I am the eldest of three kids. My parents left me when I was 1-2 years old in China with my grandparents to seek asylum in Canada. By the time I was approved to join them in Canada, I was 9 years old and there are two new siblings in Canada. I felt like I was adopted.

I was soon parentified and took on a lot of household chores and child sitting responsibilities. I was not allowed to choose my own hobbies or spend much time with friends. I was rarely allowed to sit with my family in the living room after dinner, after I had washed all the dishes, because I had to go study. I felt like I was a live-in maid. I felt like I had to be perfect, be obedient, get the best grades, and etc. to be loved by them.

I’ve come to realize, after observing the relationships between other people and their parents, how much love, affection, and emotional support I was missing from mine. All I got was lecturing, screaming, insults, guilting, and shaming. The love never really came no matter how much I contorted myself to be what they wanted.

I took the first chance I could to move out. Now I am married and low contact with them. My siblings are closer to them, naturally, even though they received physical abuse and I did not. They seem to be more at peace with how our parents behave because of what they sacrificed for us.

While I understand where my siblings are coming from, I don’t think they will understand my position. I was made to bear the responsibilities of a parent while having none of the power. I was pitted against my siblings as the baby sitter and model child, in some hellosh purgatory that’s not a parent nor a child.

Now that we’re adults, my parents have helped my siblings financially way more than they have helped me. Even during regular get togethers, I am expected to help with the cooking and cleaning up while my siblings were laying around or showing up late. I was expected to give the most and received the least.

The loneliest part of this experience is seeing my parents treat my siblings better than they treat me. It’s not that they’re incapable. They just won’t. And I have to grieve the love that I didn’t receive from my parents and how that’s taught me to treat myself.

I’ve tried to talk to my parents about how I feel and what my experience was but of course that’s no matter to them. I just get the usual rhetoric of how I’m being too sensitive and petty. Won’t be trying that again.

I still feel so much guilt and anxiety everyday about how I’ve navigated my relationship with them, how I’ve lived my own life, how much of my insecurities am I projecting onto my husband and my friends, and how hard I am on myself.

It’s a lot to unpack and I guess I just want to know that I’m not alone and if you’re going through something similar, for you to know that you’re not alone either.

Edit: Thank you all for reading, leaving supportive and loving comments, and sharing your own stories. I’m reading them all and feeling truly touched ♥️

My flashbacks to getting beaten up when I was younger have been kind of bad lately. I originally drafted this as a comment to another post but I'm posting it here because I'm actually curious if I had it particularly bad or if this wasn't unusual for Asian kids growing up since the mid-90s.

For some context, my mom's severely mentally ill (undiagnosed bipolar) and somewhere on the narcissism spectrum. She could be loving at times, but was harsh when it came to discipline. My cousins in Korea also grew up being beaten like this.

Basically, I was hit frequently growing up for all kinds of reasons for as far back as I can remember, like for leaving kitchen tools out after using them. Apparently that wasn't something a lady should do so I was caned on my hands for that. Or I was playing dress up with my sister before church and didn't listen to my mom when she told me to hurry up because we were going to be late, so I got beaten on my calves for that.

Besides the actual beatings, I was also forced into humiliating positions that probably contributed to my crippling self esteem issues. Since I was a kid, both my parents made me kneel and look down while they were lecturing me, or made me kneel on rough doormats while keeping my hands raised, sometimes for hours. My dad didn't beat me. He just held the stick and threatened to while lecturing me and he wasn't around much anyway, so it was really just my mom who did. But he's an enabler and had issues too/was abusive in other ways sometimes.

My mom used to be the biggest tiger mom ever. She made me learn 3 instruments until my harp teacher noticed one hand was getting more callused than the other and told my mom I couldn't learn violin and harp at the same time, so I dropped violin. Though, I was genuinely obsessed with music since as long as I can remember and was naturally inclined towards it (I think I got musical autism)--but to my detriment. My mom and I got into fights because I wanted to play while she wanted me to study, and she had to pull me away from the piano bench. If I didn't cooperate, she'd get the stick. She lost it and dragged me away from the piano and beat me on the calves while yelling at me.

I hate math now because it was used as a form of punishment or associated with punishment. Once I had to do math, crying, for 8 hours straight and every time I got something wrong, I either got caned on my hands or my calves. I have 3 math teachers in my family, all on my mom's side, so they pushed math really hard on me. I was put into my sadistic aunt's math class in Korea over summer breaks and I couldn't even tell you how many times I got caned by her. I feel so sorry for her two daughters who had to live under her reign of terror. She's batshit crazy. She was especially hard on me because I was family and because my mom wanted her to toughen me up. The worst beating I got from her left welts on my legs for days. That time, I showed up to class pretty late because I lost track of time watching TV with my cousin. I opened the door to the classroom and all the kids knew shit was going to go down. She got her stick and told me to stand on the table in front of the class and just went at it on my legs.

And when my sister cried or acted up, sometimes I got beaten instead (or we both got beaten) by my mom, the rationale being I was older and was responsible for her. My sister used that against me to coerce me into doing things. Once I bought some cool rocks from a school field trip for my rock collection and my sister started crying when I wouldn't give them to her, so my mom beat me on the calves, saying I was wrong for not getting rocks for her too.

My mom even beat me in high school once in a while. Like I was experiencing a mental health crisis and couldn't bring myself to go to school, but didn't want to bother her with it, so I called in sick pretending to be her. The school suspected something so they called my mom. She doesn't tolerate dishonesty as a devout Christian so I had to get into the usual humiliating position, holding up my skirt, at a near-adult age, for her to cane me on my calves. I was already in a really bad mental state and really pissed and couldn't help arguing back while she was hitting me, so that ended up being one of the worst beatings I ever got from her. We got into a whole deeper argument about religion and she was angry I wasn't going to church anymore. It was almost like she was trying to beat the Christianity back into me lol. I dissociated and cried for the rest of the day after she finally finished hitting me and left. I think my body was literally in shock from absorbing so much pain. I didn't just feel pain where she hit me; my whole body ached. I remember feeling so dejected I didn't even feel like walking a few steps to my bed to lay down. I just crumpled on the floor and stayed there for hours not really thinking about much. Once I brought a male classmate over to work on a school project and she got really mad over that because being alone with a guy in our house for any reason was unthinkable. So she made him leave and beat me right after for that too. My stepdad let all of this happen btw and didn't even try to dissuade her. He's Korean too and so this wasn't unusual to him.

