Monachopsis: The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place

There is your vocabulary word for the day, lol. We went over 2 emotions that people feel but have a difficult time explaining. This is one of those emotions that I strongly feel. I feel strongly out of place wherever I go. It doesn’t matter if it is in the work setting or seeing friends and family. I always feel like I am on the outside looking in. I don’t feel like I have a connection to anyone because everyone else has such strong connections to everyone else around me.

I wish I didn’t always feel like this. I feel like when you’re a military brat/personnel, you are supposed to learn how to mold yourself to fit in wherever you go, but I just decided to not fit in. And honestly, it’s tiring trying to fit in, so I’d rather isolate myself and not meet anyone period. It’s not healthy.

I am thankful for the group that I’m in now because I’ve met a lot of great people who are going through similar things, and I can now turn to them for help and support.

my homework this weekend was to wake up and think of 3 things i'm grateful for

Thanksgiving is known across the world as… Black Friday’s Eve, apparently. Isn’t it weird how we’re supposed to spend this Thursday being thankful for thinks we already have, and then go out the next day and blow all our money on things we most likely don’t need? So much for being grateful. This year I don’t want to go shopping. I really have never liked Black Friday shopping because I hate being around people. Anyways ~

This year I want to name three things I am extremely thankful for:

1. My family, to include my extended family. I am thankful for Sean and Baby Mav. They are the center of my universe. I love the way that Sean has transformed slowly into a daddy for Maverick. Always playing and teaching him new things, it makes me so happy. I love the way that Mav looks at me in the morning with just awe in his eyes. I usually feel worthless, but when I see him staring at me, I feel like I’m on top of the world. I’m also thankful for my extended family, especially my in-laws right now. They’ve helped us this entire year with taking care of Mav, and especially right now where I’m taking time to care for myself. They have been nothing but supportive and I can’t thank them enough.

2. My friends. I don’t have many friends. I can count my friends on one hand. But they’ve really helped pull me through some tough times throughout the year. I’ve had a hard lesson on what friendship is, and re-learning that it is a two way street. It’s a relationship that also requires a lot of trust and honesty. I’ve had a few breakups with friends that have really hurt me recently, but that makes me cherish the ones I have even more now. So thank you!

3. Myself. I know, that’s a weird one. After starting therapy and realizing that a lot of my issues stem from so long ago, I’m grateful for myself for making it this far. I’ve wanted to give up so many times, and I’ve tried to give up so many times ~ but I’m still here. My heart is still pumping (though very, very fast) I’m alive. I’m alive to see another day and to love my family and friends another day, and to try again to make things better. There are tough days and there are tougher days, but.. I’m tougher than all of it. Because I’m still here guys. And I don’t want to give up again.

Your turn, what are three things you’re grateful for?

talking with family, "there is no one that needs you more than your son."

Honestly, it’s pretty refreshing to talk to someone else about my issues. I called my auntie today because I was having difficulty putting my thoughts in order. It started out by me asking her how my grandpa was doing. He isn’t doing too well, and she mentioned that it might be time to head home to the Philippines when we can so we can say good bye to him. That was probably the hardest thing to hear. I had a dream about him last night that he was on his way “out",” and that’s what caused me to ask how he was.

Well, this conversation turned into a, “I have a story for you…” kind of conversation and I just opened up to her about so much stuff. All of the things I’m going through and how I got here. Well, she’s been checking up on me and the family often, and it’s been really nice to have someone in the family that I can be 100% authentic with and not be judged. Thank God my name is JacLYN, and her name is LYNette. I knew there was a reason.

i guess it's time to talk about my relationship with my mom

Last night I had a nightmare that my mom was following me around the airport, and I was trying to get away. I was trying to tell the person I was with that, “I don’t talk to my mom, I need to get some space from her while we’re here.” And every time I would try to move away from her, my legs just kept shrinking, they wouldn’t work. I couldn’t move anywhere. My husband told me that I was freaking out telling him that my legs didn’t work (out loud while we were sleeping in bed).

My relationship with my mom is on and off, but I think I’m finally going to say it’s probably at it’s wits end and will be for awhile. There are a lot of things that we don’t agree on, and how I was treated during my childhood and young adult years is one of them. The treatment and befriending of the man who is my primary childhood trauma is also something we disagree on completely.

There. It’s out in the open. My mother is friends with my child molester, and says that it’s because she thought I had forgiven him a long time ago. She tried to put it in an email saying that I forgave him, but I will be the first to tell you, that NO, I have NOT forgiven him, nor will I EVER forgive him. So I will not be talking to my mother while she is still friends with said man-child.

It’s hard. It’s hard to know that she was willing to take herself out of my life and my child’s life for the sake of her pride. The first grandchild from her children, and she’s totally fine with removing herself from the photo. That’s really fucked me up. Did my mom ever care about me?

