how to celebrate such a milestone but the way it evolved, it was everything it had to be. I spent it with family that I loved and who I knew supported me and we did things that elevated my spirit – hiking at the beach, my spa afternoon, eating good food and sharing laughter and good energy. Though my mom chose my birthday to have her dramatic exit from the house, I chose to not react. I drew my boundaries and didn’t allow anyone or anything mar the spirit of the day. My birthday was a quiet yet grand entry into my next fifty years where I chose to take care of myself first before I took care of other people. That would be kind of unheard of ten years ago and I would have felt guilty had I did anything like that. Now, I’m actually kind of proud of myself!

I’ve been thwarted at every turn that I’ve tried to take this past year. My life as I knew it has stalled and I’m feeling it in my body. My legs from the knee downward feels stiff, achy, as though my circulation has been stymied. The emotional feelings of being frustrated has manifested in my legs, tightened my throat and chest.

When I was young around 5 or 6, I thought to myself that if my mom ever died, I would want to die with her. My whole identity was wrapped with hers. I couldn’t imagine what life would be without her. Like most children, I also thought she would live forever.

Now that I’m an adult and caring for her, I have some resentment that she didn’t have surgery earlier which would have given her a better prognosis to recover her former mobility and regain more independence. She always spoke so highly of herself, that she had the courage and the strength of mind to make a decisive and quick decision to leave everything behind, her homeland, her family, everything she knew and loved to come to America for a better life. At 81, she was so vital and active until her fall. After the fall, she was scared to have the surgery, dwelling, dwelling on the same questions, seeking different answers. Now, three months out, the doctor’s prognosis for her surgery was less ambitious, primarily for stabilizing and preventing any further decline or serious injury. When I heard my mom’s iterations of the same questions, I was so irritated. She was wasting everyone’s time, and dashing my hopes that she would recover enough to live independently. I was disheartened, embarrassed, irritated that I was once again witness to the same indecision.

I vowed to myself that in my later years, I will have the strength of mind and courage to do what I could to be less of a burden to my loved ones who would be taking care of me and to live an independent life full of value and meaning.

I would remember that my decisions would not only affect my life but those who were caring for me. I would remember that should I choose to not do all I could to be independent then my family should not be the ones who would carry the burden. I would not let them suffer.

Later, I study my mom’s face when she seems lost in thought. Without her dentures, she seems like a wizened old lady, sitting slightly hunched, her mouth slightly sunken, her white hair growing in like a crown. I can imagine her thinking the futility and value of life, wondering if there is more than what is in front of her. She’s in constant pain. Will I be any different? When I’m in a body that no longer functions the way I want it to, will I remember these intentions made so resolutely decades before?

I saw the underbelly of fighter jets. I was that close (not sure really how close). I was dumbfounded. How can they fly so close to the ground?

I live in Oakland and almost every year, I can hear the blue angels practicing. It’s more of a nuisance since they’re so loud. I’ve never considered going to see them in person. A bunch of jets in the sky…what’s the fascination? I didn’t understand till my brother took my mom and I to view them in HB.

Wooooooosh! It’s been forever since I felt this excited and full of wonder. To be witness to that kind of flying, to be that close, it was thrilling. Car alarms were constantly going off due to the vibration.

The speed, their flying in formation, all of it was nothing short of amazing.

I finally won the biggest payout for Powerball. Eight dollars! I saw the first three numbers matching. Oh what a rush of adrenaline!

I went to cash it out the same place I bought it, at Vietnamese to-go deli near my mom’s house. For some reason, after running the slip through the machine, the attendant told me there was something wrong with the machine. She look quizzically at me. I was disappointed but I resolved to come back. The next day, I was back to get my winnings. Same thing. This clerk looked puzzled too but claimed that the machine was off. A little more frustration this time on my part. This 8 dollars seems especially hard to claim.

A few days later at a Vietnamese market, I attempted again to cash out my ticket. Waiting for the employee to check my numbers, I waited patiently. “Your ticket has already been cashed”. As I looked on dumbfounded, the clerk printed out a receipt like note that informed me that the winnings had already been distributed.

It’s 8 freaking dollars! I know it’s 8 dollars but I can’t turn the other cheek and not collect my 8 dollars.

So I went back to the original shop. The supervisor didn’t know what to do. After consulting with someone on the phone, she gave me the eight dollars. But first she advised me to notify their employees if it happened again. How would I know? I reiterated to her that I did nothing wrong. What could i have done differently except what I was doing now? I let it slip that my first instinct was that the shop swindled the money from me but I gave them the benefit of the doubt and wanted to inform them of the situation. I didn’t mention that I was prepared to notify them to the CA lottery board and seek my winnings. 8 dollars is not nothing. It’s a mocha with a cookie. It’s a carton of pastured eggs. It’s money that I earned. It’s a winning lotto ticket.

I was so invigorated at the end when I claimed my money. I hadn’t let myself be intimidated by the language barrier, by being perceived as being petty for collecting $8 dollars, by facing the possibility of a confrontation. It was $8 dollars but it was a good exercise for baby steps towards increased confidence, self assuredness. I had the presence of mind to end the conversation amicably, empathizing with them about working with difficult sometimes, unscrupulous customers, and finally wishing her in Vietnamese a day fully of happiness.