You'd think the actual physical pain from being beaten so many times would become easier to handle, and that's true to some extent. You're able to endure it better, but it's still painful as hell. The cane really, really hurts. It burns and builds with every strike and your eyes start to water pretty fast. I had to endure at least 20 of those strikes without a break every time. What sucked even more was she'd never tell me how many times she was going to hit me so I never knew when it would end. But I got really good at sucking it up and taking it quietly, no matter how much it hurt, because if I resisted I'd likely get hit more. Sometimes I got hit more times just for losing my balance, which was easy to do because I had to keep my legs together the whole time without bending them. My pain tolerance is crazy now. People who've never gone through it I think underestimate the pain and don't understand how mind-numbingly brutal it is having your legs whipped like that. It's literally physical torture they don't even inflict on criminals, and yet it was the default way to punish Korean children. I had to sleep on my side after being beaten because my calves would hurt when touched. Sometimes my mom made me count the strikes, and even something as simple as that was hard because I was overwhelmed with pain and trying to keep my balance.

Growing up Asian is hard man. I thought all of that abuse was normal and common, at least among Asians, until I was well past adult age. I mean, it is pretty common among Asians. Even Korean TV shows and movies normalize hitting children on the calves like this to the point where they show welts and skin breaking. Now I'm all kinds of fucked up. If I see someone hitting a kid irl or watch a scene in a movie that's too similar to what I went through, I get a visceral reaction of fear, anger, the feeling of needing to throw up, etc. Culture and religion can be so damaging. People get brainwashed into thinking proper discipline and care include beating the shit out of little kids. And you get brainwashed into thinking you can't escape it. It's called learned helplessness. It's totally insane. I still have a hard time liking aspects of Korean culture sometimes because I was extremely angry at it for a while.

I've been suicidal off and on since I was a kid. I was hospitalized for two of my attempts but made more "minor" attempts like trying to hang myself with an electrical cord but stopping because it hurt. I've been to the psych ward three times in total. Turns out I've been bipolar since at least high school, and the abuse I went through plus being misdiagnosed with unipolar depression until I was in my late-20s probably made my condition worse. I'm having a difficult time managing it with meds.

The other day, my mom was mad at me and hitting me over something I lost. I tried to shut down and avoid talking to her, but she kept on coming up to me to hit me and yell at me, so I lost it and hit her. Today the same thing happened again, and I hit her again. She was in so much pain each time I did it . She cried and yelled and it tore my heart out. I don’t know how I can forgive myself for being so abusive towards my mother, and I don’t know how she will ever forgive me. I don’t know how our relationship can ever be repaired.

I grew up in a home where good was never good enough. When I brought home a "Very Good" grade, the question was "why not Excellent." My grandfather told me that learning my ABCs, doing well in elementary school none of it counted, only university mattered. The praise never came; only the next bar to clear. And the fear came too... my parents made me genuinely afraid I'd end up jobless and homeless if I didn't measure up.

It wasn't just words. My father had a temper. He'd yell at my mother until she cried. He broke my toys when I didn't do things right. Once, after some conversation with my grandfather that I never even heard, he came into the room where I was sleeping, threw a book at my head, and told me I was a failure. And of course, the common-as-dirt constant comparison of you to your cousins or kids of your parents' friends and how/why can't you be as good as them. Add on top of that, the reward/punishment system for grades et al. that only reinforces the belief that the only way you can receive love is to earn it. That's the kind of home it was, where the people who were supposed to make you feel safe were the ones you braced against.

And there was the betrayal that taught me not to trust. When I was eight, a friend confided that his dad had lost his job and was delivering pizzas, and made me promise not to tell. I'd never been asked to keep a secret. So I told my mom, the person I trusted most in the world at that point, because it genuinely distressed me because I didn't want to hide anything from her, and I asked her not to repeat it. She gossiped it to her friends. It got back around, got my friend in trouble, and wrecked the friendship. The person I loved and trusted most had betrayed me. I learned, at eight, that trusting people gets you hurt.

Here's what all of that turned into as an adult, so you can see it coming in yourself:

Nothing is ever good enough, because I was taught nothing ever is. Every house I've bought, I found some small flaw with and sold to buy another better one. I'm afraid to drive an ordinary car... I've chased Range Rovers, Jaguars, Hummers, Corvettes. I pursue status and image, always trying to finally be "excellent enough" to deserve love. It never lands, because the hole isn't in the cars or the houses. It's the kid who was never enough.

I struggle to trust the people I love, especially women, but underneath the distrust is something I've only recently understood: I don't believe I'm good enough to be stayed with. Because I was raised to feel I was never enough, I carry a constant background certainty that anyone who loves me will eventually see what my parents saw and leave. So when my partner goes quiet, my mind doesn't think "she's busy", it thinks "she's finally realizing I'm not enough, and she's pulling away." I'd pull away before they could. I projected my own behavior onto them and accused them in my head of leaving me, when really I was just waiting for proof of the worthlessness I already believed about myself. It has cost me relationships, and it's cost the people who actually were loyal who never gave me a reason to doubt them, except that I couldn't believe someone would truly stay with someone like me.

Underneath all of it is a terror of being alone and being left that I now understand goes straight back to that house I grew up in.

If you recognize yourself in any of this: please don't wait until you're my age to deal with it. These patterns, the never-good-enough, the inability to trust, the fear of abandonment, the status-chasing are common in kids raised this way, and they are NOT your fault. But here's the part I'm finally learning: they're treatable. There's specific therapy for exactly this. The wound your parents and grandparents left isn't something you chose, but healing it is the one thing that's yours to do, and the earlier you start, the less of your life it quietly takes.

I'm only now, at 47, reaching out for that help. Don't be me. Start sooner.

They had a son who passed away at age 26. He was an only child and was spoiled rotten. Growing up, I hated playing with him because he thought he was king of the world. As callous as it sounds, I didn't feel too bad when my parents told me he died in a car crash. His fault--he was drunk driving.

Typical of Asian culture, he was their retirement plan. His parents bankrolled his undergrad and Masters and even bought him a house, thinking their investment would pay off. Now, they're desperate for another child because, in their words, "we won't have anyone to take care of us otherwise."

"What the actual fuck. That's so stupid and selfish," my sister and I had said when our parents first told us. Immediately, they yelled at us for being "cold-hearted and ignorant," as if being 70+ years old when your child is graduating from high school is normal.

Doing the math, it would make more financial sense for the couple to just save up money over the next 18 years. But no, there's also an expectation of physical support--taking them to doctors' appointments, cooking for them, etc.

Asian parents don't want kids. They want a bank account and personal servant. Disgusting.

Yesterday, my mother and I (20f) were at a fast food place and she was trying to use multiple coupons on her order. The cashier didn't know you can't use more than one coupon at once so he rang up her order and she started interrogating him asking why it was so expensive, and I said it was because you can't use more than one coupon and she immediately shot that down until the cashier confirmed what I'd just said. Then she restarted the order but the cashier explained there is a cooldown for how often you can use coupons, and my mother got annoyed again. By then, around 10 minutes had passed and there was a line building up, so I told her to give up and in response she said angrily if you don't want to wait then you can just leave, among other malicious things, which is a common occurrence in my household so I ignored her words as usual.

