My Heritage – Family Ties
Living on the Edge of my Teenage Life
Part III
Building their hopes on positive social projections and
possible tangible and beneficial rewards in the future, my parents ensured we
attended school as much as possible. Although neither engaged in helping us
with our homework, they did encourage us to do it on a regular basis and cut
our time in front of the television set for a significant amount if stretch
between the hours of 5 pm and 7 pm.
Our television free time spanned from after school to 5 pm
and from 7 pm to 8 pm. Then it was bed time and an early rise and shine in the
next morning. Excitedly, Saturday mornings were our free time and we could
watch as much as we wanted unless we went outside to play.
The neighborhood we lived in was mixed black and white and
often referred to as the poor side of town or slums to put it bluntly. On some
days, the mood was the darkest as it went without saying that there were always
spill overs on the streets of the abomination of a hideous and hidden hate in
our hearts and minds. Some would say it was a silly thing to say but to ignore
the street justice and discriminatory practices on the outside of the house
would be disingenuous to myself or others as it was a reality we all dealt with
in a not so kind manner.
School was our sanctuary. The fact that virtually all the
good times in my childhood came from those times spent in school, it didn’t
matter much what happened outside of school or in the middle of the night for
that matter. In the eyes of my mother and father, school was the most important
thing. We had to work hard not to
disappoint them in their expectations.
My mother had a college education and spoke four languages
fluently. Her well versed skill to speak Dutch, German, French and English was
amazing. One has to remember that her native tongue was Malaysian dominantly
spoken in the house so we kids could not know what they were talking about.
My father was employed as a warehouse worker. He worked
hard and brought home a decent paycheck for those days but nevertheless, we
were poor. My mother, forced to go to work due to finances and other desires
she wanted, found an opportunity to put her cooking skills to work as a
specialty chef for the Sheraton Hotel downtown Columbus where she was hired to
make exclusive Indonesian cuisine and cultural delicatessens. This arrangement
left us alone much of the time from sunrise to sunset and offered us an
opportunity to socialize a little bit more than before. In fact, it gave us too
much freedom.
Since we lived in a poor neighborhood, the expectations,
projections of wealth or success and our destined futures was limited by the
mere design of our society. We had no status as we never reached the middle
class on income or the fanciness of our house. It was, after all, a shell of
wooden panels covered with a dilapidated shoddily asphalt tiled covered roof on
it that kept us adequately safe and warm in the winter and not so cool in the
summertime.
However, since both were employed, the food on the table
was plentiful and the clothes were becoming a little bit new than before.
Still, no matter how hard my parents worked, we were socially still and yet, a
step lower.
One of the things I remember most was my father saying
that we were comfortable and had what we needed to be contented but this was
unsatisfactory to my mother. She obviously wanted more as she was used to the
finer things in her earlier part of her childhood with parents who were
wealthier than most that lived around her.
Since my father was a soldier before the war, during the
war and after the war, his occupational skills were limited immensely. Working
in a warehouse as a common laborer didn’t bother him as much as it did my
mother who looked down on this with her nose in the air.
In the eyes of
myself, I saw this as her seeing my father as a failure and not achieving any
personal or social success working there like a common slave in captivity to
the company that hired him. I know she talked behind my father’s back. I know
she was disappointed in him and took it out on him with frequent fights about
money and other things. After all was said, my mother was very materialistic in
nature and that wasn’t going to change overnight. It was a constant struggle
for my father to please her.
I remember when our baby sister was born, she was upset
about the loss of income because she couldn’t work or make money from her
efforts to cook, sew and do odd embroidery work for others. Whenever she was
discontent, she took it out on the three of us. It was her way of dealing with
her own stress and frustrations. There was rarely a gentle moment when she was
stressed or filled with unknown anxiety. She ranted and raved and even threw
things in the air to express her anger or feelings.
