Part One

My philosophy on friendship is simple: loyalty, reliability, and stability. You can’t be here today and gone tomorrow. You can’t like me today and hate me tomorrow. If your emotions swing too wildly, that’s a no. If you’re inconsistent, that’s a no. If you can’t express your needs clearly, that’s a no. If you’re unreasonable, don’t understand mutual respect, or have no intention of building an equal relationship, that’s a no. Pretending to be something you’re no, elevating yourself by belittling others, taking more than four days to reply to a message, avoiding instead of resolving, etc… Just the normal commonsense stuff.

Being dishonest, I can live with. But malicious concealment? No. It’s fine if you don’t like the same things I do. But senseless attacks? No. It’s fine if we like the same boy or girl. But if you’re not honest, if it’s not a fair game, that’s a no. Insecurity is fine. Using that insecurity to attack someone or create internal chaos in the relationship? Not okay. I’m insecure. I can’t deal with relationships that are overly complicated, passive-aggressive, or filled with push and pull.

My mom was emotionally unpredictable growing up, the mood swings, verbal attacks out of nowhere that lasted for hours, at the same time, my dad as a former military guy he is demanded absolute obedience. I’m a textbook anxious-avoidant. It’s basically like being manic-depressive, but in relationships. Constantly flipping between craving connection and pushing people away. My memory of university is clouded, gloomy. It always felt like I was moving forward, then backward, then hesitating, second-guessing, and in the end returning to whatever my first instinct was. Even the smallest decisions, what library to go to, what to eat, how to rank my to-do list became a cycle of indecision. I kept showing up at that dance room I no longer wanted to be in, just because of peer pressure.

I first picked physics as a major because I was genuinely curious about theoretical concepts. And maybe, to prove to my mom that I could do it too. Though honestly, I’ve already forgotten what exactly I was thinking back then. Later, I added psychology because I just wanted to know what was wrong. With me. With my mom. With everyone in my family. Why couldn’t I express myself? Why did words always fall short? Why did I keep wanting to get close, only to push people away? Why did I crave intimacy but fear dependency? Why did I long for stability yet always start fights? Why did I want someone to always be there for me, but then feel annoyed when they actually were? Maybe all of this was just me trying to avoid confronting the real issues. My own flaws, the parts of me I didn’t want anyone to understand. Is this okay? If they see me like this, what would they think? Would they pity me? Would they feel sorry for me?

When my dad came to visit me for the second weekend, I was already in a bad mental space. He shouted for me to eat three times through a shut door, each time five minutes apart. He barged into my room without knocking. I broke down. Instantly. I was thrown right back to my childhood, sitting in my room trying to calm myself with music, knowing that even my own space wasn’t safe. He had broken the door lock once in a rage. I screamed at him: “You are the villain in my story. You’ve always been.” I told him I’m not mentally ill. I just deeply believe my life has no meaning. Not in the past, not now, not ever. Because I’ve never had autonomy. I was never allowed to make decisions. I don’t remember everything I said. I just remember he was gloomy for nearly a week after that. And even though I had a breakdown, I meant every word I said. I felt guilty about letting him see me like that. After that, he kept reminding me to take my meds, every single day, until I “stabilized.”

I wanted to tell him: please go back. Your presence is doing more harm than good right now. He was walking on eggshells that whole week, scared of doing something wrong. It made me feel sorry for him too. But I didn’t overreact, did I? I really was breaking down. The damage they caused in me as a child. It really does create episodes like this. When the emotion hits, it completely floods me. Even then, I didn’t know how to gently ask him to leave. So I lied and said he was affecting the sex life of the newlyweds (laughs). It’s the one excuse a father never wants to hear and can’t argue with.