Unofficial. What comes to mind when you are a college student and you hear this word? Well. Party. Booze. People having a great time. So why is this a dreadful weekend? Well let me explain. Personally, I never even knew what Unofficial was until I came to the University of Illinois. After coming to this university I got some sense of what it was. It was a weekend to party. It's an unofficial St. Patrick's Day. That is to say since St. Patrick's day happens during Spring break sometimes and people might not be able to celebrate it, and this is the weekend to go crazy on campus. The idea of it is pretty stupid itself. It brings on the stereotype that Irish people like to drink and get drunk all the time. Well lets not not get into the cultural implications. I've partook in it in the past and reflecting on my past experiences, I don't really like it. I'll try my best to recall my past experiences and explain why I don't like it. I also have a few simple tips that will barely keep the freshmen out of trouble.
During Unofficial, people don on green T-Shirts printed weeks in advance and other Green gear. Regardless of the weather, people don't dress appropriately. Green street is flooded with college students and the occasional post graduate (I dont want to call them old folks). There is a very festive atmosphere with a faint smell of alcohol (or dense smell, depending on your proximity to the next closest drunk pedestrian on the street). People are hyped up and excitable. They are loud, some are rude. Guys always try to score a girl or two and girls are very scantily clad as if asking for attention. And you might see fights, ambulances, people crying, throwing up, public urination, just be mindful all types of crazy shit can happen during Unofficial.
Apartment Parties happen every where. Pre-gaming seems like the logical way to start this "festival". Usually it starts off with beer. Some people start with shots. After the party goers have "warmed up" enough, some head to the bars. Bar crawls are nice to see (insert sarcasm). A bunch of people wearing the same shirt form a group. They are usually very loud and boisterous and hit up one bar after another. They crowd up the sidewalks and its hard not to get swept away if you are walking towards a big group. The strangest thing I've personally seen was a bus packed with 20+ White, blonde, sorority girls getting off at a stop ready for a bar crawl. Not that I have any problems with White, blonde, sorority girls (some are actually cute), but I have never seen something like it before. It was quite a spectacle. And then there are more apartment parties later and the frat parties. The frat parties are loud and chaotic. Some houses are packed with people, the folks inside usually have a red solo cup in hand. Some converse. Some chill. Some play beer pong, keg stands, and more crazy shit. Some get down to the loud and indiscernible music. These people don't care about the sound quality, as long as there is a beat to dance to, who cares if the bass is so loud it distorts the melody of what once was a good song. And people don't know what treble is. Its so damn high its annoying. Typically the people in the frat parties will be buzzed to drunk and very few are on the verge of blacking out. Have no doubts some people need to be carried out of the parties at the end of em. Girls are scantily clad. They put on their favorite fragrance and copious amounts on makeup. Most of them get in for free. The guys however, unless you know people in the frat, have to pay to get into the parties. I mean that's understandable. Booze is heavily taxed and expensive. If you want people to go back to the parties you organize, it has to be good. Everyone needs to get their drink on. From cheap beer cans to giant kegs to shots of Vodka to vats of Jungle Juice. Whatever you want, they have. Or maybe they don't. Hey night is young and there are more parties and bars to hop to. Some people dance, some chill, some socialize, others do drugs (not that I've seen but I don't doubt.) Some people lose all morals and make out with whomever they deem attractive after obtaining a good pair of "beer googles". Either way by the end of the party, the floor will be sticky and gross. I feel bad for the people that have to clean up afterwards. Oh and remember: NEVER EVER wear a good pair of sneakers to a party. You will regret that like no other the day after you've regained consciousness. And there will always be sirens in the distance for the crazy people that over do it. Some parties get raided too because people get too wild.
Some people skip class during unofficial. Some people still go to class. Others go to class drunk. 9 am? Sure. One or two of your classmates might have had beer for breakfast. This one time a friend told me she went to class and it was like 10 am. So a girl in her class was so drunk she threw up and everyone in the class evacuated. What a nice way to start the weekend. Getting a whiff of breakfast/beer puke really does make sure the sleepyheads are awake. On Unofficial, nothing is ever to early. That's a golden rule to remember. Typically people start much later. Maybe 5 pm for preparations and pre gaming. An appropriate time to hit the bars would be around 8 or later. Many parties don't start til 11 pm or later. People don't usually go home until 3 or 4 am, if they go home at all.
During my first Unofficial freshman year, I went to a friend's place. The weather wasn't good that Friday so people kept it more low key than usual. I can't recall much because I probably did get drunk. Later that night I remember smoking bud. We had so much to smoke by the end of the session I couldn't keep my eyes open. So I knocked out on the couch. The next morning my friend cooked up some food and we had another session. Yet again, I was so blazed I couldn't keep my eyes open and yet again, I fell asleep until the afternoon where then I don't even remember how I got home. My first Unofficial ever. Good times (total sarcasm if you can't tell).
During my second Unofficial, I lived in an apartment. While my roommates were gone doing whatever, I invited friends over. We went to a gas station first because I wanted a FourLoko and then Meijer for booze. I bought a 24 pack, some dry Gin, Redbull, and a bottle of Jagermeister. That weekend was one of the most miserable weekends of my life. I drank a lot that night but this one friend was a monster. She drank five beers and kept going. I never thought a girl would be able to out drink me but there is a first time seeing anything. That was like a pre game thing. I don't even remember If I went to the bars after that. I'd say no since I felt too drunk to move after that. I mean a FourLoko, 3 beers and Jagerbombs... and on pretty much a empty stomach. Yeah that wasn't the brightest decision. I was so inebriated I had to take a nap. So my friends left and I guess I went to sleep? Another friend came to stay over that night so I guess I waited for him to come. By the time he came, most of my booze stash was gone. There was still dry Gin left but that stuff tastes disgusting on its own. I had enough supplies for maybe 1- 2 more Jager bombs but I had enough by then. After going to sleep, I remember waking up at 3-4 because I had to throw up. All that liquor made me feel very sick. I remember my friend had to throw up too because (after finding out the hard way), dry gin is potent too and it tastes really bad on its own. The next day I felt like crap and didn't want to eat. That was Friday night - Saturday. I was too tired from throwing up so much that I didn't want to go anywhere Saturday. But I don't remember that Saturday at all. All I do remember was having a beer the next day (Sunday) and I got so sick from one beer I couldn't go to class on Monday. I felt even worse. I thought I might be allergic to alcohol and vowed to never drink again. But that was an empty promise because after a few months, I started drinking again. Maybe I just severely overloaded my self that weekend. Another great time of my life (very sarcastic, if you couldn't pick it up this time either).
Now Unofficial is coming up again and this might be my third should I decide to partake. And this is why I say Unofficial is a dreaded weekend. Due to personal reasons, I don't want to participate in the "festivities" this year, but I will be tempted. Tempted to drink, to blow money on booze. Tempted to disregard logic and safety for my self and others. You might think you have a high tolerance to alcohol but when someone is under the influence, you'll be surprised at how rash they can really be. People will be flooding the streets. People will be throwing up, crying, making stupid choices and getting fined. I've had a bad experience before, yet this event only happens once a year. Its a excuse for many of my colleagues to "turn up" as well. We all know vaguely how the night will play out, how the weekend will play out , but everything becomes unpredictable when alcohol comes into the equation. Sometimes we suffer because of our stupid decisions, yet every year we do the same dumb shit over and over again. I think its time for me to break the cycle this year and not act like a uncivilized plebeian in a weekend of debauchery and drunkenness. And another reason why I don't like unofficial is because it just makes people look bad and sloppy. And stupid. And I don't want to waste money and let that inner monster come out when I'm like super drunk.
