I don’t know how you guys call this. Maybe it’s a wake-up call to a long, long sleep. I never felt it before. It’s the first time, over three months’ job hunting, I really calm down and see who I truly am and what I want to be.
I have been weeping for a long time, not on the outside but the inside. It’s the first time that my parents couldn’t accompany me. Everything is completely about my choices. Whatever I chose now would affect my life for two years. For the past few months, I knew it but not know it. I have been running away from my true feeling. There was a little me screaming for me to acknowledge her existence but I completely ignored her. I thought if I actually responded to her, my whole spiritual world would fall apart. It has haunted me for so long that I could barely reach out and call for help.
Maybe in America, I might be suggested to take a few treatments to solve it, but I am not a person who would seek for helps from some medicine. It can ease the natural responses my body tries to give me but can’t solve my troubles. They are still there, no matter how efficient those treatments are. If I didn’t stand up on my own, they would seize me forever.
As a result, I didn’t ask for help but read tons of books, trying to find something that could comfort my struggling soul.
At first, I read a few books about Feminism and vowed to help those disadvantaged women with my best efforts. I want more than just a role model as an independent woman. However, what you think would hardly meet what you get. I applied for a job that could speak for those women but only is rejected for lack of experiences. They attacked me for being a student of Applied Foreign Language, giving me hard time and refusing to let me in for there being a lot of people better than I did. They weren’t nice at all and the whole environment made me uncomfortable even though it’s an organization for those abused women and prostitute.
I had sent over fifteen letters, telling them all my advantages. I wrote over two thousand words, telling them how many things I had done in the past four years for Feminism and how strong my passion was toward getting this work. However, what I had received was not, or never, what I had expected. Complete cold shoulders. They even told me that if I hadn’t called in order to get their attentions, they wouldn’t have considered to see me.
This is what made me so sad and depressing. In the past four years, teachers keep telling us that we have so many possibilities and as long as we go for it, there are few would reject our passion. As it turns out, there is nothing could meet their descriptions. I had been expecting to see an organization full of warmth and passion to make this world a better place for women but what I saw is nothing but a traditional charity that never wants to truly change women’s social status. I have noticed it, of course. I read a lot of their magazines, and as time goes by, I have lost the desire.
However, what truly crushed me is how they treated me. Maybe they wanted more capable people, I can totally get it and will never complain about this because that’s what things should be, but what they lay out is what make my desire to join them dim completely.
Maybe it’s my hatred blinding my sight. Maybe their reasons are completely innocent. It’s just different sides of ideas. Yet, I couldn’t shake away the chilliness in my heart. Even three weeks later, I was still shaken by that experience. My pride somehow dims with my desire. Everything goes blank. All I could see is just an unsure life and dying dreams. Till now, I couldn’t take myself back to the former me.
I have been always advantaged. Teachers tried to provide me the best they could. My parents give me whatever they could provide. Those spoiled me, sugar-coating everything. Life is not just love, compassion and dreams but a lot of cruelty, coldness and fear. You are afraid of anything but everything. You are afraid of yourself. You are afraid of your future. When you were a kid, there was nothing but dreams and love. Your parents fed you undying love and told you the simplest life rule. What they have tried to do is to prolong your innocence and wait for your own awareness.
I remembered a lot of things in my childhood, including the first time we moved to a new house, the one we are still living in. I cried at the first night for fear of loneliness. At the old home, we didn’t have many rooms, so my brother and I lived in the same one with our parents, but now my parents could afford a bigger one. My mother was sleeping in the bedroom next to me. I was so afraid but I couldn’t bring myself to wake her up because I knew she was tired of moving. Then, as time went by, I got accustomed to the new environment. The strangeness faded away, replaced by the new confidence of being alone completely at night.
When I was informed of entering one of the best schools, I was so excited, but then I realized it meant leaving my mother. I wept for a long time, maybe two or three nights. I was afraid of leaving her side. I was afraid of moving to the new place. I was afraid of being forgotten. I was afraid of not making any friends. I was completely afraid of being alone. Two days later, my grandmother had a stroke. I started to fear other things, so the former fear faded away gradually, only awaken when the real time I needed to leave. After I arrived at the school and dined with my roommates, my eyes were full of tears. I couldn’t bring myself to eat much and I couldn’t stop thinking about my mother.
That’s the moment I realized how much I loved my family and how much I missed home.
Since I was little, I thought my mother someone who could always solve my problem, but only when I left home, it occurred to me that she used to be a little girl. She used to be loved by her parents, living her life with color, and then she met my father. My father and his family didn’t treat her well but she still stayed for my brother and my sake. She lived poorly for the past twenty years and still couldn’t have a steady life.
My mother was a little girl, then a young woman, and became a mother. She lived her life without her dreams but full of our memories. She told me meeting my father was the worst thing happened to her but being able to meet me and my brother was the best thing that could have ever happened to her.
I know who she is. I know she has strong feeling to her life. I know she must have been fearful for her future just like me. She must have been weeping for her worst struggles, but she had no choice. If she wanted to keep my brother and me with her, she would need to stay with my father. In my hometown, my mother had little skills to raise us, which meant the court would definitely give our custody to my father. She wanted us. She loves us so much that she couldn’t bring herself to give us up, so she sucked it up. She endured my father’s poor treatments in order to raise us up.
I need to be strong for her. I need to strong for the future me. This flood, the true flood of rain, helps me make up my mind doing it. I need to keep struggling and fighting because that’s what I do. I have always faced the struggles and survived. I would do this again.
This is the first determination, and it would be the strongest one in my heart.