Recovery

Sometimes you need to break down to build up and heal. It has been the worst last two months. With everything that happened with my mom, life has been so stressful. Now that she’s home from the hospital and on the mend, and I’m back in LA, I thought the pressure that had been building up inside of me was going to subside. But it didn’t. It continued to build and build and there was no escape.

And then last week, I felt like I was going to explode and have a mental break down. I didn’t know what to do. I felt backed into a corner and I just wanted the pain to go away. Upon my return to LA, I had overbooked myself with brand and restaurant partnerships, along with my regular consulting work, on top of checking in on my mother multiple times a day, joining her doctor appointment calls, and coordinating appointments for her medical care. It was all too much after already an extremely heavy and stressful last five weeks. It felt never ending, like there was no break, no end in sight. This was just my life. And I couldn’t handle it anymore.

I decided I needed a day off of all responsibilities. I couldn’t even handle receiving text messages, let alone responding to them. I couldn’t handle looking at social media. I couldn’t focus on work. I couldn’t function period. Every little thing felt like extra weight on my back and I was about to break. So I took a Friday sick/mental health day, hoping that it would solve my problems. But I didn’t utilize it to do anything that would bring me joy or provide a release. I wanted to do something with my day, but I just couldn’t make a decision, function properly, or process anything. I wanted to get a massage but I couldn’t figure out where and the masseuse I liked wasn’t available. I wanted to go on a hike but I couldn’t get myself off my couch and out of the apartment. Then I felt annoyed with myself for not making use of my sick day to do anything that would bring me joy. One day off did not fix my problems overnight or bring me any sort of comfort like I thought it would.

That weekend, I did my own nails, which I hadn’t done in two months. I got a haircut the next day, which I hadn’t done in over a year. My hair stylist moved out of town and I was forced to try a new person at the salon. Even though he cut off some dead weight, he did not give me the cut I wanted. Beauty treatments didn’t work to lift my spirits either.

And I really didn’t do much else with the weekend that followed my sick day. Maybe I just needed to ride out the wave of negative emotions. Then this week, things slowed down. My various work commitments decreased and there were no doctor appointments for Mom this week. I also didn’t check in with her as much. I have to remind myself that she will be okay even if I don’t check in with her three times a day. I’ve been my mother’s main caregiver for the last five weeks straight and I had seen her everyday during her hospitalization. It was hard for me to leave Boston. It was hard for me to leave her. I think a part of me has still been scared and worried about her so it has been difficult for me to let go of all the responsibilities of caregiving and not check in with her multiple times a day. This has been at the added expense of me not taking care of myself though. But she’ll be okay, even if I’m not available for every moment in her continued recovery. Even if I don’t know what she’s eating for every single meal. Maybe there aren’t any quick and easy fixes right now, but reducing some of the commitments in all areas of my life, including my mother’s care, helped relieve some of the pressure. Hopefully, this will create space for me to be able to receive and feel joy again from some of my usual acts of self-care. This will be my first weekend back in LA without any sort of work commitments. I finally have an appointment with the masseuse I like this coming Sunday. I had been wanting to get a massage for months. I think I will try to go on a solo hike tomorrow to get out in nature and clear my head. Maybe I’ll even make myself something good to eat. I’m inviting joy back into my life again. And I am ready to receive.

The Parents are in Town!

Since I moved back to Los Angeles after my two-year stint living in Hong Kong, my parents have not visited me and it has been almost a decade! This past Labor Day weekend, my mother and stepfather finally came to town, and everything that could go wrong went wrong. No running water, racist attack, and my car died in the middle of Hollywood—all within the first two days of their visit.

A water pipe on my street burst the night before my parents’ arrival and I had no running water for 20 hours! The workers from the LA Department of Water and Power were up all night attempting to fix the issue with no idea when the problem would be fixed. When my parents arrived the next day, I couldn’t bring them home after their long flight because we couldn’t use the toilet, wash our hands, or cook. It’s so easy to take for granted the luxury of running water! I took them to lunch at Din Tai Fung for Taiwanese food and then walked around Century City Mall. After a couple hours, we decided to come home with the game plan of walking to a nearby cafe to hang out when any of us needed to use the bathroom. When we got home, the water still was not fixed. My parents wanted to relax after their plane ride and did not want to have to go out again so we were all hesitant to hydrate. Fortunately after a couple more hours, the water came back on before we had to venture out to find a toilet! Hallelujah! Thank goodness I showered and washed my hair the night before.