Now if you are a freshmen, I will give you some tips. I don't want you to have a terrible experience yet I want to keep you safe so you can thank me later. I've had a fair share of experiences to tell you what to and what not to do. Eat before going out. I cannot stress that enough. Drinking on an empty stomach is asking to make your self puke later. Wear enough clothes. Keeping yourself warm is also a good way to prevent getting sick later. Always stay with friends, never go anywhere alone. People can get very OC with enough liquor and you don't know what they might do to you. So always stick to a friend, and if you know them to be risk takers, keep an EXTRA close eye on them. When going home from a party, walk in large groups. Take the bus if you can. If its too late, call the Safe Ride home. But never venture out alone. Also in Champaign, ordinances has it that you can't purchase liquor past midnight. There might be more strict rules especially for Unofficial weekend. The University has sent out emails and so has the police department regarding rules for Unofficial. READ ALL THE RULES. You don't want to get arrested or have to pay fines. Also remember “Beer then liquor, never been sicker. Liquor then beer, have no fear.” I don't want to explain this rule cuz Im pretty sure people have told you this before (remember freshman orientation stuff?... the stupid programs they make you go through? Well if you don't remember look up the rule. It makes lots of sense). Another tip. Sometimes Jungle Juice tastes good. BUT NEVER have too much. You don't know what they put in it. Alcohol plus lots of sugar = bad idea and a sure path to a hangover (if you get those). Also don't start anything with anyone. Alcohol impairs logical decision making and therefore there will be fights. IF someone starts some shit with you, walk away. IF they are persistent , threaten to call the police. Cuz if the both of you are intoxicated and underage, the police might take you in too. Hmmm... that looks like all the tips I have to give. IF you make a mistake, just remember to learn from them. As long as you keep these basic rules in mind you should be fine.
Unofficial, inevitably will come around again. Be prepared. Be alert. Participate in the festivities with your own discretion. If you choose to do alternative stuff that doesn't involve drinking , more power to you. I just hope whatever happens this Unofficial, you guys can have fun and stay safe.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Sunday, February 23, 2014
My Testimony and Life Story?: God is the glue that holds my broken pieces together
The non stop drama so called "life" can drive people insane. Sometimes I feel like I am about to fall apart. People who know me probably think I might go insane at any moment. I am constantly ranting on social media. Complaining one minute, preaching another, and just being me. I get the feeling people think I'm needy or just need to shut up and bottle it up once in a while. But I can't. This weekend made me realize God gave me this method as a means to vent and share his good news. But most of the time, my blogs and posts are so negative, pessimistic. So how does this share his good news? Well keep reading. And if this post makes you laugh or inspires you to move on from your pain, I've done the job God gave me.
There were so many times in my life where I could have fallen apart. Despite those times I am still here, broken like a glass cup. The little shards are glued together. Functional, but not very pleasing to the eye so to speak. Life was turbulent. And here are the shards of me:
Health and Muscular Dystrophy
Even since childhood. I was born with Becker's Muscular Dystrophy. ( If you don't know what that is, do some fucking research. Google at your fingertips). My parents and family misunderstood me for 10 years. I was made fun of all through middle school and in high school for my lack of stamina and inability to participate in sports. I was self conscious even during an young age because I had huge calves but couldn't play sports. I knew when people were staring at my legs. In the summer time I hated wearing shorts because I could feel the stares of people as if invisible beams from their eyes locked on to my calves. My playground was the hospital waiting room when the other kids played in actual play grounds. Every year I had to go to the hospital for countless checkups, batteries of tests, needles, medicine. Advice from doctors. Even now those tests and exams still continue. I gained weight due to medication that I started taking since 10 and still am taking. I've lost some weight since high school but I still have a round face. I acquired additional health problems due to side effects of the medication and had to take more medication to counter act some of those side effects. And people thought I was fat. They thought I ate too much. They thought I was plain lazy. Even my close friends made fun of me and failed to understand. I joked along to keep save face. But at home I cried. I didn't understand why life was so hard. I became a Christian at an young age and I knew somethings about God or at least I thought I did. But I never understood why I had to suffer so. Do you know what it feels like to run for a few minutes and feel completely drained? walked up hill and drenched in sweat? Muscles cramps and chest pains so intense you have to lay down or sit down for upwards of 30 minutes to recover? The sadness when you are the last pick in any sports games. Kids making fun of you? Oh you fucking won't know. It was hell. I DIDN'T FUCKING ASK FOR ALL THIS. As the saying goes you couldn't walk a mile in my shoes. You couldn't walk a fucking quarter mile in mine before you got too tired or too cramped up. So this happened in high school one day. I felt like I wanted to plop down on the side walk and sit for and hour before I wanted to move. But home was 6 minutes from the bus stop. By minute 3 my legs felt like lead. By minute 4 I was literally dragging my legs and hitting my self so I would move. By minute 5 I've exhausted my water supply. The bottle was fucking empty. Its 85 degrees out. By 5 minutes and 30 seconds I had pains in my chest and couldn't catch my breath. FINALLY by minute 8 I had gotten in side and collapsed on the staircase to the kitchen. Uhhh but wasn't it 6 minutes walk from the bus stop to home? OH WAIT I WAS SO OVERJOYED TO HAVE FINALLY REACHED MY FRONT DOOR I didn't even want to open the door. Cuz inside was a flight of fucking stairs to climb. And did I mention how I hated stairs? They were my worst nightmare. They would drain me faster than the sand in an hourglass with the bottom shot off. After I finally caught my breath, it took me everything I had to drag my ass up a flight of stairs to the kitchen, drink like a camel maybe half a liter of water in 10 seconds and drop like a pile of bricks on to the couch. And then it would take 30 minutes before I can feel my legs again. Another 20 before the chest pains subsided. Another 30 minutes before I could get up off the couch. And then I would be sore all night. I might sound like I am exaggerating and a being an excessive liar but only God can attest to the shit I had to go through.
Oh and a little bonus to this section. I was on a mountain in China once. Walking down the stairs should be easy right? Well after over 1000+ flights I made it to the bottom. My legs shook violently when I got to the bottom and when I sat, I fell down. I couldn't control my legs past my knees. They wouldn't budge. My uncles had to carry me to a restaurant when it came to dinner time. After dinner and back at the hotel, I fell again trying to go up stairs. It took me 2 whole days to gain the ability to walk normally. That was one of the first times where I thought I would never be able to walk again and it scared the shit out of me. But I thank God for that cuz going through that made me the dude I am today.
Family issues and The Walking failure
Many times I thought It'd be better if I didn't exist in the world. Life was hell. I didn't care about people suffering a worse fate in the other parts of the world. I was self centered. My world was bad enough. I'd be lucky if I didn't cry more than a few times a month. (Yes by my standard crying for a dude was unacceptable. My parents enforced that idea over and over again). I resented my parents. I thought my parents were the worst people on the planet. I had anger issues and sometimes they got so bad I thought my head was gonna split. I fought my mom. I cussed them out. They cussed me out. They called me stupid and other very horrible names in Chinese because I was bad at my studies in high school. (Read some of my very early posts from years ago and you'll know how bad it was. I thought my family was a war zone.) Even up until last year, my sophomore year in college they thought I was a walking failure. A disappointment in the family. It had been like that since 7th grade. I lived with the thought that I was a walking failure for 7 years. I became a very pessimistic person. I had nothing to be proud of. Every report card brought more disappoint looks to my parent's face. I could never forget the times my mom said "Son, You disappoint me." I hated my self. I hated them. I hated the world. Like all Asian parent would do to their kids, I got compared to my friends. And my parents would always say why are you so stupid? I remembered they wouldn't let me sleep at night until I finished my fucking algebra homework. I really thought they were assholes. When I couldn't get a problem right after they tried explaining it to me, they would call me stupid, retarded, brain dead, idiot, mush for brains all that shit in Chinese. I kid you not. I wanted to kill my self. My algebra teacher was a cunt too. She was mean and talked to her fish. Sprayed kids with Windex and all that. I hated her and after many years I thought she caused the down fall of my disinterest and subsequent failure in academics. Living with the mentality that you are a walking failure for 7 years during such an important time of a kid's growth will fuck em up for sure. And surely, I am. A fucked up person. I could go on but this might have been one of the most messed up pieces of my life. Its so depressing even I don't want to recall anymore painful memories.
