Category Archives: Early Years Recollection

April 5, 2013

Series of entries…continued

So…I cried myself to sleep last night. If you don’t understand why, I recommend reading the entry just before this one. At this point, I’m not even sure that reading it will help.

I feel horrible for thinking and feeling the way I feel about my dad. And people who know me, know that I am not the self-pitty type. I am much more the “suck it the fuck up and keep moving because life will run you over if you don’t keep up” type.

I don’t even know where to begin. Where did I stop last night?

<pause, move cursor to “duplicate tab”, and voila>

This is where I stopped: “DID YOU THINK ABOUT THAT? YOU FUCKER!”. Then I said something about hurting in places I didn’t know existed for having these thoughts and questions to begin with.

My apologetic, primal, and almost compulsive instinct is staring me in the eye right now. In a very “do this or else” way.

It’s true though…my love for my dad, mom, brother, and sister is truly incontestable. Immutable. That is, with the acknowledgement that we all fuck up once in a while, and that, more often than not, this is not done intentionally. We screw up because, honestly, we just don’t know any better.

This is exactly how my conversation started with my dad today.

“Hi dad! How are you? Oh…I’m good…humm….what’s up? Did you call me yesterday to talk to me about “Inha’s” tattoo?”

“Hi love, How are you? Are you in Boston or travelling? I’m good…No…I didn’t call you about “Inha’s” tattoo. I called just to know how you’re doing. I only talked to “Inha” after calling you.”

I’m glad you called…I’ve been meaning to have this conversation with you for about SEVENTEEN YEARS. I’m glad I waited though. Ya know…being older (and more uselessly serious) helps in this conversation. My ability to articulate my feelings and thoughts in a more rational way will probably be very handy in this conversation. Because you know how I utterly dislike, even remotely, hurting your feelings (and mom’s, and my bro’s and sis’).

And then…the artificially aseptic and projectile VOMIT came out.

I pretty much said everything that I wrote yesterday (see https://sassithespider.wordpress.com/2013/04/04/this-is-going-to-be-a-pretty-long-entryies/). Well…in a more respectful way.

I probably sounded a bit crazy as I insisted in reminding my dad that my love for him would never change, regardless of what I was saying to him…about him. I kept reminding myself to tell him that, as a 35-year old woman, who strives to be as just as possible with everyone, I just needed to tell him these things that I was thinking about what happened some 17 years ago and now in 2013.

I said…”Dad, I feel it’s unfair sometimes that I have had these types of conversations with mom <you know…the conversations that come out of your realization that your parents are human, and as such make mistakes…just like you…but the fundamental conflict that it causes inside of you because you love them so deeply…that such a realization hurts…> and I have spared you of a lot that goes on in my mind…about you.”

Let me pause for a second or two.

The reason why it feels so fundamentally wrong to have this conversation with my dad, or my mom for that matter, is that they are one of the few beings in this world I TRULY love. With that, comes the guilt of potentially hurting someone that you love so dearly. And who has devoted his/her life to you. The “weird feeling” that comes from almost fully understanding that you have a strong core because you have parents like them. But still…there you are…stating some facts that can be hurtful to them.

I effectively put myself in the list of people who suck BIG TIME.

This is precisely how I feel. I feel horrible after my conversation with my dad. Even though, I know that I was as gentle, fair, rational, respectful, and loving as I could be.

In fact, I did not offend him in any way. I did not “blame” him for anything. I just stated what was going on in my mind. In my soul. Things that probably would have come out the wrong way in the past, but that I was now able to articulate a bit better…stripped of “guilt trip” rhetoric.

His reaction surprised me a bit, but I’ll have to write about this tomorrow.

I’ll have to write about this tomorrow, because right now…I am unfortunately regretting that I had this conversation with him to begin with. I could have kept it just here, in my blog.

Once it’s out…it’s out…and you never know who things unfold.

I do believe that when something this powerful and deep comes out of an essentially good, constructive, and loving place, that things unfold toward a Brigher place, however difficult the journey is getting to that place.

I spoke with my Heart. I spoke with my Soul. I love my father. So I want to believe that this will be “good” somehow, for both he and I.

But for right now…I am seriously questioning myself. I feel horrible for saying out loud, what he probably already knows to himself.

<sigh>

This is going to be a pretty long entry(ies)

By Sassi the Spider

I’m way too tired to write now. But I have to push this into motion, because we all know that “Sassi” cannot leave thoughts unfinished.

