Literal Mental Breakdown

Yes, I am an immigrant and I am a self-hating Asian, and a self-hating person disabled by ADHD.

It was Monday evening I felt that there was no home where I could feel at home. There was a call from an ex. I picked up a phone.

“Hello”

“….”

“Hello”

“…”

I found myself helplessly crying in silence. Thankfully my ex was kind enough (since exgot a great shift in career life) to call an uber for me and took me to our old flat where we used to live. This whole generosity wouldn’t have happened if we were not immigrants. It was common knowledge that there were not many people we can count on or support in this foreign land although we went through all those harsh feelings and conflicts.

I felt like the life I set up here was crumbling and crashing very fast. I was just thankful that there was someone who offered shelter tho it was from someone who is making a better step up in immigrant life and gave all the suffering for the last few months.

It all came to a realization. I was not comfortable with my own skin. I am THAT self-hating Asian which I formed in the U.S., bringing that self-image all the way to Europe.

I hated myself in three aspects: my poor output and productivity in work, my disability to organize and live a full-filling life. People's relationship was also something that took away too much energy for me. I often felt depleted after hanging out with people. Maybe I should try less.

However, what is the norm or an average for other people, I needed to take twice the energy and 10 folds time to make it happen. I just wanted to be normal- not having to put too much time and effort into it.

Why is it so hard for me when it is easy for people?

I was no more a 30-year-old woman but a 15-year-old self-hating Asian girl who was helpless to change the situation or environment but to hate on herself. I know how self-loving and self-forgiving are important. We should be kind to ourselves. But all those words of wisdom that I tried to pick up to be a healthy grown-up career woman became powerless at that moment.

At that moment, I fitted perfectly into a definition of ‘a hungry, enraged, empty self, ’ though I was far from what was described as a narcissist. I was just hungry and enraged at myself, and I was depleted emotionally.

I had all the circumstances to be thankful for, but self-hating really broke me down. In all, any good things in life felt like something others benevolently granted to me out of mercy, not something I earned. I felt like no one and nothing, a burden.

The next day, I found myself calling my mom in the corner of the cafe sobbing for 2.5hrs. I was glad that I was a foreigner in this country and no one can understand my mother tongue language.

Good.