An introduction to my mind-state.
Writing has always been my strong suit but I stopped in the tenth grade. It seems that many parts of myself were taken from me then that I am rediscovering now. I feel as though I lost my consciousness somewhere between the ages of fourteen and sixteen. It felt like It wasn’t until I was twenty-three, in the winter of this year, where I felt like I was able to wake up and reunite the connection between my body and my mind. This wasn’t just because I finally understood Buddhism, but it was mainly because I reached the pit of my suffering— two feats that go hand in hand.
I am the daughter of an incredible writer and photographer. She, my mother, is also a doctor, a Cambodian refugee, a genocide survivor, and was raised a Buddhist. I was baptized as an Episcopalian because of my father, who is American-born Portuguese, which makes me sad to think about because I wish I could’ve followed Buddhism all along. Like many other wishes I had, like my wish for my mother to teach me how to speak Khmer, I had to fulfill them on my own. My mom made many sacrifices to become a wife and mother in order to protect herself, my sister, and I during our upbringing so that she could move forward with her life in America after the genocide. This reasoning was incomprehensible to me when I was younger because I held so much resentment while watching my mother become more like my American dad, when I wanted to be more like my Cambodian mom. But now as an adult, experiencing life in tandem with my mother, as a person who also developed complex trauma (CPTSD) from my childhood, I understand her choices to shield me from certain parts of her life because I have done the same.
The National Child Traumatic Stress Network describes complex post-traumatic stress disorder (CPTSD) as “both children’s exposure to multiple traumatic events—often of an invasive, interpersonal nature—and the wide-ranging, long-term effects of this exposure.”
Buddhism has been surprisingly helpful as I’ve been navigating my own trauma. It wasn’t until recently that I became aware of the truths of Buddhism; such as how there is no life without struggle, and there is no life without death. For someone with debilitating anxiety, these truths have been very difficult for me to accept and understand. Almost every day for the last five years, I was asking myself that if God is real, why has He chosen a path for me (and my mother) full of pain and suffering? I knew, somewhat, that I couldn’t appreciate the good things in life without struggle, and that happiness is a virtue I can’t search for. However, I still struggled to accept and understand why God wants us to suffer. I asked: “is this how God intends for me to learn my life lessons? How cruel, if so.”
Today I woke up again, and I realized that people do evil, not God.
Of course there is no explanation about why people do evil, and why they did it to me. That is something that I have to accept and distance myself from. Until today, I was too trapped in my pain body to understand that I did not deserve my trauma at all— that it wasn’t destined by God to happen to me. I realized that my brain was trying to make sense of it all, by running with the idea that “everything happens for a reason” to the extreme. I believe now that my suffering was not meant to happen, but I can accept that it has led me to become enlightened. I am trying to accept that maybe, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
Being both biracial and bicultural, as both a Cambodian and an American, I have come to find beauty in several religions. For some, this may be confusing, but for me, it doesn’t feel right to be limited to one tradition. I find so much beauty in many ways of life around the world. I have struggled for much of my life, like many of my friends, to realize that forcing myself to live up to one culture or religion strips me of my identity. I remember a few weeks ago, I was gardening with my friend Salina, her daughter Sophia, and Salina’s father Chan, who asked me what God I believed in while in the midst of teaching Sophia and I ways to give thanks in Khmer. I paused for a moment and said Jesus Christ, knowing that would be the answer he wanted to hear. When I brought this up in passing with our friend Sarah, she laughed and told me that when he asked her the same question, she said she believed in every God, which gave him a heart-attack.
I love Mr. Ting (Chan), he is like my grandpa I never had. When I’m with him and I photograph his family, I wonder if he is what my grandpa would’ve been like if he survived Khmer Rouge. He was my mom’s patient many years ago. I never told Salina this, but my mom said that he was always stubborn with her, which cracks me up. Why do our elders refuse to take American medicine?
Another tool has been my mom’s memoir.
Michelle quote
Mr ting is like my grandpa I never had
Women make many sacrifices for their family. The act even of taking her husband’s family name, and relinquishing her own,
It reminded her of home and what she went through, but she also
How the Episcopalian church treated us.
understanding of trauma
My friend Sinden Lee, a ___, you can’t stop it from happening.
My mind is often racing. Clearly there is a voice within me that is struggling to be heard. When I wake up, my mind instantly begins racing. When I’m in a state of ignorant bliss, I find my mind wandering to memories that hurt me and I lose control of myself. I even got into a car accident less than an hour after a flashback three months ago. I physically struggle to be consciously present. Even the act of meditation feels impossible for me, I get nauseous and have trouble thinking of anything that brings me calm without pessimism ruining the moment. I wish that my trauma wasn’t as hurtful as it has been for me. But I know that simply writing down my thoughts and becoming connected to my mind again will help me heal. I have lived in a state of dissociation and unconsciousness since I was 15, struggling to be alone so that I don’t think. Even when I am in love and held so gently, I think. But here I am, as damaged and uncomfortable as I feel, comforting my pain body through acknowledgement with words. I am on my journey to healing.
Despite feeling so much excitement for my artwork and wonder about my strong understanding of reincarnation and rebirth, when I think of the future I still ask myself: what is the point? I do believe this pessimism follows my struggle with the pain body. I know that my trauma encourages me to latch on, for it is all I have known as a young girl and all that I’ve felt like I am. It is horrifying to be at odds with your own mind and your body, especially on separate planes. I feel as though I don’t know what has happened in my life since I was 15. Battling myself to feel heard, protected, and honest is such a strange feeling– but I know that what I experience is common for those who have endured the same experiences as me. Though my thoughts are not fully fleshed out tonight, I will share that I feel rootless and floating.
Despite high praise just hours ago, I feel so depressed– triggered even. I feel bad again.
One central belief of Buddhism is often referred to as reincarnation -- the concept that people are reborn after dying. In fact, most individuals go through many cycles of birth, living, death and rebirth. A practicing Buddhist differentiates between the concepts of rebirth and reincarnation… In reincarnation, the individual may recur repeatedly. In rebirth, a person does not necessarily return to Earth as the same entity ever again. He compares it to a leaf growing on a tree. When the withering leaf falls off, a new leaf will eventually replace it. It is similar to the old leaf, but it is not identical to the original leaf.” (The Buddhist Core Values and Perspectives, UNHCR).