I’ll have to phase this in. I’m curious to know how many entries this will take.

It really is for my own sake. Too many powerful reasonings and semi-conclusions that have built enough potential energy to cause DEFCON 1 nuclear concern.

It is about my dad. My mom. My half-sister who stayed with me for 1 month recently, and with my full-sister (chuckles) for 1 1/2 months. My brother. And everything in between. In fact, my half-sister just left my house 2 days ago. I found her a place to move to.

I will begin with some condensed background information. I can’t possibly cover every “spin off” circumstance that sprouted consequentially.

My dad and mom dated for about 8 years, and were married for about 20 years. Both are pretty awesomely dedicated and loving parents. I love them both dearly and am capable of inflicting serious damage to whoever intentionally hurts them. However, like any of us imperfect beings, they have fucked up a few several times.

These entries will focus more on my dad and some of my thoughts that are finally taking shape, coming to the surface, and being articulated. Some 17 years later!

My family moved to the US in 1992. We were always, and still are, a very united family. My dad stayed behind to provide for us. My family had never been apart.

My dad and mom divorced when I was about 18. My mom asked for the divorce. What she didn’t know…what none of us knew, was that my dad had already found himself a 20-year old woman and impregnated her. I’m pretty sure the only reason he had not married her yet was because…uh…well…he was still married. My brother knew about it because he was staying with my dad for some time, and I’m guessing my dad had not way of omitting it.

I remember going back to my country for the first time in 3 years, still ignorant to my newborn half-sister’s existence. Let’s call her “Inha”. I was 18.

When we moved to the US, my dad moved to a different state where he met the new quasi-wife.

I saw my dad a few times while he visited the city I was staying in. I was there for 3 months. I didn’t know that while he visited me, he actually had brought the new quasi-wife (“Arti”), the newborn Inha, and a handful of her family members. They all stayed with my dad’s sister.

He never had the courage to tell me. He never really cared for me to meet my new “half-sister”.

Let’s now fast forward to 2013.

It deeply pains me to do this because these 17 or so years have not been easy. I mean…the things directly and somewhat indirectly related to my dad’s choice to introduce “Arti” and “Inha” into our lives. There has been a lot of pain, misunderstanding, useless discussions, endless doubts, hardships, skepticism, cynicism, anger, confusion, and the list goes on.

I will try to distill some of that in later entries.

Let me rewind just a bit. It’s 2012. My dad has been pestering us (my full brother, sister, and I) about “Inha”, who is now 17 years old, and wants to come to the US to study English and go to college here.

He keeps saying that he wants to be fair across the board. So he wants to give “Inha” the same opportunity to come to the US to study. That is…the same chance he gave my brother, sister, and I. But in his subtlety, he is asking us to be the big brother and sisters to her when she is here in the US. In his concern to provide her with the same chance, he is putting the burden on us to find good schools, housing, deal with the immigration paperwork, etc.

PAUSE PAUSE PAUSE PAUSE PAUSE PAUSE PAUSE

What the fuck!?

So wait…when you chose to conceive Inha, with her 20-year old mother Arti, you didn’t check in with us, did you?

When you had a chance to disclose your extra-marital relationship with this woman to MY mother, as she asked you for a divorce, you did not do it…did you?

When you had a chance to tell me that Arti, Inha, and her family were vacationing with you when I was in the same city, you didn’t do that…did you?

When you had many chances to let me meet my newborn half-sister, Inha, 17 years ago, you DID NOT DO IT, did you?

So why the fuck should I care about your desire to give her the same opportunity to study in the US?

What the fuck makes you think you have the right to ask or expect that my brother, sister, and I will help Inha find a good school, neighborhood to live, etc?

Now that Inha moved to the US, why the fuck do you insist on calling us almost every day to make sure we regularly check in with Inha so she doesn’t feel alone?

Did you FUCKIN think of my mother? About the fact that your expectation that we hang out with Inha, give her support, take her places, etc etc etc would inevitably make my mom, YOUR EX-WIFE, meet the “bastard” child whose existence made her suffer deeply?

DID YOU THINK ABOUT THAT? YOU FUCKER!

This entry will have to wait until tomorrow…or the day after…too painful for now…BUT IT’S A PROMISE TO MYSELF. IT WILL COME OUT.

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