I woke up this morning with the most intense anxiety. I have this horrific situation on hand. I am dealing with(which started about 1.5 years ago) this situation, and it's constantly on my mind. Even when I am not actively thinking about it, it's always on back of my mind and it manifest into my dream over and over. I like my world is crumbling down and feel so helpless. I've just taken a bunch of anxiety medicine.
So let me elaborate on this "situation" that begin a year and a half ago, I was conned( don't know if that's an accurate description) by my long time friend( my far cousin). Back then, I was working long hours at my job and always busy, I didn't have time to manage my personal investment accounts. My cousin worked in finance, he was an independent owner of his small investment firm. Since worked like a dog for many years, I had managed to save up about $200,000 USD(this is before I lost my job). As mentioned before, previous to losing my job, with my busy schedule, I needed someone to manage my investment accounts. I hired him to do this, kind of as my accountant and asset manager. One day I found out that my asset accounts didn't add up in numbers. WHat had happened is that my cousin had lost all of his other clients' money and he tapped into my account and withdrew my cash (200,000. USD) to transfer into his account, all without my permission. He manipulated the paperwork to make it as if he lost my money while managing my assests, when in fact, he actually just withdrew the cash out of my account and did some paper work to cover up his illegal action. I soon found out but it was too late. He filed bankruptcy saying he has no assets under his name. In korean law, this would be considered a civil suit so although I can file a civil suit case in an attempt to recover my money, it'd be fruitless. His hose and any other tangible assets were all in his wife and his mother's name.
When this happend 1.5 years ago, He promised he'd payback with in a year, than he asked for additional 6months. So I called him last night to see if he is preparing to repay me now. He replied by saying he doesn't think he can and give him some more time but he doesn't think he can!!! I couldn't breath!! I was devastated. I felt as the walls were crumbling down( I don't know how to put it in words of what I am feeling).
Everyone around me tells me that it's hopeless to think that I can regain my money from him by pursuing a legal civil action course. So I am waiting and waiting. All I have to go on is just his word, and his conscious(if he has any left in him).
As I previously mentioned that I am currently out of a job and so my only source of living income is my savings. I am only 30years old so for me, having worked so hard to saved up 200,000.USD and no other debt in my life, seemed that I was atleast okay for next few years- to deal with my agoraphobia and focus on getting better. I don't have any family members- I have no support of my parents since they passed away. This never has been a problem since I have always strived to be independent even financially. I believed that I should always be able to take care of myself. But now, with this happened, I just don't know what to do! My health insurance is very expensive since I have a private HMO health insurance( US does not have NIH like europe). I am so worried, scared, and angry!!
Things are so...........screwed up right now.
Every moment of each day, I avoid watching financial news and any other money related subjects, because it's reminder of the predicament I am in. I always wonder if he'll call this week to say he'll start paying me back. Just hoping that he'll pay up is so little to go on since he has already failed to pay any during the past 1.5 years.
I have done so many things to not let this get to me but I just can't seem to do it. I'd have anxiety attacks just by thinking about it. I'd even take Valium to come myself, which I hate doing so. The thought of not being able to get that money back is so scary. I wouldn't know what to do! I need that money to make ends meet, pay for my medical bills, etc. What if I can't get well soon to get a job and become penniless? These worries have a horrific consequences...I am constantly getting anxiety attacks, really bad ones. I have done things to keep my mind off of it by reading, learning to knit, etc to distract my mind but it's not helping. I think I tend to sleep as long as possible because i know when I am awake, these thoughts hunt me again and agin.
I also feel so betrayed from my cousin and his parents. They live in a decent house. They used to say "oh you can think of us as your family" and I used to bend over backwards for them.
What should I do? I try to think positive- maybe he'll pay me back- but I just don't think it's realistic. I try to tell meself money is not important but it is! It is important when it's need for isto make ends meet and have a roof over your head. I just don't think I can start work right now with my agoraphobia and depression being so bad. I worked so hard for that money. It's my life savings!
I am sorry for constantly nagging but I just feel so... devastated.
Can some one suggest and give me an advice what to do? Also how I can just let go? I don't know meditation...I tried but I am not good at it.
I try to tell myself, "what's done is done and it's bad enough he has caused financial suffering to me but don't let him cause emotional suffering too. Letting this situation cause anxieties and nightmares is like losing the money as well as losing my sanity. So JUST LET IT GO..." .....................but it just doesn't seem to work.
Please.......any advice, opinion, help will be greatly appreciated.
Desperate....J
PS. I think my post will be filled with poor grammer because I had to overdose on my anxiety meds to calm my selfdown.
Saturday
more wakeboard pictues
Here are more picture of my friends and myself wakeboarding earlier today.
Some are just plain silly.
This is Dave showing off his trck. I think this trick is called blind 360. He's been practicing for 3 years. I wish I could do this!
This is me...>.< I can't do those flashy tricks yet. This is hillside carving
..
Above: It's me on the left and my friend Ko on the right.
It really was nice to get out. I hope I can meet up with them next weekend for our season final riding.
wakeboarding with friends
These 3 are all pix of myself
.
My friend S called 10 times in a row. I pretended to be asleep but the phone just kept ringing. I answered hesitantly. He was bugging me about wakeboarding. I got into wakeboarding about 2 summers ago. I really enjoyed it. I am the type of a girl who doesn’t get scared too easily. I find extreme sports fun and exciting. I would love to try sky diving soon. So wakeboarding was a nice surprise. It’s thrilling and adrenalin goes into overdrive. I went every weekend last year. So after being housebound for nearly 7 months, I decided to give into my friends and meet them for a few wakeboarding sessions. For my agoraphobia, it's not about how far I can travel outside of my safe distance. It's about leaving the house or not leaving the house. I seem to be the “all or nothing” type of a person(yes, definitely). If I am able to go out side of my house for a cup of coffee, then I am able to travel to a whole different country. I don’t have any spatial attachment. I am either alone hiding or I am out there just socializing away.