Self consciousness, forever alone status, Identity crisis
This section is pretty fucked up too. Because of my chronic use of meds, I gained a lot of weight. The heaviest I weighed in high school was up to 195. I had a moon face. That is very round and huge double chin. I was aware of that. I thought I was ugly and a fat ass. I thought I didn't really have friends and was very hurt because this one girl joked and said nobody likes me. She doesn't really remember now because it was so long ago but that hurt me really badly. And to this day I'm still single. I still think I am unattractive. Hence the forever alone status. So yeah, I was very self conscious at an young age. I would take pictures at certain angles cuz I thought I wouldn't have an as pronounced double chin. The girls I confessed to in my life all rejected me. By senior year I thought I'm gonna be a hermit when I grow up. Forget the ladies. (Don't you dare for a second think I've had thoughts about turning gay tho!. But I am no a homophobe either. I have gay friends). I thought there is no hope for me and I am the definition of an anti chick magnet. Its a little funny in retrospect. And then I did stupid stuff like tell a whole bus of schoolmates that I liked this girl and yeah, even though we go to the same university, she probably forgot about that episode almost 7 years ago. We don't communicate at all and I've seen her only a handful of times. Whatever. Laugh. Go ahead, i mean this post is where I let off nearly 22 years of frustration so I don't care about what I put in it.
The identity crisis comes in because I couldn't fit in into any social circles. Ever seen Mean Girls? The part where they described the cliques in school? Yeah. I didn't really belong in any. See sometimes I talk funny. I grew up near African Americans and so called "hood" people so I spoke like them. AAVE. Look it up. People called me country, hood, gangsta (I hated that association). Other people thought I was an wanna be gangsta because of my inflections in speech. I was shaped by my environment, I never purposely wanted to sound like that. And I picked it up when I was 10. So for the people that misunderstood me then, yall some assholes sill (JK, I forgive yall ignorant bastards). So I faced an dilemma. I was too "hood" for my Asian friends and my Black friends would never truly accept me. I watched anime, listen to hip hop, played lots of video games, and wore XL white tees. A pretty tacky combination I know. So i never really knew where I was supposed to be. It was an identity crisis that I just resolved. Yes it took me until college to accept myself. And I have God to thank for that as well.
Suicide and Change
Recently, the summer of 2013 things got so bad for me I thought about suicide. I have a post on that so I'm not gonna go into detail. My dad had cancer, I had no direction in college. I stopped Church related activities as well. I picked up drinking and smoking. At least 1 beer a day and a couple of swishers a week. I felt lost and lonely. I thought nobody cared about me and I only have my self to rely on. Fuck everyone else. I'm done relying on people. After the semester ended, I went home. The first weekend I just didn't want to do anything. I didn't do dishes and my parents yelled at me. That triggered my sudden break down. It sounds stupid but the human mind is fragile under stress. That Sunday morning, I wanted to end everything. The darkness consumed me. I took a pair of garden sheers and put it against my wrist. I was so ready to pull that cold blade across my wrist and watch as I died a slow bloody death. But I shook with fear. Something prevented me from doing so. I got scared. I started sobbing uncontrollably. I was an ugly sight. I didn't go to Church that day. It was mothers day. That night was when I started writing on this blog again. Soon after, my friend invited me to CCUC. Chinese Christian Union Church in Chinatown. I was reluctant at first because I was already an Christian and religion didn't help me at all before so I doubt that it was gonna help this time. But something changed in me. The same phenomenon that prevented me from killing myself made me actually call out for help. That night I told my friends what I have been dealing with and they prayed for me. That night was when God sought to lead me back to his pastures. I was a little lamb lost for long enough. That night changed my life. Soon I went to a retreat with CCUC and made new friends. Sharing time brought me new perspectives. For the first time I thought people actually understood me. Like minded people sharing struggles. A community of broken Christians redeemed through Christ. We weren't perfect but God was there for us. We were there for each other. The people I met then are some of the best people God sent my way. I felt blessed and good for the first time in a while. I felt I could trust and depend on people in a very long time. Thank God for that.
Death of a Dear Friend
Just recently, in October of 2013, tragedy struck. A close friend, a girl that I have had a crush on for years passed away. Tragic car accident and I wrote about that too. Go read it if you don't know what happened. I was shaken. My faith was being tested. It was an wake up call for me to never take friends or family for granted. I was in disbelief for many weeks. I couldn't even cry or grieve properly for weeks. I tried to hold it in and comfort others at her funeral but I ignored myself. I was depressed for a while. But God has led me out of that dark time. I miss her everyday of my life. She was a good friend that I thought would be the last person to die in an stupid accident. Its inappropriate to thank God in this context but he taught me a lesson here that contributed to my character.
Dad's Cancer
Just recently, my Dad's cancer turned for the worse. The Doctors stopped treatment. No more chemo. Its like hes waiting for death. He lost weight. He told me his will. Its like he knows his time is very limited.
This fucked me up more than anything else. It was stressing me out. I was losing sleep at night. I have many posts about this so go read those. I don't want to be redundant. Just this weekend I was there visiting him in Chicago. He was as skinny as a starving African Child. I am now really fucking serious. I Saw him and was happy. I smiled and gave him a hug but the longer I stayed in the room, the worst I felt. I freaked out. I lost my appetite. The whole weekend I could not eat right thinking about how skinny he looked. It was killing me so I started writing on my blog again. Its also inappropriate to thank God in this context but he taught me a lesson here that contributed to my character as well, maybe a significant portion.
Current Times and Hope
Up to this point, I've listed so many areas in my life where I am cracked into pieces and fucked up. But God has a way of testing you. That test is suffering. He gave me endurance to carry on. That endurance helped me weather all of these horrible elements and it is slowly paying off. I am finally able to build some character. I don't mean to brag but my friends say I am changing. Maybe becoming a slightly better person? I don't know. But I'm far from perfect. I still fuck up a lot. I still piss off people, make poor choices, alienate people that I really treasure. But as long as you live, you will always make mistakes in life. Big or small. We regret our poor choices. I am constantly being tempted by the Devil. But if God really is your rock he will protect you from temptations, he teaches you lessons from those mistakes and they do make you a better person. Some might deny HIM but change is undeniable. You might think I wrote this for fun and its all an big ole elaborate scheme by some crazy Christian college kid trying to convert people. But seriously. I swear profusely at times. I am anything but a perfect person, let alone a perfect Christian. I have just as many flaws as everyone else, if not more. I just wanted to vent near 22 years of frustrations. I want people to believe even though we go through so much shit, God is there for us. He empowers us to move forward. To keep going when we want to stop. Comfort us when we are sad. Be a light in times of darkness. Don't give up. Not on yourself. Not on your friends. Not on your family. Not on God. As long as the Lord is there, even the worst wrecks can be salvageable. Relying on others is okay. Its human nature. Don't try to solve everything yourself, it won't work. I speak from experience because I've been to some of the darkest parts of "life" and yet here I am encouraging yo ass to not give up. There is hope yet. Just keep praying and believing. If a foul mouthed loser like me is still alive and kicking harder than ever, you can keep going too. After all, when you read about how God changed me, just imagine a giant hand always reaching out to you, when you fall all you need to do is grab it.
Philippians 4:19 - But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.
AMEN.
There were so many times in my life where I could have fallen apart. Despite those times I am still here, broken like a glass cup. The little shards are glued together. Functional, but not very pleasing to the eye so to speak. Life was turbulent. And here are the shards of me:
Health and Muscular Dystrophy
Even since childhood. I was born with Becker's Muscular Dystrophy. ( If you don't know what that is, do some fucking research. Google at your fingertips). My parents and family misunderstood me for 10 years. I was made fun of all through middle school and in high school for my lack of stamina and inability to participate in sports. I was self conscious even during an young age because I had huge calves but couldn't play sports. I knew when people were staring at my legs. In the summer time I hated wearing shorts because I could feel the stares of people as if invisible beams from their eyes locked on to my calves. My playground was the hospital waiting room when the other kids played in actual play grounds. Every year I had to go to the hospital for countless checkups, batteries of tests, needles, medicine. Advice from doctors. Even now those tests and exams still continue. I gained weight due to medication that I started taking since 10 and still am taking. I've lost some weight since high school but I still have a round face. I acquired additional health problems due to side effects of the medication and had to take more medication to counter act some of those side effects. And people thought I was fat. They thought I ate too much. They thought I was plain lazy. Even my close friends made fun of me and failed to understand. I joked along to keep save face. But at home I cried. I didn't understand why life was so hard. I became a Christian at an young age and I knew somethings about God or at least I thought I did. But I never understood why I had to suffer so. Do you know what it feels like to run for a few minutes and feel completely drained? walked up hill and drenched in sweat? Muscles cramps and chest pains so intense you have to lay down or sit down for upwards of 30 minutes to recover? The sadness when you are the last pick in any sports games. Kids making fun of you? Oh you fucking won't know. It was hell. I DIDN'T FUCKING ASK FOR ALL THIS. As the saying goes you couldn't walk a mile in my shoes. You couldn't walk a fucking quarter mile in mine before you got too tired or too cramped up. So this happened in high school one day. I felt like I wanted to plop down on the side walk and sit for and hour before I wanted to move. But home was 6 minutes from the bus stop. By minute 3 my legs felt like lead. By minute 4 I was literally dragging my legs and hitting my self so I would move. By minute 5 I've exhausted my water supply. The bottle was fucking empty. Its 85 degrees out. By 5 minutes and 30 seconds I had pains in my chest and couldn't catch my breath. FINALLY by minute 8 I had gotten in side and collapsed on the staircase to the kitchen. Uhhh but wasn't it 6 minutes walk from the bus stop to home? OH WAIT I WAS SO OVERJOYED TO HAVE FINALLY REACHED MY FRONT DOOR I didn't even want to open the door. Cuz inside was a flight of fucking stairs to climb. And did I mention how I hated stairs? They were my worst nightmare. They would drain me faster than the sand in an hourglass with the bottom shot off. After I finally caught my breath, it took me everything I had to drag my ass up a flight of stairs to the kitchen, drink like a camel maybe half a liter of water in 10 seconds and drop like a pile of bricks on to the couch. And then it would take 30 minutes before I can feel my legs again. Another 20 before the chest pains subsided. Another 30 minutes before I could get up off the couch. And then I would be sore all night. I might sound like I am exaggerating and a being an excessive liar but only God can attest to the shit I had to go through.
