We are living in challenging times. The times of COVID, the new variants, vaccinated v.s. unvaccinated, unrest in the world and the effects of our carelessness in taking care of our earth. It can all be so overwhelming and scary. As I approach the end of my 40s, I've decided that I am not going to allow the world to dictate my happiness. This world includes my family and friends. I am not going to allow the world to decide what is best for me. The world is not my story. I AM my story. Just me.
My life has been complicated and a roller coaster of emotions. For the last four years, I've been dealing with my past. My trauma from childhood. The trauma of a mother with a plethora of psychiatric conditions that have never been diagnosed or treated. She suffers from dissociative identity disorder through cultural identity, narcissism and now dementia in her early 70s. My mother lived a troubled life from the day she was born. Her mother, my grandmother, never really wanted her. My grandmother got unexpectedly pregnant with my mother after WWII. She was of Japanese/Filipino descent living in Shanghai, China. My grandmother met my grandfather, a Navy sailor, through a blind date organized by her brother in law. I don't know how long they dated, but she did end up pregnant. I know that my grandmother was previously married to a Japanese soldier that died during the war and also had two children. After the war, she had to send her two children back to Japan to live with their father's family. Never to be seen again. Trauma.
My grandmother is pregnant and wants to be with my grandfather, who also suffered trauma hearing and seeing his friends die during a naval battle at sea on a ship in the Pacific during this horrific war. My pregnant grandmother and my grandfather are standing near the Huangpu River, a main river in Shanghai, when he tells my grandmother she cannot accompany him back to the United States. In her grief and believing she would rather die than stay in Shanghai, my grandmother pregnant with my mother, jumps into the Huangpu River ready to end her life. My brave grandfather jumps in to save her and agrees to marry her. He goes back to the United States with the Navy. Months later, my grandmother with my infant mother joins my grandfather in the state of Illinois.
My grandmother is not accepted by my grandfather's family. She experiences severe racism due to her Japanese heritage, but she never feels shame because in her 4'8" frame she stands her ground against anyone who crosses her. She believes in her "bushido," her Japanese honor. My grandmother tries to pass this on to my mother and her brothers, but the views of the world after WWII against Japanese greatly affect their pride in Japanese heritage. My mother is ashamed of who she is. She is ashamed to identify as an Asian American. My mother experiences severe racist, violent acts from the world around her. As a consequence of this trauma, she develops dissociative identity disorder by no longer being Asian, but identifying with the most American identity one can be; Native American. Trauma.
My mother passes this identity on to her children and we believe her lie. Not only does she pass this fake persona onto her children, but also emotionally and psychologically abuses her children through her narcissistic tendencies. These actions have a severe impact on me. The Native American heritage was not an easy identity to accept because of how the world reacts to indigenous people. It took me years to accept, and later finding out that it was no longer who I am, was a big slap in the face. I felt like a joke. I felt worthless. I felt unloved. Trauma.
There are five stages to deal with trauma: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. For the last 4 years, I have gone through all stages. I have good days and bad days, which is to be expected because I am human. At the age of almost 49, I am at the acceptance stage. This past is who I am. I don't let the trauma define me, but I let the experiences help me live my life. I broke the cycle of females in my family allowing trauma to affect our lives. I am proud of that. So, my story is my OWN. I will not allow the world, including my family and friends, to tell me what story to write. I only get one story and I choose mine.
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