So after taking some anti- anxiety meds to take the edge off, I got in my car and drove to the meeting spot. I don’t think the lakes here in Korea are no where near clean as in America but I don’t mind. As long as it won’t kill me, I am fine with it. So many people were asking where I had been for the past months, why didn’t I return their calls..etc. I lied and said I had been outside of the country for work(this group of friends don’t know that I have lost my job. I used to go on many international business trips so they are used to me being abroad.) I was self-conscious about wearing my wetsuit since I had gained more than a few pounds from being housebound for months. I still fit in to it which was a nice surprise. I sucked in my belly until I was blue in the face. We rented a boat and my friends showed off their skills. They had gotten much better. They can do so many tricks now. I felt insecure about riding since I hadn’t ridden for a whole year. I pretended I didn’t care and causally grabbed the rope and gave the sign to pull. I felt this butterfly in my stomach. “Don't fall in, don't fall in.” The water was cold but it was manageable. I tried to pull a wake to wake jump and failed. It was freezing!
I hung out with them and lied about how I've been busy with work and I promise to get together more often. I felt so tired from not telling the truth. I was also feeling exhausted from pretending how I’ve been doing well and happy. I felt pathetic. I wanted to go home. I didn’t want to disappoint my friend S since I promised we’d have dinner and talk about his concerns about getting married. I held on a bit longer and made it to dinner. He chatted away about how he did not want to commit and I, known for being the therapist out of the group, listened and conversed about his feelings for his fiancé. I told him if she truly makes him happy, he should marry her but don’t do it for the sake of obligation. I gave the “typical” speech. I felt bad but I didn’t know what to say since I am not too into getting married myself. All in all, it was a good day to break my cycle. I am glad to be back home though.
Pictures on top were taken by my friend,. I look like a boy here. I don't know why but we tend to dress a bit hip hop when we wakeboard. Don't know why^_^ You can see my failed attempt to pull a wake to wake junmp- I gulped so much water it was gross! My handle position is so high. Anyway, it was nice to get out. I wonder if I can stay in this streak for a while. I doubt it since I am already feeling exahusted.
Friday
Does the past really matter?
After I started to write about my childhood abuse( previous post), I started thinking and wondering if my past really matter to my illness. Who cares about the past? What matters is that I get better from today and going forward. Isn’t it?
To lay my past out in short list, here it goes:
I lost my parent when I was 3 years old,
I lost my contact with my oldest sister when 5yrs old,
I was physically and sexually abused from age of 7 until 14 yrs old. I had to suffer from starvation due to my caretaker, my Uncle Bob, being an evil psycho.
I was betrayed by my own sister when she stole my inheritance money and leaving me penniless,
I floated around foster homes when I was 14-17 years old.
But then I did so well when I became independent(legally allowed to live by yourself and declare to be an adult by law). I had likable personality. My first boyfriend was the captain of the soccer team in high school. I was vice president of the year book club. I was working part time job, getting straight A’s in a American high school. I did above average on my S.A.T.(it’s a college entrance national exam). I got into a university that ranks top 10 in the world. I was going to an Ivy League University like I hoped. I graduated top of my class in college with stright A's and proud 4.3 GPA(out of 4.0 being the perfect score). I was that girl everyone disliked for being too smart or liked very much for her smarts. I got a job working for a worldly known top Investment Bank, making double the average salary than most. Everyone liked me. I was very outgoing, had many friends, had many meaningful relationships with great boyfriends through out my life. I was financially doing well, traveling all over the world. I just had anxiety attacks here and there.Nothing too serious. I had an eating disorder but not too serious. My life was good as i knew it. I got tired easily and wanted a break(a time for myself, I called it) here and there. It would just be for the weekend, where I’d stay home and sleep with no human contacts. It was not a big deal. After all, it was normal in my line of work, working 100 hours a week.
Then I went from weekend in every other month to every weekend. I lied to my friends saying that I have to work every weekend so I couldn't hang out. I had hard time going into work. I lost my job. I don’t know what happened. All of it just got too much for me. I wanted an out from the society and the world. I didn’t want to be part of any institutions. I just wanted to sleep as much as possible. I couldn’t deal with the anxieties and panic attacks I was having. The thought of having to get up and see people next day, just the thought it gave me an anxiety attack. I didn’t want any human contacts. The world was so evil in my eyes. Humans are so judgmental and full of greed and jealousy. Humans were selfish by nature and so many did nothing to fix that. It's like a war out there. I just felt alone(not lonely). I couldn’t connect with anyone any longer. I did not wish to pretend or even try. I did not wish to try ANYTHING any more. I had a full blown agoraphobia. Complete solitude and house bound for 6 months(well, I am not sure if it’s solitude if you are on the internet).
How do I go from point B to point C so fast? Does point A matter(point A being my childhood until 17 years of age) Why should it when I did so well from age 17 to 25 or so? Yes I slipped here and there all through those years but it was nothing too significant. No agoraphobia. I was a busy body who got burned out here and there. Does it matter that I revisit my past? What does past have anything to do with my current condition? I understand it was an ugly life and I can talk about it. So what? It does nothing for me....
To lay my past out in short list, here it goes:
I lost my parent when I was 3 years old,
I lost my contact with my oldest sister when 5yrs old,
I was physically and sexually abused from age of 7 until 14 yrs old. I had to suffer from starvation due to my caretaker, my Uncle Bob, being an evil psycho.
I was betrayed by my own sister when she stole my inheritance money and leaving me penniless,
I floated around foster homes when I was 14-17 years old.
But then I did so well when I became independent(legally allowed to live by yourself and declare to be an adult by law). I had likable personality. My first boyfriend was the captain of the soccer team in high school. I was vice president of the year book club. I was working part time job, getting straight A’s in a American high school. I did above average on my S.A.T.(it’s a college entrance national exam). I got into a university that ranks top 10 in the world. I was going to an Ivy League University like I hoped. I graduated top of my class in college with stright A's and proud 4.3 GPA(out of 4.0 being the perfect score). I was that girl everyone disliked for being too smart or liked very much for her smarts. I got a job working for a worldly known top Investment Bank, making double the average salary than most. Everyone liked me. I was very outgoing, had many friends, had many meaningful relationships with great boyfriends through out my life. I was financially doing well, traveling all over the world. I just had anxiety attacks here and there.Nothing too serious. I had an eating disorder but not too serious. My life was good as i knew it. I got tired easily and wanted a break(a time for myself, I called it) here and there. It would just be for the weekend, where I’d stay home and sleep with no human contacts. It was not a big deal. After all, it was normal in my line of work, working 100 hours a week.
