Screenshot from Netflix from the movie, Comet.
[ 09/19/2015 | 6:51pm ]
Just my favorite line from this movie that I’ve been obsessed with and have watched eight times in the past month already.
These pictures were taken end of August in Hyde Park of Southside Chicago by my friend, Chris.
[Friday, September 11, 2015; 8:00 pm]
Several years ago, I had someone tell me “You’re worth it.” To which I responded, “No one’s ever told me that before.” That someone was my therapist. And at the time, I didn’t understand to the full extent what she meant. It wasn’t until fairly recently that I fully grasped what she was trying to say. Looking back, these words saved me in a way.
A couple of years ago, I suffered from an eating disorder and depression that almost prevented me from finishing my last semester at college. I went to therapy (again) and was also put on SSRIs. SSRIs are Selective Serotonin Re-uptake Inhibitors and for those who don’t know, serotonin is basically the chemical in your body that tells you to be happy. Sometimes people are sad because of a tragic event that happened in their lives and sometimes people are just sad because they have a chemical imbalance.
I recently opened up to an old friend about how I was feeling and she said, “I had no idea! All your posts made it seem like you are so happy and enjoying life.” And that’s the problem. That you put out there what you want others to see. It’s all a facade.
Growing up in a traditional Asian household, we were not allowed to show emotion. I remember many nights of crying, self-mutilation, and contemplating suicide. But I of course walked out of my room, wiped my tears, and put on a smile to join dinner with my family. Everyone in that household was none the wiser. To this day, I’m sure my parents and brothers are still completely oblivious to what I went through. And because I grew up in that environment, it’s how I learned to carry my life– to not let people see me suffer.
We’ve all suffered and been through some hardships at one point in our lives. But because of the stigma around mental disorders, people are too scared to open up about what’s really going on. I read somewhere that “explaining a mental disorder to someone who doesn’t have one is like explaining colors to a blind person.” It doesn’t help when you’re trying to explain your pain to another individual who just tells you to “get over it” or that “it’s not that serious.”
The point of all of this is that it’s ok to be sad and that it’s ok to talk about it because there are others out there going through some kind of turmoil. And not one person’s problems are more significant than another.
I’m not on medication anymore and I also stopped going to therapy once I moved to Chicago. But today, I took the first step to set up an appointment to see a therapist again.
For those who are going through any sort of battle, keep fighting. Because you too, are worth it.
P.S. Thank you to those who read this, like really read this. Thank you for letting me share my story. And for those who didn’t know, now you do. And for those very few who did and have stuck by me all these years, thank you.
//EDIT: PART TWO:
I posted this about 24 hours ago and I did not expect any of this. Though, I’m not really sure what I was expecting. But I genuinely appreciate everyone who took time out to read this and am overwhelmed by all of the support and positive feedback. I had people who I just met and people I haven’t spoken to since high school (2007, mind you) reach out to me to thank me and share their own stories. People were saying that I was an inspiration, but no, you are all an inspiration to me.
Truth is, we’re all a little fucked up (sorry for the profanity). And that’s ok. It’s ok to not be ok. Just know that you don’t have to struggle in silence. I read an article a few months back about a girl who committed suicide, but portrayed the perfect life on social media. Star athlete, popular, pretty, etc. And when she took her own life, everyone was shocked to find out that there was anything wrong with her. And when I read that, I thought “how unfair.” How unfair that she was suffering and that no one knew about it or knew how to help her.
Someone who hasn’t had to experience depression and trying to imagine what it feels like is like someone who suffers from depression trying to imagine life without it. It just doesn’t seem real. Why does the struggle to be happy have to be… well, a struggle? And I don’t even think the problem is being happy, it’s staying happy.
Our thoughts, feelings, and perceptions are all valid and important. Don’t let anyone take that away from you. Again, I cannot thank everyone enough for their support. I love you all <3
(Hair phase: October 2013- March 2014- April 2014- June 2015)
Friday, July 10, 2015 | 6:15 pm
Recently, I was telling a friend of mine how my hair was growing back and how it’s mostly black again. She said, “That’s weird because I’ve only known you with brown hair.” And I said, “Well, that’s weird because I’ve always had black hair!” And then it occurred to me that I currently have people in my life, whom I have grown fairly close to, who don’t know me with long black hair. I’M LYING TO THESE PEOPLE.
Alright, cut it with the dramatics, I know. But it is bizarre to me that there are people in my life who don’t know me with long black hair. When 24 years of my life, that’s what I was known for– “the girl with the glasses and long black hair.” Granted after I was 19, I did cut it off, but grew it back just to do it all over again. But I digress. After I moved from home, I chopped it shorter than it’s ever been and dyed it red– something I’ve always wanted to do. The red phase didn’t last very long, unfortunately, and I had to dye it brown and get it color corrected eventually. And now half of my hair is back to black as its turned into this weird natural ombre.
