Healing can suck. (But it's worth it)

 Healing sucks. It’s painful, emotionally draining and just plain exhausting. Negative thoughts run through my head constantly - am I really experiencing this XX or am I being paranoid/sensitive/angry for an underlying issue from my past?  Every one of those thoughts and emotions is dissected and redirected into something rational and hopefully, something positive.

I had been dealing with low self-esteem and feelings of not being wanted, being excluded from groups and gatherings of my peers for the past few months. Some of those people avoiding me when they see me. I didn’t know why. I never cared to fit in with cliques and I’m known to not kiss ass to be welcomed or liked. So why does it bug me so much now?

I never fit in. I was bi-racial in a country that was so racist, that in the 90s people would refuse to sit in my seat when I gave it up to an elder (literally anyone older than me). I was never invited to anyone’s house. New neighbors didn’t bring over rice cake per tradition. My own grandfather never said a word to me. Thanks to corporal punishment in school (no longer allowed), I was often punished with rulers or switches on my hand and/or calves. Or be humiliated by standing in front of the class on my knees with my hands raised. It was guaranteed more hits as my arms grew tired and would limp. If the teacher felt extra evil that day, I’d have to hold a chair above my head in that position.

I was born to believe I was never good enough and there was nothing I could do to change that. Now, as I approach my 39th birthday, I thought that was all behind me. I knew better - I am good enough and the actions of others in my past were not a reflection of who I was.

But repressed memories sneak up. On my drive home, my heart sank when BTS’ opening song from last year’s concert came on. I’m not optimistic about this year’s concert still happening due to all the cancelations (of everything) in fear of Coronavirus.

"I just want my girls to have a memorable birthday celebration this year," I thought. Both will be reaching milestone ages. And with the death of my daughter’s dad last year, I have been trying to soften the blow of his absence on birthdays and holidays. I know I can’t replace him nor will this take away the grief with these concerts. 

But as I told my daughter, I wanted her to have an amazing 16th birthday. Memories of my own 16th make me cringe. My “guardians” at that time kept smirking at me, knowing it was my birthday, but I barely got a “Good morning” before I went to school. No one at this new school knew it was my birthday. And when I came home, I got more smirks and went to bed without being invited to dinner with them. 

And then it hit me. This is why not being included has been hurtful. It wasn’t just about being bi-racial, bounced around or not fitting in with peers.

That memory of my 16th birthday made me gasp as I tried to suppress tears. I think I was told the next day that it was my punishment from Easter. As I tried to remember what happened that day, my guardian coldly said, “Your ‘thank you’ didn’t seem sincere.”

That was the environment of this house. I was never welcomed to their family gatherings - I was the outsider. I wasn’t welcomed to go out for dinner with them as they did most nights. There usually wasn’t much food in the house because of their eating out. If they did eat at home, I had to smell the food from my room knowing I wasn’t invited to eat with them. I once mustered up some courage to go downstairs to eat when dinner was ready. There was no plate for me at the table and as I went to grab one from the cupboard, I was verbally humiliated and shamed for thinking I could just come down and join them.  

I’ve eaten many meals consisting of canned vegetables and fruit. I thought I hit gold when I found some Ramen. I remember grabbing the cup of Ramen noodles and dashing upstairs when I heard the car pull into the garage. I turned the water on and pretended to take a bath as I used the hot water from the faucet. I can still feel my heart beating with fear of being caught and feeling ashamed of what I was doing.

Cold weather? I had been wearing socks with my sandals until I couldn’t take it anymore and asked for actual shoes. I was ashamed of the look at school anyway. I had a room with a bed and a dresser (I think). Anything else they bought for my room originally was given to their other kids.

The message was clear. I was not good enough. I was a nuisance and didn’t deserve anything. From the racism and neglect in Korea to one of the many “unwanted” as a kid in the orphanage > to a home where I was eventually sent back after the mom found out her husband had been abusing me > another family where I’ve felt like an outcast. I felt I was the problem.

Maybe that’s why my heart broke whenever I found out I was excluded from a group gathering of my peers, why it hurt to be the loner at work... Why I was ready to throw away my relationship with my-now husband whenever he didn’t “formally” invite me to a race or a weekend with friends. (He assumed I knew I was invited). 

If only having these “a-ha” moments would magically cure those emotional scars! But I want less days like the past few months. While the painful memories will always be there, I don’t want to feel like I’m being punched by those memories and all the feelings associated with them. 

Days like today when my past and all the hurt, humiliation and shame hit me like a ton of bricks brings my depression to another level. I’m a high-functioning depressed person but it brings me back to wanting to sleep through life instead of facing people out in public.  (No worries, no desire to self-harm).

And I hope that if you are struggling with these types of emotions, I hope you realize that you are enough. You are not a reflection of someone else’s actions and words against you. And you are worth the time to dig into these feelings so you can work on healing.