My mom told me not to write about this. So naturally, with this encouragement, I was further incentivized to do exactly the opposite. Because despite her protestations, my mom has some advice that deserves to be recorded, if not for posterity, then at least for myself to refer back to. My mom likes to package her advice in succinct, almost callous, little quips. In accordance with her nature, her lessons are efficient and effective. In a testament to their effectiveness, I have found myself repeating some of her lessons to my friends, thereby falling into the trap every daughter eventually falls into; I become just like my mother. And I have decided that is not a bad thing. Not even a little bit.
Nobody Cares About You As Much As You Care About You
I said my mom’s advice sometimes borders on callousness, and this is perhaps the sharpest of her sayings. But as a kid who cared deeply about what other people thought of me, this was exactly the advice I needed to hear. Nobody cares about you nearly as much as you care about yourself, what a relief! Growing up, my mom would say this whenever I would stress out about something awkward that happened. It’s her take on the adage “no one will remember the embarrassing thing you did”, but she takes it a step further. My mom’s point is that even if people remember the embarrassing thing you did, they don’t care. You are the only person who cares about yourself enough to think about that moment beyond a fleeting memory. You are the only person obsessed with yourself enough to recall such events in enough painstaking detail that echoes of the embarrassment you felt then, flicker to life once more. Nobody else cares about it because they are all too busy worrying about themselves. Once this message is internalized, the fetters of false social confinement fall away. Granted, it is impossible to completely disregard the imagined judgements of others, but keeping this in mind, you begin to notice how little you care about other people’s faux pas, and how little they seem to care for yours. At the end of the day, everyone is in their own little worlds, so focus on your own, don’t stress about minutia, be nice to people, and remember that when you do slip up, no one cares about it as much as you do.
Family is Family, and You Only Get One
Family is tough, the sky is blue, and dark chocolate is the best kind of chocolate. We know these things to be true. The validity of the first truism makes this next lesson particularly indigestible. When I would fight with my siblings as a kid, I would oftentimes find myself sullenly wishing I had been born an only child. It was in these moments that my mom would seize the opportunity to further vex me by reminding me that my siblings were family, whether I liked it or not. They were here to stay, and furthermore, they were the only ones I could really count on to stay. Everyone else has the option to leave, but not family. This doesn’t mean that family members can’t leave, they can, and in my family, several of them have. Like many others, my extended family’s history is riddled with abuse, cheating, and abandonment, which could be used as a counterargument to my mom’s teachings, but I think it makes her point even stronger. In a complete sentence, my mom’s lesson says that family is family, and you only get one, so stick together and treat each other with love and respect. Don’t lose sight of its value. The people in my family who lost sight of family’s value inflicted evil on those they were supposed to love and care for. And yet. And yet, despite their malice, my other family members came back together stronger and closer. Because that’s what family does, and that’s what family is for. You don’t have to get along all the time, you don’t have to agree with each other, you don’t even have to like each other, but you do have to support each other. Country singer Kacey Musgraves said it best; “friends come in handy, but family is family”.
Crying is Portable
I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, and as a kid when it came to math, I knew how to put on a show. Before my Chinese mother enrolled me in Kumon (a math tutoring center every Asian kid eventually finds themselves in), I used to scream and cry in frustration over my elementary math homework, preferring to throw myself into a rage rather than into my equations. My mom would offer the same consolation every time, “crying is portable, cry while you work”. She was being sardonic of course, but this little catchphrase stuck with me. Beyond her impatience for my dramatics over long division she was teaching me about perseverance. It’s ok to cry, it’s ok to get frustrated, but keep pushing. Don’t let your temporary defeat hold you back from your long-term victory. I was allowed to be upset about math, but I was not allowed to let it render me immobile. So I did long division through my tears, because we keep moving forward, even when it gets hard. Crying is portable, so pack up your fears and frustrations and keep pushing ahead until you no longer need to carry them with you.
And it works. I can do long division and more now, without even crying a little bit.
My mom’s advice is forthright and productive. In a moment of high emotion it can even feel abrasive. And it is some of the most useful, relevant, and true advice I have ever received. By some great fortuity I was blessed with a mom full of wisdom and witticism, and I am so grateful. Mom, this is for you, because you’ve never been wrong.
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