Then I went from weekend in every other month to every weekend. I lied to my friends saying that I have to work every weekend so I couldn't hang out. I had hard time going into work. I lost my job. I don’t know what happened. All of it just got too much for me. I wanted an out from the society and the world. I didn’t want to be part of any institutions. I just wanted to sleep as much as possible. I couldn’t deal with the anxieties and panic attacks I was having. The thought of having to get up and see people next day, just the thought it gave me an anxiety attack. I didn’t want any human contacts. The world was so evil in my eyes. Humans are so judgmental and full of greed and jealousy. Humans were selfish by nature and so many did nothing to fix that. It's like a war out there. I just felt alone(not lonely). I couldn’t connect with anyone any longer. I did not wish to pretend or even try. I did not wish to try ANYTHING any more. I had a full blown agoraphobia. Complete solitude and house bound for 6 months(well, I am not sure if it’s solitude if you are on the internet).
How do I go from point B to point C so fast? Does point A matter(point A being my childhood until 17 years of age) Why should it when I did so well from age 17 to 25 or so? Yes I slipped here and there all through those years but it was nothing too significant. No agoraphobia. I was a busy body who got burned out here and there. Does it matter that I revisit my past? What does past have anything to do with my current condition? I understand it was an ugly life and I can talk about it. So what? It does nothing for me....
Childhood abuse-part 1
Yeah~ someone commented on my blog! I guess I am not out here all alone after all. Something about the commenter said.. that I seem to have a depression.. has got me thinking what my shrink once told me when I was 20 years old. He said I don’t seem to have a depression but rather, the life I know thus far is depressive. It seems the world actually is depressive through my lens and perhaps it should be! It would be abnormal to think otherwise, having been through what I been through. Now at 30 years old, I am revisiting my then shrink’s statement by exploring back into my childhood.
I have never written about my childhood experiences, down on paper, although, talked about it many times with many shrinks. I will warn you, it may be too dark and heavy for some to read. It has never bothered me at all to talk about it. I guess it can be a different experience to write them down in order. It may be significant for me to see on paper what they were.
I was born in USA and born into a high income class, well educated Korean family. My dad was getting his phD at M.I.T and my mom was finishing her masters in history at Columbia University in New York. I have 2 older sisters who are both 10 years older than me. When my dad finished getting his phD and was working at a University in Upstate NY, the Korean government invited back to Korea. SO the whole family went back to South Korea when I was 3 years old. Then a year later, my parents got in a car accident and died instantly. My sisters and I were in the accident as well but we survived. Just us 3. We were all natural born US citizens and were suppose to go back to the USA once father’s work invitation ended. Now, we were stuck in South Korea, as orphans.
My father did well for himself. He had a huge life insurance policy for him and my mom. So when they died, all that became our inheritance- to be divided equally amongst 3 kids when we turn legal adults. And whoever take custody of the 3 kids will get 20% of that . This gave an incentive for everyone in my extended family members to fight over custody of us. In South Korea, back in early 80’s, Korea was a rapidly developing country where exposure to Western culture became like a cult and fast money was the key to everything. The law and policies of the government was much lacking behind the need of rising social issues. In Korea, male side of the family has foremost legal rights to everything family related. So my uncle Bob(my father’s older brother, who is a Korean citizen) insisted on custody of 3 kids. My mom side of the family fought(my grandmother, my mom’s mom) because they knew, uncle Bob, never liked his own brother(my dad), and he was always jealous of my dad’s money and education. My mom side of the family feared uncle Bob was just after the money. And oh, were they right.
Shortly after the accident, my oldest sister was sent back to the USA with my father’s younger brother(call him uncle Joe). This was all planned out between Uncle Bob and uncle Joe. They knew my oldest sister, Jen, was old enough to know about the inheritance money(she 15 years old). She was old enough to talk to others about it and investigate about her inheritance. Uncle Bob thought it’d be best to send her away with her portion of inheritance with Uncle Joe. That way, uncle Bob scored the big cash left for me and my second oldest sister(I’ll call her Feb). Feb was 12years old and I was 3 years old at the time. We were in Uncle Joe’s care from that day on.
I cannot remember my parents. I was too young to remember any of it. Furthest my memory goes back is when I was 7 years old. I am in my uncle’s yard. My left leg’s Achilles were torn. I was crying out of pain.
“whack”
a blow to my face, and my nose was bleeding. Uncle Bob told me to stop crying or he’d beat me more. My uncle and his son had beat me to the ground and tied me upside down and while tying me up to a tree by one leg, they tore my Achilles. I was being punished for accidentally breaking a dish while doing the dishes. I tried to hold my cry. I didn’t want another beating. Oh how I tried. I bit down my tongue so hard I passed out. Don’t remember the rest.
So that was the beginning of my new life, life filled with fear- fear of surviving the next day and not knowing when the next beating was coming. Same was true for my sister Feb. I think I could take the beating better then the starvation they gave as a form of punishment. If I didn’t pass the “chore test,” I was not allowed of next meal. Any breaking of dishes while cleaning, I was devoid of a full day, 3 meals. We lived in the attic with the house chef. She was an old lady and she seem to be on our side. Sometimes at night, when Feb and I could not sleep because of the hunger, I’d sneak into the kitchen to steal some rice. Not too much though, otherwise uncle Bob and his wife would notice it was missing. Just a spoonful. Sometimes if there were no rice, I’d steal powdered coffee cream. It was creamy and sweet. It was heavenly. I’d seak it back to the room and Feb and I would fight over her taking more than her share and laugh about it.
