\tBy the title, I have a habit of crying and sometimes that is all I can do. My dad told me I was always a big crybaby when I was a baby thus why I was given a nickname that was basically the sound of crying (which I will not share what specific onomatopoeia because its my IRL name). It made sense because as a baby, you can't really do much except cry because babies don't really have the ability to do things themselves or say what they want. But this crying habit of mine continued past my toddler stage and all the way into my young adulthood to where I am now. I am seriously living up to my name and I am starting to understanding now how I came to be.\tWhen I was like 3 or 4 years old, I remember telling my nanny "Daddy got mad at me today so then he'll get mad at my brother tomorrow." I am not sure if I said it verbatim because this has been years ago but I do remember what I was trying to say. My dad has anger issues and he is constantly angry. He yells at me and my older brother a lot probably because of a mix of reasons such as us being brats and him being stressed from work and probably him having anger issues which I will get to later. It was a weird memory which stuck to me, it was like a core memory from Inside Out, and it made me learn to be quiet and fearful of my dad's temper. In all fairness, he is the man of the house and one of the breadwinners (the other being my mom) so I guess his authority and yelling has some justification to it. Still, I don't like it and it definitely bothered everyone. I even remember my mom trying to talk to my dad after yelling at my brother and she was also clearly frustrated about my dad's anger. Thus, leading to their separation.\tThe separation of my parents happened when I was like 2nd or 3rd grade. It was like a blur to me because I didn't understand what was happening except the fact there was something happening and it was something bad. Just one day I was home and suddenly my mom just left home. My grandmother was talking to my dad and he was using the phone and making a call. I didn't understand what was happening and I just watched things unfold. Now that I am an adult, I realize that my mom ran away and my grandmother was probably getting my dad to go after her so my dad tried to call her. Obviously being the youngest member of the family, no one talked to me about it or told me the truth. I had to rationalize what happened by myself and I have yet to realize the truth so whenever someone tells me where is my mom, I say "I think she just left to take care of my grandfather (her dad) so she can't stay home with us." I learned many years later that my dad's anger issues were the reason my mom left (wow! big surprise! who could've seen that coming! sarcasm!). My mom, brother, and I had a talk about it and we also talked about my grandmother who we complained also had a short temper. My mom told us that she doesn't understand my dad's anger issues because he got mad at her, too, and many times she doesn't know why. Was it her fault? Honestly, who knows? Maybe she did a small trigger like leaving the glass of water on the table and my dad simply overreacted like always. Either way, mom left dad. It was honestly the best decision because this could eventually lead to actual verbal abuse if it continued. To add, I actually looked into their annulment files one day because they were out in the open. My mom definitely said the reason she left was my dad having anger issues and my dad may need to see a psychologist. So daddy definitely got angry issues.\tThese anger issues did not happen because of marriage. No, it did not. I learned my dad had this attitude since he was a kid. I overheard conversations between my grandmother and my uncle and aunts about it, some even told me directly, and some were shared by my therapist during a family session. Everyone knew my dad was an angry person but they all brushed it off as some personality trait. And you all know what happens when problems are not dealt with early, they become a bigger problem in the future. It was honestly weird that they were all sort of realizing it now and saying my dad became "angrier" after my mom left. He definitely confessed to me he felt really lonely after she left (honestly, good for him for realizing and I believe he deserved it). But the thing is, he is always angry and everyone sort of enabled it. Including me because I thought it was normal; my brother was actually the first to question it but everyone even my mom and I brushed it off as "tough love" or just "Asian parent things". Looking back, we enabled a problem to grow and create a dysfunctional and broken family that may never heal. And I think the reason people say my dad seems angrier is because of who he projects the anger to. My dad probably projected his anger to his immediate family being the wife and kids but now that wife is gone, the anger has to be distributed to others.\tMy grandmother then became another target for the projections along with me and my brother so now that she is able to taste what we feel, she realizes there is a problem. And it gets worse because the anger doesn't simply go away, no, it gets passed around. My dad projects his anger to my grandmother and brother and they, in turn, project their anger to me. Why me? Well that is because I am the youngest and most submissive member of the family (plus it didn't help that I am a girl born in a conservative Catholic household) because they know I know I can't talk back to them and all I do was run away and cry. Cry like I did when I was a baby up until now. That was before I was able to fight back in my own way. A way that is sort of regrettable but it managed to give them a warning.\tI was turning 18 years old and was in my first year of college, I was having an existential crisis about becoming a legal adult and also going through different emotions. When I was in senior year, I was stressed about the entrance exams and I didn't pass my top two choices because of my faults that were mine. My grandmother told me actually that I could have appealed for one of those schools but honestly, I was not even in the waiting list and I had nothing to offer besides probably a sob story essay in hopes they would pity me and I was tired from senior year (school drama, friend drama, and a lot of other drama) so I didn't do it. Honestly if I did, what were the chances they would pick me? I had no portfolio, no honors, no connections, no sad sob story, nothing so my odds of passing through an appeal were abysmal especially since I was going to be against probably hundreds to thousands other students who are trying to appeal. Obviously, I was depressed but at least I got my third option which was fortunately the same college as my brother though different courses. Still, it wasn't my first or second choice plus no one I friends