My Rain of Pain, Relief and Peace
Painful days preceded a shower of relief and harmony once I turned inwards and discovered acceptance
With buried sentiments, I silently endured my painful drought hiding my thoughts without a shout. I kept my emotions and feelings subdued, as my mind refused to rest, which was due. My body gradually succumbed to severe fatigue, and I eventually lay in bed idly tormented and besieged.
At my darkest moment, I cried, since my grieving heart wanted to defy. My heart had enough of the mind’s lies, while my spirit inspired me to be wise. My strength in holding my tears was false, whereas my inner wisdom transformed them without force.
The long-overdue tears poured with vigor like the season’s first rainfall, which triggered a break in the drought and nourished my soul. Subsequently, I immediately felt an inner harmony as I became whole. A rainbow appeared in the aftermath of my welcomed tears that erased my melancholy from ‘pressed’ feelings and fears.
My journey is never-ending, from emotional suppression to healing and self-acceptance. Periods of intense emotional repression, in which I had to valiantly bear my emotions without expressing them, resulted in mental and physical exhaustion.
During the 1980’s, schoolchildren did not comprehend the peculiar features of a Vietnamese immigrant. Adorned with straight black hair, brown eyes, and the characteristic slant at its edges, I did not blend in with the normal Caucasian appearance.
My parents can merely afford basic, second-hand clothing. As I grew taller, the hems of the trousers were lowered, and offcuts of fabric were used to patch holes. This deepened my isolation from other children and heightened my embarrassment.
A small, five-seater Datsun transported my three siblings and three neighboring cousins and uncles. Therefore, the other kids ridiculed the arrival of the ‘Chan clan car’! It was completely demoralizing for me, which aggravated my rebellious nature.
Depressive episodes persisted throughout my adolescence and adulthood. Endless challenges confronted me as I maneuvered through racial prejudice at workplaces and in the community.
“Here comes Bruce’s (Lee) sister!” was the war cry from ignorant, aggressive teenagers. Withholding my tears accumulated a sickening shame towards my Asian origins.
My physical exhaustion was evident on the farms, as all hands from family members were on deck to pick produce. Rice, meat, and water required money to purchase, which was supplied after a hard day’s work. Fatigue gripped my body, and my spirit was feeble and weak until the darkest hour forced me to boldly speak.
A cry unleashed my heart’s defiant plea, and a demand for wisdom set my soul eternally free. My appreciation that nothing came easy forged a resilience to excel in school and further my education.
My downpour of anguish, relief, and tranquil peace arose from the drought of silence, yearning for release. In stoic days, my heart suppressed its cry, and my mind’s restraint became a wearying, silent lie.
Crying becomes a pivotal release during my darkest moments, a defiance against the mind’s control. Moreover, it’s a reclamation of emotional wisdom as I personally accept my tears, likened to the first raindrops after a drought of a shackled, conditioned upbringing.
Tears poured like rain in winter’s first embrace upon my petite face, and my soul eventually found its solace. Harmony bloomed, and my spirit felt complete, where worries and pain retreated. In tears’ acknowledgement, my inner storm ceased from the rain of pain, as I emerged with my enduring peace.
Introspection and increased awareness continues to cleanse and nourish my spirit. This volcanic discharge facilitates inner harmony and wholeness, resulting in a newfound calm and the erasure of pent-up fears and melancholy.
Thank you for reading and remember to live with passion, maintain purpose, and stay at peace.
QD 💙