One night, we were devoid of 3 meals. I didn’t pass my mopping chore and Feb did not pass the laundering chore(they said the spots didn’t come out). You see, anything that costs them loss of money(here, money for having to buy new shirt because of the stain), was a “bigger” sin than the cleaning chore. We ruined 3 shirts doing the laudry improperly, they said and hence 9 meals as punishment. We were starving on third day. My hands were shacking from low sugar level in my blood(didn’t know why back then). The chef was nice in that she never told on us when we’d steal food from the kitchen but she never helped us with any food. I was too hungry so I grabbed my purple plastic cup headed for the kitchen( I loved that cup- it was my only toy I ever had). Lisa grabbed my hand and said “be careful okay? If you can, eat your share in the kitchen and bring a full cup back for me.”
Off I went. I was very skinny(like those children you see on “help the children” donation commercial in the Western culture). Being thin helped sneaking into the Kitchen easier. I didn’t make much of squeaking sound on the hard wood floor when walking across. I walked carefully, one step, two step…light as feather! I reached up for the coffee cream powder container. It was almost new- filled to the top! I could take more because it was more compact and the surface area could easily be fooled by shaking the container. I scooped with my purple cup and gulped it down. It was powder and I gulped it too fast. It went down my throat and up my nose! Ouch, it burned my nose. I couldn’t help but to cough! I was scared. I grabbed another cup and rushed back to the room. My sister was waiting and she grabbed the cup and gulped it down. Oh how yummy. We were happy.
Shortly after, I heard a thumping sound. Someone was coming! Oh no! Hide the cup I said. We snuck under the blanket and pretended to sleep. I heard the door knob turn. It was Uncle Joe’s son(call him Young). “Who made a mess in the kitchen? There’s powder all over the counter!” My heart was beating so fast. Oh how I was so terrified. I got up. He said “follow me to my room!” I was preparing myself for a beating. That was stealing, after all. That is a beating with a stick. At least 50 whippings on my back and my calves, with a thick bamboo wooden stick. I followed to his room terrified. I didn’t usually have many thoughts unlike Feb, before a beating. She always thought about why her life has taken such a turn. She had the good life before. She had everything a child wanted. She was a spoiled child and one day, her life is turned upside down! She hated it and couldn’t deal with it very well. Unlike her, I didn’t know any better. I just prepared for the beating, thinking ‘In what manner can I beg and confess my sin so I’d get 45 whippings instead of 50.’ I’d think about words and postures I should pose, to convey the maximum guilt as possible. I always thought I was a bit manipulative and evil to think this way. I was a child after all but I didn’t think like a child. I was kind of sneaky and fast thinking. But it helped survive the beatings best as possible. That’s all that it mattered to me.
I was standing by Young’s desk in his room. He sat on his chair. He told me to pour him a glass of water. I did. He said “do you wish that I’d forgive you? What do you have to say for yourself?”
“One, I am so sorry.
Two, I am a thief.
Three, I killed my parents for being born
Four, I should be grateful to uncle Bob and his family members
Five, I deserve to die at your hands.”
I reiterated the 5 statements of the ultimate confession. I was taught to state my guilt in exactly in that form of 5 statements from the day I moved in to Uncle Joe’s house.
Young grabbed my hand and said, “I’ll forgive you if you do as I say, will you obey?” And I begged I’d do anything. Please forgive me this once. He did. He took my pants off instead. He tried to force himself on me but I was too small he said. I was only 7years old. He said it won’t fit. He said we’d need to fix that. So he inserted the wooden stick instead.
I returned to my room and Feb asked if I was alright. I said I was tired and wanted to sleep. I cried myself to sleep. I didn’t really know what just happened other than that I was in extreme pain from waist down. I closed my eyes and held my hands tight, and prayed. “Dear God, please, if you are there watching over me, for whatever I did wrong, please forgive me and save me from this pain. Please…I will be a good girl next time so please help me and make the pain stop. Please……” I fell asleep short after that.
The next morning, I went to the bathroom and I couldn’t urinate. It felt like my skin was burnt with some sort of strong acid. I saw blood on my panties. I had hard time walking. I was scared because I had a mopping chore and I could really walk. It was too painful. It felt as something was poking me inside. I told Lisa what happened last night and told her how I was going to tell Aunt (Uncle Joe’s wife). I said “she’d make her son stop and may be have pitty on me.” She was a female like me. She’s pretty so she’d help me(I don’t know what pretty had anything to do with it… I guess I thought she looked less evil than uncle Bob). As I told my sister Feb all about this, she said Uncle Joe had tried to force himself on her but she started her menstrual cycle and he was afraid to get her pregnant so she recommend that he try me out! I was furious! I felt so betrayed by her.
“What kind of sister are you? You are suppose to help and protect your younger sister! You are a bitch. I hate you. Mom and Dad will punish you from heaven! I truly hate you with all my being! Do you know how painful it is! Don’t ever expect me to call you my older sister! From this day on, I will not call you my older sister!”
I was in rage. I rarely got emotional. It was not efficient to be emotional. I always thought things in a rational manner. I only think about the next step to survival. But this time I was losing it. I cried and prayed. Let this be a long nightmare. But I never woke up from it.
Few hours later, I went to my aunt for help. I told her about what her son did and how it was hurting and bleeding and I didn’t think I could mop because it hurts to walk. She made me lie down and she examined between my legs. She pulled a large spleen. She said it was fine and she poured some alcohol. She smacked me across my face and warned me to never speak of it. She said her son Young was to become a doctor and so he needs to study female anatomy(he was 22 years old at the time). I begged for forgiveness and reiterated,
“One, I am so sorry.
Two, I am a liar.
Three, I killed my parents for being born
Four, I should be grateful to uncle Bob and his family members
Five, I deserve to die at your hands.”
That’s how my life changed forever. I’d endure this many times over from that day on. I started to hate myself from that day on. I started see all humans as evil from that day on. Why do they all hate me? I started thinking I should become smarter and more likable in my traits so that humans would like me. I thought to myself if I become likable and successful, pretty and smart, they’d all stop being so mean to me. Yes, that’s it. I’d become a good desirable child so that one day, they’d like me. And it’ll be easier to survive life. It was a test of survival until someone or something could come to save me from hell. I was 7years old and I didn’t know any better. I just accepted all things happening around me as a punishment for something I did. I had to find out what I did wrong and how I can improve. That was the start of my quest to becoming more “likable.” I thought if I just became a likable person, god will come and rescue me.