Once she was able to go back to work, she assigned my
older sister, Natasha, to watch her and take care of her whenever she wasn’t
home. This was not only unfair to Natasha but created a bond between my older
sister and my baby sister that would later come back to haunt my mother’s will
to discipline the baby girl who was a breath of fresh air for most of us except
my mother. It seemed the unexpected pregnancy and the mood around it created
animosity and more stress between her and my father who was overjoyed with his
new baby girl.
Ohio was unkind to us in many ways. First it was the
social status we were surrounded by and the poor employment opportunities for
immigrants looking for a job. Secondly, because of the language barriers at
first, we suffered in communicating and making friends socially but as we
gained the upper hand on the language, we also realized that if we were to be
poor in money and educational skills, we would be trapped in this disastrous
cultural pit we found ourselves in at times.
Even our parents realized this and pushed us hard to learn
as much as we could in school and then find a job as soon as possible to earn
our keep in the household. It was about to become a tradition and we never saw
it coming. Even looking back at our limited opportunities and wealth, we had
higher projections afterwards and saw these harsh and difficult times as a
ladder of social and economic breaks to become better at what we needed to be
in order to survive. I believe we got this from our parents but more so from
our father.
So even though our lives were dark, very dark, and maybe
even black, we struggled to meet life head on and became stronger at this test
of wills to survive. It became obvious to us that if we remained inside these
darkest times too long we too would become dark as blacks and live in the back
of society’s tenement rows so often the place where the poorest end up at best.
We lived, we laughed and struggled but we persevered to
see the end come sooner than expected. Times were changing and we did succeed a
little bit at a time to move on up in the better neighborhood of this town. I
must have been sixteen and there was this one girl with whom I don’t even
remember not liking from the moment I saw her. A redneck girl, dressed in blue
jeans and tight tops and long auburn hair that always had a white bow in the
crease somewhere to keep her bangs out of her eyes.
She was white. A white girl with hillbilly manners. Tough
and tomboyish at her best behavior, she was not only attractive, she was just
plain sexy. I was immediately attracted to her magnetism and showed it with a
constant flirtatious smile that tried to win her over.
She left me speechless at times and even without talking
to her, she made me nervous. Whether it was a pure sexual attraction or just
puppy love kind of thing, it drove me crazy not seeing her as often as I could.
I understood I had to work and help the family but my mother seemed obsessive
in her ways to make me work more hours than I wanted to since I still had
school work to deal with between sleep and going to work.
I recall many struggles with my mother who had a
premonition that this girl was a slut and not good for me to hang around or get
involved with. Call it a mother’s intuition, I looked at it as a means to cut
me off from my own happiness and how this girl, Kathy, invaded my space and
time away from going to work. Perhaps, my mother was unacceptable of this girl
because she knew I really liked her well enough to play hooky from school and
cut back my hours to work so I could spent more time with her.
My mother’s jealousy made me vomit. It was sickening how
she acted whenever I brought her to the house and spent some quiet time with
her. She would burst in unannounced or rudely talking to us as we were talking
and did everything she could to cause us to feel uncomfortable and leave the
house so we could find some solace someplace else.
It also seemed my mother was hung up on a social status
thing with her. She was white but considered white trash because she also came
from a poor snowy colored family. There was something rubbing her the wrong way
about Kathy and she was trying to be coy about it.
Even my brother and sisters noticed the brush off she got
whenever she came over. I didn’t understand too much of it all because I seemed
to be blinded by the lust and emotions overwhelming me. Perhaps it was my
carnal desires to have this girl and take her all for myself as the actions of
her parents and my mother drove us closer together.
Seems no matter how nice Kathy was to my mother, she was
looked down and never good enough to be seen with me. In my head, I was trying
to figure out what insanity drove my mother’s obsession with this girl. It must
have had something to do with her own childhood because for all the wrong
reasons, she hated that girl. This was certainly something I remember vividly,
everybody looked down on everyone. Since we were from a foreign country, it was
understandable but even those who were raised and born here in this very same
neighborhood were targets of hate and wrath that was unexplainable and not for
the lack of trying.
