I emailed my dad a couple days ago about the WWII congressional gold medal that his dad would posthumously get awarded. I told him about this last year when my uncle let me and our other cousins know about it and although I never knew him, it still made me feel proud to know that our grandpa had served in WWII as a Chinese American. I think it’s something our whole family should be proud about. But, from what I can tell, my dad seemed indifferent to all of it. He seemed to think nothing of it and didn’t even care that it was happening or that regional ceremonies would be held for it around the country, or that family members such as himself would actually be invited to go. He had no reaction to the article, no reaction to his dad’s name being on the list, and no reaction to the ceremonies. He just didn’t care.

As far as I know, at this point, I am not even sure what he cares about. The house is in disrepair, smells like mold, and even has mice running around inside it now. The rentals are in disrepair and far from being in a state to rent out, and he doesn’t want to work on them. There are many items in the house he said he would give away or sell on Craiglist, and he’s made no action to move forward on any of it. What exactly is he doing all day? Is he just living for absolutely nothing?

This week, I’ve unsurprisingly been thinking about my family and their behavior over the last weekend. I opted out of an extended family dinner because my uncle refused to eat at any Asian establishment, fearing that Chinese people would be there who have Coronavirus (yes, my uncle is Chinese. Yes, he’s racist against his own kind). My cousin, who was trying to not create any drama and except the stupidity for what it was, didn’t understand why something like this would bother me. I am not sure if it’s because my cousin is just not a particularly intelligent or deep person, or if he just refuses to acknowledge problems (it is likely a combination of both of the above).

While this was transpiring, my mom was thrilled that I wasn’t going to the dinner at my aunt’s (upstairs). She hates it when I spend time with extended family members. She thinks they always want her to pay for dinners and food and “expect” this of her. My dad was being his usual hermit self, refusing to interact with me and throwing tantrums when he was dissatisfied with anything. I started thinking about all these behaviors and how toxic they all are. The “normal” that Ed and I grew up with is not normal and doesn’t really make for future independent, happy people. It actually makes for what Ed actually became: highly insecure, immature, dependent, paranoid. When I come back from these trips and inevitably experience episodes such as the ones outlined above, I try to decompress, read psychology articles about how all of this is wrong, unhealthy, and how I’ve emerged stronger in spite of all this. It seems to be the only thing that really gives me comfort when I’ve come from a place of total paranoia, lack of common sense, and dysfunction. My uncle always used to say that every family has its own level of dysfunction, so our family wasn’t much different than any other family. While it’s true that every family has its level of “dysfunction,” it’s not true that our family is just like every other family. We have generations of dysfunction, anger, resentment, and lack of relations. Even if you wanted to define that as “normal,” it certainly is not “right.”

A recent article I read about how to raise happy, independent children stated:

“We found that people whose parents showed warmth and responsiveness had higher life satisfaction and better mental wellbeing throughout early, middle and late adulthood. By contrast, psychological control was significantly associated with lower life satisfaction and mental wellbeing. Examples of psychological control include not allowing children to make their own decisions, invading their privacy and fostering dependence.”

The first sentence is funny to me because… well, duh.

That’s funny because that last statement is 100% our mother. We were rarely allowed to make our own decisions. When I was 13, I used to get into loud shouting matches about how to even wear my hair. “Privacy” as a concept never existed; door knocking did not exist: my dad or mom would barge into the bathroom or my bedroom without asking, expecting me to be fully clothed.

Ed used to recount that he had vivid memories as a child of trying to get our dad’s attention, but our dad would be so caught up in the basement, talking to himself constantly, a nasty habit that Ed himself picked up, that he’d completely ignore him. After years of neglect, lack of attention, and constant criticism, Ed gave up on our dad and stopped speaking with him at all intentionally. Our dad picked up on this, and instead of addressing the issue, did the exact same thing back to Ed, not even referring to him by name and only by “him,” “that guy,” and even “that.” He never acknowledged Ed’s birthday from Ed’s teen years until after Ed died.

My mom said a few days ago that if she died tomorrow, “You would have nothing! You’d be so poor!” So in other words, these are words she uses to make me feel dependent on her, for her to feel like she has control over me and my life. I’m 34 years old today. I work, have my own income and place to live, and am married to someone who also works and is able-bodied. I would not have nothing or be poor if she were to die tomorrow.

These words used to affect me a lot more when I was actually living at home or in college, depending on her and my dad. Now, 12 years after graduating from college, they don’t make me numb the same way they used to. Now, I just feel sorry for them.

