Don’t Quit
Sometimes our parents don’t know how to express their thoughts verbally, so they find other ways to communicate.
March 20, 2024 | 7:25 PM
This is plaque my mom gave to me, when I was in 6th grade.
Did your parents have a difficult time expressing their feelings to you when you were a child? Perhaps it’s still that way even though you’re an adult? Why is it that in 2024, we human beings haven’t mastered the art of verbal communication? At this point in evolution, shouldn’t we have mastered the art of “knowing” what the other person needs to hear so they feel better, or saying what we need to in a manner that allows the person we’re conversing with understand how we feel? Maybe it’s because we are human beings and that form of verbal mastery is ever evolving?
Maybe like your mom, or dad, or loved one who came to this country (or mainland), and would consider themselves an immigrant, my parents didn’t know how to talk to me in a way that they felt I would understand. My mom would always tell me, “I don’t know if you understand me or understand what I’m saying. I just don’t know how to say it.” She was afraid that the advice she gave me was wrong or that she wouldn’t sound educated. The way people talked and parented on the mainland was different from how she grew up in Hawaii.
It was even harder for my dad. His way of trying to make me feel better was usually in the form of a lecture. Most of the time I thought he was upset with me, because his serious tone, his angry tone, his conversational tone, and his lecturing tone sounded all the same (unless he was laughing which seemed rare). Our talks were never a conversation and when I tried to ask questions or make my point, it would turn into a debate or an argument. I usually just sat there being “talked at” instead of “talked with.” My dad held in a lot of his emotions and it came out with a lot of passion when he spoke.
After the talks with my dad, my mom would reminded me that my dad didn’t know how to express his feelings in a way that a kid would understand. Though his words came out harsh, there was a lot of love in it. He wanted to protect me and wanted me to be a mentally and emotionally strong Asian girl. It hurt him to see me sad and he just didn’t know how to put that into words.
Over the years as a wife and mom, I’ve come to realize that I speak like him, whenever I deeply empathize with someone. I can be very passionate (or “intense,” as I’ve been told), when I speak and it has made people - mostly Grant and Ash - very uncomfortable. These days, I have to use a disclaimer or interject that “I am not mad, angry, or upset. I just feel very passionate about this topic.” I should make a shirt that says that.
. . . . .
Sixth grade was a significantly dark time for me. I was a self-conscious ten year-old weighing in at around a hundred pounds. My thick glasses and lack of fashion sense only added to the teasing and bullying from kids at school.
I don’t remember what happened to me on this one particular school day, but whatever happened had me extremely upset. My mom and I spent hours crying together and my dad spent what felt like hours lecturing me on the importance of being mentally and emotionally strong. I remember him telling me not to let the kids at school control how I felt about myself.
I know my parents tried their best to make me feel better, but I ended up going to bed feeling so unsure of the world I was living in.
The next day, I woke up and saw little plaque greeting me on my bedside table (it’s the one in the photo above). At the bottom, she signed it with “Love, Mom & Dad.”
My mom had gone to the market that morning and bought it for me.
Over the years, whenever I was suffering, my mom would surprise me by leaving inspirational plaques or cards on my bedside table, while I was asleep. She had found her way of communicating to me in a way she felt she would be understood. And my dad, he channeled his passionate hard-to-speak emotions into handwritten letters written on yellow legal pads. I still have all of these heartfelt mementos in a keepsake chest next to my bed.
Recently, I came across that plaque in my keepsake chest, when I had been searching for something to give to Ash. To keep this inspiration in my line of sight, I turned it into a magnet, which now sits on my fridge as a reminder to Don’t Quit.