I was outraged by the manner my mother mistreated Kathy
and it drove me away from the house more often than I care to remember. Even on
those days when everyone sat home and spent the time talking as a family, I
found excuses to leave the house and find the time to work on my real
relationship with Kathy as that mattered the most to me at the time.
So it seemed that the time with Kathy was squandered as my
mother so eloquently put it, she was “wasting my time” and only wanted me
because I had a job and money to spent on her. For the lack of making me angry,
the silence between us drove us farther apart. Regardless of what the truth was
or how things appear to be bearing on the reality, the times squandered was
well worth the sexual awakening and the thrill of adolescence as this girl woke
up something inside of me that would take a very long time to dissipate or
diminish inside me. It sounded like love, it felt like love and for the thrill
of it all, it was a very sexual love.
Working on this relationship drained my energies to go to
work and often left me wondering why I had become so fanatical with spending so
much time with her. This addiction to her was driving me crazy. Between going
to school and working, I kept finding shortcuts in my schedule to make time for
her. Always sooner than later was my effort to be with her. Time and time
again, I found myself clamoring, lusting, and filled with sexual sensations
that drove me crazy. It sounded and began to look like a cabaret or a sound of
music, but in all reality, this was a real thing.
This
relationship didn’t just happen. She didn’t suddenly appear in my life as I saw
her often but in the end, she disappeared from my life quicker than the eye
could see. Approximately eighteen months of bliss turned into a nightmare when
she stepped out with my best friend and engaged in promiscuous behaviors that
ended up with her being pregnant and moving away to Florida to hide the shame
she had brought upon herself. I was petrified and stunned. On the other hand,
my mother was in the best moods ever as she couldn’t hide it any better than
singing around the house and telling everybody, “I told you so.”
Yes,
that is how it ended. A love affair that tore my heart apart. In my mind, I
kept saying to myself “That did not just happen.” Her sudden departure created
a sudden inferiority about myself. I thought it was something I had done to let
somebody else steal her affection. I tossed and turned at night trying to
recall all the words said and actions done to make it end like this. Suddenly,
almost overnight, the realization overcame my senses and I realize it had been
destined that I taste the flavor of love but not keep it ever lasting.
In
the meantime, my family was recovering from illness and bad health. There were
all kinds of things wrong with my mother’s head and heart. She was falling
apart. I noticed she had found several cousins who lived in the USA. She found
one she grew up with and invited her to stay with us for a very long time. She
had a son who was a little bit older than us and was cool to us as he had all
the right clothes and music we liked. He was about twenty years old and just
returned from doing a stint in the army. A fresh cousin, someone who could
relate to my brothers and sisters frustration, he was a breath of fresh air in
our household.
It
was through his stories to tell us about the older days. He repeated stories
told by his mother and gave us a glimpse of the past as he told stories of the
islands where we all lived at one time and of course his livelihood spells in
Holland were he found his interest in the underground teenage clubs most
exciting. He told us of the camps they lived in; how his mother and my mother
worked feverishly for the underground relaying encrypted messages from town to
town riding their bikes unapproached and unrestrained past the occupying
Japanese troops guarding the streets and fields around the cities.
From
him we learned more about my mother’s family members. It seemed from the
stories told, they were the Dutch mafia engaged in illicit trades and behaviors
that would have made them lawless and criminals in many ways but never arrested
or challenged by the police as they were successfully bribing these agents with
funds that gave them a pass to continue the trading and selling of black market
groups while gathering the riches. Ironically, in one of those towns, my
grandfather was the chief of police and I found it hard to believe he didn’t
know of these dealings as the knowledge appeared to be more common than it was
surreptitious in nature and hush hush around the children.
He
too talked about his voyage on a ship. He said he was less than ten years old
when he and his mother came out. It was described as chaos as they and their
father were separated and later found to be living in Singapore where he fell
in love with another woman and left them behind. I asked him if he had plans to
search for his father and he nodded his head and said that he had no such plans
but that he was going to stay close to his mother and help her any way he could
until she died.
