Ok, so that last post was kind of jumbled and extreme. I was really mad. But there's a better explanation of why I was mad at my dad. It wasn't all because of the events that took place that day, but rather the events that took place throughout my whole life.
Every Christmas I could remember from the time I was living in Guam, my dad was absent. I woke up happy to see the presents, and as I run to them, I notice my sister, my mom. No dad. There was space for him to be there. There was always a space for him in the family. But he wasn't there.
From one year to the next, my life changed and changed, but one thing stayed constant: somehow he always seemed to have to do something on that day. That day, where nobody was working, when nobody was doing something else, he was working. He was doing something else.
I remember one Christmas day in particular like it was yesterday. I woke up at around 7:30 in the morning and went downstairs to find my mom and my sister already sitting on the couch with my present in hand. I got excited and ran down. I sat at the edge to the left next to my mom, and next to her my sister. The sun was shining particularly brightly into the window to the back of my head. It was a beautiful day.
But I noticed something was missing. I looked around as I made my first tear into the present and noticed that my dad wasn't there. Pain and sadness filled my insides so much it hurt. My heart, my stomach, my guts, they all hurt as if somebody was reaching in and ripping them out. I looked down again at my present, and found out what I really wanted for Christmas, a whole family just enjoying each others company.
That was when I was about 9 years old. The next Christmas, he wasn't there, and the next, nope. This continued up until this Christmas. I guess all that sadness and anxiety turned to anger and hatred when I realized this. Unconsciously, the emotion swelled. It brought back lots of memories where my dad was absent. The little times, when he asked me how old I was, the missed birthdays, the mornings that I woke up knowing my dad didn't come home last night. All of those thoughts rushed back to me.
And I blew up.
There's still anger that's in me because of my dad. I mean, I was traumatized. Knowing I had a father, and yet knowing he's not going to be there during the important days of our lives together. As a family.
But I think I released a lot of that pent up emotion stored in the deepest recesses of my mind this week. We went on a family trip to Death Valley and relaxed. We spent time as a family without any distractions like school, work, or news for that matter.
My resolution for 2010 is to regain some ground with my dad, and restore the anger into love for him. No doubt, I love him, but we can still butt heads once in a while.
How come I only get mad at the people I truly love? Hahahahah food for thought.
-Phil
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
On the Brink of Destruction
Merry Christmas? No, not for me.
This was one of the worst day ever. And the fact that it happened on Christmas just makes it worse.
The day started out with everybody all jolly and joyful and crap like that. It ended with me trying not to destroy everything in the backyard with tears flowing down my face.
How did that happen? Who did what? How come you did that?
My dad was the catalyst for the masses of events that would eventually break me apart.
It started off with Christmas service. Everybody was there. I saw so many people from high school, college, and even some parents that I felt happy. I felt warm inside with all the memories shared with them. My dad was working the volunteer booth with his church buddies.
After service, we all went home. So far, so good.
We go home, and we all do our separate things. My sister washes the dog, I prepare the garlic for the food, my mom washes dishes, and my dad builds something outside. Seeing that my dad wasn't as fit as he was 20 years ago, I decided to lend him a hand.
I go outside, and it turns out, hes building a big box of some sort out of wood. He, always being stubborn, tries to deny my help. I go back inside, and get back to my own work. Then, I see him again, bending down sawing away at this plank of wood with the wrong tool. I get back outside and grab the right saw and I cut the rest for him.
After all the pieces were cut, for some reason he lays them out on the dirt. We have a huge cement patio type of thing big enough to fit the frame, but he lays it out on the dirt. The whole frame is lopsided because of the bumpy ground so I suggest to him to move it on the cement.
Completely ignored.
He continues to hammer the wrong nail into the wrong spot with the whole thing unbalanced. I tell him again, but he says its fine, he can do it. After the first nail (that didn't go through to the connecting piece), he told me to do the rest.
At this point, I started to get kind of angry, because he didn't even listen to my advice, he completely blew me off, then once he got tired, he called me to finish the job.
Seeing that he was my dad, I kept my anger to a minimum and hammered away. After 30 minutes of relentless backpain from the hammering, he brings out screws and corner locks for ME to put in.
I put in half, and then get tired, so I tell my dad I'm going inside for a minute. I come back out, and he says to me, "Decided to help me now?" Now? NOW? What have I been doing for the past half hour while he was sitting down WATCHING me work? I offer him help, he denies it, then calls for my help again, and doesn't recognize the fact that I helped him hurting my back, while he was relaxing.
Now, I'm pissed but I held it in.
I manage to get to my cousin's place without exploding at him. I get there, and I see my uncle. He's the only person I truly hate. I despise him. He treats my parents like crap, he treats me like crap, but he treats my grandparents worse than anybody else. He treats them as if they didn't belong in the house.
Every time I see him, I get angry, so I obviously avoid him. I avoid him, he avoids me. Works out fine.
I start to relax with everybody and I start to have a good time. Then my dad came.
It was dinner time, and my dad came up to me and told me to go pray in english. Why? Knowing that if I did that, everybody would give me glory for something I didn't deserve. So I declined.