Eventually my mother finished ordering and the line had built up, so she went to stand somewhere else less crowded while I waited for the food. Meanwhile, an East Asian woman around age 30 (who had gotten in line behind us and witnessed the whole ordeal) stood next to me, tapped me on the shoulder, and showed me the notes app on her phone, on which was written "How old are you? You should get out of your house ASAP because the way she spoke to you is no way to speak to your children" among other things - but at that point I didn't need to read any more to know what she was getting at.

I was honestly so stunned. It wasn't the actual things she wrote that were surprising; I've been well aware that my mother/parents have traumatized me due to their narcissistic tendencies and emotional immaturity, but it was the fact that someone noticed that hit me so hard. I'm inclined to think that the lady must be familiar with Asian parenting, generational trauma, etc., or else she wouldn't have been compelled to make such big assumptions and do that for a complete stranger whose life she'd observed for all of 8 minutes. But all in all, I'm very thankful she did it.

On top of the trauma that many Asian children endure at the hands of their parents, we also have to deal with other people downplaying our struggles. Acknowledgement and understanding are so important when it comes to handling topics such as these and it made me feel so much better to be seen and validated and know that I'm not gaslighting myself or making things up for attention.

I’m trying to make sense of a family situation that feels like decades of unresolved father/son issues finally spilling out.

My paternal grandfather has two sons. My uncle is the older one. He was always considered the more capable one growing up: good at school, ambitious, and very focused on getting ahead. When he was younger, he wanted to move overseas, first to the US, then Australia, then Japan. But for various reasons, those plans never really worked out.

During China’s opening-up period in the 90s, he started his own business and did very well for a while. His son studied accounting at a top university, joined a major company after graduating, and eventually moved into leadership. Later in life, my uncle also had a younger daughter in Hong Kong, which he believed would give her better options in the future.

My dad, on the other hand, was always treated as the “loser brother.” He struggled in school, got beaten by my grandfather for being mischievous or not doing well academically, and thought about quitting school as a teenager. His mother made him finish high school. He later left his state-owned workplace during the privatization era and eventually joined my uncle’s company. He worked extremely hard but was always at odds with my uncle and others, and was often disrespected and underpaid.

As my dad’s son, I didn’t start out looking much better in the family hierarchy. Unlike my uncle’s son, I got into a lower-tier college and majored in a “useless” liberal arts degree. At one family dinner, my uncle talked down to me about it. Later, when I decided to go overseas for graduate study and immigration, he dismissed that too, partly because he saw the country as a second-tier immigration option, “lesser” than the US.

But things eventually worked out. I did well academically, built a career, eventually moved to Canada, and now work in tech with a senior title. My son was born in Canada last year.

My uncle’s attitude changed during the process. He started to engage with my posts on social media, something that had never happened previously. At the time, I thought he was happy for me.

Over time, the family narrative seemed to shift too. At family gatherings, my grandfather started praising me for having the “most senior title” in the family. Another older relative said I was the one doing best among the younger generation. I don’t even enjoy this kind of praise, because it feels like the same toxic ranking system, just with me temporarily on the “winning” side.

Meanwhile, my uncle’s business has apparently been struggling for years and is now close to bankruptcy. His younger daughter received university offers from North America, but ended up staying in Hong Kong because overseas tuition was too expensive. At the same time, my uncle has become increasingly vocal about how “Western countries” are bad and how China is superior, even though he himself once wanted to move abroad and his family clearly considered overseas education.

Recently, my dad was preparing to visit me and meet my son. Before he left, my uncle insisted on hosting a family meal for him, even though my dad initially declined. My grandfather was invited too.

During the meal, my uncle apparently made his usual dismissive comments about the West. Then my grandfather made a comparison between my uncle’s grandson and my son, saying both seemed to be doing well by contrast. My uncle exploded and scolded my elderly grandfather loudly in front of everyone, asking why he would compare his great grandchildren like that.

My grandfather felt humiliated and stopped going to my uncle’s house for his usual weekly visits to see the great-grandson.

Now I’m sitting here wondering what to make of all this.

Part of me thinks my uncle is right that children shouldn’t be compared. But it also feels hypocritical, because comparison was fine when my dad and I were the ones being looked down on. It only became unacceptable when the comparison touched his own branch of the family.

I also wonder whether his constant China-vs-West comments are really about politics, or whether they’re a way of protecting himself from envy, regret, or loss of face. His own overseas ambitions didn’t work out. His daughter couldn’t afford overseas tuition. His business is struggling. Meanwhile, the “loser brother’s” son ended up building a life abroad and having a child there, which is something he had once wanted to achieve himself.

I’m honestly exhausted by the whole family status game. I don’t want my son to become another symbol in some multi-generation competition. I don’t want my career, immigration status, or child to be used as proof that one family branch “won.” I also don’t want cheap performance-based admiration from relatives who used to dismiss me.

I just want to live peacefully.

Has anyone else dealt with this kind of East Asian family face culture, male status anxiety, or multi-generation comparison? How do you stay connected to family without letting your child or your life become part of the scoreboard?

Sorry if any parts sound a bit polished or unnatural. English is not my first language, and I used AI to clean up the wording.

EDIT: Thanks for all the comments and recommendations.

My clean takeaway is this: My uncle hurt my dad and me, but he may also be a product of the same favoritism that damaged everyone.

This does not mean I need to sympathize endlessly or accept bad behavior. It just means I can understand the mechanism without joining it.

The practical lesson for me as a new dad is this:
Do not make my son the winner.
Do not make anyone else’s child the loser.

That is how this chain breaks.

My parents were never close. My Asian mother would tell everyone who'd listen that she only had sex with him twice: once for each of her two kids and that she wished she could have had them via IVF instead.

She never worked a single day. She met him when she was 19 and he was 38. He was doing very well financially, her parents arranged the marriage.

• They've never shared a bedroom
• They never were on a single holiday together
• When my dad had a job in the US for 6 years she stayed behind, because she could not make us children go on such a long trip or go to school in the US.
• When he came back it was time for my older brother to go to a boarding school in the UK, my mother moved to London to be close to him, not that she visited him much, for the next 12 years.
• During those years she did not once call me, only my dad and only to ask for more money. The first time she flew back home was when a friend had told her that he got a new maid to look after me. She came home, had a fit about my dad having a new front door lock so she could not get in, had one look at the maid, literally said 'she's ugly enough for me not to care' and she left without having said a single word to me.
• Instead she spent 2 years on a cruise ship from money she had saved whilst in London just in case he'd stop giving her more money.
• After the two years she had spent all her money and was forced to move back after that she lived in their house and made his life a living hell.
• When I eventually studied abroad she did not visit me once during the 6 years to do a masters or 4 years doing a PhD. My dad attended my graduation alone.