This Saturday was the day I had reserved for my parents. My mom really is hell bent on our “immediate family” spending time together when I am in town. She hates it when any of my cousins or my aunt or uncle are there. That is not “real” family time because she cannot be herself and has to put on an act. It’s actually a similar sentiment, but not exactly the same, of Chris’s mother, minus the latter sentiment of needing to put on a show.

The unfortunate part of this ideal desire for “family time” is that we really have nothing to do together other than eat… and listen to their gossip or complaining. My parents and I have little in common. We do not enjoy the same activities, and we do not have the same interests. I’ve never been able to be myself around them because they don’t really care about the topics and causes I care about. My dad’s idea of a good day is watching YouTube videos nonstop, including eating all his meals in front of the computer screen. My mom actually has to nag him to eat at the dinner table with her, even when I am home. My dad is also the king of complaining. He will criticize any and every idea you have. When my mom suggested we go to Japantown, he grunted and retorted, “Why do we always have to go there? It’s all the same all the time!” When my mom suggested we eat at San Tung, one of my favorite restaurants in the city, my dad made his usual disapproving sounds and said that the restaurant is going downhill, the prices are inflated, and that the only thing keeping the restaurant afloat is its signature dry fried chicken wings dish (this is a restaurant that has been going strong for 20+ years, and every single day of the week has a huge queue of people waiting to eat in as well as do takeout). When I suggested we go to Land’s End, he said he didn’t want to walk because he already walked around the block twice this morning for his daily exercise (sounds exhilarating). But we ended up going to Land’s End, and my mom said it would be good to be outside since the day was quite clear and warm. About .4 miles of the .45 miles from Land’s End to the Legion of Honor, a relatively flat walk except for one small hill and a single set of stairs, he threw a massive temper tantrum and started yelling at me.

“You know, where are we going?” His voice was becoming shrill. I wasn’t even bracing myself; I realized in this moment that I wasn’t scared of what he was going to say, and it was one of the first times in my life that I didn’t have a sick, sinking feeling in my stomach when his voice would rise. “This walk is aimless and pointless! There’s nothing to see! Where are we even going to? I’m sick and tired of this. I cannot walk like this. I am not acclimated! You need to get acclimated to do this type of walk! You can do what you want! I’m going back!”

“You have Golden Gate Park right outside your door, and Land’s End right in your backyard, and you cannot even enjoy it!” I shot back at him. “You take walks around the block for exercise that don’t even last 20 minutes. You should be getting at minimum 30 minutes of physical activity every day, and if you are going to do that, why not see something scenic? What do you want to do, sit at home on your computer all day? How is that doing anything productive or even enjoyable? Do you think spending time on your computer is family time together? We are supposed to be spending time together, so what is so wrong about taking a WALK?” I was growing more and more enraged the more I spoke and finally cut myself off. I was surprised my mom didn’t interject to shut me up.

My dad walked off without another word. “I don’t have to deal with this!” I shouted at him as he stomped away.

My mom stayed with me and continued walking. She smiled weakly. She still said nothing. I then ranted to her about how rude and childish he’s been since I’ve come home, how he’s barely spoken to me or even acknowledged me other than to ask random questions about work out of the blue.

“What do you expect me to say — he had no one to teach him better when he was young,” my mom said to me, shrugging her shoulders. “Do you think I have it easy every day with him?”

We got back to the car eventually, after bickering with each other about other fun topics. My dad was cleaning the windows of the truck and acted as though nothing had happened. Well, I guess that is typical Asian parent behavior; never acknowledge what went wrong and try to sweep it under a rug.

We had dinner at San Tung altogether while sharing a table with two friends, one of whom was introducing the infamous dry fried chicken to the other friend for the first time. She was completely blown away and insisted on ordering a second plate. That was the highlight of my dinner activity, other than eating my beloved dry fried chicken wings and black bean sauce noodles. As a family, we barely said anything to each other while eating.

Then, I went home to do laundry. I had plans to see my friends in the evening, and my mom started panicking, saying she didn’t want me to go. “I don’t want you to go out tonight,” my mom started. “It’s dangerous out there — so many punks and it’s not good to go out at night in the city. Tell them you’ll see them another time.”

I could not believe she was pulling this stunt again. She was trying to get me to cancel on my friends for the evening because of her own distrust of society, paranoia, and possessiveness. There was only one acceptable response to my mom, and that was to tell her I’d cancel. That was not going to happen under any circumstances. So she was not going to be happy. And she wasn’t when I refused.

“Why can’t you just be nice to me?” she shrieked. “I always treat you so well and I’ve never done anything wrong to you, and you have to be so mean and rude to me! You just want me to worry, don’t you? You have no consideration and are just selfish! You just want me to worry and my health is already going downhill!”