Oh and a little bonus to this section. I was on a mountain in China once. Walking down the stairs should be easy right? Well after over 1000+ flights I made it to the bottom. My legs shook violently when I got to the bottom and when I sat, I fell down. I couldn't control my legs past my knees. They wouldn't budge. My uncles had to carry me to a restaurant when it came to dinner time. After dinner and back at the hotel, I fell again trying to go up stairs. It took me 2 whole days to gain the ability to walk normally. That was one of the first times where I thought I would never be able to walk again and it scared the shit out of me. But I thank God for that cuz going through that made me the dude I am today.
Family issues and The Walking failure
Many times I thought It'd be better if I didn't exist in the world. Life was hell. I didn't care about people suffering a worse fate in the other parts of the world. I was self centered. My world was bad enough. I'd be lucky if I didn't cry more than a few times a month. (Yes by my standard crying for a dude was unacceptable. My parents enforced that idea over and over again). I resented my parents. I thought my parents were the worst people on the planet. I had anger issues and sometimes they got so bad I thought my head was gonna split. I fought my mom. I cussed them out. They cussed me out. They called me stupid and other very horrible names in Chinese because I was bad at my studies in high school. (Read some of my very early posts from years ago and you'll know how bad it was. I thought my family was a war zone.) Even up until last year, my sophomore year in college they thought I was a walking failure. A disappointment in the family. It had been like that since 7th grade. I lived with the thought that I was a walking failure for 7 years. I became a very pessimistic person. I had nothing to be proud of. Every report card brought more disappoint looks to my parent's face. I could never forget the times my mom said "Son, You disappoint me." I hated my self. I hated them. I hated the world. Like all Asian parent would do to their kids, I got compared to my friends. And my parents would always say why are you so stupid? I remembered they wouldn't let me sleep at night until I finished my fucking algebra homework. I really thought they were assholes. When I couldn't get a problem right after they tried explaining it to me, they would call me stupid, retarded, brain dead, idiot, mush for brains all that shit in Chinese. I kid you not. I wanted to kill my self. My algebra teacher was a cunt too. She was mean and talked to her fish. Sprayed kids with Windex and all that. I hated her and after many years I thought she caused the down fall of my disinterest and subsequent failure in academics. Living with the mentality that you are a walking failure for 7 years during such an important time of a kid's growth will fuck em up for sure. And surely, I am. A fucked up person. I could go on but this might have been one of the most messed up pieces of my life. Its so depressing even I don't want to recall anymore painful memories.
Self consciousness, forever alone status, Identity crisis
This section is pretty fucked up too. Because of my chronic use of meds, I gained a lot of weight. The heaviest I weighed in high school was up to 195. I had a moon face. That is very round and huge double chin. I was aware of that. I thought I was ugly and a fat ass. I thought I didn't really have friends and was very hurt because this one girl joked and said nobody likes me. She doesn't really remember now because it was so long ago but that hurt me really badly. And to this day I'm still single. I still think I am unattractive. Hence the forever alone status. So yeah, I was very self conscious at an young age. I would take pictures at certain angles cuz I thought I wouldn't have an as pronounced double chin. The girls I confessed to in my life all rejected me. By senior year I thought I'm gonna be a hermit when I grow up. Forget the ladies. (Don't you dare for a second think I've had thoughts about turning gay tho!. But I am no a homophobe either. I have gay friends). I thought there is no hope for me and I am the definition of an anti chick magnet. Its a little funny in retrospect. And then I did stupid stuff like tell a whole bus of schoolmates that I liked this girl and yeah, even though we go to the same university, she probably forgot about that episode almost 7 years ago. We don't communicate at all and I've seen her only a handful of times. Whatever. Laugh. Go ahead, i mean this post is where I let off nearly 22 years of frustration so I don't care about what I put in it.
The identity crisis comes in because I couldn't fit in into any social circles. Ever seen Mean Girls? The part where they described the cliques in school? Yeah. I didn't really belong in any. See sometimes I talk funny. I grew up near African Americans and so called "hood" people so I spoke like them. AAVE. Look it up. People called me country, hood, gangsta (I hated that association). Other people thought I was an wanna be gangsta because of my inflections in speech. I was shaped by my environment, I never purposely wanted to sound like that. And I picked it up when I was 10. So for the people that misunderstood me then, yall some assholes sill (JK, I forgive yall ignorant bastards). So I faced an dilemma. I was too "hood" for my Asian friends and my Black friends would never truly accept me. I watched anime, listen to hip hop, played lots of video games, and wore XL white tees. A pretty tacky combination I know. So i never really knew where I was supposed to be. It was an identity crisis that I just resolved. Yes it took me until college to accept myself. And I have God to thank for that as well.
Suicide and Change
Recently, the summer of 2013 things got so bad for me I thought about suicide. I have a post on that so I'm not gonna go into detail. My dad had cancer, I had no direction in college. I stopped Church related activities as well. I picked up drinking and smoking. At least 1 beer a day and a couple of swishers a week. I felt lost and lonely. I thought nobody cared about me and I only have my self to rely on. Fuck everyone else. I'm done relying on people. After the semester ended, I went home. The first weekend I just didn't want to do anything. I didn't do dishes and my parents yelled at me. That triggered my sudden break down. It sounds stupid but the human mind is fragile under stress. That Sunday morning, I wanted to end everything. The darkness consumed me. I took a pair of garden sheers and put it against my wrist. I was so ready to pull that cold blade across my wrist and watch as I died a slow bloody death. But I shook with fear. Something prevented me from doing so. I got scared. I started sobbing uncontrollably. I was an ugly sight. I didn't go to Church that day. It was mothers day. That night was when I started writing on this blog again. Soon after, my friend invited me to CCUC. Chinese Christian Union Church in Chinatown. I was reluctant at first because I was already an Christian and religion didn't help me at all before so I doubt that it was gonna help this time. But something changed in me. The same phenomenon that prevented me from killing myself made me actually call out for help. That night I told my friends what I have been dealing with and they prayed for me. That night was when God sought to lead me back to his pastures. I was a little lamb lost for long enough. That night changed my life. Soon I went to a retreat with CCUC and made new friends. Sharing time brought me new perspectives. For the first time I thought people actually understood me. Like minded people sharing struggles. A community of broken Christians redeemed through Christ. We weren't perfect but God was there for us. We were there for each other. The people I met then are some of the best people God sent my way. I felt blessed and good for the first time in a while. I felt I could trust and depend on people in a very long time. Thank God for that.
