AnniemalChang's Journal

i'm extremely bitter that my mother issues seem to be pervasive and worsening. i read somewhere that therapy teaches you to blame your mother for everything. thank god i survived that...and fuck, i have to live through this...again.

i heard a few false rumors or two through the grapevine. what's troubling is that they run in the vein of my mom's cohort (bored as fuck rich bitch housewives who don't work for a living and talk shit all day). due to the trickle down theory, i know. the fact that my mom talks about me, is fine. she's entitled to it because i came from her fat loins. however, i don't appreciate knowing that you're spreading sensational "bad egg" stories about your fucking black sheep kid. i don't fucking enjoy knowing that others are taking joy in the fact that i, occasionally, am a fuckup. that shit happens. the problem with living in this stupid little smalltown pocket in southern california is that for some godforsaken reason, people care about their kids. they use them as fucking measuring sticks and battle with them. well, apparently my mom has forgotten that she used to care about 'keeping up appearances' and is just telling people all the bad shit that went down the few months that they happened to skip town.

::breathe::

my parents are throwing empty threats at me, to never leave the country again, to sell their homes in taiwan, to fire our only external employee and give me more responsiblities aka grunt work aka timefiller shit to do. the most upsetting fact is, they don't trust me. even before they left for the island, my mom was asking me the lamest things such as, can you balance a checkbook? do you know to turn off ALL the lights at night? can you set the home security alarm? 

there's also the minor detail that they *think* i am sleeping around. i love it how my parents assume everything, and the damn certainty they have of themselves that they are always, always right. my mom had to borrow me to run bank errands yesterday, and we screamed at each other the whole way there. then she had to pretend to be proud of me in front of her precious bank employee friends ("what a fabulous daughter you have, running errands with you midday aside from her busy and important job working for daddy's company. my, how tall and almost pretty she is!"), and then the second we get in the car, she starts berating me for being a hot mess and lascivious and sly. i've tried my hardest for a decade now to get away from this verbal abuse, to numb myself of this bipolar extremist asian parenting technique, but all i want to do now is roll up and die.

i am sick and tired of having to explain myself to my parents, over and over again, in multiple languages. it falls on deaf ears. i am always to blame. i am never to be trusted, yet i am slapped, even yes, fucking burdened with responsibilities such as being my parents' caretaker in their old age, and running a business. what the hell is up with the double standard? "you are too dumb and immature to live your own life, yet you are quick and efficient enough to run the company and help us take care of our neverending health problems. also, please solve all the problems around the house and lend us some common sense."

i refuse to live under their microscope. i will continue working, because that is what i moved back home to do. however, i will not fucking explain myself. i will not defense myself anymore. i do not care if i am a fucking failure in their terms. i did not waste my adolescence self-actualizing myself to be broken down like this over and over again. i am almost 25 years old and too fucking old to be in the doghouse with my parents. it's just me and my dog now. 

life back home is simple. i do operations and finance...run bank errands, stock the office, take out the trash (just like old times!), import documents, etc. i'm still feeding the dog 3x/day, watering the lawns, walking the dog, loving Netflix, reading voraciously, and working out in my "home gym" which consists of a yoga mat and free weights. weekends, i have puppy obedience class, movie nights, church or temple, lunches with the girls, bar hopping with the boys, etc. is this the simple kind of life my mother always imagined for me?

talking to an old friend, we referenced the good old days of "working like a dog" for about 60 hours a week...i wonder if i miss it. do i miss stress? working crazy hours, wasting away my nights online, freaking out about companies tanking, gaining and losing friends, allies, coworkers? it's a different kind of stress. the...parental kind, even though they're across the pond right now enjoying their semi-retirement. i feel...like i'm 14 again. like there are invisible electric wires around every move i make. maybe i'm projecting, but i always feel like my parents doubt me. they doubt my ability to think, reason, function, and act. every time i talk to my dad on the phone about the business, he always sounds surprised that i'm actually working. he's pleasantly surprised that i get things done. he worries that i won't do it right. my mother is another wonderful case in point. she has low-to-no expectations of me, but gets explosively mad if i ever err or make a misstep. even with such a "low" bar, if i don't get things right the first time, it's a fucking tragedy. why oh why did i not make the right choice the first time. shit like that, i'm sure it's considered normal for the fragile mother-daughter relationship.

despite my rant, i have a deeper appreciation now for my parents. the things they've done for me, how they raised me, and the amount of trust they've bestowed in me now with the business. it's fucking legacy, this family business thing. i'm learning new things every day (did you know the US Postal Service does not deliver mail to businesses with dogs on the premises? LAME!!) and i can feel my love for chucks growing every day. adopting Molly was a sign of my commitment, that i am home again. i am home, for now, for good -- HA! that is, until i get into a graduate program that will take me. i feel like my relationships are reflective of my lack of (not inability to-) commitments. Molly is the sweetest thing that's ever happened to me, and she makes me want to be a good mom. today, she FINALLY learned "down" and i was sooo ecstatic. she makes me so proud when she *gets* things. it's deeply rewarding, the care you put into them, the time spent teaching commands...input/output = feeding/pooping, heh. just like carrie underwood says, "the more boys i meet, the more i love my dog." my dog is my commitment, my move home is my commitment to my parents and the business, and my goal is to get the fuck out of here again and expand my mind. or, i can just try to create my own happiness and achievements at home base, trying to spread my wings and fly, even for just a little bit.

random list of aspirational goals, so i don't forget:

- take a real vacation this year. (Japan in August, or Paris)

- continue to work on my fitness.

- take the GRE and get recs.

- start blogging, or start writing. (strange fiction or memoir)

- take an art class. (oil painting or jewelry making)

- start volunteering again. (habitat for humanity, or Tzu Chi Buddhist Foundation)

- join an orchestra. (violin)

- be a good person. (in progress)