I used to ask myself this question a LOT last year. Last year I reached out to my mother because I tried to overdose in Korea. She left me on read. The next time she contacted me was when she accidentally “butt dialed” me when she was trying to call my dad. Then she proceeded to call me the petty one for being mad at her for not reaching out to me. She blamed me. She said she had her own things going on.

Did my mom ever care about me?

This woman already lost a child once. Is she immune to pain if she lost another one? Is that why she didn’t reach out to me to see if I was okay? Is that why he was swept under the rug?

She asked me in an email, “you’re a mother, what would you have done? Put yourself in my shoes… Did you expect me to show up across the ocean?!”

Yes, yes I did expect you to show up SOMEHOW. Fuck, a reply message maybe in the beginning? A CALL? Fuck, I don’t know. Make sure I’m not dead maybe? Nothing guys. This is the woman who will sell life insurance using my brother as a sob story, but won’t check in on her psychotic daughter when she says she needs help.

No wonder I’m so fucked up in the head. Cats outta the bag. I’ve been holding onto this too long and my heart can’t take it anymore.

i have to confront myself about my looks

The past 3.5 weeks, I’ve been losing weight a steady rate. Part of it is because of the nausea from medications and part of it is from me just… making myself throw up. I’ve always struggled with the ideal of being a “skinny” girl, or even being the “too tan” girl. Personally, I think it is deeply rooted in the way that I was raised.

ang itim mo - you’re so dark

In the Filipino culture, you’re constantly criticized by your family and friends. “Ay Jakki, tumaba ka yata?” (Jakki, I think you got fatter?) “Jak, ang itim mo naman!” (Jakki, you’re so dark!) That was the normal conversation when greeted by family you haven’t seen in awhile. It’s almost engrained into your brain that you need to be thin and white to be considered beautiful. Morena (tanned skin girl) was never something I heard be considered beautiful. You wanted to be Mestiza or Chinita, a fair skinned girl.

Originally living in Hawaii, I was as dark as the red dirt that surrounded me. I was always out in the sun playing with my friends and having fun. Until one of my cousins introduced me to what Likas was. It was the infamous whitening soap widely used by everyone in the Philippines. They’d use it on their face and on their bodies, almost giving them an ill-appearance. Drowning in long sleeves, hiding under shade, applying copious amounts of sunscreen. It took me a long time to become comfortable being tan. Even now, I still hide from the sun if I can because I don’t want to be tan. I get anxious when my skin tone changes darker than my BB cream. It’s sad.

ang taba mo - you’re so fat

And with my weight, it’s always been something I’ve struggled with. I remember the jabs my family would throw at me, even if they were “playful”. Taba. (Fat) I hated that. I hated being called that, even when I was wearing a Size 0 pair of jeans. Taba, because my stomach hung over my shorts a little. Taba, because my cheeks were a little puffy. I hated it so much.

So when I moved to Japan, in my opinion, it got worse. I was surrounded by small Asian girls with fair skin and beautiful long hair. I was a American Size 2, but I wanted to be a Japanese Size S. Which surprisingly, are extremely different depending on where you shop. I wanted to be small. I wanted to move to Washington as the petite Asian girl who just came from Japan. And I was. If I had any photos of me back then, you could just see that my body was so much smaller. My collarbones stuck out. The gap between my thighs, Maverick could walk through if I just stood there. I was small, and I liked it.

In Germany I kept myself small by running an incessant amount for races. In Korea, I finally started to let myself grow. I ate much more, I lifted, I drank protein, I felt… healthy. I felt fit. This pregnancy though, really messed with my head. Watching myself grow was hard for me even though I knew that who I was growing inside was absolutely worth every pound. I didn’t eat much during my pregnancy. I ate a lot of salad and I ate a lot of fruits and veggies.

the problem now

9 months postpartum and I’m still struggling really hard. I lowkey enjoy that the medications make me nauseous so I don’t eat. It’s curbed my appetite, and I kind of like losing the weight. Even though I’m extremely weak and the way I’m losing weight isn’t ideal at all… Like Sean said, “it’s like opening the gates back up to an eating disorder.” I used to starve myself in Japan. I’d tell my family I ate while I was cooking for them and that they could go ahead and eat. If I did eat somewhere, I’d come back home and throw up. That’s when I learned how to apply foundation to hide the red dots on my face from the blood vessels bursting.

I am scared that I’m going back down that road, but in my head, I’m okay with it - and that’s the problem. I always said, “I can control it, so it’s fine.” Right now I’m not losing that much weight, so it’s fine. No, it’s not… I’m tracking my calories and activity to show myself that I NEED to eat, but sometimes it backfires and I get anxious when I see how much I’ve eaten. I’m getting help from it. I’m trying. I’m trying not to go back down that road, but right now, it’s what feels comfortable.