Scars. Self-Love. Sexuality. Self Discovery

Dear brother,

I write unfiltered. For the intention that you will be able to better understand me. And that we will be able to form a better communicative relationship based on openness, trust, and respect. 2015 for me is about honesty and forming authentic relationships. Family is important to me. And I’m discovering myself more and more while growing closer to Mel, dad, and mom over the past month by just sharing myself and being true to who I am. It is an amazing feeling.

I’d like to share to you my struggle and what I had personally gone through in 2014 Taiwan.

You were there with me. But then you weren’t. I think you knew I was lonely. I didn’t process that for myself. And looking back now, I wish I had family to talk to about it. To understand and be there for each other as we coexist.

The following will be written in a slightly bitter remorseful way. It will be uncomfortable. For me to relive and recall all the negative feelings again…but I imagine by telling my story, you can see how unhealthy internalizing feelings for a whole year can scar you literally physically and mentally. I don’t teach you many things but please at least learn from my mistakes.

Looking back now, after many months of proper recovery and self reflection, it’s through this struggle that I eventually picked myself up to find strength to be where I am today- more mindful, communicative, and preach “I give zero fucks, I don’t have time to waste holding my true self back” anymore. And it’s with this deep breath that I’m letting go now and calling 2014 my biggest learning experience of my life.

Disclaimer: Any hyperlinked “scar”, you may need to think twice before clicking for graphic NSFW images.

Ecstatic appreciator of life to Hyperactive Hedonist to Impulsive Escapist

August 2013: I had just come from my solo backpacking/couchsurfing trip and was fresh from being high on life and positive energy; reveling in the awesomeness of sharing fleeting yet beautiful moments with people from all walks of the world. Naked bike runs in Seattle — canyon swinging New Zealand — surfing my first wave in Australia. Challenging myself and stepping outside my comfort zone to make my free-spirit-fearless-freak flag fly. I was soaring and thank buddha that I never got hurt along the way. Ecstatic Appreciator of Life

From live music guitar jamming in Tokyo until 4 AM, I came directly to Taiwan. Repatriation to be reunited with family and connect to my native Taiwan roots. While it sounded awesome at first, I wasn’t mentally prepared for how hard it was actually going to be for me.

To suddenly be at the mercy of the institutionalized Asian blunt superficial remarks that made it passive aggressively clear that I didn’t make the traditional white skin/slim body type/submissive demeanor cut. I would get remarks for my broad shoulders, the way I dress, my weight, the way I walk, my unkept fingernails, my inability to sit still, my poor table manners with legs propped up in an apparently too suggestive way. Hushed comments about how a messy room is foreshadowing how messy I will be as a future housewife. To live with the “should/shouldn’ts” 3 generations under 1 household lifestyle when I was so used to farting around with Emily inviting couchsurfers to come crash at our place back in New York. Tis a tough transition. I took it all in and started to internalize my insecurities. This went on for a year.

September 2013: I started seeing spots (floating specks) in my vision and the doctor said it was stress-induced. I doubted his judgment and refused to believe it. I was a student, not paying rent and was eating great home cooked food every night. There should be no complaints. I refused to complain, reflect, and acknowledge.

It was around this time that I went along with mother’s wishes to get my scar on my ankle removed. The scar I was so proud of for its history and story and recovery. I didn’t question it or see the point of arguing. I was passive and silently acquiesced despite my inner belief that removing my battle wound was a huge insult to everything I represented — scars tell stories. So I went along with my family’s concept of “beauty” like a little puppet. I certainly didn’t speak out my mind.

For the following 3 months, I had gone for weekly sessions of laser surgery, cyrotherapy liquid nitrogen, steroid injections, and saw my scar slowly turn red and raw. Yes, it got flatter. But a lot more menacing. A lot more susceptible to wear and tear. Pride for what it represented slowly turned into worry and then into self loathing hate.