I’m not going to be brought down. I will rise above. I will ignore these false and baseless accusations and do what I want because I am an adult who can have an adult life.

It is also debatable that she has “never done anything wrong” to me, but that’s another story for another day.

“You are not going! I will not let you go!” she yelled. “You are making me VERY ANGRY right now!”

I didn’t respond because how do you even respond to this delusional talk? You just can’t. So I told her I’d be back in 3.5 hours and left.

Yep, it was just another day in the life of my parents’ household, another searing reminder to me about why I have zero desire to move back to San Francisco and be anywhere closer to them. On a walk around the Napa resort one early evening this week, a colleague asked me if coming back home for these trips made me homesick and want to move back home.

“No,” I immediately said without taking a breath. “Actually, it’s a reminder to me that I made the right decision to move away, and the feeling hasn’t changed in the slightest.”

She seemed surprised, but she nodded her head. She also has moved away from home, but has every intention to move back to her home after a few more years away in another country.

I love my parents, but at a distance. Some people judge me for it, but I don’t really give a fuck. There is a reason human beings were created with legs and not roots. We have to outgrow our parents and move on with our lives to mature and become our own true selves. I was never going to grow properly under their roof and rulership. I would have been stunted, just like my brother was. And we all know where he is now, as sad as it is. But as sad as that reality is, it only makes me more angry and see red everywhere.

If I never left, I’d have no perspective. I’d just live in a small bubble, completely ignorant to all the possibilities that exist outside of the Bay Area. And ignorance is not bliss.

I think it could go without saying that every world religion has some sort of written mandate on how one is supposed to treat one’s parents. In the Bible, Exodus 20:12 says, “Honor your father and your mother.” In other words, respect them, treat them well, and (arguably) obey what they say.

But what are you supposed to do when you are grown adult child, yet your parent acts like a child? Or, even worse, they barely even acknowledge you and act like you aren’t even there?

I came home after a long bus ride back from Napa today and arrived at the house. My dad was home, on his computer as per usual, and I came in and said hi. He said nothing. He continued watching his YouTube video. I thought maybe I didn’t speak loud enough. I said hi again a second time. Still no response. I said, “Hey! Are you okay?” And he finally looked up for a moment, still failing to make eye contact with me, and said, “Oh, I was just watching something on the YouTube.”

Yeah, no kidding. He was so busy watching YouTube, which he does all day anyway unless he has errands to run, yet his daughter is only in town for a few days, and he cannot even look up to say a proper “hello.” I was trying to keep my voice level and not say anything too passive aggressive, but I could feel my blood pressure going up.

Being antisocial is what my dad is — he doesn’t have any social skills at all to the point where it is painful to observe, but not being able to say hello is just downright ridiculous and not excusable. I always wonder how it is that a person could turn out this way, and if we really could blame their “upbringing” as so many people always resort to. Or, is it that at a certain point, it’s really on the individual to take the responsibility for what they lack. I try to accept it for what it is because I know I will never be able to change him, my mom, or anyone really, but it is vexing beyond comprehension in some moments. I feel like I want to shake him sometimes and say, “WHY IS IT SO HARD FOR YOU TO DO SOMETHING SO BASIC AND HUMAN?”

I am powerless and cannot do anything to change the situation.

For the last three years, I’ve felt lucky that whenever I come back home to San Francisco that I can spend most of the time away at a hotel in the city and only spend at most 2-3 consecutive nights at my parents’ house. “Home” is always a loaded place for me. Most of my colleagues who don’t know me that well always say that it must be so nice to spend extra time with family and friends while on work trips out here. Yes, while that is nice, I can only have it in small doses, and three nights is usually the max number of nights I can spend at my parents’ house before I just completely go crazy and need to get away and decompress.

It was great to be able to spend the entire day with three friends today, having an elegant birthday lunch, relaxing at a spa and having a facial, and then roaming around Japantown eating Korean food, mochi donuts, and just catching up about life and what we’ve been doing with our respective lives in the last few months since we last saw each other. I actually felt fully relaxed today with my friends, and I had a really enjoyable time with them discussing everything from sexism and racism in the workplace, movies, travel, my YouTube channel, and the medical field. It was a nice, welcome, and animated break from the weird tension and lack of talking about virtually anything other than my ovaries in the presence of my parents yesterday.

