THE Incident.

I come from a conservative immigrant family. Blahs and blahs, but suffice it to say that I grew up sheltered, knowing nothing about what diversity really meant.  Going to college was a huge change. I wasn't used to accepting people that were different from me, I'd never had to even interact on a deeper level with people that different than me. I certainly was not used to having to contemplate my ideology, perspective, and values.  What was worse that this all stemmed from having no individuality. I was not used to thinking for myself or making decisions for myself.

So there I was, away from the influence of my parents, able to choose what I wanted to believe and how I wanted to act.  It was sort of devastating. I didn't know what to do. I knew I still respected my parents and their beliefs, but I also knew that I disagreed with them in many areas.  And I didn't want to have to tell them that I was changing.  My parents are this great oppressive, but very much respected, force in my life. I can never thank them enough for everything they did for me....but I've also been very hurt by them.  It's hard to reconcile the two feelings.  This, among other reasons, caused me to become quite depressed. Not so much that I wanted to hurt myself physically, but I certainly hurt myself mentally and emotionally. I failed two semesters of classes, and was then kicked out of the university. I finally told my parents, and they brought me home to attend a local university.

The first semester back home was terrible. I was still depressed, but hopeful, eager, for change, and I had to deal constantly with my parents, who seemed to be unwilling to understand my situation.

Depression is such a funny thing. There isn't a one-for-all FIX. It can't just be better all of sudden. It differs for each person, and what helps one reduce or stop his/her depression will depend on him/her and his/her situation.

This makes it very hard for some people to understand depression. Since it's not physical, people are unwilling to see it as a disease.  People are more willing to see it as a lack of competence by the affected, attributing it attributes such as laziness, not caring, and even rebelling.

It was very difficult for my parents to understand why I was so affected by depression; how I could have ruined myself academically. I also decided to finally own up to them that I didn't want to be a doctor, as they wished for me, but to pursue my own career choices.  You can see how they would become wary of the "depression," since it seemed to be changing everything they thought they knew about their daughter. I get caught up in how I felt, but it would be unfair to acknowledge that they were going through a hard time too.  No matter how difficult they can be or I can be, they are my parents, and I am their daughter.  It hurts parents to see their children in pain, especially when parents don't know how to ease the pain of their children.  It was a mess. Misunderstandings and verbal wars were a common fixture in my house.

There is so much that contributed to everything that has happened since my initial depression...it's a chaotic web of connections and players that has completely changed everything in my family dynamic. It'd take forever to explain, with many awkward pauses.

Change happens. I guess we just never realized things would change this much.  My parents always thought change would occur how they wanted it, so when it didn't, they certainly weren't prepared to deal with it, and neither were we (as in my siblings and I).  There was so much I didn't know how to do, because my parents never though they would have to deal with it, and so they never taught their kids how to deal with it.

My immediate family consists of 7-my mom, dad, older sister, two younger sisters, and one brother.  The rest of my family is back home in the motherland. We were the lucky ones who were given all the opportunities America had to offer...which is a WHOLE different story, and also affects my depression and the dynamic between parents and children in my family.

I am the second.

My older sister was always the good one. I was always the rebel.  She was always more respectful and considerate than I was.  When she went off to college first, it was much easier for her to deal different people, cultures, and beliefs.  She took it all in stride, because she is much more relaxed and accepting. While I consider myself pretty accepting now, I had to teach myself to be this way.  Even though I was always the rebel at home, I was so indoctrinated  in my parents' beliefs, that I had to teach myself to not concern myself with other people and their beliefs; that I practiced religion and culture how it pleased me, and that others practice religion and culture how it pleases them.

My older sister didn't concern herself over things too much.  I know sometimes I care too much...but that's just how I work.

So it wasn't really surprising to me when she left the house without letting my parents know, though it surprised my parents very much.  She left, and needed to leave, for many reasons.  But it caused many issues at home in her absence.  This was a change my parents were not prepared to deal with, and my siblings and I were not prepared to deal with my parents after her leaving. It continued to be a mess, and misunderstandings and verbal wars continued in my house.

So, anyways, there are pages and pages of words to fully flesh out the details of the past 3 years of my life. But, for now, let's just leave it what is important now.

I'm still depressed. I'm still failing classes. I just got kicked out of the university again. My family knows nothing about this. I feel abandoned by my older sister, who I used to tell everything to, and so I feel completely alone. I don't know how to deal with this....any of this, all of this, especially by myself.

And thus, I started blogging.

What started the notion of blogging

So then, there I was, watching lovely F enter the room, when emotions started to come. Emotions, you have to understand, have been a foreign presence in my entire life. So I was understandably flustered, when as F sat next to me, and asked how I was, that tears sprang to my eyes. Tears. In public. Tears sprang to my eyes in a room full of people; people who there to attend a wedding. I was crying at a wedding for all the wrong reasons.

Explanations. My friend was telling me that looking for explanations is worse, because if you don't know the reason behind actions and events, then it the experience is just repeated over and over in your mind, which does little to solve the problem.

I finally have come to realize tears are not a bad thing, especially since, if I allow them to come more often, perhaps I won't burst into a blubbering mess at a wedding. 

So I need to talk to someone, but it is SO hard. But continuing to talk to my 17yr old sister about all this crap is just unacceptable.

So blogging. Perhaps I can blog thoughts and grievances, and maybe it will be therapeutic. 

I always wanted to have one of those cool blogs with witty entries, but then life sucked, so I figured being a cliche wouldn't be that bad, especially since no one will read this anyways. 

Blog, you're hired.