Let's Talk
I suppose I never got the memo that the teenage-parent relationship is bound to become strained especially if the teenager grows up in a completely different country than his or her parents did. I've never felt the embarrassment of having a Fay Da birthday cake that none of my other 8-year-old friends wanted to eat, or having to order at fast food places for my dad who couldn't say "cheeseburger". My parents didn't hang traditional Chinese red paper things on our front door, or make us eat dumplings and rice everyday. But the generation gap that created rifts in most of my friends' relationships with their parents now threatens to do the same to us. My parents had spent most of my life carefully constructing a bridge in order to best this dreaded obstacle of parenthood, but now I feel as if I've crossed the bridge while my parents are stuck on the other side.
I thought that talking to my parents was the best way to solve this problem. This problem that I myself cannot seem to put into words even in my own blog. The more I demand to be seen as mature, the more I realize how immature I am. The more I ask for freedom and more responsibilities, I begin to feel inadequate and childish. I can't help but think about what a friend said to me the other day: "The more mature you are, the less you have to prove." I can't prove anything to anyone right now, and I feel like that's all I want to do. I want to prove that I can stay up and stay healthy, I can get good grades, I can maintain a part-time job, and I can take care of the church. But at the end of the day, my room's a mess, I'm always sick, and I feel like a foolish child demanding 10 more minutes of TV before bed. I probably shouldn't be feeling this way, but that's often how I feel after a talk with my parents. They're so wise that I feel bound by the logic and experience of their words, as each one of my beautifully constructed arguments falls apart with every rhetorical question they present. My protests sound feeble and whiny. My speeches are reduced to "I dont know...I just don't know anything anymore." A statement that does less than convince them of my readiness to embrace adulthood.
I know that I can try to psychoanalyze myself and find out why I feel the way that I do. But I know that I'm just trying to find out why it's so difficult for me to feel happy lately, and why I shouldn't feel lonely but I do. And why I can't be satisfied with my day-to-day. Or why I can't wait for finals to be over, but at the same time I'm terrified of spending a month and a half alone at home, with nothing to study and nowhere to go and no one to see.
I'm just trying to figure out who I am, and I'm struggling to suppress those familiar feelings that are fighting to take over especially when my circumstances only confirm what my darker half has believed all along.
I feel like a stranger where I used to feel the most at home. Church isn't what it used to be to me anymore, and I think that even as I pray and fight for ways to bring the kids closer to God, part of me is fighting for myself to come back as well. Because even though I'm physically "there" every week, three times a week, my mind and my heart are left somewhere else. Perhaps they're afraid to come into the place of God. Perhaps they just don't feel understood by people who expect me to have it all together already. Perhaps they don't want to intrude when people with hurting hearts and confused minds come to be healed and comforted. So they're left outside while I come in and do my thing.
It's also very confusing because when I'm out, I often just want to go home, and when I'm home, all I want to do is go out. There's a restlessness in my being that is unsatisfied with everything. I can't enjoy the silence anymore, but the noise of people and the city exhausts me. Sometimes I wish that I just had a rare disease that only House can fix so that I'll know this is only a physiological ailment instead of a spiritual one.
It's funny, because even as I type all of this, I know exactly what I would say as a loving Christian friend to someone who felt this way. I know why she feels restless, why she feels lonely, and why she wants to just get out and go wild sometimes. I know what I would say to me, but I also know that I wouldn't really want to hear it. Yes, once again, immaturity rears its ugly head. I'm too mature for my age mentally and with spiritual words of wisdom, while immature for my age in experience and emotions.
All I can say is Lord have mercy on me.
I thought that talking to my parents was the best way to solve this problem. This problem that I myself cannot seem to put into words even in my own blog. The more I demand to be seen as mature, the more I realize how immature I am. The more I ask for freedom and more responsibilities, I begin to feel inadequate and childish. I can't help but think about what a friend said to me the other day: "The more mature you are, the less you have to prove." I can't prove anything to anyone right now, and I feel like that's all I want to do. I want to prove that I can stay up and stay healthy, I can get good grades, I can maintain a part-time job, and I can take care of the church. But at the end of the day, my room's a mess, I'm always sick, and I feel like a foolish child demanding 10 more minutes of TV before bed. I probably shouldn't be feeling this way, but that's often how I feel after a talk with my parents. They're so wise that I feel bound by the logic and experience of their words, as each one of my beautifully constructed arguments falls apart with every rhetorical question they present. My protests sound feeble and whiny. My speeches are reduced to "I dont know...I just don't know anything anymore." A statement that does less than convince them of my readiness to embrace adulthood.
I know that I can try to psychoanalyze myself and find out why I feel the way that I do. But I know that I'm just trying to find out why it's so difficult for me to feel happy lately, and why I shouldn't feel lonely but I do. And why I can't be satisfied with my day-to-day. Or why I can't wait for finals to be over, but at the same time I'm terrified of spending a month and a half alone at home, with nothing to study and nowhere to go and no one to see.
I'm just trying to figure out who I am, and I'm struggling to suppress those familiar feelings that are fighting to take over especially when my circumstances only confirm what my darker half has believed all along.
I feel like a stranger where I used to feel the most at home. Church isn't what it used to be to me anymore, and I think that even as I pray and fight for ways to bring the kids closer to God, part of me is fighting for myself to come back as well. Because even though I'm physically "there" every week, three times a week, my mind and my heart are left somewhere else. Perhaps they're afraid to come into the place of God. Perhaps they just don't feel understood by people who expect me to have it all together already. Perhaps they don't want to intrude when people with hurting hearts and confused minds come to be healed and comforted. So they're left outside while I come in and do my thing.
It's also very confusing because when I'm out, I often just want to go home, and when I'm home, all I want to do is go out. There's a restlessness in my being that is unsatisfied with everything. I can't enjoy the silence anymore, but the noise of people and the city exhausts me. Sometimes I wish that I just had a rare disease that only House can fix so that I'll know this is only a physiological ailment instead of a spiritual one.
It's funny, because even as I type all of this, I know exactly what I would say as a loving Christian friend to someone who felt this way. I know why she feels restless, why she feels lonely, and why she wants to just get out and go wild sometimes. I know what I would say to me, but I also know that I wouldn't really want to hear it. Yes, once again, immaturity rears its ugly head. I'm too mature for my age mentally and with spiritual words of wisdom, while immature for my age in experience and emotions.
All I can say is Lord have mercy on me.
Comments
I remembered that last month I struggled with myself thinking that did I really mature from my middle school days? Or am I still my inner child? I've always been the one in my family who was mature about things and serious with life, but there is still that inner child of me that gets to me and confuses me about whether I'm growing up or not. I believe God will show us the answers if we pray for them. I think God gave me signs this year. He told me that I finally learned how to love, instead of running away relentlessly all the time. He taught me how pure love was and is the only gift that will never fade. He has shown me the love He gave us. I believe that we're all maturing, but no matter what we will always have that inner child. But I have learned it's okay to have that little child inside of us(: In time, God will show you how mature you've grown. I've also heard that from my friend that the more mature you are, the less you have to prove. It is true. I think maturity comes spontaneously in surprises through time. And then when you look back, you really do see how much you've grown and you didn't have to prove anything.