Family and Everyone in Between
CW: suicide ideation, substance abuse
Dear Universe,
Who would’ve thought we’d get a torrential downpour on Star Wars Day? And why did I think it was a good idea to attempt to run my new routine of 7 miles around the bay trail loop in this storm?
Oh, right. Two things. 1: I signed up for the San Jose Half Marathon this June 2nd. I know — it’s less than a month away. And 13.1 miles is no joke! But I always did like running. Remember previous letters? And even though I may not be as athletic as I once was, I can at least still do this. I’ve ran half marathons before (granted they were when I was in 7th and 8th grade), so I think I can get up to speed for this one. Respectfully. And the dream of running a full marathon one day still stands. Hopefully next year? We’ll see.
2: Applying to jobs, working on coding projects (if only slowly), and taking the maximum amount of community college classes weren’t enough for me in some weird, twisted way. I needed exercise back in my life, else I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night (I have insomnia when I don’t feel tired by the end of the day; the stress during the bootcamp was certainly exhausting enough). The weeks following post-bootcamp have been difficult without structure, so adding running and exercise to my schedule have been pleasant. I wake up knowing that I need to run today so that my experience at the San Jose half won’t be as gnarly.
In conclusion, it was not a good idea. I wore too many non-waterproof layers (an extra-large highschool sweater I usually run with on dry days ended up becoming a heavy wet blanket that I wanted off immediately) and my running shoes and feet were soaked. I cut my run short and finished at 4.21 miles on a 9:17/mile pace. Less than a month to go, huh?? Whatever happens, happens.
You ever think about family, Uni? How’s your family doing? I assume you have family. I’m sorry I never asked. I’d like to ask now, though, if that’s okay with you. How is your relationship with your family? Your relatives, your aunts and uncles, your cousins, your grandparents. Is it good? Is it strained? Is it complicated?
Mine’s complicated. At least I think so. But maybe it isn’t? Maybe it’s just like a random number generator: sometimes they won’t/can’t be there for you when you want them to be, other times they’re there when you don’t need them at all, and, if I’m very, very, extraordinarily lucky, family might be there right when I need them the most. Well, okay, that’s not quite exactly like RNG, but the odds of these things happening have felt astronomically skewed to the negative experiences ( — this also doesn’t make sense with the RNG simile, but we’re rolling with it, you get it!).
So, it was a mixed bag of emotions during my cousin’s wedding a month ago, but it was an even larger knapsack after the wedding ended. Being introverted and emotionally compromised during the whole shindig drained my social battery (and that’s not to say it’s a 1:1 drain — I just wanted to be in quietness at this point, ’tis all), so I skipped the after-party and started my drive to my friends’ apartment in Sacramento where we had planned to have me crash on their couch for the night. Plus, it’s always an immense joy to see them whenever I can.
Didn’t work out, however. Because as I arrived at their apartment by 10:45PM, they had fallen asleep and weren’t answering anything, not their doorbell, phone, or me rapping on their window, both literally and lyrically.
After half an hour of no response, I dejectedly sat in my car and thought of my options. First option was to sleep in my car right then and there in the parking lot until they either call back or I wake up the next day. The second option? Go back to Winters to sleep on the couch at the dreaded after-party. I seriously considered sleeping in my car; I didn’t know if I could ask my cousin if I could sleep in her house after declining her after-party. I didn’t know whether or not I was ready to go back to another social gathering full of beer pong, shots, and loud noises.
But maybe I could go back for the laughter, the smiles, the little conversations I could have with those who were winding down for the night. Maybe I could find comfort there. Was I willing to take that chance, or would I find myself feeling even further disconnected with my extended family, my cousins?
Naturally and humanly, I chose the former and started to recline my driver’s seat for sleep. It wasn’t until my younger brother texted me to come over, to which I ignored it. And it wasn’t completely confirmed until he called me and told me to come over and sleep on the couch, a sincere prod to get me out of this rut. Understanding that this was a healthy sign for me, I drove back to Winters and entered my cousin’s idyllic house in a neighborhood that was still under construction.
I’m actually glad I arrived an hour and a half late — the party itself was nearly over and everyone was just sitting and talking. Leftover food was sprawled over the kitchen island, to which I devoured most of it without remorse (they’re my cousins, they’ll allow it, I swear!). I quickly changed out of my wedding clothes into my joggers and t-shirt, a combo I always prep with whenever I sleep elsewhere. Lastly, I was able to talk to my other cousin, Ruby, mostly about the job hunt, her experience in ux and my experience in coding, and the fact that we’re a lot older than when we last met.
It was nice. Really. A strong feeling of connection and the human experience. I was actually glad I came back to Winters to hang out with everyone I so desperately wanted to be away from 2 hours earlier.
And then, it happened.
A dramatic, revealing moment in the family. Less gossip and more worry. An Avengers-level threat that perked everyone’s ears past midnight (not everyone, exactly — a particularly drunk cousin was sleeping soundly on the sofa at this point).
Someone in our extended family needed help. While I don’t feel comfortable sharing the details, what I do feel comfortable in is the fact that everyone in that house (sans drunk, sleepy cousin) came together to figure out how to help in this time of need. Everyone listened and offered input. Everyone shared details and experiences about themselves that I had no idea about, nor did everyone else.
I shared about my suicide attempt during sophomore year of college only after my 46 year-old cousin shared about her 5150 during her sophomore year of college. Holy hell. And we both had no idea of each other’s experiences. It dawned on me right then and there: these experiences, as traumatic and individually unique as they are, are cyclical and generational and weren’t talked about and known enough. If this wasn’t the closest, in-my-face example of intergenerational trauma, then I don’t know what is. And to dispel them without talking about them would’ve lost these experiences in time. I’m glad we talked about them.
And we talked until 4AM. Trying to figure out the next “best steps” if there were any, discovering more about each other and the situation at hand, and coming to a consensus that we would all be in this journey together, however long it takes. Because the road to recovery may be a long and arduous one, but as long as we have each other and keep each other accountable, we could do this. We want to do this. I never felt so sure about family until this very moment.
It’s been exactly a month since the wedding (happy Cinco de Mayo!), and communication regarding the issue has been consistent. Things are getting better. Outreach and support have been widely accepted. Hope is very much still alive.
Reflecting back on all this, I think about the vicious familial cycles we’ve all had to face on our own: cousins immigrating to America and adjusting to a new world and language, overcrowded and cramped living spaces while trying to survive in the Bay Area, and debilitating grandparents who needed more time from you than you could afford. Contributing factors to the anxiety, depression, and difficulties of living the Asian American experience.
To recognize these and talk about them to family and friends who may have gone through similar experiences, I think, is the most powerful thing we can do to unbind this trauma. To improve upon ourselves through discourse, therapy, and connectedness so that the next generation won’t have to go through what we had to endure. Or, at least, be better equipped if and when these things may happen to them. That, to me, is what makes me proud to be a part of this crazy family. And while I know family can and will be complicated at times, I know now that it can also be straightforward and supportive and positive and loving and secure.
You just have to listen. Talk. Ask.
With the complex love of what it means to be in a family,
Mac