My parents have pretty much stopped talking to Chris at all, other than to say hi, ask if he wants more food, and to say goodbye. My mom has said she doesn’t want to talk to me about anything when Chris is around, so if he’s in the house, she doesn’t want to sit with me. No conversation happens with him at all when he’s around. They really have nothing to say to him, and well, Chris doesn’t have anything other than small talk to discuss with them, either. But the more I think about it, the more I get frustrated that they just aren’t doing anything meaningful with their lives. My mom is misguided, following a religion she only joined because they swooped in on her in her weakest moments. She doesn’t really believe in everything they believe in; why else would she expect things like birthday gifts “around” the time of her birthday or Christmas gifts “around” the time of Christmas? She hasn’t converted a single person to becoming a Jehovah’s Witness.

Then, there’s my dad, who spends most of his day on YouTube, watching videos to supposedly inform himself (and uses those videos as an excuse to not go to places “but you can see that on YouTube,” is his response when I tell him about things I’ve seen and done in real places in real life). He does the bare minimum on his self-employed work on his rentals, and has left many of them vacant now for five-plus years. I tried asking him about what needed to be done on a specific rental and how much time it would take, and he said, “if you have money, maybe a month.” How much time is it really taking him? It’s been over five years, he said. When I asked him why he didn’t just pay to get it done, he just shrugged. It was clearly a tense conversation, and my mom pat me on my leg and told me to stop asking questions. It’s like he’s just passing time, wasting his life away doing things that don’t mean anything, and well, allowing places that could potentially house others and earn him money do absolutely nothing for anyone other than waste space. Why do people not do things that actually give them pleasure or meaning? Why?

And finally, there’s what really angers me and turns my face red. In my bedroom, I found my dad’s AA battery digital camera. It was completely deconstructed with the screws taken out in at least a dozen pieces. Plus, the inside of where the battery would be placed looked like it was corroded. I asked my dad what the hell happened to his camera, and he said that the AA battery corroded because he left it in the camera, and that you’re actually supposed to remove it from the camera when not using it.

This jogged the memory from 2004 when Ed got me a digital camera for my high school graduation gift. He spent so much money on it at the time because he knew I really wanted one, and it was the most thoughtful gift he had ever given me (and the most expensive). My dad criticized him and his choice and said that lithium ion batteries were the worst, that he should have chosen a digital camera that had AA batteries. Well, the majority of desirable cameras then and now are all lithium ion batteries, and corroding is never, ever an issue. I even pointed this out to him on multiple trips we’ve taken where his AA battery would die on him and my digital camera was going strong. Him being him, he was defensive over and over. This time, when he told me this, it reminded me of this stupid and baseless critique of Ed, and I told him that no one uses AA batteries for cameras now, that all of them are lithium ion. He said he realized this now and left it at that.

He will never admit he was wrong, and he probably never even remembered how much he criticized Ed, about this as well as countless other things. And that will always make my blood boil.

My aunt started our short family dinner tonight by asking that question. And I knew it wasn’t going to go well. Chris and I were overlapping for one day for our San Francisco travels, and since we never really have any real conversation, we both knew this meal was just out of obligation so that he could see my parents for a short time.. because well, that’s all the time he can really tolerate being around them. To this day, they won’t really talk openly with him. My dad has stopped trying to engage. In fact, when we arrived this afternoon, he half-heartedly greeted us and said he had to go “pick something up” and would be back in 20 minutes.

My aunt said she thought it had only been two years. We corrected her and told her it was four. And then my aunt marveled at how quickly time passes.

To which my mom interjects loudly, “Well then, what are you waiting for!”

It’s always fun when your family feels like they have to either directly or indirectly imply that you need to be doing things on the timeline they want for you vs. the timeline that you want to live your life. And it’s even more fun when your family members collude in this and gang up on you all at once.

So Chris, thinking he would be cute and cheeky, said, “Yeah, what are we waiting for, Yvonne?”

My mom doesn’t really understand most jokes, and she especially did not understand this. She later pulled me aside to confront me about this comment Chris made.

“It sounds like Chris wants to have kids and you do not,” she said to me gravely. “What is wrong with you?”

I told her she knew nothing about what we were trying or not trying to do, and that he was joking.

When is she going to learn that her nagging and meddling is never going to help any situation? Never?

I called my mom today on my way back home from work. I can tell she is getting antsy about my visit. About this time every year, she tells me that her health is going downhill, that she doesn’t know what’s wrong with her, and that she thinks she needs to have her head X-rayed because she’s constantly getting headaches and her head feels like it’s spinning. She also tends to catch colds around this time of year, so that doesn’t help her mood either. She does the same thing — interrogates me to see which of my family members may have contacted me, or who I may have told that I am coming home. She hates it when I tell my cousins, aunt, or uncle that I am coming home. She thinks when they want to see me, they suggest a meal, and they “expect” her to pay for the meal. “They just sit there, looking! It’s so embarrassing! They are just waiting for me to pay the bill!” she says time after time after time. She says this, yet she or my dad always feel the need to secretly pay the bill in advance, allowing no one the chance to pay. Or, when my cousin or aunt actually does this, they feel guilty and bad, so they feel the need to immediately take them out, or buy them too many excessive gifts. It’s lose-lose no matter what.

