16. Tears and defenses

I cried at my parents over the weekend. It seems like every time this happens, it's a result of personal insecurity, confused expectations, and a frustration in communication rolled into one. Confused expectations because I can't tell exactly what they are hoping for. I understand my role as a daughter to honor and take care of you, but am I an adult who should be doing that now? Or am I a child till I am married, as some say? Am I not growing up quickly enough? Personal insecurity because I am still unconvinced they fully support me, and I am afraid that I should be able to pay for a good meal of dim sum on a Saturday morning instead of three burgers and fries at In-n-Out. Frustration in communication because speaking to my parents often feels like treading a line: how do I be honest without hurting feelings? how come I can't clear this cloud away to see which of my accusations are unbiased? will I always feel like I'm slowly testing how honest I can be with them? how come I'm 24 and still have trouble sorting out why I'm crying in a restaurant? Then there's the sheer fact of our conversations flowing between Mandarin, English, and Chinglish.

The last time this happened, I had been back in the US for about a week and a half after a six-week trip to India. My dad asked what my post-grad plans were, and suddenly, I found myself having to explain my decision to intern with InterVarsity before I was fully ready to for the conversation. I cried in the restaurant, sat silent in the van, and journaled in the bathroom when I got home (I don't really have my own room, and I didn't feel like running into any of the siblings).

My mom's attitude towards my post-grad choice has changed much since. Still, she repeats a lot of questions to me: How many hours am I babysitting? How much am I getting paid? My dad asks if I have enough money. There is something in me that cannot accept these as fully out of concern and love; I hear an undertone of them doubting my choices, but there's a good chance that that's the insecure voices. After all, I know that our parents challenge our decisions because they love us and want security and comfort for us. Yet why does it make me feel challenged, small, and defensive?