I feel exhausted from having to recall those events and write about it. It never bothered me to talk about these events in the past because I just never felt any emotions about it. It was in the past. Shit happens. So what? I shall move on. It is not efficient to be emotional about past things. It didn’t bother me. Or so I thought. I will continue next time.
I have never written about my childhood experiences, down on paper, although, talked about it many times with many shrinks. I will warn you, it may be too dark and heavy for some to read. It has never bothered me at all to talk about it. I guess it can be a different experience to write them down in order. It may be significant for me to see on paper what they were.
I was born in USA and born into a high income class, well educated Korean family. My dad was getting his phD at M.I.T and my mom was finishing her masters in history at Columbia University in New York. I have 2 older sisters who are both 10 years older than me. When my dad finished getting his phD and was working at a University in Upstate NY, the Korean government invited back to Korea. SO the whole family went back to South Korea when I was 3 years old. Then a year later, my parents got in a car accident and died instantly. My sisters and I were in the accident as well but we survived. Just us 3. We were all natural born US citizens and were suppose to go back to the USA once father’s work invitation ended. Now, we were stuck in South Korea, as orphans.
My father did well for himself. He had a huge life insurance policy for him and my mom. So when they died, all that became our inheritance- to be divided equally amongst 3 kids when we turn legal adults. And whoever take custody of the 3 kids will get 20% of that . This gave an incentive for everyone in my extended family members to fight over custody of us. In South Korea, back in early 80’s, Korea was a rapidly developing country where exposure to Western culture became like a cult and fast money was the key to everything. The law and policies of the government was much lacking behind the need of rising social issues. In Korea, male side of the family has foremost legal rights to everything family related. So my uncle Bob(my father’s older brother, who is a Korean citizen) insisted on custody of 3 kids. My mom side of the family fought(my grandmother, my mom’s mom) because they knew, uncle Bob, never liked his own brother(my dad), and he was always jealous of my dad’s money and education. My mom side of the family feared uncle Bob was just after the money. And oh, were they right.
Shortly after the accident, my oldest sister was sent back to the USA with my father’s younger brother(call him uncle Joe). This was all planned out between Uncle Bob and uncle Joe. They knew my oldest sister, Jen, was old enough to know about the inheritance money(she 15 years old). She was old enough to talk to others about it and investigate about her inheritance. Uncle Bob thought it’d be best to send her away with her portion of inheritance with Uncle Joe. That way, uncle Bob scored the big cash left for me and my second oldest sister(I’ll call her Feb). Feb was 12years old and I was 3 years old at the time. We were in Uncle Joe’s care from that day on.
I cannot remember my parents. I was too young to remember any of it. Furthest my memory goes back is when I was 7 years old. I am in my uncle’s yard. My left leg’s Achilles were torn. I was crying out of pain.
“whack”
a blow to my face, and my nose was bleeding. Uncle Bob told me to stop crying or he’d beat me more. My uncle and his son had beat me to the ground and tied me upside down and while tying me up to a tree by one leg, they tore my Achilles. I was being punished for accidentally breaking a dish while doing the dishes. I tried to hold my cry. I didn’t want another beating. Oh how I tried. I bit down my tongue so hard I passed out. Don’t remember the rest.
So that was the beginning of my new life, life filled with fear- fear of surviving the next day and not knowing when the next beating was coming. Same was true for my sister Feb. I think I could take the beating better then the starvation they gave as a form of punishment. If I didn’t pass the “chore test,” I was not allowed of next meal. Any breaking of dishes while cleaning, I was devoid of a full day, 3 meals. We lived in the attic with the house chef. She was an old lady and she seem to be on our side. Sometimes at night, when Feb and I could not sleep because of the hunger, I’d sneak into the kitchen to steal some rice. Not too much though, otherwise uncle Bob and his wife would notice it was missing. Just a spoonful. Sometimes if there were no rice, I’d steal powdered coffee cream. It was creamy and sweet. It was heavenly. I’d seak it back to the room and Feb and I would fight over her taking more than her share and laugh about it.
One night, we were devoid of 3 meals. I didn’t pass my mopping chore and Feb did not pass the laundering chore(they said the spots didn’t come out). You see, anything that costs them loss of money(here, money for having to buy new shirt because of the stain), was a “bigger” sin than the cleaning chore. We ruined 3 shirts doing the laudry improperly, they said and hence 9 meals as punishment. We were starving on third day. My hands were shacking from low sugar level in my blood(didn’t know why back then). The chef was nice in that she never told on us when we’d steal food from the kitchen but she never helped us with any food. I was too hungry so I grabbed my purple plastic cup headed for the kitchen( I loved that cup- it was my only toy I ever had). Lisa grabbed my hand and said “be careful okay? If you can, eat your share in the kitchen and bring a full cup back for me.”
Off I went. I was very skinny(like those children you see on “help the children” donation commercial in the Western culture). Being thin helped sneaking into the Kitchen easier. I didn’t make much of squeaking sound on the hard wood floor when walking across. I walked carefully, one step, two step…light as feather! I reached up for the coffee cream powder container. It was almost new- filled to the top! I could take more because it was more compact and the surface area could easily be fooled by shaking the container. I scooped with my purple cup and gulped it down. It was powder and I gulped it too fast. It went down my throat and up my nose! Ouch, it burned my nose. I couldn’t help but to cough! I was scared. I grabbed another cup and rushed back to the room. My sister was waiting and she grabbed the cup and gulped it down. Oh how yummy. We were happy.
