Bone Soup

I am very unhappy with my life right now. But I am not depressed, nor defeated; every time a part of me wants to complain, my heart softens. I've either become a huge pussy, or I've learned to be thankful of everything -- even the worst.

The sagging figures in my bank account make me so unbelievably weary. The numbers I owe -- cheerfully decorating my planner with highlighted due dates and urgent asterisks -- heat my spine with tears. Once I felt like I was so close to easing the weight of last year's financial baggage, life happened.

I had big changes planned this year. I'm talking about breaking completely from the direction I was going, and taking big risks that made my heart swell with anticipation. I had begun to put things into place that gave me fuel for optimism. Now I have to rearrange my dreams, defer sleep. Again.

But how can I possibly be unhappy? How can I be anything but grateful that a bad situation unapologetically catapoulted me back into my childhood apartment, under the looming shadows -- or, depending on perspective, the cooling shade -- of my parents and sibling? My family?

Every time I forfeit authority, I bite my tongue. I turn over the resentment that comes with my overdeveloped sense of entitlement and accept my situation for what it is. It is a godsend. It is my cradle. It is my HOME.

This house -- in all its volatile, unstable, and emotionally damaging glory -- is a safe haven. We are a family that never understood boundaries, consideration and respect. We only know how to take, fight and avenge. We love, but none of us know how to show it properly. We've all hurt each other too much with Misunderstanding. In defense, it made us stubborn.

I walked back into these walls a much different person from when I first walked out. There is a sudden stillness in me that allows me to think and act with clarity, and I think my newfound quests for solitude (prior to this, I had a huge need for company at all times) helped me understand my own strengths and boundaries.

When I learned of how much money I had to rid myself of this year, I mentioned it to my mother. I remember when I thought she was heartless, selfish, and completely clueless to the things a daughter needed. I remember when I used to blink at her with a breaking heart, flabberghasted and tearing at her coldness. I remember when I first realized that she would never help me without an intent. I forgot how much she loved me, and only remembered how much she resented me. It broke our whole family apart. It made me afraid to ask for help. It made us unwilling to bend towards each other.

She began packing me lunches to take to work.
She began setting food aside and quietly sneaking into my room to place the lunch kits upon my purse.

In the beginning, I stared at the bundles, unsure of how to feel. I was incredibly overwhelmed. I was thrown back to my fondest and earliest memory of our relationship: Elementary school. Her love letters, wispy korean characters penciled onto paper towels. I read them under the table as I ate my sandwhiches. I pursed my lips and stared into the early-morning darkness for a long time. She had already left, to work her minimum wage job in Bushwick. I called her later that day to thank her, and her voice rose a few octaves in the way Korean women do when they smile. It changed everything.

I am so blessed that I was reminded of my family's humanity. I am so happy I was given the opportunity to rid myself of the resentment I had created with all my monsterizing. Most of all, I am so happy to be going through this humbling ass reconstruction NOW -- not earlier when I was alone,unprepared, and insistant; not later when I would have hardened from transition.

There is so much gratitude in my heart that there is no room for sadness. No bitterness. Nothing is unjust here. It is all consequence to my past, and it is all preparation for my future.

This may not be the support I once so desperately needed from them, but this is the most that they can possibly give me. THIS is THEIR 100%, and though I cannot deny the flares of frustration I still suppress (though not always successfully), I now know what I have, and I am delirious with joy. I am stabilized enough to take leaps. I can forgive them their shortcomings and calmly readjust my disappointments.

They are struggling so hard to give that support to me -- not because they don't want to, but because they are completely unfamiliar. That struggle in itself lets me know how absoltuely real it is. Thank you.

Things may be really difficult, but I've never looked forward to the future in the midst of things like I do today. It's much easier to jump off cliffs when you understand that if you fall with people waiting to catch you, it's simply another form of flying.