Socially speaking, I was seeing a guy who I liked for his attention but was truthfully embarrassed at his presence in front of close friends and family. Bad sign. I definitely didn’t respect him or myself for that matter. I then saw a guy who I truly liked and admired but we just weren’t compatible on a physical level. That shit is important. Sigh, it wasn’t effortless. I was seeking for connection and I was at a loss.

January 2014: I visited New York for a week. My friends made comments about how I had changed and seemed a bit “chiller” “soft-spoken” which translated in my head as “not as crazy confident” “insecure.” It was true. I had low self-esteem and a poor body image.

I wore snow boots and walked 8 miles in the snow alone to process how much the city had changed and how much I missed it. Friction against skin. It was during this trip that my scar first started to tear open.

Socially? I left New York feeling lost. And all my friends had moved on, moved in with their significant others, raising puppies together, advanced in their careers. I was living with grandma and growing increasingly resentful with myself but faked like I was doing okay. Forced smiles.

February 2014: My doctor failed to acknowledge the slight tear and continued to inject me with steroids and freezing me with liquid nitrogen. I recall the nurse look hesitant at his request to prepare the lasers, phoning him “are you sure?” I think that was when I knew…fuck, what did I do to myself. Video here.

Knife Party “Destry Them With Lasers” is playing in the background in my mind. My robot zombie mode that had me on autopilot for the past few months began to break.

My body knew I was in the wrong for continuing to go out, but my mind reacted otherwise. I found rock climbing and hiking buddies; people I thought were badass adventurers. I wanted in on all the reindeer games. I guess I was craving for a community. Hyperactive Hedonist

March 2014: I went to a different doctor who said I should use hydrocolloid dressings and I spent the next 4 months self-remedying to treat an open chronic wound. The doctors also mentioned not to exercise and stimulate. I half-listened as I assumed that it was just the overcautious “wu-wei” Asian thinking. Never once did I believe that “I can’t exercise, I have menstrual cramps” theory. Sheesh…this rule never applied for me. Mind over body.

I would be really great for one whole week and then I would be tempted and use the “just this once” excuse and restart the healing process again. My scar fluctuated between looking like it was healing to looking like it was breaking for the next 6 weeks. It was an endless cycle.

I remember Vivian came from NY to visit and I wanted to show her that I was the old TiffLin that had the energy to do everything- handicapable. So I would go to school, go to work, go clubbing, go hiking, sleep for 4-5 hours. Repeat. I don’t know where my mind was during that period. I wasn’t mentally present and I was draining myself slowly. Seeking something vs escaping something vs running towards something. Impulsive escapist.

THIS IS WHERE YOU ASK ME HOW I WAS FEELING

So you saw how I would self-destruct going out as often as I did without taking care of myself. You never asked what was going on in my head. And I wasn’t the best at conversation. So let me tell you.

I couldn’t tell you the pain and loneliness I felt. Because I had refused to believe it. I had put this strong mask on myself that I could handle anything and everything. No tears, no fears. But in reality, I was ignorant, oblivious, and weak. I didn’t know how to ask for help. I didn’t love myself and I continued to treat my family under the pretense that they just didn’t understand me. Can you blame me?

I would look at your infamous shake your head in disapproval move and feel low when I carried myself the way that I do. I didn’t know how to act around you and I certainly didn’t appreciate how shamed I was for acting the way that I naturally do. I was insecure and intentionally avoided your judgemental eyes.

And then I had our cute adorable but regretfully rascist traditional and status-conscious grandma who would keep asking me to “open my eyes and find a boyfriend already.” There was pressure.

So I tried dating…even while scar was progressively looking more like a zombie STD infected vag on the side of my leg. Because that’s what you do when you and everyone else around you is settling down. I was 25 and had never been in love. What’s wrong with me?