Shortly after, I heard a thumping sound. Someone was coming! Oh no! Hide the cup I said. We snuck under the blanket and pretended to sleep. I heard the door knob turn. It was Uncle Joe’s son(call him Young). “Who made a mess in the kitchen? There’s powder all over the counter!” My heart was beating so fast. Oh how I was so terrified. I got up. He said “follow me to my room!” I was preparing myself for a beating. That was stealing, after all. That is a beating with a stick. At least 50 whippings on my back and my calves, with a thick bamboo wooden stick. I followed to his room terrified. I didn’t usually have many thoughts unlike Feb, before a beating. She always thought about why her life has taken such a turn. She had the good life before. She had everything a child wanted. She was a spoiled child and one day, her life is turned upside down! She hated it and couldn’t deal with it very well. Unlike her, I didn’t know any better. I just prepared for the beating, thinking ‘In what manner can I beg and confess my sin so I’d get 45 whippings instead of 50.’ I’d think about words and postures I should pose, to convey the maximum guilt as possible. I always thought I was a bit manipulative and evil to think this way. I was a child after all but I didn’t think like a child. I was kind of sneaky and fast thinking. But it helped survive the beatings best as possible. That’s all that it mattered to me.
I was standing by Young’s desk in his room. He sat on his chair. He told me to pour him a glass of water. I did. He said “do you wish that I’d forgive you? What do you have to say for yourself?”
“One, I am so sorry.
Two, I am a thief.
Three, I killed my parents for being born
Four, I should be grateful to uncle Bob and his family members
Five, I deserve to die at your hands.”
I reiterated the 5 statements of the ultimate confession. I was taught to state my guilt in exactly in that form of 5 statements from the day I moved in to Uncle Joe’s house.
Young grabbed my hand and said, “I’ll forgive you if you do as I say, will you obey?” And I begged I’d do anything. Please forgive me this once. He did. He took my pants off instead. He tried to force himself on me but I was too small he said. I was only 7years old. He said it won’t fit. He said we’d need to fix that. So he inserted the wooden stick instead.
I returned to my room and Feb asked if I was alright. I said I was tired and wanted to sleep. I cried myself to sleep. I didn’t really know what just happened other than that I was in extreme pain from waist down. I closed my eyes and held my hands tight, and prayed. “Dear God, please, if you are there watching over me, for whatever I did wrong, please forgive me and save me from this pain. Please…I will be a good girl next time so please help me and make the pain stop. Please……” I fell asleep short after that.
The next morning, I went to the bathroom and I couldn’t urinate. It felt like my skin was burnt with some sort of strong acid. I saw blood on my panties. I had hard time walking. I was scared because I had a mopping chore and I could really walk. It was too painful. It felt as something was poking me inside. I told Lisa what happened last night and told her how I was going to tell Aunt (Uncle Joe’s wife). I said “she’d make her son stop and may be have pitty on me.” She was a female like me. She’s pretty so she’d help me(I don’t know what pretty had anything to do with it… I guess I thought she looked less evil than uncle Bob). As I told my sister Feb all about this, she said Uncle Joe had tried to force himself on her but she started her menstrual cycle and he was afraid to get her pregnant so she recommend that he try me out! I was furious! I felt so betrayed by her.
“What kind of sister are you? You are suppose to help and protect your younger sister! You are a bitch. I hate you. Mom and Dad will punish you from heaven! I truly hate you with all my being! Do you know how painful it is! Don’t ever expect me to call you my older sister! From this day on, I will not call you my older sister!”
I was in rage. I rarely got emotional. It was not efficient to be emotional. I always thought things in a rational manner. I only think about the next step to survival. But this time I was losing it. I cried and prayed. Let this be a long nightmare. But I never woke up from it.
Few hours later, I went to my aunt for help. I told her about what her son did and how it was hurting and bleeding and I didn’t think I could mop because it hurts to walk. She made me lie down and she examined between my legs. She pulled a large spleen. She said it was fine and she poured some alcohol. She smacked me across my face and warned me to never speak of it. She said her son Young was to become a doctor and so he needs to study female anatomy(he was 22 years old at the time). I begged for forgiveness and reiterated,
“One, I am so sorry.
Two, I am a liar.
Three, I killed my parents for being born
Four, I should be grateful to uncle Bob and his family members
Five, I deserve to die at your hands.”
That’s how my life changed forever. I’d endure this many times over from that day on. I started to hate myself from that day on. I started see all humans as evil from that day on. Why do they all hate me? I started thinking I should become smarter and more likable in my traits so that humans would like me. I thought to myself if I become likable and successful, pretty and smart, they’d all stop being so mean to me. Yes, that’s it. I’d become a good desirable child so that one day, they’d like me. And it’ll be easier to survive life. It was a test of survival until someone or something could come to save me from hell. I was 7years old and I didn’t know any better. I just accepted all things happening around me as a punishment for something I did. I had to find out what I did wrong and how I can improve. That was the start of my quest to becoming more “likable.” I thought if I just became a likable person, god will come and rescue me.
I feel exhausted from having to recall those events and write about it. It never bothered me to talk about these events in the past because I just never felt any emotions about it. It was in the past. Shit happens. So what? I shall move on. It is not efficient to be emotional about past things. It didn’t bother me. Or so I thought. I will continue next time.
Wednesday
Difference between Agoraphobia & hikikomori part 1
09/ 24/2009 12:40am
The other day, I ran into this terminology called “hikikomori” on the web. Although my previous shrinks have diagnosed my condition as agoraphobia with general anxiety and PTSD, the more I read about other people who suffer from agoraphobia, I never thought my condition really “fit-in.” I seek an “out”, a total escape from the world, the society, all institutions and people that make up that society. My isolation is not at all related spatial attachement like many agoraphoias.
Wikipedia defines hikikomori(pronounced “hi-ki-ko-mo-ri”) as below:
It seem to define my daily behavior pattern as for being housebound and desire to isolate myself from the society. There are some significant differences as well. I don’t live with my parents (I live alone); I do not depend on them for living income(I have saved up a bit from working so much and besides my parent s passed away); I am not unemployed- I worked too much if anything; I am not a teenager, and it did not start out as school refusal(I went to high school and college in America); Lastly, my condition is not a social disorder nor is it a rebellious act towards the society.