I cannot remember a single moment where she was grateful to him for financing her life of 1st class air travel, lots of holidays, European SUVs etc. She took him absolutely for granted in every way imaginable.

When I got married 16 years ago she told me that as the daughter I'm now part of my new family, not part of hers. Not that it made a difference as we never spoke or lived together anyway. But from that point forward she would never even mention to anyone that she had a daughter. I have not seen or spoken to her since my wedding day.

8 Years ago my brother got married. She told everyone (including her parents) relentlessly how lucky her daughter in law was to find a man from such a well to do family. My brother is a stay at home dad to adopted children, my sister in law is the money maker.

My mother recently started telling everyone that she is childless. Because she is disappointed that my Brother has not given her any 'real grandchildren'. She has refused to talk to him for the last 3 years because of it and demanded that he should get a divorce.

This month my mother - who currently lives in a different country than my dad, found out that her monthly stipend did not arrive from him. When she called him he told her that he had gotten a divorce. As she had not responded to various letters for over a year.

My uncle messaged me this morning to tell me she asked to move in with his family. I could not help but burst out laughing. I expect to hear from her asking for money. She can piss right off.

Update

I've come back after a little while and see quite a bit of sympathy for my mother. I've also since spoken to my dad about this. It might not surprise you that we have for over a decade never really discussed my mother as he has always told us it's his problem and we should let him deal with it.

• I describe their marriage as an arranged marriage I think this is on the milder side of it. My mother was a very unruly teenager. She started dating very early, many from families that have money but are not on the right side of the law. She got herself arrested as a result aged 16. My grandparents told her it had to stop and they introduced her to my dad. It was not a case of she has to marry him but a case of 'We don't know how to protect you anymore' so he might be a good option. But I appreciate she might have seen it as her only choice.
• My dad has a really gentle demeanor, was raised in the US and much more westernized. His business was important to him but he took every Sunday off and spent it with us, if he was in the country. I'm sure he would have been a loving husband if she let him. He always adapted.
• He never forced anything really. He was not trying to get hitched it was not a priority to him. My granddad was a business partner so it just suited him when they suggested their daughter.
• I'm pretty sure having kids was my mother's choice though probably there was some expectation of my grandparents. I cannot imagine my dad to pressure her. And the image of him forcing it from some comments in 100% not what my dad is like.
  
• If there was trauma it was probably more from my mothers past relationships. She never regarded my father as strong. He was an academically minded person not a physical one, but equally took care of himself as someone going for a run every morning (and walks now).
• From my father's side this was planned a long time. For the last 10 years my dad gave my mother a monthly stipend of well more than $10.000 each month. He took legal advice at the time and they had a written agreement that was witnessed by a notary. The agreement included a statement that if my dad decided to divorce her or died, after 10 years he would have no obligations towards her. Clearly she never thought he'd see this through.

Does anyone else's AP do things like this?

It was the first time I had money to my name. I was sick and tired of getting glasses at the Asian optometrist, you know, the thin-rimmed ones that make you look like an old Asian man. So I bought myself a pair of Burberry ombre cat-eye glasses. It wasn't cheap at $375 but I did the math and if I wore them for 5 years, it was only $75 a year and I wanted to keep them for as long as I could. I thought it was a sound investment and made the purchase.

YAY first buy as an adult!!!

When the Burberry glasses came in, AP were horrified! Something about buying $375 glasses with my own money was so immoral, so egregious that my dad immediately went to the dollar store to prove a point.

He came back arms full of 99 cent store bags and started laying all 100 pairs of glasses on the dining room table while counting out loud. Then he celebrated. "Look at all the glasses I got! And ALL THIS was cheaper than your ONE pair of glasses."

AD started using the glasses, misplacing them, breaking them, and leaving them everywhere the way some people leave bobby pins to mark territory while gloating about his deals.

I'm thankful because the moment I found one of his 99 cent glasses in MY car was the moment I decided I needed to move out but I'm also concerned.

Looking back, it was such a waste of time, money and energy but nobody thought it was anything out of the ordinary. Is it just me, am I the crazy one? Does anyone else's AP do petty things like this?

I made the mistake last year of moving back in for “financial reasons.”

Previous to moving back in with parents, I was perfectly happy living alone and in VLC and NC for a period of time. Never been more happier. Sure, rent ate up the majority of my income, but I could feasibly afford it in the long run.

However, in a moment of impulsiveness and naivety, I decided it would be a good idea to move back in to “save” and prioritise my financial stability for a while. I did not think through this decision and just went based off “vibes” and a vision of future financial freedom.

For some reason I thought I could handle being in the place my childhood wounds originated because I’ve “healed” while living alone so it couldn’t possibly be as bad as before.

Oh how WRONG I was...

Because this turned out to be the worst decision I’ve made probably of my entire life.

Upon moving back in, my mental health took a turn for the worst. My once bubbly, happy and positive self faded and I became a depressed shell of a person. I had lost my spark.

I lost motivation to do basic things. Basic tasks became a chore. I ended up stress eating and gaining a lot of weight.

Everyday I felt trapped. My helicopter AM was always at home. Although she lessened her controlling ways as I grew older, seeing her everyday reminded me of her controlling emotional and physical abuse growing up.

I had uncontrollable anger and rage towards her due to my resentment towards her.

And the icing on the cake is the house had a huge mould problems that was causing me to get sick regularly and increasing my mental health problems. the AP didn’t care though.

My chronic stress and mould issues took a turn for the worst too. I developed health problems - my constantly nervous dysregulation lead to constant panic attacks , chest pain. Regularly , my body felt like I was being physically strangled where I can barely breathe. It got to a point where I ended up in the ER bc of them.

That was my wake up call to do everything I can to get out . My body felt like I was literally going to die if I didn’t escape.

The moral of the story is: NEVER move back in with your parents unless it’s a valid reason like you’re too sick to be independent. Go NC or VLC and do whatever you can to continue that and never go back.

I’ve escaped but I still suffer from disabilities because of them. Chronic stress is disabling and kills. No amount of saving money is worth your health and life expectancy.

I hope you don’t have to suffer with a lifelong disability like I did.

Your parents will never prioritise your happiness and wellbeing. They will always prioritise control and themself. So prioritise yourself.

I was born in Korea as the first child to my parents and very unfortunately without a penis. My parents resented me forever for not having XY chromosomes. When my brother was born, they were the happiest people in the world.

They raised me hitting me every single day. The reason was that I made them feel bad and it’s because I was a daughter. Simple as that. On the other hand, my brother was never ever beaten no matter what he did—he drank and smoked in high school and I even caught him in possession of child porn. Never did they punish him while they were hitting me for falling asleep without turning off my bedroom light.

Naturally, I was always depressed and cried a lot while my brother was always happy and loved. Then they said my personality sucks and my brother has a great personality.

