insight arising

Who I was conditioned to be as an Asian American woman -- by my mother, my origin family, Vietnamese tradition, the patriarchy, white supremacy and capitalism:   Well behaved Well mannered  Accommodating  Polite Quiet Timid, submissive   Respectful of hierarchy  Helpful  "A good girl"  Dutiful  Accepting without questions   Diplomatic / peace keeping  Mentally strong at all costs  Emotionally concealed  Self-doubting Modest Agreeable with authority Approval seeking  Quietly competitive   Cognitively driven  Achievement/success oriented  Who I actually am... and continuously evolving into as an Asian American womxn   -- by my own terms:  Kind, compassionate Emotionally attuned  Heart and body directed Spiritually connected  Mentally resilient based in self compassion Curious  Conscious Humble  Introspective  Inclusive  Creative  A change agent  Thoughtfully voiceful and militant (a.k.a. will mindfully take and give space as needed) Respectful of the human condition Sensitive,

I didn't grow up imagining my wedding day. I never pined for prince charming. But I was a sucker for romantic comedies. While I was a hopeful romantic, I quietly tempered my ideals. I never looked at my parents and thought, "I want that!" Some things I liked about their love, but righteously so, I told myself I deserved something different. Or so I thought. I wanted a love that was deep, one that would change me. As a deeply emotional person, I felt I had figured out what love was. It turns out, a lot of what I thought love was, contrary to my righteous way, came from what my dear mother modeled (how are mothers so sticky?!). Heartbreak though has shown me otherwise. Love isn't what I thought it was, and time had arrived to let go of these long held beliefs.  I thought love was all about sacrifice. It was hard work at all times. It was relentless effort. Because, all good things take hard work right? Love doesn't have boundaries. It is emotionally dependent. It

Today, my heart feels lifeless. Undone.  She wakes up this morning to both the weight of grief and a deep longing to be held and seen. Grief from painful dreams. Grief from letting love go. Grief from healing. Grief from grasping. Grief from knowing. Grief from surrendering to the unknown. She's confused by the conditions that have brought her here. Some days, it's all very clear, but days like these, things don't seem fair. Is love supposed to be fair? Her love is full and abundant, and it is both her gift and her curse. All she wants is to give this love and to be cared for.  In moments like this, her purpose seems so simple, yet at the same time, so difficult to live into. How did I get here?   Whose loss is it? Whose grief is it? My mind tries to support her by asking unanswerable questions to understand. But there is no understanding. There is no making better. There is no fixing. There is no distracting. There is only being. Being with her. Holding her preciously wi