This time, when I told her that my cousin was driving up from San Jose to have dinner on my last Saturday in town, she got angry and demanded to know why he was coming. I said it was for dinner with me. She raised her voice, saying she refused to go and she should not be expected to pay since she’s no longer working, she’s disabled, and she cannot pay for everyone anymore. I told her to calm down — no one said she has to pay for anyone. It’s the same stupid conversation every single time. Her main point? She wants me to have no contact with any relatives. Why? This would mean no one pays for anyone, which is her dream… Even though she constantly is asking about each of them every single call.

I always wish I could just see my cousin alone with his wife, but he has to insist his mom or my uncle come. And that’s really when it gets annoying. It can’t just be a regular family get-together because my mom insists that everyone is out to get her. She then accused me of being sullen and said that I should be positive when I call her and not be negative.

Really? I am the negative one? I am not the one making up paranoid, baseless stories in my head about people being out for every dollar she has.

I came back late last night from New York and was groggy this morning when I woke up, thinking about all the events of the last week with work and family and feeling even more irritable. It’s as though every time I come back from San Francisco, I need to go through a few days of decompression to rid myself of all the tension and angst that has built up in me with all my family dysfunction. And with the work dramas of the last several days, that just adds to the overall angst.

Is it really going to be like this every single time I go home? Are my parents always going to be their same miserable selves, constantly complaining about every person, every event, every restaurant they go to? Are they always going to view themselves as victims in every situation where there isn’t a victim? Are they always going to focus on the worst parts of the news, on the worst memories attached to places? When I mentioned I was going to MacLaren Park with my friend, my dad exclaimed, “I know that place! That’s the place where a woman was sun-bathing and then completely got mowed down by a truck who didn’t even see her lying on the grass!” That’s a typical interjection of my dad: something negative, tragic, or just completely awful. With the new Vietnamese restaurant we went to on Saturday, my dad said two days later to my mom, “I don’t think it’s going to last. What a ripoff!” That is yet another favorite outburst of my dad — it certainly does not bring joy into the house when these statements are made.

The house is full of clutter, and as a result of that, filth. It smells like mold downstairs. Even the backseat of his truck is just piles and piles of mess. I asked him when he was planning to clean this up, and he responded he just cleaned it a week before and that there used to be 10 times as much stuff back there. What am I supposed to do with all this?! One day, this is all going to be on me…

And their health is in decent shape, knock on wood. They’re able bodied, able to get around on their own and be self sufficient with each other. It’s terrifying to think what it would be like once they are not mobile and need more help, and what that is going to mean for me.

I was sitting at lunch today with my mom, aunt, and their miserable and depressing Jehovah’s Witness friend, who now, unfortunately, is living and paying rent for a bedroom upstairs with my aunt. Every time I see her, I get a little miserable myself, wondering how someone can be this outwardly morose every single time I see her. What exactly causes this to happen to someone?

I think I realized that I was definitely ready to head back to New York (tonight is my last night in San Francisco) when my aunt, who is originally from Toisan in Guangdong, China, who also lived in Hong Kong for 8-9 years, started complaining about the protesting happening in Hong Kong now. She has Hong Kong residency since she lived there for a good chunk of time, and because of that, she usually likes to go back a few times a year. Given the protests, she is not planning to go back until things calm down.

“All this protesting is so terrible,” my aunt said. “These people are ruining the country and causing so much destruction! It’s so selfish!”

My aunt is a sweet, kind, well-meaning person. At the same time, she’s uneducated, delusional, brainwashed, naive, and not particularly deep. Her mentor, a Jehovah’s Witness, was imprisoned in mainland China for over 20 years because she tried to spread the word of Jehovah, which is illegal in communist China. She looked up to this person, respected her and even wanted to emulate her (and actually does now by keeping her house as a hotel for all visiting JWs who pass through San Francisco from around the world). Yet, she is saying that these protestors are being selfish and their efforts are pointless? How can she possibly not see the connection here? The values she has are the same values that these protestors have; they want a free and separate Hong Kong.

Since President Dipshit got elected, it’s hard for me to listen to people who complain about protesters without feeling my blood pressure soar. The people who protest around the world, particularly in places like Hong Kong, are willing to sacrifice their lives so that future people and generations can have a better life; that is the complete opposite of selfish. I have nothing but respect and admiration for these individuals who are truly fighting for what they believe in.