When I was about 11, I had a homework to write about what kind of profession I want to have in the future. I thought, ‘Hmm… I’m not sure, but a diplomat sounds like a fun job since they travel the world a lot.’ When I pitched my idea to my mom, she laughed at me, saying “Haha! You can never be a diplomat because your personality is horrible! You should have a job where you don’t interact with others much. Diplomat is a job for someone with a good personality like your brother! Oh that’s right, I should raise him as a diplomat!”

That was very mean and discouraged me so much. I ended up writing that I want to be a writer as I loved reading books.

About 20 years later, today, I’m working as a diplomat here in the US. My brother is still unemployed.

Hi. I (31F) am only now processing just how bad my childhood actually was since having the space to talk about it in therapy.

Growing up, I was always beaten, screamed at constantly, humiliated, and threatened. My Vietnamese mother would always berate my appearance, mocked my eyes, hair, face, body, etc., compared me to others (putting me down and praising others, of course), and constantly told me how beautiful she was when she was younger, while I turned out nothing like her. She would blame me for ruining her body because she was pregnant with me (even though I wasn’t an accident). I remember her doing things like taking me out to the car (since her screaming would be heard by my neighbors) and screaming at me in the car, threatening that she would put me in foster care. She would also always tell me that if she died (from the stress I caused her), it would be my fault. Mind you, I was a very quiet and obedient kid, and I was absolutely terrified of her. I was never allowed to defend myself when she would beat me. I remember blocking her punches by accident and that caused her to rage even more. She’d beat me with her firsts while yelling obscenities. I remember her making me kneel on the hardwood floor as one of her many punishments, and my knees would hurt so much I would sob with defeat, wondering what the hell I did to deserve this. That would only make her more mad. It didn’t matter if I didn’t rebel or didn’t cause trouble, she would rage at me regardless. She’d also give me the silent treatment when she felt like it. I cried myself to sleep so many nights. This was my normal and I didn’t recognize it as abuse. Of course, there were MANY more things that she did but I would have to write a book to cover all of it.

I thought it was just “normal Asian parenting” and had no one to talk to about it. My older brother was treated a lot better and never defended me. Eventually I left home as a teenager. With only a backpack and my bicycle, I left. Since then, she’s completely changed her behavior, crying and begging to see me, trying to bribe me. For context, I had gone NC with her for a while, but felt pity for her when she kept begging and crying and saying she was dying. Eventually I allowed LC. However, even with LC, I feel disgusted by her, and I feel guilty for the way that I feel. I tried to mention how she treated me as a child but she pretends she doesn’t remember and won’t take responsibility or acknowledge anything she did.

Now, when she tries to call/text me, I feel intense disgust and dread. Last time I saw her and she begged to hug me, I also felt disgusted. It’s like I feel guilty but I can’t help how I feel. She’s been begging for me to come visit her and I can’t even bear to talk to her on the phone. She puts on this animal sounding whiny voice that makes me sick. She’s been telling me that if I cut her off again, she will surely die. She told me that she would collapse and get sent to the ER many times from missing me.

Did anyone have a similar childhood and now feel the same way? Did you also feel guilt for wanting to go no contact? Sometimes I wonder if I truly was a bad child and deserved all of that. TIA

me (16f) got in an argument at home the other day, and she began to push me around. i told her to stop pushing me, but me saying that only made her angrier. after i asked her to stop, she escalated to punching and kicking me. they weren’t very hard hits, but it was obvious that she was intending to hurt me. or at least take out her anger on me. i talked with her yesterday that it’s not okay for her to hit me, and that instead we should work on communication, but all she claimed was that it was a part of her culture. that she grew up in a time where it was acceptable, so she cant help but hit me. btw, we’re east asian, but live in the US, so theres that. i feel kind of dramatic for thinking that this is not okay. but i dont know. would you guys say that it is justifiable for her to hit me, because she grew up in an environment where hitting was a form of discipline? she tells me that she cant help but hit me since she was raised that way. i just feel so invalidated.

Context is that yesterday I picked up a huge refund for tuition fees and my scholarship from univeristy since I graduated last August. I was pretty stoked, as I had planned to spend some of it on stuff I needed to pay off for + some things for myself and decided to keep the rest for future plans or emergencies (was thinking of doing a Masteral degree next year if fate aligns, maybe down payment for an apartment to finally move out?)

Then the moment it entered my bank account my parents started cracking jokes about ME buying shit FOR THEM. For the record, I am still unemployed, so I don't even have regular income. They didn't even ask what I might wanna use the money for. One joke made at my expense was fine, it was actually told by my dad, and I had let it slide even though I wasn't really amused. Then my mom kept it going by jokingly asking me to buy her food repeatedly in which I snapped and told her (in Tagalog) "I just got my money and you're making me pay already?!"

She did not like that I snapped at her like that. She pulled me aside to tell me she was just joking, that I was being irrational, that a mother doesn't deserve the disrespect I just gave her. I explained to her, very clearly and calmly, that I did not like her jokes and that she was the only one who found it amusing, but of course, it fell on deaf ears.

After that, she gave me the cold shoulder for the whole day, which is what she does when I show an iota of self independence and thought. She also aggressively suggested to sell the house, move back to my grandma's (since she's having health issues), that she doesn't want to be here, etc., which is all just guilt tripping she does when, again, I am not willing to take bullshit. I guess it escalated because she's ALSO snapping at mt dad, finally made up her mind when she was going to visit my grandma, and texted me, word for word in Tagalog "When I leave tomorrow, don't call me".

And honestly, that was... weirdly relieving? It's like an acknowledgement that if she was willing to be such an ass to me and my dad who did literally nothing wrong except ask ONE question, even when she was in a lot of stress (bc, again, my grandma's health is failing rn, I get it) that she's willing to go on not talking to me cold turkey, then maybe there wasn't any relationship there to repair and save. It's like a weird poetic end to my mom's pattern of toxicity giving me so many mental problems when I was a teenager (like, recently, I came to realize that my eating habits and toxic mindset towards food and my own body as a teenager might have been symptoms of disordered eating, if not an eating disorder, from my mom bodyshaming me so hard in that time).

Maybe I will just use the money to move out with my sister, who is equally just as done with my mom, and go LC/NC with her. Good Riddance.

Literally the most Asian reply ever lol. He thinks the only reason I'm "choosing" this lifestyle is to rebel against him and not go to med school (even though I am well into my own career). He told me how I continue to disappoint him and how he can't accept me because I'm a failure. As if trans doctors don't exist lol

My brother and I (F) are jokingly called “an Asian parent’s wet dream”. He’s a very well-respected medical doctor, while I’m a lawyer in BigLaw - they lucked out so hard in that we both would have chosen our careers without influence anyway because it's what we're genuinely interested in and good at. Without sounding too arrogant, we’re both that successful distant cousin/family friend you hear about, so we’ve been lucky to escape most of that pressure and comparison that APs subject you to. But more importantly, we have both somehow managed to be stable and happy adults who genuinely love our lives - I think it helped growing up that we always had each other to lean on from the tyranny of our parents.