I get it, it’s just hair. But my hair has somewhat become a symbol of my freedom. My hair was just one of the (many) things that my mother tried to control in my life. And now that I live in a new city, on my own in my first apartment, I can do whatever I want with my hair, and well, anything else in life. I just booked a flight to go to NYC in two weeks, and booked an appointment to get a tattoo the week after. And that in itself is bizarre to know that a little over a year and a half ago, I was not allowed to live the life that I currently live. Living by my own rules for the first time in my life and it’s still so surreal.
Here’s to my year and a half anniversary. This is still the best decision I’ve ever made.
March 29, 2015 | 10:30pm
Pull Me Down by Mikky Ekko (and a LIVE version at that because the album version does not do it justice)
Seeing that it’s been since July of 2014 since I’ve last written in here, here are some bullet points to catch up on my life since then:
+ August 2014, I turned a quarter century and spent my weekend at Lollapalooza! An experience that I’ll forever cherish, but also be ok with never having to go back again.
+ Same month, I got my VERY FIRST EVER APARTMENT. And I currently live alone in one of the cutest neighborhoods in Chicago for a steal.
+ Spent the holidays back home and got to come back to spend my first New Year’s Eve in a different city. I spent it at a small in house Rap Show which I almost fell asleep on the couch…
+ One of my exes(dude I was never with but in love with) announced that he was having a kid. That makes three. Three bullets I dodged maybe?
+ Coming up on a year of my “temp” job even after my boss, the one who hired me, up and left us. That’s never a good sign. But the fact that I accepted this job as a temp employee and still have it almost a year later says something, right? Yeah, maybe that I need to find a new job who wants to actually hire me haha.
And I think that’s pretty much it. Cool, alright, until next time :)
Tuesday, July 15 2014
At work talking to my co worker about how I’m back to square one and he says,
“You never left square one. You just brought someone in there with you. You’re still in square one, just alone now.”
I laughed, but ain’t that the truth. Life.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Six months ago, I left home. And for the first three months, I really had nothing to share. I actually was pretty miserable every time a month hit and I realized that I had nothing to show for it. BUT it’s also been three months since I’ve updated this. I’ve been busy because I accepted a job that I almost didn’t even show up to the interview for (life is funny like that). And now with a month and a half into it, I’m so relieved that it all worked out because I would’ve kicked myself in the butt for having missed out on this opportunity.
Long story short, I work for Uber as a Brand Ambassador and Operations Assistant. During the week, it’s a normal Monday-Friday 9-5 office job and I sit there and approve documents all day– not very exciting. But I work with the most interesting people where we sit and talk and laugh together all day where it doesn’t even feel like work. Then during the weekends every now and then, I work events where I give away free stuff and free rides to people who sign up with Uber. And it’s great because I get paid to go to these festivals that I never heard of and I get free food, water, t shirts, and sometimes they’re even free concerts. Also, it’s great networking ;)
I’m also struggling to make it through the summer here. Winter was not a problem for me (because we all know I love the cold), but this summer is BRUTAL. It’s hot and humid and makes me sticky and lethargic and I hate it.
I am also in the works of finding a place– with a roommate. I was so adamant on finding a place on my own, mostly because it was a pride thing. Buuut I finally succumbed and accepted that having a roommate is the most practical idea. But this apartment hunting is a pain in my ass and it’s like trying to find a job all over again.
Also, with my first half of a year away from home, I have missed my all of my family’s birthdays, Mother’s Day, and Father’s Day. And that was rough for me to know that they were out celebrating together while I was here.
And for your entertainment, here’s a list of things that I have noticed/learned while being here so far:
1. A two mile commute will take you fifteen minutes.
There is traffic. Every day. Every where. 11pm on a Sunday night. 1:30 in the afternoon on a Wednesday. Because why the fuck not?
2. Driving here is a nightmare.
Because drivers are assholes and parking is a pain in the ass. I can’t even get into it.
3. Don’t bother trying to change lanes. They are lined with potholes.
4. Speaking of potholes… they are sinkholes.
You do all know I’m terrified of sinkholes, right?
5. When you say you’re on LSD, you are not on drugs.
You’re on Lake Shore Dr and LSD is the abbreviation for the beautifully scenic route along Lake Michigan.
6. Paulina St. is pronounced Paul-ine-uh, not Paul-een-uh.
I also just recently learned that it’s pronounced SHI-cago not CHI-cago and feel like an idiot and am wondering why no one told me this before.
7. People think that it’s “endearing” that you put your parking brake on.
By endearing, I’m sure my friend meant idiotic. There are no hills here. Flat surface. Everywhere. Why.
8. You get all four seasons… in one day.
It can be nice and breezy in the morning, 90 degrees with 75% humidity during the day, then at night it’ll rain and thunderstorm. Thunderstorms are pretty scary, btw.
9. They LOVE their sports
I’m not talking seasonal fans (ahem, Padres and Chargers fans), but you’ll see Chicago sports team pride all year long. Bulls. Blackhawks. Bears. Cubs. White Sox. Every day. Every where.
10. They put lettuce on their tacos and try to convince you that it’s Mexican food.
Also, their salsa is served warm (what?), and their guacamole is awful. But I will give them some credit, I have had some decent Mexican food here. It’s just not the same, though!
Aaand I guess that’ll do it for now. Check back with me sooon ;)