A
novel concept indeed. I wish I had such strong feelings for my mother but I
didn’t. When we moved from Holland to the USA she changed. It seemed that when
she left her wealthy parents behind, she became bitter and envious of others
coveting what they possessed and what they wore. Perhaps her projections and
desired destinies were driven by the wrong factors or so it seemed as she never
seemed happy enough to smile like she used to.
A
tragedy was happening I feared. I saw a relationship crumble. My father worked
hard and nothing he did was unnoticed by us but totally ignored by my mother.
She talked to him like he was a servant. He talked to her like she was a
princess, a queen or even the royalty she pretended to be. It was a bizarre
relationship; something I never could quite understand.
She
showed us many mixing patterns of moods and behaviors. Her heart was broken and
her blood pressure had climbed so high she had to be put on medication. She
became stressed at work and took time off causing us to fall behind on the
bills and my father worked overtime to make ends meet but it never met her
level of pleasure. Seeing this made me very very angry. I saw what she was
doing to my father.
Staying
home, she developed a sense of entitlement. It seemed that everything in life
was harder to get and throwing fits with emotions uncontrolled and violent
behaviors becoming more common by the day, we tried to hide and stay awake but
the disaster only got worse as she turned angrier and meaner as time went by. I
was beginning to see the creation of a monster, a very evil-minded monster.
I
didn’t know if it was jealousy, a lack of social status, envy or just plain
nastiness. It was then when I nicknamed her “Hitler” for a reason. Her
treacherous mannerism were betraying all signs of goodness inside her. I was
beginning to doubt her mere existence as my mother was flawed and deceptively
wicked in nature. This mixing of moods and behavior patterns was throwing me
into a lapse of confusion. I began to wonder what evil spirit possessed my
mother’s body and mind that caused her to be so despicable to my father and
others.
Certainly,
her behavior of the past, present and the future was most unsettling. I had a
very hard time correlating the personalities involved and evolved over time
that made my mother so unapproachable and unwanted around us. Her mere presence
caused bad vibes or feelings and it was best to stay away from her to avoid her
wrath that she threw around like hot coals tossed from a blazing furnace made
in hell, spewing hate-like sentiments with likewise burning sensations.
It
was like dealing with the unexpected. My siblings grew weary of the trouble and
strife around us and the moods at night caused the silence to be even stronger.
There were no nice comments, just soft sighs and frequent whispers. Some
watched television, some talked on the telephone and some read books. We all
found an escape from the reality around us.
This
silence was deafening as it took its toll on all of us. My cousin had stayed
with us for a couple of years and the secrets he had divulged were enough to
make us shutter and wonder who our mother had become. The chores in the
household were limited but well regulated by my father as we all took turns
into doing what needed to be done to keep the house clean.
Certainly,
our house had become a different story – it was nothing at all like it was once
in the past. A hell-hole, a place of hatred and sorrow, I couldn’t wait to get
the hell out of there because of the uncomfortable spirits around me. Looking
forward to getting out of the house only made matters worse for me as time
stood still and my life was dominated with school, work and nothing that
included any sense of pleasure.
Fortunately
because our cousin had a set of wheels we had a means to escape the drama. His
contribution to our eventually sanity was provided by the freedom given by
having the means to go where we wanted to go and do the things we wanted to do
unless we had chores to finish or get started.
His
car was a brand new Chevrolet convertible hat was our vehicle of pleasure.
Uninhibited, somewhat out of control and prompted by the pure desire of finding
exciting things to do, we often left early on weekend mornings and dabble and
drag out the day finding places to go where we had never been before. We saw
more of Ohio landscapes with Olaf than anyone else who offered to give us rides
of unbridled freedoms.
