Traumas. While they no longer haunt me they are embedded within me. I still struggle with them from time to time, knowing they control my every thought and action. It’s easy to let them take over me, to surrender and hand over the reins because then I would feel free, or at least think I would be free.
I walk alone. A lone wolf who seeks no pack but a peaceful and meaningful life. Too sick and too tired to deal with toxicity surrounding me, seducing me as if they take me as a fool. And sometimes I am. I use all my energy to push and push all of it out and sometimes I am so exhausted that I helplessly let them slip through my barriers.
Wave #1:
Four years ago I was almost homeless. I was struggling enough as an out of state university student just trying my best to navigate this college phase of my life. Add on I was in a toxic relationship with my boyfriend at the time. Still making the same mistake in the past, I called my parents asking for help even though I knew I wasn’t going to like the outcome. I hung up the phone crying, my fist hurting from my tight grip. My boyfriend sits at his desk, his eyes glued to the screen. He’s wasting his hours on the computer playing games as if he hasn’t had enough fun with the game he’s been playing with me.
I walked out onto the streets. My backpack is still freshly filled with books from my last class. In hand, my phone opened to the GPS maps.
Early evening. I already inquired about 3 places and all of them had rooms filled up. Sweating, tired, hungry, and almost out of hope, I stand on the street alone.
Traumas don’t make one stronger or better or happier, it’s how the person heals that makes them stronger, better, and happier.
I hear a man’s voice. I turn around and see a boy my age. He explains to me he organizes a youth counseling class and has offered to help me in my quest. Taken aback from this comfort I had not felt since my move to Boulder, I quickly accepted his help. On that day while I came back to my boyfriend’s apartment in hell without finding a place to live, I trusted myself, I trusted the universe that something good was coming.
Several weeks went by and I’ve been coming to the front desk desperately asking about an opening when finally a room opened up. I guess good things happen when we are strong to face fear and hurt head on. Oh, and my boyfriend and I broke up. I was smiling to myself on the bus to a place I could call home, knowing I had won the war.
A small plant is able to thrive in the harshest environments. They adapt by growing longer roots to tap into the deepest ground waters or they rely on their neighbors for support. It fascinates me to know that there is life where we least expect it. I have been learning from this small plant trying to adapt and conquer whatever is thrown at me. Even if I am stuck, nothing is always set.
My parents immigrated to the U.S. over twenty years ago. They bravely set foot in America with hopeful spirit and 100 bucks in their pockets and trekked the trenches, gaining wealth to live in the Silicon Valley bubble. My parents paved the way for my brother and I. They are the reason we can chase our dreams without fear.
Growing up all they even knew was how to survive. They read books by candlelight, they walked hours to get to school, and they took on any job in America. So it makes sense when they blatantly try to steer me away from art and encourage me to become more like them. They’re scared. Scared that I’ll become that starving artist archetype. Scared that the risks I’m taking will get me hurt. They never intend to damage me but their actions are like decay on the roots of a plant.
Wave #2:
My dad came home from overseas after being away for a year and a half.
I got into another toxic relationship.
Dinner — 7:45pm
We eat in silence. Dad chews obnoxiously loud.
Dad: “ Did you add salt? I think it’s a little bland.”
Dad continues to slurp his soup anyways.
Me: “Yeah I did. You can add more salt if you like.”
I begin to eat. The taste of my own cooking lifts my tired spirit.
Me: “So…I got accepted to art school.”
Dad: “… you know I think one of my friend’s daughter also went to that art school. After she graduated she couldn’t find a job and now works as a technical artist for a biotech company. Are you even prepared? How much does it cost? Have you considered doing a government job? The benefits are good and doesn’t take much effort to get the job in the first place.”
Me: “I don’t want a government job. I want to be an artist.”
Enter the boyfriend that my dad doesn’t like. The boyfriend that I should have broken up with from the beginning. The boyfriend who has never had a girlfriend before me.
Boyfriend: Causally eats the dinner I cooked.
Screw him.
Dad: “Do you have a job? How are you going to pay for tuition?”
Me: “No, but I’ve been applying to every job opening I could find.”
Dad: “WHAT?! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING ALL DAY? ALL YOU DO IS FOOL AROUND! CAN YOU DO SOMETHING USEFUL FOR ONCE?!”
Me: “I study all day and apply to jobs. It’s out of my control what positions are opened right now. I cooked breakfast and dinner and helped do laundry an-”
Dad: “THOSE ARE THINGS THAT YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO DO! I DON’T NEED YOU TO COOK FOR ME!”
Me: “Really? What do you do all day, go on Wechat?”
Dad: “WHAT? 管！我白养你了！(GET OUT! I RAISED YOU FOR NOTHING!) THIS IS MY HOUSE, IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT THEN GET OUT!”
“……..”
I stand up and run to my bedroom, crying. My boyfriend follows like a lost puppy.
In order to do great things the universe must first test us. Only when we are strong enough will we receive our reward.
It comes in waves. For a long time I am able to tolerate the traumas. I feel certain and confident in my life. For a while I feel “normal” again. Then the trauma comes crashing back within me. Emotions overwhelm me. Every inch of my body trembles. My heart races beyond what I thought was possible. Noise all around me downs out and I could hear my own gasping breaths. My mind is not present, it is possessed by this trauma.
In an instant I become someone else.
But I am grateful for someone who can give me the mental clarity I need. Someone who allows me to be this chaotic mess. Someone who teaches me how to take control of the beast. So, I turn to the very thing I know that can free me. Art.
By shifting my energy, no- by putting my energy into my passions, I can create a masterpiece. Positive vibrations are by my side, slaying all negativity away. And after the storm there is blue skies once again.
The feeling when I create art for the sole purpose of creating versus when I got emotions that need feeding, is tremendously different. The state of flow is stronger, almost magnetic. Everything else in the world is shut out and I feel truly liberated.
This is something I want to become more aware of. To put my emotions, specifically hurtful emotions into my art. To take better control of my anger and sadness and use them to create something beautiful.
To harvest growth through my traumas.
