This blog is dedicated to my family.


Growing up with my dad as a sheriff, mom as a stay-at-home wife and the second of a total of four daughters, it is no wonder my parents are strict.

However, that’s not all.

I grew up with three sister, two older and one younger and among them, I’m the one blessed with asthma, stomach ulcers and poor ovaries. Therefore naturally my parents are more strict with me.

A few weeks ago, I went with my friends to Irvine Spectrum, I wasn’t even gone for an hour and yet my phone already had 10 calls from my dad, 5 from my mom and 2 from my older sisters. At that time, I really wished they would calm down and give me my own freedom, I was so annoyed by them. My friends, instead of helping me, made me feel worse by constantly mocking me and calling me names. I was upset with their constant teasing, but instead of feeling upset at them, I directed my anger towards my parents.

It was their fault. Their fault for these teasing. Why can’t they stop babying me?!
Leave me ALONE.

That whole mindset changed yesterday when I was sent into the ER. Instead of my friends being there, my family were there. Instead of having my friends hold onto my hand and whispering comforting words into my tear-stained ears, my family did. Yesterday was the first time I saw my parents, saw how tired they were, and really look to see how old they’ve gotten. My sisters were there, they tried to smile and tell me jokes to help ease my pain, but I right through their façade.

I remember leaving with the nurse to the ultrasound room, I went alone. When the nurse wheeled me back, I saw my older sister, the one I look up to the most due to her tough demeanor and mostly because she was always brave and courageous, crying in my mother’s arm, who looked like she was trying to hold back her tears.

My eyes watered, I felt a hand on my shoulder. The nurse gave me a comforting smile and opened the curtain to my bed. Immediately my older sister and mother broke apart and tried to wipe away as many tears as possible, then gave me a smile. I smiled back, despite feeling like a spoiled brat. How could I have ever despised them? They were my family.

I was finally discharged to go home at around 3 am on Sunday and in celebration, we all went out to eat (later on for lunch), instead of eating at their favorite usual place, they all chose to have a light meal with me (since I couldn’t digest meat and on strict orders from the doctor I could only eat light meals).

Now at dinner, with smiles on our faces and jokes being tossed around, we all sat together as a family like we once had.

I love my family.

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