But he started to get louder and louder with each command. I said no just the same every time.
I know, praying for the food is no big deal, but remember I was really pissed at my dad. If anybody else asked me, I would do it. Anybody. I know I'm acting like a bitch towards my dad, but you have to understand, this isn't a one time thing. He does it every single time with the backyard work, with the family gatherings, with the stubbornness.
At that point, I was really pissed. I knew if I blew up, then the whole house would have no more fun, no more food, no more enjoyment of each others company. So I isolate myself from the group.
Seeing that I had to drive my mom, sister, and her boyfriend home, I had to stay there until the end doing nothing in fear of exploding with anger.
I made it to the end of the day, and I drive home. I guess I was driving a little fast, because I was pissed. I pull into the driveway and my anger is about to overflow. I know if I make it to my room, I would be able to sleep through the night and calm down. But no, that never happened.
My sister, in her asshole-ish tone said right after I stopped, "You suck at driving."
Well fuck you. Fuck everybody. I exploded.
I'm sorry Jesus.
-Phil
This was one of the worst day ever. And the fact that it happened on Christmas just makes it worse.
The day started out with everybody all jolly and joyful and crap like that. It ended with me trying not to destroy everything in the backyard with tears flowing down my face.
How did that happen? Who did what? How come you did that?
My dad was the catalyst for the masses of events that would eventually break me apart.
It started off with Christmas service. Everybody was there. I saw so many people from high school, college, and even some parents that I felt happy. I felt warm inside with all the memories shared with them. My dad was working the volunteer booth with his church buddies.
After service, we all went home. So far, so good.
We go home, and we all do our separate things. My sister washes the dog, I prepare the garlic for the food, my mom washes dishes, and my dad builds something outside. Seeing that my dad wasn't as fit as he was 20 years ago, I decided to lend him a hand.
I go outside, and it turns out, hes building a big box of some sort out of wood. He, always being stubborn, tries to deny my help. I go back inside, and get back to my own work. Then, I see him again, bending down sawing away at this plank of wood with the wrong tool. I get back outside and grab the right saw and I cut the rest for him.
After all the pieces were cut, for some reason he lays them out on the dirt. We have a huge cement patio type of thing big enough to fit the frame, but he lays it out on the dirt. The whole frame is lopsided because of the bumpy ground so I suggest to him to move it on the cement.
Completely ignored.
He continues to hammer the wrong nail into the wrong spot with the whole thing unbalanced. I tell him again, but he says its fine, he can do it. After the first nail (that didn't go through to the connecting piece), he told me to do the rest.
At this point, I started to get kind of angry, because he didn't even listen to my advice, he completely blew me off, then once he got tired, he called me to finish the job.
Seeing that he was my dad, I kept my anger to a minimum and hammered away. After 30 minutes of relentless backpain from the hammering, he brings out screws and corner locks for ME to put in.
I put in half, and then get tired, so I tell my dad I'm going inside for a minute. I come back out, and he says to me, "Decided to help me now?" Now? NOW? What have I been doing for the past half hour while he was sitting down WATCHING me work? I offer him help, he denies it, then calls for my help again, and doesn't recognize the fact that I helped him hurting my back, while he was relaxing.
Now, I'm pissed but I held it in.
I manage to get to my cousin's place without exploding at him. I get there, and I see my uncle. He's the only person I truly hate. I despise him. He treats my parents like crap, he treats me like crap, but he treats my grandparents worse than anybody else. He treats them as if they didn't belong in the house.
Every time I see him, I get angry, so I obviously avoid him. I avoid him, he avoids me. Works out fine.
I start to relax with everybody and I start to have a good time. Then my dad came.
It was dinner time, and my dad came up to me and told me to go pray in english. Why? Knowing that if I did that, everybody would give me glory for something I didn't deserve. So I declined.
But he started to get louder and louder with each command. I said no just the same every time.
I know, praying for the food is no big deal, but remember I was really pissed at my dad. If anybody else asked me, I would do it. Anybody. I know I'm acting like a bitch towards my dad, but you have to understand, this isn't a one time thing. He does it every single time with the backyard work, with the family gatherings, with the stubbornness.
At that point, I was really pissed. I knew if I blew up, then the whole house would have no more fun, no more food, no more enjoyment of each others company. So I isolate myself from the group.
Seeing that I had to drive my mom, sister, and her boyfriend home, I had to stay there until the end doing nothing in fear of exploding with anger.
I made it to the end of the day, and I drive home. I guess I was driving a little fast, because I was pissed. I pull into the driveway and my anger is about to overflow. I know if I make it to my room, I would be able to sleep through the night and calm down. But no, that never happened.
My sister, in her asshole-ish tone said right after I stopped, "You suck at driving."
Well fuck you. Fuck everybody. I exploded.
I'm sorry Jesus.
-Phil
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Without a Flashlight
How important are the days I'm living right now? Seriously, how important are they?
That's what I've been saying ever since I heard that junior year would be the death of my social life, and the birth of a working life.