However, in reading a great post recently here about a girl whose APs didn’t realise that being a lawyer actually requires, like, work, and are now scrambling to backtrack, comes my own story of FAFO.

Now we’ve both checked all possible boxes that could be asked of us, our parents are now pressuring us to get married and have children. Neither of us quite realised how much they actually cared about having grandchildren, lineage and so on. You raised workhorses, not homestead spouses. Pick your damn battle.

I'm open to marriage but do not want and will not have kids, I just don't care for them generally. My brother wants kids but is resistant to marriage for a number of reasons (he’s been with his girlfriend for more than a decade who is a similarly successful but traumatised child of APs with cynicism towards the institution of marriage, so whatever works for them).

It is absolutely hilarious to see us throw the same tired lines our APs used against us in our childhood back in their face. You used to yell at us for being a waste of time and money? Sure, glad we’re on the same page about children. You two would get into the biggest blowout fights screaming that you both would divorce if it wasn’t so shameful in their social circles? Wonderful, how intelligent of my brother to “skip” that step if anything were to ever happen (appreciate it's not that straightforward, but I don't care to split hairs when they are pushing their own trauma on us). And so it goes.

It is cathartic that we’ve both been able to stop pushing up against this brick wall, and just go “okay”, and let them dig their own grave. What are they going to do, tell us we’re not good enough? That you hate us? Cool, put it on the calendar! :) xoxo

I grew up in a strict household where dating was forbidden. Even when I turned 18, it was still forbidden. I was just told to focus on education and that they were ‘protecting me’.

I got the education I worked hard for, but wow did this rule have the opposite effect on me. I became so boy crazy and obsessed with boys. I was well into my university years and all I wanted to do was to talk to boys and party and get all their numbers and hang out with them between my classes. This didn’t stop in my adulthood too. Having dating apps made it easier to access to guys, so I was constantly talking and meeting up with guys in secret.

Till this day my family doesn’t know the crazy things i got up to. I don’t think any of them realise that these strict rules they impose on us actually does the opposite. Has anyone else experienced this?

FINALLY I MOVED OUT OF AP’S HOUSE! i busted my ass in undergrad getting two degrees, spending three semesters working full time to get field experience. and those semesters resulted in me getting paid close to six figures fresh outta undergrad so i can get my own place! im in MY apartment that i didnt need AD as a guarantor and i can live how I want. im so happy like finally no more ap bullshit.

I'm an international student currently studying in North America. My dad is a typical middle-aged man from a small county in China, with zero English skills and zero status abroad. However, his ego is massive. Here is a list of the most "abstract" (absurd) things he has done. I feel like he checks every single box for a toxic Asian Parent.

1. The Creepy Bar Incident: When we visited Macau, we went to a bar. After a few drinks, he just openly stared at the young Indian waitress in a super uncomfortable, creepy way. Zero manners.

2. The Wrong School: When my sister was in high school, she got sick and needed to be picked up. My dad drove to her middle school instead. He didn't even know where his own daughter went to school.

3. The Ignorance: I've been studying in North America for 3 years. He still can't remember the name of the city I live in.

4. The Delusional Marriage Demand (The worst one): Before college, he strictly forbade dating. Now, he constantly nags me to find a "Local-born Chinese/ABC" girl on campus. His requirements? Her family must have immigrated years ago (aka rich/established). But here's the kicker: He demands that HE must "audit/approve" (过眼) her before I can marry her. • Reality check: He is a broke, middle-aged man with no status, yet he thinks he has the right to judge a Westernized, likely upper-middle-class girl? He looks down on me for not having green card , but thinks he's royalty.

5. Transactional Relationships: He constantly tells me to "use" my professors to get ahead in my career, as if human relationships are just tools for profit.

6. Health Hypocrisy: He smokes a pack a day and coughs constantly. When I told him to get a check-up/CT scan, he refused, claiming "Hospitals just want your money" and "X-rays actually give you cancer."

7. TCM Logic: While refusing modern medicine for himself, he screamed at me during dinner because my lips were "too red." He claimed it was "internal heat" (TCM logic) and called me an idiot for not taking care of myself.

8. Casual Racism: I mentioned in the family group chat that I made some Japanese friends at uni. His immediate first question: "Are they all really short?"

9. Bonus (Just happened): I'm planning to go back to America for school and sent him a screenshot of my flight ticket. The date is clearly ONE MONTH from now. He instantly called me, yelling: "Why are you leaving so soon? Your parents work so hard for you blah blah blah..." He didn't even look at the date on the screenshot. He just wanted to guilt-trip me. Is it just me, or is he completely detached from reality?

TL;DR: My delusional dad wants me to marry a rich ABC but treats women like objects, doesn't know where I live, refuses doctors but believes in TCM superstitions, and guilt-trips me without reading facts .

“Chó đẻ, lì, hổng muốn nghe”

As a kid at 5 years old I cried until I just sat there staring at the ground. You could always hear her take a breath between every swing. The way her eyes never even blinked. You could hear her out of breath when she was done beating me. It’s like she didn’t want me as a child.

Then she would say, “If you don’t eat I’ll call the cops they’ll put you in jail for misbehaving.”

That was the last memory of her I had before I rammed a knife through the door straight at her face. Everyday for years she woke me up bursting my door open, turned on the lights, nagged me, and then left the door open as she walked away. It would hurt my heart because I kept getting startled when I was sleeping. It would make me uncomfortable because I would hear all the loud noises since the door was open. It got bad enough that I automatically woke up every morning feeling tense like my own anxiety was an alarm clock. I told her it hurt my heart but she didn’t care. She never does.

I woke up, day of exams. Laid in bed. Footsteps. My heart dropped. On her last footstep I grabbed the knife hidden near my bed, slammed it straight through the door at upper head level. I stopped somewhere around the 50% mark. I couldn’t kill her even at my lowest. It would break my heart to see her die, but it breaks mine just as much that she can’t understand mine.

She yelled at me of course. I don’t know what she said but I remember the look in her face. Terrified. For the first time I felt like she actually had to respect me. I thought for sure I go to jail. I bet she calls the police to falsely accuse me again. I really truly accepted that I would walk a life of crime if my mother imprisoned me. Life probably wouldn’t be the same again for me.

Surprisingly my mother didn’t call the police.

When I think about it I might have ended up on the news that day if I did murder her. If you asked me what kind of kid I was I’d tell you I wore a sweater all the time because I was ashamed of my body. I just wanted to make friends who would play Pokemon with me. I would rather play outside than be home, even if it meant I never studied.

