“Be Good!” but can I call “Mayday” instead?

It’s supposed to be a happy day, the New Year’s Eve for the Lunar New Year. 除夕迎接新春。I wave my aunt goodbye and she turned to me to say, “Be good!” That’s really expected of you and they had to remind you. A hide tap to say, you’d have to understand, accept and adjust. But sometimes I feel too tired to abide.

I feel the tension around, hear the rapid breathing, the pulsating beat; I keep my calm, scoop up spoonfuls of the food on my plate, gulp them down my esophagus, stand up and leave. The next time around, the atmosphere is lighter, as if expecting me to blend it but I don’t give in. This is the opposite of me or maybe the other side of me, to wage a cold war and not end it abruptly as if nothing happened. I don’t intend to punish anyone, it’s just that the wound won’t heal and as if we’re living in a pretentious world that the tension never really existed or that we’re trying so hard to put the shattered glass back together but they can not stand whole again.

I feel the hotness on my cheeks, and try so hard to blink back the tears. I was successful at that to finish the meal without the tears streaming down my face. But I go back to my room and the tears start to fall.

Carry on. Play on. As much as I want to do that, I can’t read when is a good day for them and when it’s not and be expected to light up when they decide that this is the day. I have to adjust and be sensitive of others’ feelings. If I am happy and look up to the grim faces, my feelings are shattered; I didn’t stop there, felt recharged and ready to brace the stormy weather again. Just this time, I felt that it’s better to be neutral, to be distant… Attachment to circumstances just clouded my thoughts, brought tears and sadness. Crying just made me look weaker and not courageous enough but that idea doesn’t stop my tears from falling. Too emotional? Courage is not measured by the least amount of tears you cry.

I dropped the thread even when I know that I should apply grace. especially when it’s difficult. But it’s a struggle to pick up the thread again. Grace knows no boundaries, I remind myself. Sometimes it doesn’t matter if the person-in-question or others know what you’ve been through. They won’t understand because they weren’t there in the first place. But God was there, is here and will always be.

The shadow creeps back in. People tell us to understand and support, I was prepared to do that even when they didn’t understand. But the unfairness of it all grabs me. And after all the effort and distress has been dismissed, I felt that I had to resign or be consumed and engulfed in fire.

People won’t understand the gravity, but God does. Maybe it’s a test of how far can I give without expecting anything in return. Looking back in the past, that’s what I’ve been doing. He provided for me that’s why I didn’t ran out of patience, that’s why I can pour my heart out and not grow weary. I felt happy because I was giving from the heart. You’d feel that there is more to give even when others are holding you back. I remember some of my classmates stopping me and asking me to think for myself for a change. Some were really small things like handing out yellow pads for those asking, and my friends would tell me to keep it and let them ask somewhere else. I guess it’s also tiring now, because I’m resisting the will to give or maybe someone’s telling me to stop for a while or else I might self-destruct.

Mayday! Mayday!

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