老司机传媒

I had been stuck on this math problem forever. After multiple attempts, I still wasn’t getting the answer. I anxiously grabbed my eraser and rubbed off my work again from the assignment paper, which was so weathered that the printed text was blurry. My hands were moving roughly across the page because of the frustration building up inside me, and–rip. The paper tore apart with crumples near its lacerations. I burst into tears, full of aggravation.

Why is this not working?

I struggled for a good half an hour on that one problem, but I had at least ten more pages to go that were filled with questions similar to this one. I did not want to turn in blank pages to my teacher, so I spent a few more hours on that assignment, crying angry tears while working. Still, I didn’t make much progress. I was so upset that I wished the problems could just disappear from my life.

I was maybe around eleven when that happened. But situations like this had frequently happened before. And during these past two decades, Priority Number One in my life was to make things work out exactly the way I planned. Just as one plus one equals two, and it will be so forever, I kept equations in my head that constructed my worldview. It went something like this: Gloria Oh is going to be successful. Gloria Oh is going to be independent by the time she is an adult. Gloria Oh is an excellent Christian person. Gloria Oh is a good daughter. The list went on. And these equations needed to be true at all times.

For me, like many others, childhood was not the best time of my life. During low moments, it was a rigid and adamant mind that kept me motivated in terms of my education and brought me to my freshman year in college. But that rigid mind wobbled so often, since my fragile equations were its foundation. It forbade any kinds of deviations or surprises outside of my original plan.

To be fair, I could recover from slight failures. I eventually figured out a solution for those math problems that brought me so much agony. I was able to get myself back on track after getting a C on an English test, although that was a bit more stressful. So the wobbling was fine; all I had to do was put up with anxiety and anger.

But moments came when I just couldn't see a way to make my equations work around my “failures.” I just couldn’t bear the feeling of losing the qualities I had equated to my name. I couldn’t take the fact that my faith was losing its ground. I couldn’t handle the fact that I did things that I detested. I couldn’t accept that my life was not reflecting my definition of success. I couldn’t process things happening in my life telling me that my equations no longer worked. If I got rid of them, I would be getting rid of my very foundation. Where was I supposed to start?

Up until very recently–and perhaps even now–I have struggled with addressing all those equations I built up for myself. I have been trying to persuade myself that life happens, and there are some things that I can’t do anything about. It truly is a process of persuasion because I have to tell myself that what got me through most of my life is not going to help me that much from now on. I cannot always live with my ideal self; I have to live with who I am today. That is my ground, not anything else.

A few years ago, when someone asked me if I could love and protect myself even if everyone hated me, I was hesitant to say yes. How can I love someone who probably failed morally, academically, and socially? How could I let myself be that person?

The practice of acknowledgment has changed a lot of how I view this question now. Gloria Oh is Gloria Oh, and my experiences and status will only be a part of who I am, never who I am entirely. I was hesitant before because I liked the bits and pieces of myself, not all of me. But now, I am learning to accept that I am allowed to change, age, and make mistakes in life. I can make peace with that and move on, instead of trying to escape it.

I can’t erase my experiences anyway, no matter how hard I try to erase them with agony and anger. I hope to replace those emotions with courage and strength from now on. And I hope that eleven-year-old Gloria Oh is okay with that. Childhood is over; adulthood is here. Fear is over, and acceptance starts today.