To be honest, the future scares me. Where am I going to go? How am I going to cope with the new challenges I'm put through? Will I even make it to college? So much stress for a kid living in a world that might not even change if that kid didn't exist.
I know I just said this a second ago, but the future scares me. It REALLY scares me. I hate to know that I get compared to my sister in every aspect of my life. If you looked up "perfect child" in the dictionary, the definition would be Deborah Cho; Cornell University sophmore; 4.8 gpa. The perfect child.
Well, what's my definition?
I know without a doubt that my sister will find a great job, live a great life, find a great husband, and enjoy every second of it. GUARANTEED.
Where will I go? Why did the stress suddenly hit me on the side of the head this year? Was it always there waiting to hit me? Why am I so incompetent compared to my sister, the "perfect" one? If she's so perfect, why am I so flawed?
I know everybody says they don't compare me to her, but that's completely bullshit. I'm sorry, but it is. Every time I talk about my sister, they ask, where does she go? And whenever I answer Cornell, they gasp and they congratulate me like the level of knowledge passes on from sister to brother. Yeah right... "Congratulations! Are you going to Cornell?" "I guess you're as smart as your sister." "Wow..."
I wish. That kind of school is only for the elite of the elite, where I don't even come close.
Even asking me where she goes puts her next to me, like examining two products on eBay to see which one is better, which one is made of more quality, which one will outlast the other.
She's always the higher standard. The standard where even if I work to the best of my abilities, I won't even reach.
I love my sister to death and wouldn't trade her for anybody else in the world, but her existence in my life seems to always make it harder.
I guess I think too extremely while the perfect and the flawed and the incompetent, but it isn't too extreme. It's reality.
I know God has a path set for me, but it's human to doubt, to fear, to duck and cover. I just wish I knew some sort of direction in where I should end up. I feel like I'm in a huge room where nothing is visible, and I have to find the exit that leads me to my purpose in life.
I feel like I'm a camper in a dark dense forest, that forgot to bring a light of some kind. I feel stupid for not remembering, and I feel scared for the darkness around me.
In some kind of way, I feel the light I forgot to bring is God. I left him behind in my search for my future. Without him, I feel lost. I feel alone. I feel like nobody else can feel my pain. But Jesus can. He felt it with every pound to the nails driven into his hands and feet, and with every stab through his sides. He can feel my pain. He can relate. Now, I just have to relate back.
Without God, my flashlight in the darkness, I'm lost. I'm lost in the darkness called the future and I need to find the exit. I need to find my purpose.
So, what's MY definition?
Phil
That's what I've been saying ever since I heard that junior year would be the death of my social life, and the birth of a working life.
To be honest, the future scares me. Where am I going to go? How am I going to cope with the new challenges I'm put through? Will I even make it to college? So much stress for a kid living in a world that might not even change if that kid didn't exist.
I know I just said this a second ago, but the future scares me. It REALLY scares me. I hate to know that I get compared to my sister in every aspect of my life. If you looked up "perfect child" in the dictionary, the definition would be Deborah Cho; Cornell University sophmore; 4.8 gpa. The perfect child.
Well, what's my definition?
I know without a doubt that my sister will find a great job, live a great life, find a great husband, and enjoy every second of it. GUARANTEED.
Where will I go? Why did the stress suddenly hit me on the side of the head this year? Was it always there waiting to hit me? Why am I so incompetent compared to my sister, the "perfect" one? If she's so perfect, why am I so flawed?
I know everybody says they don't compare me to her, but that's completely bullshit. I'm sorry, but it is. Every time I talk about my sister, they ask, where does she go? And whenever I answer Cornell, they gasp and they congratulate me like the level of knowledge passes on from sister to brother. Yeah right... "Congratulations! Are you going to Cornell?" "I guess you're as smart as your sister." "Wow..."
I wish. That kind of school is only for the elite of the elite, where I don't even come close.
Even asking me where she goes puts her next to me, like examining two products on eBay to see which one is better, which one is made of more quality, which one will outlast the other.
She's always the higher standard. The standard where even if I work to the best of my abilities, I won't even reach.
I love my sister to death and wouldn't trade her for anybody else in the world, but her existence in my life seems to always make it harder.
I guess I think too extremely while the perfect and the flawed and the incompetent, but it isn't too extreme. It's reality.
I know God has a path set for me, but it's human to doubt, to fear, to duck and cover. I just wish I knew some sort of direction in where I should end up. I feel like I'm in a huge room where nothing is visible, and I have to find the exit that leads me to my purpose in life.
I feel like I'm a camper in a dark dense forest, that forgot to bring a light of some kind. I feel stupid for not remembering, and I feel scared for the darkness around me.
In some kind of way, I feel the light I forgot to bring is God. I left him behind in my search for my future. Without him, I feel lost. I feel alone. I feel like nobody else can feel my pain. But Jesus can. He felt it with every pound to the nails driven into his hands and feet, and with every stab through his sides. He can feel my pain. He can relate. Now, I just have to relate back.
Without God, my flashlight in the darkness, I'm lost. I'm lost in the darkness called the future and I need to find the exit. I need to find my purpose.
So, what's MY definition?
Phil
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