But you know, like I know, that it was not easy for me. Boys like you…they don’t get me. And for the ones that were interested, I didn’t give them the time of day to get to know me. I repeated old mistakes and old habits, confused hearts and led people astray, blamed it on the selection and would continue “on to the next” hoping for that effortless emotional and physical connection.

To be honest, I began to grow resentful towards you and Mel when you two so effortlessly brought back significant others for the family to oodle over. By October in Taiwan, Mel had practically moved in with Will. By April, you met Jareena and within two weeks moved in together as well. I was alone at the time. Pretty fuckin depressed and wondering how is it that everyone had it so easy…

Every morning I woke up, changed my hydrocolloid dressings, and saw no clear progression. I was impatient and restless with my body and my mind. I remember the guys I would be interested in pursuing making the same faces, saying “ew…that looks really bad…” and me trying to mask my hurt. There was a period in my life where I wouldn’t stay at grandmas anymore and try to curb my loneliness by staying over at my friends. I was a backpacker even in Taiwan.

May 2014: Caryn was the one who pointed out that now there was a visible hole within scar that was getting visibly bigger — where the lasers had drilled and had done their damage. My skin also started to get hypopigmentation. Why I didn’t notice it before? I’m not sure. Maybe I chose to be blind to it since I refused to let it ruin my day. Ana also saw it for what it was and was the one who physically took me to a different hospital for another opinion. She was smart about it and said that we could bike to the hospital together. Adventure time?

This doctor felt my metal plate and we all found it logical that having a foreign object would deter natural healing process. Uhh duh. A week later I had surgery to get the metal plate removed and patched up again. I stayed in the hospital for 5 days as friends and family came out to support me during my time of idleness and recovery.

Aside: To this day, I realize with sincere heart pounding gratitude that I have some of the very best friends, from NY to Taiwan, that a girl could ask for. When family was too busy or ignorant to notice, or I was too busy and ran away from family before they could ask about my feelings, my friends were always there to give me attention and say those words “you are beautiful.” Despite me believing it, a girl needs to hear that once in awhile.

It took one week at grandmas of “rest recovery” before I got restless again and convinced myself that I could function outside in the real world again on crutches. I remember how painful it was for me to look under my bandages of my half-removed stitches and see blood. I was too ashamed to tell you how it had happened for fear that you’d judge me. How I went out on crutches to a Taipei Sharing Economy convention for my ChinaPost piece. How I went out of my way to interview someone for another writing project. How I spent a Saturday night going out singing karaoke and being the “the life of the party” for Jason’s birthday. How I went outside in the rain to fetch my bike and slipped….

I felt like I could still do it all without regard over my failing recovering body. I was a fool.

The night that I saw blood, I couldn’t sleep. I lied to grandma the next morning and told her that I was going to school so that she wouldn’t worry. Instead I went straight to the ER to assess the situation..again..

I was ridiculous. I could only imagine you now shaking your head in disapproval saying “tiff just needs someone to take care of her.” A reason to just chill at home and sit still. To settle down and not have to feel like constantly being on the go to fill the void of being alone.

This is true. I needed that. Desperately.

I didn’t realize that until I saw 3rd post-surgery debridement aftermath- small hole turned into 3 cm deep gaping eye with visible fascia (viewer discretion advised) and for the first time in my 25 yr old “strong badass bitch” of an existence, open-mouth sobbed, gasping for air, at the discomfort of my 4th different doctor in front of me. I cried myself to sleep that night. Because it was the first time that I realized how alone I was.

It’s a painful realization knowing that you have over 1,000 Facebook friends but nobody you could think of to call during that time of complete vulnerability.

If you thought I was self-loathing during the buildup of surgery, it was heightened during this hospital stay. I didn’t tell anyone that I’ve landed myself in the hospital for the second time within the month. So I basked in pain, shame, guilt, angst, soaking in all of the bad feelings. Couldn’t care less about people visiting because it wouldn’t have made a difference, or so I thought.