Death of a Dear Friend
Just recently, in October of 2013, tragedy struck. A close friend, a girl that I have had a crush on for years passed away. Tragic car accident and I wrote about that too. Go read it if you don't know what happened. I was shaken. My faith was being tested. It was an wake up call for me to never take friends or family for granted. I was in disbelief for many weeks. I couldn't even cry or grieve properly for weeks. I tried to hold it in and comfort others at her funeral but I ignored myself. I was depressed for a while. But God has led me out of that dark time. I miss her everyday of my life. She was a good friend that I thought would be the last person to die in an stupid accident. Its inappropriate to thank God in this context but he taught me a lesson here that contributed to my character.
Dad's Cancer
Just recently, my Dad's cancer turned for the worse. The Doctors stopped treatment. No more chemo. Its like hes waiting for death. He lost weight. He told me his will. Its like he knows his time is very limited.
This fucked me up more than anything else. It was stressing me out. I was losing sleep at night. I have many posts about this so go read those. I don't want to be redundant. Just this weekend I was there visiting him in Chicago. He was as skinny as a starving African Child. I am now really fucking serious. I Saw him and was happy. I smiled and gave him a hug but the longer I stayed in the room, the worst I felt. I freaked out. I lost my appetite. The whole weekend I could not eat right thinking about how skinny he looked. It was killing me so I started writing on my blog again. Its also inappropriate to thank God in this context but he taught me a lesson here that contributed to my character as well, maybe a significant portion.
Current Times and Hope
Up to this point, I've listed so many areas in my life where I am cracked into pieces and fucked up. But God has a way of testing you. That test is suffering. He gave me endurance to carry on. That endurance helped me weather all of these horrible elements and it is slowly paying off. I am finally able to build some character. I don't mean to brag but my friends say I am changing. Maybe becoming a slightly better person? I don't know. But I'm far from perfect. I still fuck up a lot. I still piss off people, make poor choices, alienate people that I really treasure. But as long as you live, you will always make mistakes in life. Big or small. We regret our poor choices. I am constantly being tempted by the Devil. But if God really is your rock he will protect you from temptations, he teaches you lessons from those mistakes and they do make you a better person. Some might deny HIM but change is undeniable. You might think I wrote this for fun and its all an big ole elaborate scheme by some crazy Christian college kid trying to convert people. But seriously. I swear profusely at times. I am anything but a perfect person, let alone a perfect Christian. I have just as many flaws as everyone else, if not more. I just wanted to vent near 22 years of frustrations. I want people to believe even though we go through so much shit, God is there for us. He empowers us to move forward. To keep going when we want to stop. Comfort us when we are sad. Be a light in times of darkness. Don't give up. Not on yourself. Not on your friends. Not on your family. Not on God. As long as the Lord is there, even the worst wrecks can be salvageable. Relying on others is okay. Its human nature. Don't try to solve everything yourself, it won't work. I speak from experience because I've been to some of the darkest parts of "life" and yet here I am encouraging yo ass to not give up. There is hope yet. Just keep praying and believing. If a foul mouthed loser like me is still alive and kicking harder than ever, you can keep going too. After all, when you read about how God changed me, just imagine a giant hand always reaching out to you, when you fall all you need to do is grab it.
Philippians 4:19 - But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.
AMEN.
Saturday, February 22, 2014
My Guilty Conscience and Other Thoughts
You know how sometimes where when you are making choices, it feels like there is an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other? Well its happening to me now. Its not pleasant. The angel and devil are locked in mortal combat with no resolve in sight. Its like watching a boxing match with both fighters trading punches. Both refuse to go down. This "internal struggle" have taken away many hours of sleep and I am afraid to make a decision. I am afraid I might regret it later.
To be brief, many of you who read my blog know that my dad has terminal stomach cancer. Well I came home today to visit again. When I see him, my heart sinks. Though I am happy to see him, he looks like a starving African child. That is no exaggeration. After 2 months of not eating properly (sporadically and receiving nutrition through IV and the occasional liquid), my dad probably weighs less than 100 pounds. It hurts me to see him in such a way. He has to go the bathroom very often due to the cancer disrupting his digestive system and he is often too weak to even want to talk. He experiences pains and often require medication to help him sleep. The doctors have stopped chemo and to be honest, It's like he's waiting to go to heaven. How my dad continues to fight is beyond me. Maybe its because of the support his students and friends have shown him. Maybe we (his family) is something worth hanging onto his life for. Since he was baptized recently, maybe God will perform a miracle and heal him. In short, he is dying and I should spend as much time as I can with him. After all, thats an obvious choice for I am his son.
But this weekend I also want to see some friends that I don't get to see often. One of them has a birthday too. Another is a girl that I have a crush on and I never really see her at all anymore. This is where the angel/devil on the shoulder part comes in. Should I spend the entire weekend with my dad, or part of it? Before you make a judgement, read my logic. Even though I can spend time with my dad in the hospital, I can't do anything for him. All I can do is watch him, ask him how he is doing, and pretend to fake a smile at him every now and then. And I have to study for an exam on Monday. Even If I stay in the hospital, part of the time I will have to leave him alone. His condition is no excuse for me to ignore my school work. I've learned to be stronger than that and stop using petty excuses. After all, getting good grades is probably one of the last ways I can make him proud.
But this weekend I also want to see some friends that I don't get to see often. One of them has a birthday too. Another is a girl that I have a crush on and I never really see her at all anymore. This is where the angel/devil on the shoulder part comes in. Should I spend the entire weekend with my dad, or part of it? Before you make a judgement, read my logic. Even though I can spend time with my dad in the hospital, I can't do anything for him. All I can do is watch him, ask him how he is doing, and pretend to fake a smile at him every now and then. And I have to study for an exam on Monday. Even If I stay in the hospital, part of the time I will have to leave him alone. His condition is no excuse for me to ignore my school work. I've learned to be stronger than that and stop using petty excuses. After all, getting good grades is probably one of the last ways I can make him proud.
We have a complicated relationship and I can say just recently we've been warming up to each other. Before then we weren't really close and the way I was raised turned me into a callous person. I didn't speak to my dad often. Now that he's opened up, I find it hard to open up to him. I've developed a resentment during childhood that is still slowly thawing. After a few sentences, we break into silence again. And the more I see him in such a bad state, the worse I feel. Morbid thoughts just creep up into my mind. Before I know it, I am exasperated. I want to drink again. I want to smoke again. I want to go very far away and be alone. The temptation to break into my old habits are like that mosquito bite you so desperately want to scratch.
Before my dad had cancer, he emphasized education a lot. He was disappointed in me because I was a bad student. I hated to study and always wanted to hangout with friends. Now that he has a different outlook, he actually encourages me to go to socialize with friends. My mom on the other hand feels that I should spend more time with my dad because to be honest, we don't know how much time he has with us. But my dad overheard me and my mom talking about my weekend plans and he wants me to go hangout with friends. That is the kindest thing any person in his situation can say. Reflecting on it, I feel horrible. I am the worst son in the world. Guilt kicked in hard and I just lost all appetite. Here is my dad, dying of cancer, and all I could think about was hanging out with my friends? What kind of a shitty son am I? Its not like I don't love my dad. Don't get it twisted. Yeah Its a little hard to say I love my dad out loud because of what we went through, but I do. This was a man who didn't have a child of his own, married my mom and raised me, a shitty little brat since I was 7. He sacrificed a lot just so I can be where I am today. I could never repay him enough for what he has done for me. And I think about my dad a lot. I think about my family situation a lot. I lose fucking sleep over this shit. Its strange how I haven't lost my mind a few times over yet. So yes, I love my dad.
But at the same time, my social life also needs work. I feel like these are friendships worth pursuing. Maybe it'll bolster me as a person. Who knows. I mean for me during rocky times, friends > family. But at times like these, its family > friends. But it should be Friend and Family are equally important. There are things I can tell my friends that my family won't understand and vice vera. At the moment I feel very conflicted. I feel guilty regardless of what decision I make. Opportunity cost. Economics? Ring a bell? Most people would definitely tell me to stay with my dad all weekend. Its only natural. I already mentioned how my dad did everything for me so now I should attempt to spend as much time with him as I can. But I don't want to leave my friends either. They would also understand if I told them I have family issues to attend to. Either way I don't both my friends and my dad to feel a disappointment if I picked one over the other. I could do both but then it would seem I'm half assing and I hate being insincere. Perhaps I'm over thinking but this thought of friend or family is eating me alive. Its the hardest thing I've ever had to think about for some reason. Its driving me insane. My friends have also suggested me staying with my dad which I think is right too but for some reason this conflict is still happening. And as a self critical person, I think I am just weak. I can't make a decision without feeling guilty. I'm afraid to make any choice. I am afraid of being hurt for have made the wrong decision. I afraid to hurt others. I know I should man up and grow a pair but its so damn hard. For heaven's sakes I can't even tell the girl that I have a crush on that I like her. I'm frozen in fear. That fear eats away at my confidence in anything and my ability to sleep. It tempts me to go back to smoking and drinking. It feels like the devil is trying to chip away at my already lacking faith.