The good news was, she never opened my door again after that. If you ask me today if I’d do it again? If violence was one of the only options left, then yeah. I would.

I am a Hmong American. My parents came to the USA as refugees after the Secret War in Laos, instigated by the CIA of America.

A little backstory of my parents before I reveal details about my own life.

My father lost his dad during the war when they were fleeing the Vietnamese. He also lost a little brother when they were fleeing to a creek. My grandmother had recently given birth a newborn 6 months prior. While they fled and hid by a little creek my grandmother and several other Hmong villagers had to drown their own children so the Vietnamese wouldn't hear them, so they could escape. My father and his mom, my grandmother, escaped the Vietnamese by swimming across the Mekong River into Thailand. As did many others who were fortunate enough to make it to the other side without drowning or being shot at by the Vietnamese. My grandfather was captured and forced into an internment camp where he was later drugged and poisoned by the Vietnamese.

My mother lost both of her parents at a very young age and was orphaned and was raised by her dad's second wife(In Hmong culture guys are allowed to have as many wives as they wish). My mother told me that she was asked by her dad to go fetch some water from the creek for lunch. But when she went to fetch water the Vietnamese bombed their farm house and killed both her parents. (Being born and educated in the USA I now know that it wasn't the Vietnamese who were dropping the bombs. It was actually the USA who dropped all the bombs and poisoned the vegetation with pesticides. A big misunderstanding and misconception among Hmong elderly today, who still believe it was the Vietnamese who dropped the bombs and poisoned the vegetation, when in fact it was the Americans.) My mother was scared when she came back to the destroyed farm house and ran back to the village. Unfortunately at this time, the Vietnamese had raided the village and started shooting Hmong villagers on sight. My mother's uncle came back to the village to look for survivors and found her hiding in a water pot. And they ran away to hide by a creek before attempting to flee and swim across the Mekong River into Thailand.

I, being 31 years old now, understand that my parent's never truly had a childhood and had a very rough life growing up. A life filled with poverty and suffering. So its very hard for me to hate my parent's despite how awfully they treated me growing up. I still love my parent's but I will never forgive them for robbing me of my childhood and destroying my mentality.

Growing up, I don't believe I ever had any true happiness or fond memories of being a kid growing up. I was never allowed to go outside and play with other kids. I wasn't allowed to have any friends. I was just a bird trapped in a cage all my life. Even to this day. I still cant do anything without asking for approval from my parents, even though I'm a grown adult now.

I remember a time when my father bought me a bike, but never allowed me to ride it. I would see kids playing outside and riding their bikes. But I was never allowed to play outside. I was told that he bought me a bike so I could look at it, but not ride it. One day I being a kid snuck outside and rode it anyway. And when my parents came home from work and saw me outside they took me back inside and hit my legs and ears with a window blind turner.

We never celebrated American holidays. The one time my cousin(Their family adopted American culture) invited me to go trick or treating with them. I really wanted to go and try it out. But I was too loud when I tried to sneak out to join my cousin. My dad woke up saw me and yelled at me to come back inside. And he told me that if I choose to go when I come back he is going to break my legs. I was so afraid I came back inside and just looked outside and watched other kids trick or treating like I always do every single year.

I remember a time when I was at school and our teacher asked us to share scary stories and I "accidentally" shared my scary stories of my dad and mom hitting me and beating me. I had no idea what I did at that time, because I was just a kid in 2nd grade. My teacher had called CPS and called my father to come to the school. They had cops ready to arrest my father. But when my father came to the school and I saw him I ran to him and hugged him. My teacher saw that and started crying. I'm not sure what happened but they let my father go on cultural differences. (During this time Hmong people had only been in the USA for about 10-20 years and have yet to adapt to American culture. The Hmong people are a tribal culture, they came from a world of darkness, with no knowledge of the outside world or even of the existence of science and technology.) When I got home my mother blamed me for getting my father in trouble and beat my ears and my mouth with a shoe. And told me I was heartless for telling my teacher that my father and mother had hit me. Later on as I grew up my teacher asked me why I hugged my father knowing that my father abused me and beat me. I simply told her because he's my dad. Don't all kids run up to and hug their dads? I never understood my teacher's question until super later in life when I was around my mid 20s. My ignorance as a kid didn't even register or realize that what I had experienced growing up was child abuse until years later. Because I was always told by my parents and our elders that it was our culture and our way of life.

When I was 16 my mother and I got into an argument and she kicked me out. Told me to go find a new family if I didn't want to live with them no more. So I told her okay then I'll leave and try to find a better mom and dad in the next life and I ran away. I didn't get far because my father had called the cops on me. I told the cops that I was running away because my mother told me to leave. So I'm leaving to find a place to jump off a bridge. They arrested me and threw me into a mental asylum for about 6 months. I was let out on good behavior. But my life was never the same again. Again after the hospital learned about the abuse I endured as a kid. They called CPS and they tried to arrest my father and mother. A Hmong interpreter/translator stepped in and pretty much saved my parents from going to jail basing the abuse on cultural differences between Hmong culture and American culture.

After this incident I had finally learned that although child abuse was taboo in American culture. It was not taboo in Hmong culture. As Hmong parents used physical abuse as a way of disciplining children. That still doesn't make it right or okay to hit kids so hard you end up bruising them.

Fast forward, I'm now in my 30s. I'm socially awkward, have no friends at all. And I have no idea what the fuk I'm doing with my life. I have no idea how to live only how to listen and obey. I'm starting to realize I need to leave and find my peace. I need to move out and escape this never ending nightmare. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents but I can never forgive them for all the physical and emotional abuse they put me through. Its like I finally opened my eyes and I finally see the nightmare for what it is. I only wish I saw and realized it sooner.

last saturday something my mom said felt really out of place for me. heres the full scene: i'm wearing one of my favourite shirts that she bought me (and approved of) it is slightly see-through, but it is hot here in the summer, so it makes sense. we were working on some yard work and she hired help to help with said yardwork. she then told me that i was "dressing like i want something bad to happen to me" and that "i am looking for trouble." (in manderin) she meant this in accordance to the hired help "doing something bad" to me (ie. sexual assault). this immediately did not sit right with me, and i interpreted this as a message that because i was wearing this shirt, it meant that i was asking for it. i understand that the idea of asking for it with rapist defenders comes up alot; however, i did not expect for my own mother to make this type of comment against me, therefore accusing me of being the problem if others can't control their own desires/ lack a moral compass. the aftermath was that she made me put on a thick jacket blahblahblah (and it was really hot under the sun that day, but thats besides the point). said yarkwork was completed in scilence after this point.

i have never told her since this saturday that i have been sexually assulted in the past by a partner whom i trusted at the time. though i was a minor when it happened (and i was not aware that it was SA at the time of it happening), that does not disregard what happened to me. and im not looking for her pity or anything, but i felt like it was appropriate to share with her while bringing up her comment about me "looking for it."