4 days later, doctor tells me that I had contracted MRSA and had to stay in the hospital for another week. Remember when you visited me? No real conversation exchanged over what I was going through, but there was no need. You were always more of an action guy anyway. You came in and gave me USB drive of Wes Anderson movies and Game of Thrones. And a shakeweight. It was like you knew. Without me trying to tell you that this is what I had needed all along. Try to take me seriously now but it was this shakeweight that I first found a reason to smile at the irony of something so ridiculous yet so practical. I shakeweighted my frustration away and made tifflinning challenges with myself again. “Like this shakeweight post of me shaking it to Florence Shake it Off and I’ll add another minute to my routine” Instagrams. I slowly started to pick myself up again with the power of music, my powerful support group via social media, and refound my healing process through dance. You gave me that. IT WAS THE SHAKEWEIGHT!!

BRO- I need to give you the credit you deserve. It was you that helped brand reMINDmebands. It was your logo design and font choice that made it look like I had dreamt it. You gave me the tools to reflect, recover, and remind myself that I could grow everyday a stronger and more positive and grateful me. You have no idea the influence it made on my self discovery. It could have easily died as one of the projects I would start but never finish- a fuzzy concept of making bands to prevent me from doing stupid shit. You helped make concept into tangible product. Thank you. I never gave you enough credit for that.

See? Look at how we could create things together. I’m so excited for our future!!!

Look, I know this is a long ramble. But I wanted to express genuine gratitude for you being you. I wanted to express honesty for why I was the way that I was. And express a bit of remorse and regret that we could have had a much stronger relationship in the past if only I gave you enough credit and voiced all of my insecurities/frustrations ahead of time. But that was then and this is now. I’m a lot more vocal…as you can see.

You know that I live by the principle “You need to love yourself first in order to have space to love someone else”. I didn’t have that. But now I do.

I’m happy to say now after much growth and long reflection…it only took me about 12 reMINDme sets….that I’m at a healthy point in my life to love myself for who I am. I learned a lot about myself in the past half-year post surgery. To others, I may not be perfect. I may be a hot mess. That’s fine. I have flaws, insecurities, and doubts just like everyone else. But I’m not going to dwell on it and live a lie anymore. I may just share it and ask for help earlier on though.

Today, I feel bold. That I am worth equal reciprocation and can find people worthy of my time to share my vulnerabilities with and hope that they share theirs in return.

I, Myself, Am Entirely Made of Flaws Stitched Together with Good Intentions.

And if I am to be honest with myself, and respect you as my beloved dearest brother, I need to admit to you now that aside from me not loving myself enough, I was having a hard time dating Taiwan 2014 because I was going after the wrong demographic. I thought it would be easier. Easier for our family. And I didn’t want to admit to myself what I knew in my subconscious all along but didn’t have the courage to act on back then. I didn’t know for certainty what I liked and what I didn’t. I was okay on trying to make it work, trying to pacify everyone, without risking it all and putting my 100%. I was afraid of the risk of being vulnerable and going after what could actually mean something and the repercussions of it.
I was living a lie without knowing the truth.

Here are some truths about me:

The truth is I like a lot of things. And a lot of them are not basic: black and white.

I like the color green- about 50 shades actually. I like biking- uphill and down. I like dancing- slow hip-hop and fast seizuring bacon/Robocop octopus. I like writing- poems in my diary and my open “figuring it out” verbal vomit to the interwebs.

The truth is I like doing a lot of things that may seem “different”

I like to break bananas right in the middle and offer the other half to anyone next to me. I like piggyback riding random people who’ve had too much to drink to safety. I like interpretive dancing in public to everyone’s amusement and maybe mild discomfort. I like meeting random people at music festivals and giving out free hugs and reMINDmebands.

The truth is I like a lot of things but I still prefer some things over the other.

