Throughout my time at USC, my pace of life has change dramatically. At certain phases of my college career, I saw many weakness. One of my major weakness was my indecisiveness attitude toward life. I was the young indecisive fool who mess up his freshman year by trying to define success as attaining reputable degrees. I had associate majoring in engineering, biological sciences, or economics as the pathway to success. During that time, I did not know what I wanted in life. Did I want to be a doctor, engineer, lawyer, or an employee for a firm? The self generated pressure led me to creating ridiculously rigorous schedule, which force me studying ten hours daily without scoring well on my exams. I begin to question my academic ability and my fading future of being successful. A 3.2 GPA was not going to get me into medical school, and I might not be intelligent enough to handle engineering. Self doubt became my second weakness, which only worsen when I return to Chicago after my freshman year.
I was back home for less than a week, but I saw my mother’s tearing up. This was the first time I saw my mother crying while discussing about my grandma’s health. We had talked over the phone that my grandma had undergone surgery from a leg injury during the second semester of my freshmen year. My mother told me, “grandma had recovered and cared by my aunt in China”. My aunt was a very family oriented person, so I was relief my grandma was in good hands. This was the reality I had embraced.
Yet, my mother’s burst of tears instill a sense of guilt for my failure to understand my mother. At that moment, as a son, I gave her a little massage and words of comfort. A few days later, I overheard a conversation between my mom and dad that led me to speculation for why my mom, a person who never cries, cried. Eavesdropping their conversation from my room, I heard my dad saying “She did not want to do it, but she was not here anymore, so move on”. At first, I had no idea who my parents were referring to. I had the scary thought in my life: one with .001% chance of occurring. After my mom left for the shower, I asked my dad, “Did my grandma commit suicide?” My dad finally told me the news. My grandma had jump
The parents came out of Grandma’s room by one by one, bags under their eyes, makeup running down their face, and bright red noses. By that time, I could almost predict what happened. As my mom and dad approached us with their heads down, I prepared myself to hear exactly what I never wanted to hear. “The doctors are turning off the life support machine. She isn’t suffering anymore, and she will be looking over every one of you guys. She said she loves you all so much,” Mom told us while my dad didn’t hide his tears back.
That day when I returned home from school, my mom’s boyfriend called me asking to speak to my grandmother. Typically, Gus would call my grandmother himself if he wanted to speak with her, which was rare. I found out about my mom going to the hospital from my grandmother after that phone call. The doctor told my family that a stroke afflicted her in the middle of the day. My mom confused the date with her birthday, had trouble getting words out and remembering our family member’s names. The nurse had to take her for walks periodically and exercise her legs and arms because they were weak. Seeing my mother in this condition made me appreciate my mother and everything she does for me tremendously. However, I was terrified for my mother’s health.
The following months a winter, cold and gloomy, surrounded the house. My grandmother came to stay with us since my father had fallen into depression and needed help taking care of my sister and I. When my grandmother went grocery shopping my sister would struggle with homework without my grandmother’s help. One day when my grandmother left to go grocery shopping my sister approached me, which was unusual of her since its very rare for her to come to me. Her dark brown hair and big eyes reminded me of my self when I was younger. “I’m hungry” she complained, a question she’s never asked me. My father sleeping and my grandmother away, I was the only one left to take care of her and that terrified me. I had never cared for or known how to care for someone else. All I knew was how to evaluate whether or not someone was caring for another correctly.
They filled me with the images of two invincible grandparents who were to always be the same. Fun, energetic, and strong enough to carry me through any adversity. These illusions were shattered by my visit back. They had aged so much in the years I was away. On the plane ride to Guangzhou, I painfully remember the anxiety I had as the plane ascended and descended. My grandmother had developed heart disease and weakly smiled through the turbulence. It was torture to see her in that state. To watch helplessly as I clutched her arm tightly, distracting her through the discomfort. From that day on, I swore to protect my grandparents. Now it was my turn to hold their hands and create a better
At 17 years old I entered UCLA as a biology major. With my prior successful academic performance and younger age, I was overconfident and immature going into college. During my first 4 quarters my social pursuits smothered my academic ones; I lived a very unbalanced life, and my grades suffered. My second winter break was the turning point, and I realized that committing only 50% effort to academics would not be enough. I acknowledged my mistakes and became entirely determined to change my path from that point forward. I created a list titled “How to Succeed at UCLA,” which outlined the steps needed to regain balance and ensure academic success. I changed every aspect of my life from what I ate, to who I spent time with, to what time I went
I have had my whole life planned since the third grade. I was going to be Brain Surgeon, save people, make money, life's two most important things. But as time progressed that future career morphed from being a brain surgeon to a teacher to a lawyer and et cetera, et cetera. Senior year came and I was dead set on being an environmental lawyer. I did it all, applied to colleges, got accepted, and even enrolled. All summer I was thrilled to begin my next four years. I arrived to my college on Freshman Orientation day and the moment I stepped onto that campus, I realized I was not ready. All of these kids, the excitement in their eyes, the constant chatter of, “I’m studying this…” “I’m double majoring…”, they wanted to be there, yet I was counting down the minutes to when I could go to my car and make the 3 hour trek home.