I think Agoraphobia is a more generalized, Western Societal version of Hikikomori. So if I had to label it, I'd say (1/2)Hikikomori plus (1/2)alpha, where alapha equals anxiety disorder, PTSD, and Agoraphobia. It makes sense! I am not Japanese but Korean culture is VERY similar to Japanese culture and I was raised with Korean cultural influence along with Western culture, which I never thought mixed too well. I strive to be a successful person, a leader in an American society- someone who attracts and desire to be the center of attention, assertive, confident, and outgoing. Yet with East Asian cultural background, I was to be modest, willing to adapt and assimilate, and behave with a desired Asian female like qualities--e.g. not too harsh or outspoken.
Like I said earlier, I seek an “out”, a total escape from the world, the society, all institutions and people that make up that society. I isolate myself from those things (I do this in intervals, periods of isolation, anywhere from several weeks to months- 7 months being the longest to date). Although it started as symptoms, the isolation itself, I realized I desire it, seek it, need it. I am exhausted, detached, in extreme fear of the world and it’s components. Just the notion or thought of it could drive me to a panic attack, extreme rapid heart rate, sweaty palms, cold sweats down my back………words cannot explain. I seek isolation when I am stressed, weak, burned out, and when in need to reward myself. The reward is to allow myself to be isolated from the rest.
Note that I am trying to acknowledge and intentionally stating that it is "I" who isolate myself, nstead of saying I am isolated. Because it is “I “ who create that environment for myself. I am not isolated because I cannot fit in or not accepted. I have no problem with socializing and accepted when I DO desire to socialize. But I “desire” to be isolated. In the beginning of my illness, I only recognized everything as "results" (e.g. I was isolated to my house. I was agoraphobia). However, over years of analyzing and critiquing myself, I realized I desire these results and hence creating it for myself. NO, I don’t control or desire my painc attcks and anxieties but it is true that I WANT to be isolated so that I would feel comfortable,and free from anxieties and panic attacks etc.
I think this distinction/identification is true and necessary whether you have agoraphobia or hikikomori or anxiety. I used to say " I wish I can get out." I wish these fear and anxiety will go away. I wish I wouldn't behave this way. When in fact, what I really want is to WANT to be part of the world, and wish to WANT to get up the next morning. It is the desire to want to call friends, want to "seek" my life with others because right now, I just don't. I lack the desire to want to change. It is this that is the illness with me. Not the end result- being housebound.
I have irrational fear and anxiety to be with others, part of society and wake up tomorrow and be bothered with it. It is the panic attacks and anxieties that cause me to NOT want to be part of the world. But if being part of the world is something I want and desire, I doubt I would have anxiety about it or fear and panic about it. Right? SO it is the "want" that I desperately wish and need in order to get better. Not just the actions- get rid of the anxiety and panics....
Have I confused you yet? I am a horrible writer....
The other day, I ran into this terminology called “hikikomori” on the web. Although my previous shrinks have diagnosed my condition as agoraphobia with general anxiety and PTSD, the more I read about other people who suffer from agoraphobia, I never thought my condition really “fit-in.” I seek an “out”, a total escape from the world, the society, all institutions and people that make up that society. My isolation is not at all related spatial attachement like many agoraphoias.
Wikipedia defines hikikomori(pronounced “hi-ki-ko-mo-ri”) as below:
Hikikomori (ひきこもり or 引き籠もり Hikikomori?, lit. "pulling away, being confined", i.e., "acute social withdrawal") is a Japanese term to refer to the phenomenon of reclusive individuals who have chosen to withdraw from social life, often seeking extreme degrees of isolation and confinement because of various personal and social factors in their lives. The term hikikomori refers to both the sociological phenomenon in general as well as to individuals belonging to this societal group.
Although there are occasions where the hikikomori may venture outdoors, usually at night to buy food, the Japanese Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare defines hikikomori as individuals who refuse to leave their parents' house, and isolate themselves from society in their homes for a period exceeding six months.While the degree of the phenomenon varies on an individual basis, in the most extreme cases, some youths remain in isolation for years or even decades.
It seem to define my daily behavior pattern as for being housebound and desire to isolate myself from the society. There are some significant differences as well. I don’t live with my parents (I live alone); I do not depend on them for living income(I have saved up a bit from working so much and besides my parent s passed away); I am not unemployed- I worked too much if anything; I am not a teenager, and it did not start out as school refusal(I went to high school and college in America); Lastly, my condition is not a social disorder nor is it a rebellious act towards the society.
I think Agoraphobia is a more generalized, Western Societal version of Hikikomori. So if I had to label it, I'd say (1/2)Hikikomori plus (1/2)alpha, where alapha equals anxiety disorder, PTSD, and Agoraphobia. It makes sense! I am not Japanese but Korean culture is VERY similar to Japanese culture and I was raised with Korean cultural influence along with Western culture, which I never thought mixed too well. I strive to be a successful person, a leader in an American society- someone who attracts and desire to be the center of attention, assertive, confident, and outgoing. Yet with East Asian cultural background, I was to be modest, willing to adapt and assimilate, and behave with a desired Asian female like qualities--e.g. not too harsh or outspoken.
Like I said earlier, I seek an “out”, a total escape from the world, the society, all institutions and people that make up that society. I isolate myself from those things (I do this in intervals, periods of isolation, anywhere from several weeks to months- 7 months being the longest to date). Although it started as symptoms, the isolation itself, I realized I desire it, seek it, need it. I am exhausted, detached, in extreme fear of the world and it’s components. Just the notion or thought of it could drive me to a panic attack, extreme rapid heart rate, sweaty palms, cold sweats down my back………words cannot explain. I seek isolation when I am stressed, weak, burned out, and when in need to reward myself. The reward is to allow myself to be isolated from the rest.
Note that I am trying to acknowledge and intentionally stating that it is "I" who isolate myself, nstead of saying I am isolated. Because it is “I “ who create that environment for myself. I am not isolated because I cannot fit in or not accepted. I have no problem with socializing and accepted when I DO desire to socialize. But I “desire” to be isolated. In the beginning of my illness, I only recognized everything as "results" (e.g. I was isolated to my house. I was agoraphobia). However, over years of analyzing and critiquing myself, I realized I desire these results and hence creating it for myself. NO, I don’t control or desire my painc attcks and anxieties but it is true that I WANT to be isolated so that I would feel comfortable,and free from anxieties and panic attacks etc.
