I had a silent cry fest meltdown on the plane today. I was just feeling so sad thinking about life’s disappointments. I know my parents are miserable, bc so many of their hopes and dreams never materialized.

Together, the two of them built so much from nothing. I will never fully grasp how difficult that journey was for them, but I also feel like in a hundred years, how many people can really overcome so many obstacles to create that kind of life story? However minute, there are still elements of timing and fate at play.

Now, after a lifetime of struggle, their lives feel meaningless, and my brother is not the only one who has disappointed them. I am not a doctor. I didn’t get a medical/law/business degree from Harvard or Yale. I don’t have professional prestige, much less a steady and consistent career. I’ve never earned a shit ton of money in my work. I never had kids. I have an explosive temper and an acerbic tongue. I’m not what they wished for.

Even if I don’t agree with them putting all their happiness eggs into their children’s baskets, that’s what my parents do. At the end of the day, all these have-nots are failures. Sometimes, their feelings make me extremely frustrated and angry; other times, I just feel sad that these failures deflate them.

The night before I left Taiwan, I spoke with my eldest aunt. I told her I was glad to be going home: it’s frustrating to be around my parents, bc they constantly bicker and they are perpetually miserable about all the ways their kids have disappointed them. The thing is, every single person has disappointments– areas or issues where things didn’t turn out as originally hoped. Rather than obsess over all the failures, can you be grateful for all that is good or fortunate in your life? My family wears me the fuck out.