They used to slap the palm of my hand when I was like… I forgot… but I was very young… I don’t really have any memories of corporal punishment after like 10, since I got bigger and you know, I could just run and hide or block it or fight back. I think it could be because of the fear of CPS (we moved to the US when I was 8, and the general vibe is that “physical disciplime” is less accepted here). Not sure, but anyways, they stopped doing it.

I don’t remember dad ever doing that, it was always mom.

But I don’t remember ever getting hit in like any where like organs or anything vital

But evem after, they yell a lot… I kinda feel a lot of anxiety whenever my mom is near…

And yes, I recognize this as abuse, no need to remind me. I hated it. But then again, we came from China, filial piety BS, and that’s how my parents probably grew up… so… idk if I could judge them by the conservative/“traditional” culture they grew up in. Idk why I’m lowkey downplaying it… Maybe this is some stockholm syndrome or trauma bonding or something, idk, my brain is weird… brains are weird…

But then I again… do remember having a lot of positve memories of them… I did have many moments of happiness… I think… with a few traumatic moments sprinkled in between…

I have separation anxiety when it comes to my parents. I wasn’t able to live on campus because the anxiety overwhelmed me. And so I pause college like indefinitely until my depression gets fixed. And they did pay for my college, so… there’s that…

They did make a lot of “sacrafices” so… there’s that.

I don’t think I was ever really deprived of food/water. My basic survival needs were met, but my emotional needs were… not always met… like… there are times where my mother have spend time with me, and it was really wholesome and sweet, and I remember that calm loving motherly voice. I remember feeling like she cared for me, I think, I remember her worrying about me.

But I also remember those times where I felt lonely. Those times where I get yelled at, and I felt afraid, and I cried a lot. (sorry I know I sound pathetic)

But then again, it also has to do with the fact that… in this world… society views money as the most important thing… so parents were busy all the time and had to work… regardless of if when we were China or the US (although the US generally paid better, which why we moved)…

so their partial emotional neglect could be also attributed to society’s fault…

so…

so… its a very complex relationship…

I simultaneously appreciate them for what they did…

But also fear them and kinda hate them…

But I’m on their healthcare plan and I kinda want them to pay for my um… medical bills, that I’m probably gonna incur soon since I’ll have to restart treatments…

which was paused because they were kinda skeptical of psychaitry so I felt guilty and didn’t wanna be a burden so I stopped taking medications and stop going to the doctor (PCP, not a specialist) because I was just too depressed to go…

I mean the PCP told me to find a psychaitrist…

but that where I’m at… kinda hard to look aroud for one that accept the insurance + accepts new patients + they don’t “feel sketchy” to me (like say… located in a rough part of the city, for example)…

but I asked mom if she was willing to pay for it and she agreed to… I mean it’s not like I can pay for it…

so… 🤷‍♂️

I guess its kinda my lifeline… because I’m very close to just ending it if they stopped supporting me. I really really wanna just jump off a nearby bridge like tomorrow… but I can’t tell a doctor about it because I don’t wanna get locked up.