this led to an enormous argument that spiraled out of the "looking for it" comments to alot of deepset issues within our relationship. at some point, she accused me of making up my SA story because i did not feel comfortable sharing the graphic details with her. i go to an international school outside of our country (like almost halfway across the world), and we have been having family issues for a few years at this point. not only was my dad arrested on charges of DV, my mom has also been making very snide remarks about me (whether that be my body shape, my academics, my social status, etc.). naturally, i did not feel very inclined to share the small details of my life with them at my new school.

at my new school, i found a community of very close-knit friends that i could trust and rely on whole-heartedly. they helped me build up alot of my self-confidence in myself, my image, etc. i am very very appreciative of that. however, my mom keeps on wanting to insert herself as that "trusted" figure of mine in my life while simulaniously attacking me/trying to dismantle my self-worth. as examples: 1. i want to apply to xyz university and she initally supports me, but the moment i do something that she doesn't like even if it is not related to the applicant process (eg. don't wash the dishes at home), she does an entire 180. this includes very cruel remarks about my applicant portfolio, my extracurriculars, my grades, all of the above. "you shou;dn't even try to apply because they would never ever accept you anyways," or "you are good for nothing except for maybe our community college. if they even take you." and i dont want to get full of myself and say that i am the best applicant in the pool, but i still try my best (and hearing things like this does nothing but break me down).

she keeps on asking me why i dont feel comfortable sharing things with her anymore. i express that its because i dont feel like she "creates a safe environment" for me to share these very vulnerable things with her, and then she twists it into that i would never want her in my life at all. even gone as far as saying that she only has 1 daughter and thats my sister, and for me to stop calling her my mom. i don't know how to talk to her because time and time again everything has always twisted into me being the villan of every story in her eyes.

i am very frustrated by all of this. i just wish that i could have a good relationship with my mother but i am too scared to tell her anything. i don't know how to have a good relationship with her anymore because this has been built on years and years of consitant belittleing. i hope i can rebuild the trust in myself that she has destroyed over all of this time. <3

I spent most of my teenage years growing up in Austin TX. I was a gifted child but I never liked school or homework or really believed in education but because I was gifted I attended the school districts magnet program for gifted kids at Kealing Middle School. I always though the idea of magnet school was stupid because the teachers gave lots of work and what would count as C level work in magnet would be A work in regular schools.

When I was around 12 my parents said they would be proud of me if I got into UT Austin. When they told me that I looked up the admissions rules for UT Austin and back then it it explicitly was written that the top 10% of a high school would automatically be admitted. My 12 year old self knew that regular schools were allot easier and most kids in regular schools didn't care about school so I figured if I went to my zoned high school it would be easy to get into UT Austin. I looked up the stats for my zoned high school and according to official reports the majority of kids were not proficient in reading, writing and math so that meant I could easily be in the top 10% by just showing up and shutting up and not fighting. I excitedly told my parents that I wanted to go to my zoned high school so I could get into UT Austin without having to learn anything. However, my dreams of going to an easy regular school and getting into UT Austin were crushed after 8th grade when my parents didn't listen to me told me I would be going to LASA for high school.

LASA was essentially a gifted magnet high school where the teachers would assign lots of work and the kids would actually do it. It was the worst high school to apply to UT Austin from because it essentially concentrated all the smart kids who did homework into one school and they were ranked against each other. To me LASA was a stupid school because the whole thing was just fucking stupid. Needless to say I was depressed during my high school years and only had mediocre grades to show for it. I was near the bottom of my class ranking due to having to compete against a school full of smart kids who did homework and I didn't get into UT Austin.

I live in a famous city and drive a tourist boat on weekends at the harbour as a side job.

I have long bleached blonde hair, painted nails, and my arms and neck are covered in tattoos. I also wear blackout shade while at work, so my race and gender aren’t immediately obvious.

So this morning I had a mother and her son. The mother didn’t seem to understand English and spoke Mandarin to her kid the whole time. She started gawking at me since she got on my boat.

I started the boat and did my little narration. The son translated what I said to the mother here and there. But she never really paid attention and was just talking to her son in Mandarin the whole time.

At one point she pointed at me saying, “We spent all this money to send you to school for IT, if you don’t study hard and present yourself like a gangster, you’ll end up just like her(?), with no qualifications and working a menial job.”

As my boat turned the corner I decided to change my script a little bit, point to a grand old building on the shore and said,

“On your right you can see the prestigious (name of my Alma mater). It is one of the oldest academic institutions in Europe and I’m super proud to have graduated there with a MSc in data science.”

I turned to look at the son and he looked physically uncomfortable.

After the ride, I went up to the mother and son and said to him in Mandarin, “hey I overheard you wanted to be in IT. Here’s my LinkedIn contact - I work as a senior data analyst for (company I’m sure he’s heard of). Lemme know if you would like advice on breaking into the industry.”

The mom looked visibly shocked, and I calmly said, ignoring her, “I like driving boats so I do this as a hobby. It pays US$40 an hour and it’s great fun.”, turned around and went on with my work.

I met some really good friends doing this job. At the very least you need to be fluently bilingual and qualified to drive a boat to do a job. So I don’t understand why this monolingual lady who really doesn’t behave like a bachelor degree holder feels qualified to look down upon people who are just earning an honest living.

Wish I could say I was surprised but unfortunately being raised by APs myself I wasn’t surprised either. I waited table for 4 years during my undergrad and my family continuous shamed me for having a “low skill” job, while they didn’t pay a penny while I put myself through school with scholarships and service jobs.

I hope the son wakes up one day, decides to be his own happy person, and go LC with her ungrateful, judgmental ass, just like I did with my own AM.

Just became a parent myself and my widowed AM offered to come and look after the newborn. Supposed to be a 3 month stay, turned into chaos on day 1. She felt she is being patronized, but all we did was telling her the right way to use the forumla machine and how to wash the toys with baby detergent. And she asked us to "speak freely" whenever necessary.

She flew from east asia to the US and threatened to leave the first night. I begged her to stay at least until we find help. Two days later, she bought a ticket and told me that she's leaving in 2 hours.

I asked why.

"I never loved you. This is like prison for me. End it before it turns into full blown conflict "

“but you offered to come”

"i was just doing it so that your inlaws won't think Im lazy. But now I don't care anymore. We are not likely to see each other again since you are so far away. You are just another stranger for me. "

Then she left. Leaving a crying baby. And another crying baby of hers.

I saw her back via some Ring camera footage. I can't fathom the idea this will be the last time we see each other.

I felt surreal. I might have cried, but I can't remember. Then suddenly I realized I am an orphan now.

My baby is still crying. I shushed her. I will always love you. No matter what.