On their first night in LA, I took them to one of my old favorite restaurants, Tar & Roses, in Santa Monica. I hadn’t been in 2 years and was excited to be able to share the experience with them. I don’t go out to eat that often anymore because I’m finding that the quality and service has changed a lot since the pandemic and I’m usually disappointed. Of course, it’s even more difficult to impress my parents. They are accustomed to delicious seafood in Boston. The restaurant scene in Boston is amazing, unpretentious, less expensive, and always reliable wherever you go. And the pandemic has not changed that. When I was there recently this past May, I found myself impressed by every single meal I ate out at a restaurant.

And then after dinner, we were victims of a verbal racist attack. As we walked back to my car on Santa Monica Blvd and 5th, a white man pulled at his eyes and yelled, “Hey, hey, you Ch*nk family!” Fortunately, my parents didn’t understand what happened. They didn’t understand what the man said or did. But I understood and my blood boiled. I yelled obscenities at him as he walked away. I explained what happened to my parents and they weren’t upset. Or maybe they were and just didn’t show it. They were probably used to internalizing it. But I don’t want this to be something anyone has to “get used to.” My parents survived a genocide and came to America as refugees searching for a better life and it seems like not much has changed since their early days in this country. My mother has already been through so much in this life and I was so upset that she had to experience racism in LA on her first night visiting me.

The incident was triggering. Made me think of the years of microaggressions and acts of racism that I have experienced my entire life. When someone makes you feel less than one day, sure, maybe you can shrug it off. But how about if someone makes you feel less than every day. Or maybe once a week, once a month. Then multiply that by every year you have lived. And now imagine it’s not just one person making you feel less than all those years. It’s someone at work. Someone at school. Someone at the grocery store. Someone off the street. It’s your neighbor. It’s someone in your friend group. It’s not one person you can avoid. Not one incident. It’s everywhere. Throughout different stages of your life. Happening again and again. What does that do to your mental health over time? What does that do to your sense of worth?

Going into the weekend, I was already feeling fragile with some other things going on in my life and also with everything happening in Afghanistan, which is a reminder of what happened to my parents in Cambodia with the genocide. It’s so sad and upsetting. During the early days of the pandemic, I went on walks often to get out of the house. Then I stopped when the violence against Asian Americans, and particularly the Asian elderly, increased. Only in the last couple months, I had been feeling comfortable enough to go on walks again and then this happened. It’s not something I could just easily shake off.

The next day, I took my parents for a Thai lunch at Hoy Ka in Hollywood. When we walked back to my car afterwards, my car wouldn’t start. I had to call for a tow truck and learned that my car battery was dead. Got a jump start and had to spend our afternoon at Pep Boys waiting to get my battery replaced. This was the 3rd thing that went wrong that weekend. I tried as hard as I could to put on a face so that I wouldn’t worry my parents, but the truth is, I felt so beaten down. I’m sure they noticed. I had no appetite. I couldn’t eat. When we came home, I saged the apartment. My mother superstitiously threw rice and salt over my balcony and did a short prayer with insence. Leading up to my parents’ visit, I had already been stressed for weeks with work and it had been on my mind all weekend. That next day, I collapsed onto my bed and napped for two hours. I never nap but I was so emotionally and mentally exhausted and my body couldn’t hold it in anymore. You can try to act like everything is okay, but your body doesn’t lie. Everything was not okay.

People say things happen in threes. That was it for us that weekend—the broken water pipe, the racist attack, and my dead car battery. We spent the rest of their time in LA cooking, eating, and visiting the Venice Canals and the beach. I’m glad my parents visited me but I’m sure it wasn’t the best trip for them. After I dropped them off at the airport, I felt a huge weight lifted from me. I no longer felt pressure to pretend that everything was okay. I felt like I could sort through all my complicated emotions and thoughts without having to fake it. I felt like I was finally allowed to be exhausted and not have to worry about how that was perceived or how it would affect anyone else.

That same week after much contemplation, I decided to part ways with a client. I realized it was not a good fit for me and it had been negatively affecting my mental health for weeks. Sometimes you have to walk away and let go of things that don’t serve you, as hard as it may be. When I made the decision, I came home and napped for two hours! The next day, I napped again. I’ve never napped so much in ONE week! My body was mentally and emotionally drained. And it took me about 5 days to recover. I am just starting to feel like myself again. I’m slowly coming back to life.

It’s ironic that my last post was about feeling good. As easily and quickly as things can go well, things can all come crashing down at once as well. You have to take the good with the bad. Things can change and turn around in a second. But all experiences are learning experiences and we can’t have one without the other.

I would love to add some new recipes to the blog soon. But for now, I need to take care of my mental health, listen to my body, and give myself a break. In the meantime, check out my Instagram for all the yummy food we ate during my parents’ visit!