It was good that I didn’t burn my bridges to claim my modest 8 dollars. I don’t want to feel embarrassed to step into the store again. The food is quite good there and more importantly, I do think they work ethically and follow good sanitation protocols, which isn’t guaranteed at these humble little shops. But I didn’t realize how important our resolution was until I realized half an hour later that I had forgotten my phone on the counter of the shop. Had there been any unpleasantness, I doubt if I could have retrieved my phone or that there would have been a phone left to retrieve.

moral of the story: be kind but firm. Don’t get taken. Fight for your deserved rights.

Back in June, I was scheduled to go to my first Goenka silent meditation retreat. It was a few years in the making after R first suggested it. Finally, I made the commitment to wake up early to sign up online. I suspected that the demand would be high after the pandemic put a pause on in-person retreats. But the morning I woke up, I laid in bed and decided to ignore my intuition. I signed up half an hour after enrollment opened. Of course, I got waitlisted. I was very disappointed in myself but wasn’t surprised. A few weeks before the retreat, I was notified that I was confirmed to attend. A rush of relief and gratitude flooded me. I felt like there had been divine intervention and I was given a second chance. I wasn’t going to miss it for anything!

I looked forward to the retreat believing it would transform my life. That’s a tall order for one single event but I was motivated. Whatever I learned at the retreat, I was resolved to apply the skills and knowledge. I believed I would learn to not just hear my intuition but to act on it. I believed that I would learn to fortify my sense of self, so that I could never waver from a decision, that I would become a fighter first for myself and then for others. I don’t know why I had all these preconceptions and expectations, except that these were aspects of myself that I had long wanted to improve upon. I spoke excitedly with my friends my plans to attend the retreat and what I hoped to gain from it.

A week before the meditation retreat, I got the fateful text from my brother, K. My mother had fallen and was in the emergency room.

Ever since then, life has been upended and regressed. I’ve returned to my priorities and values of the past. My priority has reverted back to my responsibilities of a daughter and a sister and my home is now split three ways, between my sister’s house, my apartment in Oakland, and my mother’s house. Each home has a different wardrobe for a different persona. It’s been a refresh on my personal appearance and image which is a needed change after what I’ve gone through in the last year.

It’s a return to yesteryear because in order to start afresh, I had to clean out the old. I had to clean up my old relationship dynamics and establish new healthier ones with siblings and with my mother. I have to say goodbye to my former self and commit to the current one that I would listen more and apply more wisdom to my decisions. I’ve been literally and figuratively cleaning out the closets, dark corners, and all other areas that have been neglected and forgotten.

This year is a pause in my life to really clean out the old, and plan for the new to arrive.

My new year’s resolutions to cultivate deeper and more loving relationships with my siblings especially the ones with whom I was estranged with started with the family meeting in January and then accelerated after my mom’s fall. I wasn’t prepared nor had any desire to be the group leader but I’ve been told that given my temperament of patience and diplomacy, my siblings look towards me for direction, for peacemaking, for planning, for organization. Besides, if I didn’t take the role, nothing would get done and I couldn’t live with the consequences. I’m not sure how well I’m handling everything but I’m doing my best.

I was seeking 10 days of inner work at a peaceful, quiet, and tranquil nature setting in the mountains of San Bernardino. Where I found myself instead was in the middle of a messy, chaotic, tornado of my family in a house that may or may not be inhabited by ghosts. Is this the message from my guides that I need more incentive to get going with my life plans? That if I don’t help set my family up for success with my mom and a more cooperative dynamic that I will be stuck here doing it on my own? Whose responsibility is it to take care of mom? Not just me. It’s all of us. It’s my brother’s and my responsibility to take care of the house but our mom is the mother of nine children. I have 1/9th share of the responsibility and I’m the sixth in line to boot! I can’t ask anyone to do anything other to look deeply at their relationship with our mother, see what and if it could be changed. Ideally, everyone takes turns spending a few days with her. Spending time with her can be the torture they’re avoiding or a lesson in patience, loving compassion, and forgiveness. Forgiveness starts with ourselves first before we can start healing our relationships to others. We can’t change our mother but we can learn to change our response to her.

It’s up to each of us to decide what our experience will be.

“All healing is reinterpreting what you believed has happened to you”.

Since my divorce finalized in 2017, I’ve reflected on my past relationships, and what I’ve learned from each person that I’ve had the grace to have touched my life. Following each relationship is the inevitable sadness, guilt, shame for the mistakes that I felt I was responsible for. Then there’s the inevitable regret of what was and what wasn’t. For me, it’s the time also when I wonder if our relationship can be reconciled. Can we move on from the pain and hurt of the past? Reconciliation never works if it’s a simple rehashing of what happened.

Humans are not static. We can grow and learn if we choose to. Each day is truly new. We are reborn with new potential for the day to turn out differently than the day before. A good indicator of future actions is reviewing past behavior unless there is a commitment to improve. We can refuse to be defined by our past, if we work towards changing and transforming ourselves.

Perceptions, emotions, and communication are the three problems which contribute to the human dilemma. We have memories that are buried deep, so deep that we may not remember, from this life time and lifetimes before. Most of our actions are habituated and driven by past conditioning and we sometimes don’t know know why we behave as we do. Awareness and mindfulness of every action we take is the practice we must cultivate in order to live in the present. Otherwise, we are just corpses that live out the days without significance, guaranteed to repeat the same mistakes.

We must close one chapter of our lives before we can start a new one. But life isn’t always so neat as closing a book when we’re finished. We are humans with emotions and memories. I think that’s why it’s so important to celebrate milestones. We should mark occasions that are worthy of celebrations and worthy of reflections. Birthdays, job and career changes, job losses, new jobs, relationship break ups, all of it. Nothing is a waste of time if we can learn wisdom from it.