But the guilt is the worst of it all. I feel that I owe an un repayable debt to my dad. Im far from home at school and can't come home often. I don't call everyday to ask how my dad is doing either. I mean he has told me his will. He wants me to graduate, find a job, get married, and settled in Chicago, close to my mom and stuff like that. He expects me to do well in school and try as hard as I can. I know. He supports me. But at the same time I feel very distant towards my family. My mom, cousin, and everyone close have been taking turns delivering food, cooking, driving and all that but I can't be apart of this. I am too far. I have no presence. My dad probably misses me but I just can't be there. I feel guilt. This is why I have such a hard time falling asleep at night sometimes. I am a Christian and I do pray every night for God to make things better. My faith has partially been helping me cope but at times, I get so overwhelmed it seems prayer isn't working. I just want to be alone in my room. I don't want to deal with people. Everything and everyone annoys me. I want to blame God for everything. Why? Why must my family suffer? Why can't I just man up? Why has everything in my life that has happened happen? But then after a while , these thoughts fade. I try to get by everyday but almost certainly, these thoughts happen again. At the end of the day, its SSDD (SameShitDifferentDay) I'm stuck with my Guilty Conscience and other thoughts again.
But at the same time, my social life also needs work. I feel like these are friendships worth pursuing. Maybe it'll bolster me as a person. Who knows. I mean for me during rocky times, friends > family. But at times like these, its family > friends. But it should be Friend and Family are equally important. There are things I can tell my friends that my family won't understand and vice vera. At the moment I feel very conflicted. I feel guilty regardless of what decision I make. Opportunity cost. Economics? Ring a bell? Most people would definitely tell me to stay with my dad all weekend. Its only natural. I already mentioned how my dad did everything for me so now I should attempt to spend as much time with him as I can. But I don't want to leave my friends either. They would also understand if I told them I have family issues to attend to. Either way I don't both my friends and my dad to feel a disappointment if I picked one over the other. I could do both but then it would seem I'm half assing and I hate being insincere. Perhaps I'm over thinking but this thought of friend or family is eating me alive. Its the hardest thing I've ever had to think about for some reason. Its driving me insane. My friends have also suggested me staying with my dad which I think is right too but for some reason this conflict is still happening. And as a self critical person, I think I am just weak. I can't make a decision without feeling guilty. I'm afraid to make any choice. I am afraid of being hurt for have made the wrong decision. I afraid to hurt others. I know I should man up and grow a pair but its so damn hard. For heaven's sakes I can't even tell the girl that I have a crush on that I like her. I'm frozen in fear. That fear eats away at my confidence in anything and my ability to sleep. It tempts me to go back to smoking and drinking. It feels like the devil is trying to chip away at my already lacking faith.
But the guilt is the worst of it all. I feel that I owe an un repayable debt to my dad. Im far from home at school and can't come home often. I don't call everyday to ask how my dad is doing either. I mean he has told me his will. He wants me to graduate, find a job, get married, and settled in Chicago, close to my mom and stuff like that. He expects me to do well in school and try as hard as I can. I know. He supports me. But at the same time I feel very distant towards my family. My mom, cousin, and everyone close have been taking turns delivering food, cooking, driving and all that but I can't be apart of this. I am too far. I have no presence. My dad probably misses me but I just can't be there. I feel guilt. This is why I have such a hard time falling asleep at night sometimes. I am a Christian and I do pray every night for God to make things better. My faith has partially been helping me cope but at times, I get so overwhelmed it seems prayer isn't working. I just want to be alone in my room. I don't want to deal with people. Everything and everyone annoys me. I want to blame God for everything. Why? Why must my family suffer? Why can't I just man up? Why has everything in my life that has happened happen? But then after a while , these thoughts fade. I try to get by everyday but almost certainly, these thoughts happen again. At the end of the day, its SSDD (SameShitDifferentDay) I'm stuck with my Guilty Conscience and other thoughts again.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
My Dad's Struggle Against Cancer: A Personal Narrative
I don't know where to begin. Writing about cancer in the family is a hard thing to do. Its not something a 21 year old should ever be writing about but here I am. 1 am on a Saturday night. Most college students would still be out in bars getting drunk and having fun. But I am not most college students, and I think its beneficial for me to tell this story. So bear with me as I try to tell this narrative under the influence of a bottle of 40 Olde English 800 and a swisher and the remaining effects of a 12 oz. can of Redbull.
This semester, I only have 1 class on Fridays. So I went about as usual, got home around 11 am, had lunch and took a nap. I was awoken at 3 pm. My mom called. She sounded strange. I could tell immediately something wasn't right. She asked me to come home. And I thought to myself, my dad isn't doing well. So I asked what was wrong with my Dad. She said the doctor will no longer treat my dad and recommended treatment from a hospice. Hospice. Wait. Did she say what I think she did? Hospice. (To be honest, I didn't t know what a hospice was up until 2 months ago. I watched a show called Wilfred and one episode took place at a Hospice.) That word alone sunk my spirit. What the fuck? So that means the doctors have given up; my dad's cancer has finally gotten to the point of no return. Before we continue my thoughts on this fucked up situation, lets back up a bit.
Lets see. Let's go back to sometime in 2012. My memory is very hazy and my parents really didn't let me in on the details so I'll try my best to draw a map of what happened so to speak. Bear with me.
I don't recall exactly when but my dad began experiencing pains in his lower back. They began as discomfort. He liked to take naps on the couch so at the time we thought it was because he slept on the soft couch all the time. As time went on, things began to get worse. The discomfort became pretty bad and so he went to get checked out at a clinic. The doctor did some tests (I don't remember what) and she said everything came out normal. So we didn't think much of it. We also thought it was nothing and let things kind of go to the back of our minds. But then things really didn't feel right. My dad did a series of tests and whatever and in mid February of 2013, my dad was diagnosed with late stage stomach cancer. I don't know how he handled the news but clearly, he was a bit depressed. He started chemo soon after. Before he was diagnosed with cancer, he was a full time teacher at Whitney Young. That was also the high school that I attended. Not soon after the Chemo started, he started teaching part time. Chemo was going well, and he responded well to the treatments. After several months, the tumor seemed stable. A very good sign. Things were going well up until 2 months ago.
All of a sudden, things just went to shit. Keep in mind that to me, the details are murky, and I was having a hard time myself so I couldn't remember too much. My dad had 12 -13 rounds of chemo before the cancer became resistant. Then it was time to switch to another type of drug. I guess my dad took 3-4 rounds before things took a turn for the worst. One day I called my mom and asked how my dad was doing. She said my dad had a bile duct blockage and he got jaundice. He had to stop chemo for 5 weeks. Due to the sudden stop, the caner started back up with a vengeance. At the time of his diagnosis, there were signs that the tumor have metastasis. This time it was a lot worse than we had thought. It had spread to his digestive tract. When I went home during Thanksgiving break, It was evident the cancer was extremely tolling on his body. He lost weight. A significant amount since I last saw him. And 3 weeks later during winter break, he was in even worse shape. He had stopped teaching altogether a month and a half back. He lost even more weight and just very skinny. He started taking morphine for pain. He couldn't sleep at night and ate very little. The pain kept him up at night so he was lethargic during the day time and stayed upstairs in his bedroom most of the day. He would get visitors now and then and tried his best to seem energetic around guests. But after they left, he was exhausted and went back to sleep. This was his life for the pervious 2 months.
Today I came home for the weekend. I never thought the situation would become so dire so quick. So when my Mom called me this afternoon, I got on facebook and asked if anyone was going back to Chicago. No response. I am a very impatient person and I knew I wasn't gonna get a ride home. So I bought an Amtrak ticket as soon as I could. I left Illinois Terminal around 7pm and by the time I got home it was 10:45 ish. Some church friends were over and so was our Pastor. I said hi but wanted to see my dad first. I went up stairs to my parents bedroom. What I saw almost brought me to tears. But I held it in because I didn't want my dad seeing me cry. He was bald. Bedridden with an IV attached to his arm. I gave him a hug and we talked for 15 minutes. I think this might be one of the first times he's ever said he loved me explicitly. I was touched. Now before we continue here, you (the readers) should know some backstory.
