Unearthing Truth

I went through some shit this morning. Emotional to the point that it expressed itself physically in difficulty breathing and lots and lots of crying. What I learned: (1) The bathroom floor is the best place to cry and (2) I've been avoiding truths about myself.

So I'm back here on the blog where the only reader is me. I'm writing to myself at this point. Since no one else reads this, I guess I can relax about how to phrase things perfectly and the order in which to raise them. I will just write. And write. And write. 

I love my parents. They are my world. For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to make them proud. This was where I fucked up. For as long as I can remember, my motivation for making the big decisions in life was centered on them. Will they be happy? Will they be proud? 

But in a turn of events someone objectively could have predicted, this was not the correct motivation, a sturdy base, for me to do things. I have loved them so much that I have compromised myself. In compromising myself, I have failed to do what I have wanted to do. 

I always thought about if I was lazy. If I'm just destined to be charged up about something at first but then get tired of working and quit. If I was a quitter at heart. 

I thought about it when I took Chemistry Honors in high school. When I took Business during undergrad. When I went into law school. Every morning, I wake up dreading the rest of the day. Throughout the day, I tear myself apart, either spending the time procrastinating the work, shitting on myself for procrastinating and then maybe do a little bit of work but not as much as I needed to do. Then, I dread the night. When the sun sets, that to me meant another day wasted. 

I felt and feel like a waste of space and a constant burden and heartache to my parents. 

But when I was reflecting in the quiet sanctuary of tiled floors and dirty bathroom mats (note: reflecting in an anxious panic, not in a peaceful sense), I thought to myself: I am not lazy. I just lack conviction. 

As much as I love my parents, I am a creature of conviction. When I do things, I expect to do it with all of my might and to reach the best possible outcome. I push and push myself through tiredness and hunger and physical needs. Not healthy, I know, and not to be glorified. But I mean this to say that this is my natural way of being. When I have the conviction to do something, I do it full force.

So yes, I have the conviction to make my parents happy and proud. But I did not have the conviction to learn chemistry. I did not have the conviction to learn about business. I do not have the conviction to learn about law. What manifested was this revolting monster that I let live inside me and use me for 23 years. 

I lied to them so many times. I thought I had gotten used to lying, but still, I cannot look them in the eyes and my face is stiff and all I want to do is run. But I lie because I have the conviction to convince them of these truths that I know will make them happy and proud. And so I build an elaborate tangle of web every morning till the end of the day. I tell them I'm attending class, that I'm doing okay. I add a sprinkle of detail based on truth to make the lie all the more convincing. But inside, I'm rotting. 

I've begun to forget what kind of person I am. While I lied to them, I didn't realize that the habit had seeped in and turned against me. When I see myself fail, I am a mix of self-loathing and pride. You're fucking terrible. Who do you think you are against these hard-working, intelligent individuals. But also, you are good at this and you are better than you are now. In fact, you can be better than them all and show them what's what if you just tried. The biggest lie is that I'm none of that. I'm not stupid. I'm not better. I'm just human. 

I've been so thoroughly corrupted with living my lies, that my life can only be filled with them. But sometimes, Frina breaks through. I can see what I'm passionate about. My love for nature. For helping people. For art. For stories. That's me. That's my conviction. It's pretty simple actually. 

Realizing this should be a relief, right? No. It makes living the lies worst. I sometimes fantasize about what I could be doing now if I wasn't lying. I wanted to try running a farm and aquarium. I want to write a book. I want to study more about racism and imbalances of power. I want to draw or paint or sculpt or whittle. Maybe sell them in an online store. I want to volunteer and help out in homeless shelters and figure out a pathway from homelessness to stability. I want to learn more about the immigration system. I want to learn the guitar and violin. I want get back into martial arts and get my body healthy. I want to build things and pitch invention or business ideas, but at my own pace.

What's funny about my conviction is that I underestimated it. Even when I was not actively pursuing it, it found its way into my heart. I believe I'm walking down the path of my lies, but my head is facing the opposite direction. So what happens is I bump into things and I cannot walk down the path without stumbling. What happens is that my heart is so set on these other things that my procrastination is my body's and mind's stubborn refusal to do anything but what my heart is set on. 

It sounds unrealistic and immature and irresponsible. One would say it's not and that my feelings are valid but I've seen it in action and I've seen how people have reacted to it. My good, good. amazing, sweet, brave friend took a leap of faith. After years of struggling, she finally got a job. But her heart was not in it. She knew that if she continued to where she could not back out, then she would regret it. So not even a month in, she left. 

At first, I thought she was being irrational and that this was life and that she needed money to get out of her toxic household and become independent. She had to make sacrifices, accept that her job won't be flowers and butterflies, and soldier on. Her family thought so. Her friends. Her mentor. They all warned against it. But she was firm in her decision. 

I think I'm beginning to understand what she did and how much courage that took. Yes, she came from some privilege: to be able to quit a job and still be supported, even though not by much. But money is not the issue. Money is an issue. 

I think our souls are starving. Call bullshit but I know you feel it too. I think it's natural for humans that there is something deep down that we need to feed and if we don't, every day we hurt. We just pretend that it doesn't exist but pretending makes it worse. There's a minimum requirement to feed our bodies so that we do not starve to death. To put a roof over our heads. To care for our loved ones. But these are not the only necessities. 

When our bodies are not fed, at first our bodies are okay, but over time, our ribs poke out and our eyes grow dark and we grow vicious despite our better intentions. I think the same happens when we deprive our souls. At first, we can act okay, I mean we're getting the physical, bodily necessities, right? But we grow spiteful of other people with joy and we hate ourselves and we seek escape in reality through our addictions. That's my story at least. 

I'm starting to see that my soul is hungry and it's fighting me with every iota of its being. I say go down this road of lies. It's saying," F-U-C-K YOU. You do not get to concentrate on anything else. You do not get to do anything else. You will not go another step down that road because you are hurting me and you need to take care of me."

And so I go down an avalanche of fuck ups. I skip classes. I don't do the readings. I watch hours of who knows what. I excel in games. I nap. I lose my scholarship. I do anything, absolutely anything, but what I tell myself I am supposed to do. 

Yes, I love my parents and want to make them proud. But that is only a part of who I am. The rest of me is burning. I've forgotten the rest of who I was and sacrificed everything for part of me. And to be honest, my plan fucking sucks. Do something you don't have the passion to do, be a failure or sub-par, and then what? That's supposed to make them happy and proud?

And why is feeding the other parts of your soul a sentence for their gloom and suffering? They are your parents and they love you, you idiot. If they see you succeed and work hard doing what you love, then they will eventually be happy and proud. Maybe at first, they fight their own demons and expectations of me. I mean, you've kind of enabled that way of thinking for all your life. But when they come around, they will see the real you and you can finally reach your goal of making them happy and proud.

So why do you keep hesitating, Frina? What's your move?