2002-05-15 - 1:55 a.m.
I slept for about 4 hours, and I feel lots better. I was a little spaced-out when I was writing my last entry coz I was just so exhausted.
So, being that it was Mother's Day a couple of days ago, I did some self-reflection and I so desperately wanted to write in my journal, but couldn't. So now I will.
This past couple of weeks, as I was in the middle of finals, amidst all those all-nighters, I would find myself in a sporadic moment wherein I just stare blankly at my book, just pondering about my parents and my relationship with them. This whole deal has been affecting me more than I'd prefer, whether I admit it or not.
(Read related entries here)
I guess it was because at that time, Mother's Day was coming up and I felt a bit guilty for not having any enthusiasm to do anything for my mom. I said to myself, 'she hasn't really been much of a mother to me.' Yet I knew as inevitable as it may be, she IS still my mother.
The last time I wrote about this matter was exactly a month ago yesterday. Since then, I haven't really seen them nor heard from them. They haven't bothered to call and check if their daughter is still breathing. They didn't wish me luck for my finals. Do they even think about me? I can't help but wonder.
At this point, I don't think of the financial aspect of the situation as much as I used to. I don't wallow in the thoughts such as:
'They haven't given me my allowance'
or 'I took out my savings account to pay for my tuition'
or 'My dad shook his head when I asked for money for books'
or 'They maxed out my credit card'.
They just don't matter as much now.
At this point I am more affected and saddenned by their heedlessness and indifference. My roommate got an exam pack, a bucket with goodies and munchies for the late hours of studying, from her mom. Rutgers sends out mail addressed to the parents that offers such things. I was mad jealous of my roommate. Somehow that little junk-filled bucket spoke so much of the love that her mother has for her. How come I didn't get a bucket, I asked?
My dad left the Philippines when I was three to come here. My mom followed him when I was four. I was left with my grandmother, and my half-siblings were left with their dad, and mom. Mamang, as I call my grandma, together with Kuya Stevie, Ate Chay, Kuya Richie, my aunts, uncles and cousins were my acting parents. My grandmother was the one who fed me and took care of me when I was sick. She put me through school as I was growing up, not because my parents had no money. It was because they knew my grandmother could financially afford to and that she wouldn't leave me out in the streets.
After ten years, I came here to be with them, and for them to finally be parents to me. Now, barely six or so years of being my parents, they seem to have grown 'tired' of being my parents. Notice how the six years of their parenting me is shorter than the ten years of not being there? I notice it too.
I'm the first ever in our family to get an American education. Yes it is a privilege, of course. But I'm also the first in our family who's ever had to worry about rent or tuition money at the age of 19.
While growing up with my grandmother, I've always felt as though I were a burden to her because even at a young age, I knew that I wasn't supposed to be her responsibility. I WAS, or AM, supposed to be my parents' responsibility. Now with what I'm going through, I can't help but feel yet again, that I am a burden even to my own parents. This feeling is so horrible that it sometimes makes me want to cease to exist. I think that maybe if I didn't exist, everyone's load on their backs would be lighter.
No, I'm not becoming suicidal. These are just ugly thoughts that go through my head sometimes. Very painful thoughts, indeed.
Some people around me who aren't close to me either emotional-wise or in terms of proximity, Observers as I call them, know about the problems that I've been having regarding my parents. Whenever they ask whether I've spoken to my parents or whatnot, and I say "No", I somehow feel as though I'm a prodigal daughter. I'm well-aware that some of the Observers think that my moving out or not speaking to my parents is an arrogant, even insolent act on my part. As Ate Chay said, "They think you're WRONG, when in fact you're the one who's being WRONGED". I practically begged my parents, telling them I still need them. And I am being arrogant? Funny that, because I absolutely have nothing to be arrogant about.
Yes, I'm probably being judged as a bad daughter for not being in good terms with my parents. Of course, being that I'm merely the child, I am expected to suck it all up for peace' sake. But what about my feelings and my issues? Just sweep them under the rug? I don't think so.
You see, the thing is these Observers won't EVER understand what I'm going through no matter how well I tell my story or how accurately I describe it. They aren't ME, the one who's going through this, and the one who feels the pain all this has caused. They also are NOT here to witness what the score really is. I honestly don't blame them though because they simply don't know what is going on. Besides, in Filipino culture, parents, if able and capable, put their children through school and support them UNCONDITIONALLY until the son or daughter is ready to become independent. That's why my dilemma is probably simply incomprehensible to them. Nobody in my entire family could EMPATHIZE with me in that department coz nobody's had to go through what I am and will go through. They wouldn't and couldn't understand that my actions and decisions are NOT made on the basis of a desire to prove that "I can do it without any of you". I decided that I'll move out because like any other person, I thrive for my well-being and sanity. I also know that it's more healthy for me, maybe for all of us as well.
I just wish that people won't be so quick on passing their judgments. More often than not, the people who are already hurting end up getting hurt even more.
So Mother's Day made me sad. I really want a relationship with my parents because they've missed most of my growing years already, and now they're not around again. But what they do really hurt me. I can't say it enough.
As I said I did some sort of a reflection on Mother's Day. In my mind, I ennumerated all of the good things that I did for them this past year, from cleaning the house, to cooking them dinners, and down to the presents that I got them. It wasn't to be spiteful. I just needed to reassure myself that I have been nothing but a good daughter to them and that I did my part. I needed that. I was beginning to doubt myself because of what the Observers think. And so now I AM reassured again. In my mind and in my heart, I know that I didn't do anything wrong. Knowing that for sure is important.
I pray to God, when I become a parent myself, that I'd remember to send my kid a bucket of goodies during his or her exams.
I also pray to God that for the rest of my life, I'll NEVER have to beg for anything EVER again.