My dad isn't my biological father. He is my step dad. Yes, my mom got a divorce and remarried in China when I was very young. My relationship with my step dad is complicated. Lets just say we didn't get along and I was a bad child. I mean he must have felt somewhat salty because he didn't have any children with my mom and had to care for an ungrateful asshole of an child (me). My dad and my mom used to cuss me out alot and I developed a rebelliousness unseen by them. They used to say I was probably one of the worst children in church. Thank goodness no one knew that side of me. Even though he disliked me and my attitude, he always cared for me. He used to wake up at night and check to see if I kicked off my covers and tucked me in after I fell asleep. Over the years, we had lots of ups and downs. Mainly downs. We got into arguments and I think he hit me only once over the years. Our family was a war zone. It was fucking unbearable. I hated him sometimes. Whatever, enough of the bad stuff. I don't know if it was the cancer or God, but over the past few years, his attitude changed. Even though he was still critical of some of the things I did, we slowly warmed up to each other. Over Thanksgiving break, he actually seemed very friendly and open to me. Our old relationship completely disappeared. We actually communicated as a father and son should. He told me his expectations and I agreed. He told me I should focus on my studies and after graduating, I should come back to Chicago so I can take care of my mom. That I should find a girlfriend and get married after college. I could have the house that we live in now as long as I can support it. It was like he was telling me his will. I found what he said to be justifiable and agreed. And today, he actually said he loved me and he regrets how he treated me and my mom. I told him all is forgiven. As a Christian (well, despite my foul language), God has forgive us and so I forgive my dad. I kissed him on the cheek and said its alright. I'm a grown ass dude now, and as a man, I should not be petty and forgiveness is pretty much standard for Christians. He again told me that I should take more responsibility and take care of our family and my mom. He said his strength is failing and wont last long. He apologetically said he won't be able to make my graduation, wedding, and he regrets that he will not be able to see any grandchildren. Upon hearing this, I became instantly depressed. That shit hit me like a train. But I just replied with "Ums" and nods. I held his hands as we spoke and gave him one more hug. I wanted him to get some rest and I haven't eaten since 1 pm. It was 11:30 pm now.
After I went downstairs, I had a quick word with my Pastor. He told me he baptized my dad earlier with a bit of water. I said "PRAISE THE LORD". This was good news. I felt a bit relieved. He told me everyone in Church was supportive and praying. I was happy to hear this. I knew my dad was surrounded by caring friends and especially his students. I would like to thank everyone who partook in the #luostrong movement and the students who started it. They sold merchandise and raised a lot of money for my dad. They are part of the reason why he had the strength to fight for so long. Many times, I felt bad. On facebook, I noticed everything they did for my dad. I knew about the fundraisers, gifts, and visitations. As a son, I felt good, but also horrible. I was rarely at home due to school, and even when I was at home, I seldom spoke to my dad. Even though he has changed, I guess everything I experienced when I was younger hardened my heart. It felt weird. It was like I didn't want to open up to my dad. I tried really hard to hold back my emotions. I felt heartless and cold. I don't know what became of me. But I guess today I finally softened up. I willingly opened to my dad but my heart still needs work. I am still somewhat rigid and stone faced. It hurts me a lot to see my dad suffer so but I still try not to show too much emotion besides an awkward smile now and then.
Currently, I have hard times falling asleep at night. I'll be lucky to fall asleep in 45 mins. It usually takes me an hour. I don't want to sound morbid but every night I think about the worst case scenario and how it would play out. What would happen when my dad finally goes to heaven? As horrible as it sounds, this is pretty much the thought that crosses my mind every night. All I see in my dreams are me and my mom and everyone else dressed in black. She is is crying along with many others. My dad lies in a casket, looking peaceful. When someone is in the same condition as my dad, maybe God should just take them home.
Cancer is torture. It tortures the person's mind, body, and soul. It tortures his family. Its one of the most fucked up things God ever put on earth. It hurt my mom very badly having to see my dad suffer. It hurts me too. Right now Im feeling a mixed emotion of rage and sadness. I don't know what to do but keep to my self. People have reached out to me yet I am reluctant to accept their offer. One part of me feel wishes I had a girl friend to talk to, to go to her, cry as she holds me. But Im single and thats not gonna happen. And I keep thinking I cannot cry, I cannot express my frustration in such a way because well, my dad isn't gone yet and it would be unmanly. Another part of me feels very angry and destructive. I want to cuss up a storm (if I'm not already) and breaking anything in sight. I want to curse the doctors. The fucked up healthcare system. Even God. I feel like God has forsaken my family. My dad. Me. As a Christian, I shouldn't think ill of God. I shouldn't swear. I shouldn't do the things I do and doubt God. But in this situation, I don't know what to think or do. I guess I need to work on my faith more. I guess I should pray more. But that doesn't change the fact that my dad is dying. It doesn't change how fucked up cancer is. My dad isn't even 50. He is too young to go to heaven, but if God calls, he has to go. If God calls, everyone has to go. One thing I have learned is not to ever take family members for granted. No matter how hard it is, you need to settle your differences and make up. Don't take the time with your family for granted. Don't take any family members for granted. I guess God used this cancer to teach us a lesson. I don't know. Nothing else justifies this right now. Don't be like me. Don't wait until such a fucked up thing happens in your family to make you realize how precious your family members are. Especially your mom or dad. Think of it this way, our moms and dads are the main pillars of our family. If one of them collapses, it puts significant strain on the other. Unless you can take the load off your remaining parent, things are not going to be good. I'm just scared if my dad does go to heaven, how will my mom manage? How will she age? How will she do alone when I'm at school for one more year? These are the questions that bombards my brain every, hence my difficulty sleeping.
At the end of the day, all I can do is pray. I am not as worried since my dad is now a baptized christian. I know things are going to get even harder from now on, but I must stay strong for my mom and especially my dad. I promised him I would take care of my mom if he leaves us. That I have grown up and I can carry on his will. That I am a capable person that he raised. That I will graduate college, find a job, find a wife, an have some kids. I will try my hardest to take some pressure off my mom and support the family as soon as I get out of college. I want my dad to know that I love him and that he can rest in peace should the day come. Until that day, I will constantly pray, please Lord, give him the strength to fight another day.
This semester, I only have 1 class on Fridays. So I went about as usual, got home around 11 am, had lunch and took a nap. I was awoken at 3 pm. My mom called. She sounded strange. I could tell immediately something wasn't right. She asked me to come home. And I thought to myself, my dad isn't doing well. So I asked what was wrong with my Dad. She said the doctor will no longer treat my dad and recommended treatment from a hospice. Hospice. Wait. Did she say what I think she did? Hospice. (To be honest, I didn't t know what a hospice was up until 2 months ago. I watched a show called Wilfred and one episode took place at a Hospice.) That word alone sunk my spirit. What the fuck? So that means the doctors have given up; my dad's cancer has finally gotten to the point of no return. Before we continue my thoughts on this fucked up situation, lets back up a bit.
Lets see. Let's go back to sometime in 2012. My memory is very hazy and my parents really didn't let me in on the details so I'll try my best to draw a map of what happened so to speak. Bear with me.
I don't recall exactly when but my dad began experiencing pains in his lower back. They began as discomfort. He liked to take naps on the couch so at the time we thought it was because he slept on the soft couch all the time. As time went on, things began to get worse. The discomfort became pretty bad and so he went to get checked out at a clinic. The doctor did some tests (I don't remember what) and she said everything came out normal. So we didn't think much of it. We also thought it was nothing and let things kind of go to the back of our minds. But then things really didn't feel right. My dad did a series of tests and whatever and in mid February of 2013, my dad was diagnosed with late stage stomach cancer. I don't know how he handled the news but clearly, he was a bit depressed. He started chemo soon after. Before he was diagnosed with cancer, he was a full time teacher at Whitney Young. That was also the high school that I attended. Not soon after the Chemo started, he started teaching part time. Chemo was going well, and he responded well to the treatments. After several months, the tumor seemed stable. A very good sign. Things were going well up until 2 months ago.