Around six to three months before this tragedy occurred, my grandpa’s health had taken a turn for the worst. We would be awake at midnight, hearing him violently vomit crimson colored fluid. He couldn't get up or walk without my mother or grandma’s assistance. A brutal cough would take both his breath and voice away. Yet, he was so understanding and caring of both my brother and I. He would do everything he could to play with me or tell me a story, since he knew that I didn’t know any better. A couple months before his passing, I came home from school to find no one home except my anxious looking aunt and my then three-year old cousin. I remember running to my grandparents’ room to greet my grandparents, but when I opened the door, no one was there. I ran to my aunt and asked her where everyone was. I could see in her face that she was worried, but she tried to be as calm as possible so she wouldn’t scare me.
My decision to move to NYC and attend NYU was initially fueled by a desire to squeeze every ounce of experience from life. Though it ended up being an abrupt push into adulthood that was more daunting than I expected. I found myself in a large, fast paced city very different from where I had grown up. Also the costs of living were extremely high, and this was something that fell completely on my shoulders because of my family’s financial situation. On top of dealing with these new responsibilities, I started to attend a university with a demanding and difficult course load. I found myself needing to learn to manage my time, make money, and navigate the workings of this foreign place. This led to a rocky start academically.
As a senior in high school there was many things I was excited about the top choices were graduating, and starting college. Fast forward past my graduation and to the first day of college I soon began to realize I made a mistake, I let others talk me into joining a school that was never for me. A school I just didn’t fit in or feel comfortable attending, I pushed through the classes often times feeling depressed, and on the verge of a break down, but I did not want to give up. I wanted to succeed, and the only way I could do that was by getting a degree, as time continued on I became more depressed making it feel impossible to get out of bed. The thought of waking up early leaving bed to catch a city bus to a school where I did not feel welcome became so overwhelming, but I still forced myself to get up and tried.
“I never saw my father in person” my mother recalls. To see the sadness in her eyes only placed me in a position I have never thought of before; that I, too, have never met my grandfather. According to my grandmother, he died from a heart attack.
It was January 2nd, 2016, about 3:30 p.m. I was in the living room, doodling. But in an instant, my mom get’s a phone call, the one we’ve always dreaded. “Mija, I need to go to the hospital.” Those words only allowed an infinity of questions to burst. “Who?’ “What?” and “Why?!” Those last questions were too big to keep to myself. “What?! Why?!” The hesitation on her face only caused the worst of my imagination to take over. “It’s your grandpa.” Those words, extinguished the only good in my day. “I, I’m not sure what happened, but I know something is not right.” At that point, I panicked. “Don’t say anything to your sister, then we’ll have to deal with her too.” After that, things were a blurr. She went dashing out the door, only having her phone with
I stood there, silent, and smiled sheepishly because really, things like this don't happen to me. Or around me. Yet, the next morning mother called her three sons to her bedroom and told us that my father's other wife, my stepmother, had died during childbirth in the midnight. Perhaps, because I had learnt to attribute the rift that cracked my family and caused my parents to separate to her, or because she used to be just another bleached face in the yellow two-storey house we used to live; I didn't know what to feel. But for not knowing what to feel, I felt guilt - and a chill on my
I left school scared and sad knowing something was wrong, I was unattended t what was happening but I went with it. I knew my grandma was sick but didn’t think she was going soon. I knew she had life left with her, but it was leaving herself. I was in class and I was called down to the office, so I grabbed my backpack and homework and went to the office. I was frightened thinking of what had happened to my grandma. “Is she gone? I can’t lose her! Is my life getting worse? Will I never get to say goodbye?” The questions running through my mind. My head aching in pain with everything going through my head, I couldn’t think of school all I could think about was my grandma. I saw my mom pull up to the school drive way, so I head out of the office and went to the car.
“Remember, don’t make a scene.” She continues. “Your grandmother has passed away.” And everything stopped and came crashing down, I stopped breathing, my heart rate plummeted and I dropped my shopping cart. The last thing that would every occurred to me happened. I lost my grandmother. I lost my grandmother. I would never meet my grandmother. Then I realized that I couldn’t feel my legs, I wanted to collapse on the floor. I wanted to fall on the ground, but I could feel them. I saw people looking at me, their eyes, those judging eyes, those judging eyes looking at me. I wanted them to disappear and for the staring to stop. But that would cause a scene and my mother wouldn’t want that.
I can remember missing 8:05 classes because I stayed out too late the night before. In high school the teacher would constantly remind the students when certain assignments were due, but this was not the case in college. I learned that the hard way my first semester. Sometimes I forgot to turn in an assignment because I didn’t properly read my syllabus and my professor never mentioned it. These were all new problems that could have easily let escalate without taking the proper actions. For the most part I was doing fairly well but a few of my grades began to plummet. I was losing the confidence in myself and started to wonder if going to college had been the best decision. The time had come for me to grow up and become an adult even I didn’t feel the time was right. I immediately began attending tutoring sessions, working with peers and also keeping a daily to-do list. These factors were the eventually led to drastic improvement and success. After my first semester I learned how better manage my time, take advantage of campus resources and also how to organize myself better. These struggles also taught me that sometimes I try and rush through things instead of taking my time. I realized that one of my strong points is being able to really do well when my back is against the wall. Although I was unhappy while facing obstacles I am happy I experienced them. I believe this experience was the reason for my