I like cuddling and feeling held but prefer being the one protecting big spoon. I like going out clubbing but prefer starting dance circles at a divebar. I like stuffed animals but prefer plastic dinosaurs. I like staying in and eating take-out but prefer eating outside people watching. And I like all people but I prefer girls.

Yes, was it that big of a surprise? I’m finally proud enough to say it and admit it to you. I am gay. For today. And probably tomorrow. And the next day. Who knows about the next year? I change a lot. Sexuality is fluid. There’s no point in arguing.

Maybe you always knew. I was always a sensitive tomboy. Growing up with you calling me “Mei the gay” to your friends didn’t help me coming out to you any easier. But I’m over it now. I’ll do what I want. And I’ll stop being super sensitive to everyone else’s concerns and needs for how I should present myself and live life. Because boiling down inside leads to scars that eventually tear at you and rip its guts out. #beentheredonethat

2015!!!!!

2015 is a new year for me. I’ve changed a lot in the past half year. Since post surgery, when I had started to be mindful over my relationships and started giving space and time only to the people who I care about. When I stopped being so reckless and gave myself 3 months of recovery to breathe and refind a healthy balance towards how to live and love life. When I challenged myself to focus on finding what I was passionate about creating and finding better ways to communicate and collaborate within our family business. When I backpacked abroad South East Asia and wandered without a plan, building confidence and discovering my true self expression again. When I started crushing on a girl and was honest with myself in admitting my feelings and fearless enough to act on those feelings. When I had my heart pulled in different directions and realized that I am fucking awesome and deserve everything-loyalty, integrity, respect, honesty, love. To now — still slightly uncertain over my career in China and how I’ll ever make it work in terms of finding balance and love, but at least now believing that anything is worth a shot if you have the capacity to work for your dreams and live according to your values.

Thank you for being the reason and inspiration to allow me to process the past and giving me the space to forgive myself for how I acted 2014. I am the way that I am. I wasn’t true to myself before and it created painful scars of shame. But again it is through this struggle that I’ve refound my identity. It’s time for me to coexist with the people who I care about. I feel at peace and free as I’m coming out and coming to a close on this reflection piece.

FAMILY REACTION…drumroll please.

Mel said she knew all along and was just waiting for me to come out on my own terms. “Uhh I knew when you crushed on gay boys at NYU.”

It was easy coming out to her after she spent a couple of days with the real me in Taiwan 2015. We spoke about relationship drama for the first time and it was the most honest conversation I’ve ever had with her. I recall tearing finally free to speak my mind and her being present to listen.

I first mentioned it to mom and dad a couple of months ago during National Coming Out day (bore my Challenge and Honesty band for double the strength). They were arguing in front of me and I was literally in the middle of them, so sick of hearing their bullshit for the past year and just blurted “well, as long as everyone is being honest..I guess now is a good time as any…Hi, parents, I exist and have feelings of longing as well…so I’m pretty sure I like girls!” I recall feelings of liberation.

They didn’t exactly recognize it at first and even mentioned if it had to do with them. I used to blame it on that. How I didn’t have a father figure growing up and found myself emasculating guys for sport. But no I looked at them and calmly said “no…my sexuality has nothing to do with you.” I’m proud of myself for that.

I know they see me happier and more real to myself lately. I suspect they may believe I’m still confused…that this is just another of the many phases that I go through…and that I haven’t met “the one”

I chose to just let it go. This is just the first step.

All I know is that I’m happy to be having feelings. And that I’m happy I could be honest about these feelings to myself. And now I am proud to finally be honest with everyone that I care about.

Sorry for being that suppressed and closeted and pissy older jealous sister at the time of 2014. But this is the dawning of a new era brother. I hope you are comfortable with my lifestyle choices. Because it is these choices that make me shine and smile.

I love you. I hope you know you can talk to me about anything.
I’m starting to do the same for you.
I hope the best for you in your process and journey finding someone worthy of your love.
Wish me luck on mine as I’m finally starting to give it a real shining shot.

Love,
Your sister