All of a sudden, things just went to shit. Keep in mind that to me, the details are murky, and I was having a hard time myself so I couldn't remember too much. My dad had 12 -13 rounds of chemo before the cancer became resistant. Then it was time to switch to another type of drug. I guess my dad took 3-4 rounds before things took a turn for the worst. One day I called my mom and asked how my dad was doing. She said my dad had a bile duct blockage and he got jaundice. He had to stop chemo for 5 weeks. Due to the sudden stop, the caner started back up with a vengeance. At the time of his diagnosis, there were signs that the tumor have metastasis. This time it was a lot worse than we had thought. It had spread to his digestive tract. When I went home during Thanksgiving break, It was evident the cancer was extremely tolling on his body. He lost weight. A significant amount since I last saw him. And 3 weeks later during winter break, he was in even worse shape. He had stopped teaching altogether a month and a half back. He lost even more weight and just very skinny. He started taking morphine for pain. He couldn't sleep at night and ate very little. The pain kept him up at night so he was lethargic during the day time and stayed upstairs in his bedroom most of the day. He would get visitors now and then and tried his best to seem energetic around guests. But after they left, he was exhausted and went back to sleep. This was his life for the pervious 2 months.
Today I came home for the weekend. I never thought the situation would become so dire so quick. So when my Mom called me this afternoon, I got on facebook and asked if anyone was going back to Chicago. No response. I am a very impatient person and I knew I wasn't gonna get a ride home. So I bought an Amtrak ticket as soon as I could. I left Illinois Terminal around 7pm and by the time I got home it was 10:45 ish. Some church friends were over and so was our Pastor. I said hi but wanted to see my dad first. I went up stairs to my parents bedroom. What I saw almost brought me to tears. But I held it in because I didn't want my dad seeing me cry. He was bald. Bedridden with an IV attached to his arm. I gave him a hug and we talked for 15 minutes. I think this might be one of the first times he's ever said he loved me explicitly. I was touched. Now before we continue here, you (the readers) should know some backstory.
My dad isn't my biological father. He is my step dad. Yes, my mom got a divorce and remarried in China when I was very young. My relationship with my step dad is complicated. Lets just say we didn't get along and I was a bad child. I mean he must have felt somewhat salty because he didn't have any children with my mom and had to care for an ungrateful asshole of an child (me). My dad and my mom used to cuss me out alot and I developed a rebelliousness unseen by them. They used to say I was probably one of the worst children in church. Thank goodness no one knew that side of me. Even though he disliked me and my attitude, he always cared for me. He used to wake up at night and check to see if I kicked off my covers and tucked me in after I fell asleep. Over the years, we had lots of ups and downs. Mainly downs. We got into arguments and I think he hit me only once over the years. Our family was a war zone. It was fucking unbearable. I hated him sometimes. Whatever, enough of the bad stuff. I don't know if it was the cancer or God, but over the past few years, his attitude changed. Even though he was still critical of some of the things I did, we slowly warmed up to each other. Over Thanksgiving break, he actually seemed very friendly and open to me. Our old relationship completely disappeared. We actually communicated as a father and son should. He told me his expectations and I agreed. He told me I should focus on my studies and after graduating, I should come back to Chicago so I can take care of my mom. That I should find a girlfriend and get married after college. I could have the house that we live in now as long as I can support it. It was like he was telling me his will. I found what he said to be justifiable and agreed. And today, he actually said he loved me and he regrets how he treated me and my mom. I told him all is forgiven. As a Christian (well, despite my foul language), God has forgive us and so I forgive my dad. I kissed him on the cheek and said its alright. I'm a grown ass dude now, and as a man, I should not be petty and forgiveness is pretty much standard for Christians. He again told me that I should take more responsibility and take care of our family and my mom. He said his strength is failing and wont last long. He apologetically said he won't be able to make my graduation, wedding, and he regrets that he will not be able to see any grandchildren. Upon hearing this, I became instantly depressed. That shit hit me like a train. But I just replied with "Ums" and nods. I held his hands as we spoke and gave him one more hug. I wanted him to get some rest and I haven't eaten since 1 pm. It was 11:30 pm now.
After I went downstairs, I had a quick word with my Pastor. He told me he baptized my dad earlier with a bit of water. I said "PRAISE THE LORD". This was good news. I felt a bit relieved. He told me everyone in Church was supportive and praying. I was happy to hear this. I knew my dad was surrounded by caring friends and especially his students. I would like to thank everyone who partook in the #luostrong movement and the students who started it. They sold merchandise and raised a lot of money for my dad. They are part of the reason why he had the strength to fight for so long. Many times, I felt bad. On facebook, I noticed everything they did for my dad. I knew about the fundraisers, gifts, and visitations. As a son, I felt good, but also horrible. I was rarely at home due to school, and even when I was at home, I seldom spoke to my dad. Even though he has changed, I guess everything I experienced when I was younger hardened my heart. It felt weird. It was like I didn't want to open up to my dad. I tried really hard to hold back my emotions. I felt heartless and cold. I don't know what became of me. But I guess today I finally softened up. I willingly opened to my dad but my heart still needs work. I am still somewhat rigid and stone faced. It hurts me a lot to see my dad suffer so but I still try not to show too much emotion besides an awkward smile now and then.
Currently, I have hard times falling asleep at night. I'll be lucky to fall asleep in 45 mins. It usually takes me an hour. I don't want to sound morbid but every night I think about the worst case scenario and how it would play out. What would happen when my dad finally goes to heaven? As horrible as it sounds, this is pretty much the thought that crosses my mind every night. All I see in my dreams are me and my mom and everyone else dressed in black. She is is crying along with many others. My dad lies in a casket, looking peaceful. When someone is in the same condition as my dad, maybe God should just take them home.
Cancer is torture. It tortures the person's mind, body, and soul. It tortures his family. Its one of the most fucked up things God ever put on earth. It hurt my mom very badly having to see my dad suffer. It hurts me too. Right now Im feeling a mixed emotion of rage and sadness. I don't know what to do but keep to my self. People have reached out to me yet I am reluctant to accept their offer. One part of me feel wishes I had a girl friend to talk to, to go to her, cry as she holds me. But Im single and thats not gonna happen. And I keep thinking I cannot cry, I cannot express my frustration in such a way because well, my dad isn't gone yet and it would be unmanly. Another part of me feels very angry and destructive. I want to cuss up a storm (if I'm not already) and breaking anything in sight. I want to curse the doctors. The fucked up healthcare system. Even God. I feel like God has forsaken my family. My dad. Me. As a Christian, I shouldn't think ill of God. I shouldn't swear. I shouldn't do the things I do and doubt God. But in this situation, I don't know what to think or do. I guess I need to work on my faith more. I guess I should pray more. But that doesn't change the fact that my dad is dying. It doesn't change how fucked up cancer is. My dad isn't even 50. He is too young to go to heaven, but if God calls, he has to go. If God calls, everyone has to go. One thing I have learned is not to ever take family members for granted. No matter how hard it is, you need to settle your differences and make up. Don't take the time with your family for granted. Don't take any family members for granted. I guess God used this cancer to teach us a lesson. I don't know. Nothing else justifies this right now. Don't be like me. Don't wait until such a fucked up thing happens in your family to make you realize how precious your family members are. Especially your mom or dad. Think of it this way, our moms and dads are the main pillars of our family. If one of them collapses, it puts significant strain on the other. Unless you can take the load off your remaining parent, things are not going to be good. I'm just scared if my dad does go to heaven, how will my mom manage? How will she age? How will she do alone when I'm at school for one more year? These are the questions that bombards my brain every, hence my difficulty sleeping.
At the end of the day, all I can do is pray. I am not as worried since my dad is now a baptized christian. I know things are going to get even harder from now on, but I must stay strong for my mom and especially my dad. I promised him I would take care of my mom if he leaves us. That I have grown up and I can carry on his will. That I am a capable person that he raised. That I will graduate college, find a job, find a wife, an have some kids. I will try my hardest to take some pressure off my mom and support the family as soon as I get out of college. I want my dad to know that I love him and that he can rest in peace should the day come. Until that day, I will constantly pray, please Lord, give him the strength to fight another day.
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