Freedoms
of what were unaccustomed to being with our parents. Two people who managed to
raise us well but for some reason, didn’t have the ability or time to
understand us as we grew up. Parents, swallowed by the hustle of working hard
and steady unattached or connected to their children who deserve the proper
attention but who bucked every effort to be loved or wanted due to the uneasy
and tension in the environment that caused them much pain and sorrow with
unexplained mood swings that later came back to serve us notice that we were
just as dysfunctional as all the other families and maybe even more so because
of the cultural, societal and personal strains of relationships and a lack of
understanding.
Nothing
here was implying we weren’t normal. Nothing was present that created a
malicious drift or stormy emotional distress cluster of waves pounding against
the walls or surfaces of the environment we lived in. moving through
adolescence was difficult for all of us, including our parents. The turmoil never
did subside and go away – in fact it kept growing each and every day.
Personally,
I became a high risk for aggressive or delinquent behavior with my clearly in
the open not misunderstood explosive personality disorder. I would hit walls,
break object out of frustration and smart off to others including strangers
over various times at different places where my mood swings with regards to
happiness, anger, sorry or anxiety were never subtle and defeated but rather
loud and obnoxious in manner.
Turbulence
seemed to follow me. Volatility, unpredictability and the unrestrained and
unstable moods caused hardships in gaining friends and social partners. This
alienated me from many who didn’t understand my ways and opted to stay away
from me, rather than deal with my tirades and out of control emotions. It seemed
my coping abilities were being tested; my mental faculties never buckled under
the stress and my perseverance opted to remain at my side as I slowly climbed
the ladder out of this social cesspool, the environment had created and
intensely offered resistance to any future improvements and success.
My
cognitive abilities were strained and often at the rope’s end to solve many of
my emotionally related problems. I was sure my emotional development was
impaired to some degree and making it hard for me to cope and function like
many other teenagers around me. I compensated for anger and frustration with my
participation in sports especially football.
Beyond
the fact that I got to hit people, it gave me a release that would allow me to
escape the inevitable challenge to butt heads with authority figures or other
maladjusted people just like me. Slowly, this allowed me a method of adaptation
I still use to this day.
Biologically,
I developed into a strong young man – I had a great deal of strength and athletic
abilities that prompted me to participate is contact sports and other
challenging activities.
Certain,
the fact that I had experienced bad love and breakups contributed to my anger
and vengeance but in all reality, the entire problem of my behavior was
internalized and as I struggled to get a better handle on my ability to control
my passions, deal with my conflicts and generally learn to become more adaptive
in ways to deal with my personality and mood swings.
I
have to confess and concussed my own injuries because of my immaturity and
inability to remain calm under stressful circumstances. Denying any mental
illnesses, I was aware of my explosive personality disorder and with the
exception of an occasional rage or vent, I found my behavior in line with
others the same age or similar circumstances as an adolescent growing up fast
in a rapid moving society.
I
found out some things about myself during these turbulent years, I found more
calmness by working hard and long as much as I could or time would give me. I found
the rewards of independence were based on financial abilities and earning power
giving me time to prepare for better things in life.
Although
scary for a young person to deal with such emotional and intellectual growth,
it made ends meet and settle an uneasy and potentially scary situation into a
calm induced mood that was manageable and more pleasant to be around as stabilization
came around with the patience and time permitted.
I
had learned the best approach was patience. The best tactic was calmness. Practicing
these two principles ended up giving me more calmness and calmness was the
driving factor of my decline of mood variability more than anything else. Whether
or not I experienced severe or mild mood swings depended on my ability to
contain my emotions and self-control. I learned from positive experiences,
which was the way I was going to dodge any negativity in life and for the first
time in my life, I found time for myself and lessened my worries that all
things would work out fine.
Sadly,
my parents never gave me the attention I needed or deserved to help me find
this calmness. If I was calm, composed and patient around anyone it was because
I worked hard to be that way and found interacting with other moody people an
opportunity to test my own tolerances and beat someone else at self-control,
showing positive consequences for such efforts and not having to feel
remorseful later on as I reduced my fear of offending and fighting everybody
with time and caution giving me successful traits and social development opportunities.