I think this distinction/identification is true and necessary whether you have agoraphobia or hikikomori or anxiety. I used to say " I wish I can get out." I wish these fear and anxiety will go away. I wish I wouldn't behave this way. When in fact, what I really want is to WANT to be part of the world, and wish to WANT to get up the next morning. It is the desire to want to call friends, want to "seek" my life with others because right now, I just don't. I lack the desire to want to change. It is this that is the illness with me. Not the end result- being housebound.
I have irrational fear and anxiety to be with others, part of society and wake up tomorrow and be bothered with it. It is the panic attacks and anxieties that cause me to NOT want to be part of the world. But if being part of the world is something I want and desire, I doubt I would have anxiety about it or fear and panic about it. Right? SO it is the "want" that I desperately wish and need in order to get better. Not just the actions- get rid of the anxiety and panics....
Have I confused you yet? I am a horrible writer....
Scent of one Fall eveing....
date written: 09/23/ 2009 11pm
I just opened my windows for the first time in months.
Temperature is cool with slight breeze and with it, comes the scent of grass and crisp air of fall evening.
Last time I was able to go outside, further than to my mailbox and tiny supermarket downstairs was back in March 2009. That was the last time I had any human contact and socialization(other than my mailman and the supermarket owner from downstairs).
This has been the longest interval ever that I have been housebound.
What am I doing with my life?
How long will this last?
What an utter waste of life and any use of a human being!
I even dread the slightest hint of outside world so I drape my windows dark and try to sleep all day long, as long as physically possible. I prefer to sleep during the day so that I can't detect the sunlight through my curtains.
My poor dogs... I can only walk them in the hall ways and stairs of my apartment complex up and down around 3 am so I don’t run into people.
Luckily they are miniature breeds so they do get the minimal exercise needed... But I can't help but wonder if I should give them up for their sake. Then again, I do do my best to care for them….. plenty of food, care and love. I just can't give them up after 9years of raising them! I love them so much! I fear they may get placed in a wrong house and be abused. So despite my inability to walk them outside much further from my apartment...I think its best I keep them and love them.
I am waiting for food delivery right now…
I wish they would just get here already…
my palms are sweaty and my heart is racing.
My head feels warm.. and cold sweat on my back is forever unpleasant.
It’s been 40minutes of this…. This is why I hate ordering food….
It always takes longer for them to deliver at night time.
I am not even that hungry but thought of waking up tomorrow, being food less during the daylight makes me cringe. I have not gone food shopping since March. Ordering fast food and whatever else available for delivery is all I have been eating for past 6months.
What have my life become?
Why am I here?
Why do I do this to myself?
Oh how I dread the world…. Do I even wish to be here?
I seem to be here only because I can’t seem to go anywhere, unless I inflict some harm to myself…
Desire to be HERE, TODAY, doesn’t seem to be true.
I am not miserable however…
Just indifferent to all things….
I am rambling….
(I think what my condition fits "Hikikomori, " more than agoraphobia. Although I think Agoraphobia is a more generalized, Western Societal version of Hikikomori. So if I had to label it, I'd say Hikikomori plus alpha, where alpha equals anxiety disorder, PTSD, and Agoraphobia. It makes sense! Although I am not Japanese but Korean culture is VERY similar to Japanese culture and I was raised with Korean cultural influence along with Western culture, which I never thought mixed too well. I had to strive to be a leader in an American society. Yet with East Asian cultural background, I was to be modest, willing to adapt and assimilate..... Well, this is a whole different issue...Next time..)
I just opened my windows for the first time in months.
Temperature is cool with slight breeze and with it, comes the scent of grass and crisp air of fall evening.
Last time I was able to go outside, further than to my mailbox and tiny supermarket downstairs was back in March 2009. That was the last time I had any human contact and socialization(other than my mailman and the supermarket owner from downstairs).
This has been the longest interval ever that I have been housebound.
What am I doing with my life?
How long will this last?
What an utter waste of life and any use of a human being!
I even dread the slightest hint of outside world so I drape my windows dark and try to sleep all day long, as long as physically possible. I prefer to sleep during the day so that I can't detect the sunlight through my curtains.
My poor dogs... I can only walk them in the hall ways and stairs of my apartment complex up and down around 3 am so I don’t run into people.
Luckily they are miniature breeds so they do get the minimal exercise needed... But I can't help but wonder if I should give them up for their sake. Then again, I do do my best to care for them….. plenty of food, care and love. I just can't give them up after 9years of raising them! I love them so much! I fear they may get placed in a wrong house and be abused. So despite my inability to walk them outside much further from my apartment...I think its best I keep them and love them.
I am waiting for food delivery right now…
I wish they would just get here already…
my palms are sweaty and my heart is racing.
My head feels warm.. and cold sweat on my back is forever unpleasant.
It’s been 40minutes of this…. This is why I hate ordering food….
It always takes longer for them to deliver at night time.
I am not even that hungry but thought of waking up tomorrow, being food less during the daylight makes me cringe. I have not gone food shopping since March. Ordering fast food and whatever else available for delivery is all I have been eating for past 6months.
What have my life become?
Why am I here?
Why do I do this to myself?
Oh how I dread the world…. Do I even wish to be here?
I seem to be here only because I can’t seem to go anywhere, unless I inflict some harm to myself…
Desire to be HERE, TODAY, doesn’t seem to be true.
I am not miserable however…
Just indifferent to all things….
I am rambling….
(I think what my condition fits "Hikikomori, " more than agoraphobia. Although I think Agoraphobia is a more generalized, Western Societal version of Hikikomori. So if I had to label it, I'd say Hikikomori plus alpha, where alpha equals anxiety disorder, PTSD, and Agoraphobia. It makes sense! Although I am not Japanese but Korean culture is VERY similar to Japanese culture and I was raised with Korean cultural influence along with Western culture, which I never thought mixed too well. I had to strive to be a leader in an American society. Yet with East Asian cultural background, I was to be modest, willing to adapt and assimilate..... Well, this is a whole different issue...Next time..)
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