with was coming to the same school I was. Most of them ended up going to those top choices I had, some to other schools, I only had one friend who was at least studying in the same city as me but we can't see each other often. I felt so alone. Even if I made friends in college who were both academically and emotionally supportive, the loneliness was still there and all my friends I could relate my interests to are in different places. The ironic thing was I had two friends in college who were from the same high school and they knew each other before but they never knew I existed until now because I was never classmates with either of them before. I know there is Facebook, online whatever, but it was different not seeing your friends physically. I eventually got into a petty fight with one of my friends in high school that I ended up breaking off from all of my high school friends and trying to connect closer with college friends. My college friends were good people and they helped me a lot to become a better person, they were definitely different from my high school friends; the college buds being quite the overachievers or at least have many useful talents while my high school buds have accepted ourselves as that group of weirdos and outcasts (seriously, we were sort of unable to connect with the majority for many reasons). Still in the end, I was lonely just like my dad was after my mom left. And although I was successful in academics, it did not make me feel any better. I never had an honors but in college, I had honors and everyone worked so hard for it yet now, as a former failure, holding my first certificate of academic honors, all I see was a piece of paper with my name. Even now that I finished my undergraduate as a consistent honors and viable for the Latins, I do not feel accomplished. Maybe because I know I only got to where I was because of my college friends so I don't deserve it and also because it was just a label that did not prove my worth by much. Especially in a liberal arts course, does it really appeal to my future employers? I don't think it will. To me, it was just another tool to be used to brag to people. And that will lead to my first official episode of depression.\tAfter a term studying in my college, I got my first honors and it was a "First Honors" honors. Honestly, I didn't see it as a big thing because I didn't deserve it; I just followed the advise to recite everyday, never skip a homework, and don't be an ass to anyone. Plus, I was such a teacher's pet. When I got it, everyone seemed happy and excited and I was sort of was but it was like just a "wow" feeling and nothing else. Like a "wow....wait that's it?" feeling. But the ones who were most happy were my family because they finally have something to brag for. They asked me to take a picture of the certificate to show their friends and they get congratulated. Let's be honest here, it is "THEM" my family being congratulated not me. They raised me therefore they get the credit, right? Not the teachers or the friends who actually helped me but the family who originally pulled me down. I should also reinforce how much a failure I was before college. When I was in middle school, I barely passed and I almost repeated a grade but I was ONE measly point away from that. Not only that, I was also asked to do a lot of extra credit just to pass subjects and I often had failing marks. Before I could even enter my high school, they had to give me summer classes so I could catch up because my grades and entrance exam score showed I needed help. Honestly, the summer class helped and I even pushed to go for extra classes during the semester to help me. But to get to the point, my family was not very supportive academically and it was hard to ask them for help; I literally asked how to do some intermediate math because my dad kept bragging "I got perfect in my calculus exam blah blah blah" and obviously I was shit at math but instead he said "Go ask your classmates" or "Google it yourself". What happened to all that bark, huh? I bet you don't even know calculus anymore so it doesn't matter; you aren't hot shit anymore. What I can say they did help was give me a bed to stay and feed me and spoil me rotten even if I never asked much; I literally just ask for essentials (sanitary napkins, toothbrush, etc.) and barely anything luxurious (laptop, games, clothes). At most, I ask is for a laptop because it was something I needed for school and all we had is a broken one at home which I borrow from my grandma. So going back, they support me mostly financially but not emotionally or academically. Plus, my grandma would vent on me a lot by yelling her problems at me and calling the rest of me (along with my dad and brother) as a burden every once in a while (definitely not once a year, definitely close to monthly). And it usually happens after she argues with my dad or brother or she gets stressed at work. I don't know I hate it. And when they started bragging and reminding me about my 18th birthday, I felt like I went auto and I just couldn't control myself. I was becoming distant and only feigning happiness, sometimes I lash out to my college friends, and I cracked on my 18th birthday. I woke up, went to the kitchen, and took a knife. Unfortunately or fortunately, my grandma stopped me and took it away. Then I cried like the crybaby I was for the entire day.\tThey say 18th birthdays is when you have debuts with 18 roses or dances or shots or whatever, all I got was 18 hours of tears or more. I was sitting in my bedroom with my grandma and dad both "comforting" me in their rather...let's say...gruesome words. Let's start with my dad. He told me not to die because if I die, he will follow me, too. Then he said, if I want to die then he will want to die. Then my grandmother said to me, "You are not allowed to die, you must die after me." I don't know but these words are not comforting me the slightest at all. At least, they eventually got me a therapist to go to and they learn I had major depressive disorder (although they are skeptical about it). But like the therapist is definitely hard to talk with and it did not really help my problems. My therapist told me I should be the one to change and adapt because my dad and grandma cannot change anymore (obviously, therapist trying to say they are a lost cause already in a nice way). I hated that advice but I followed through. Things were quiet for a while but the same problems came back because the source was not dealt with. My dad tries not to get mad at me so he ends up distributing his anger again, giving them to my grandma and brother who then project the anger at me one way or another. For my brother, it was definitely dead silence and like forgetting that we were even family in the first place. For my grandma, she is yelling at me and venting at me like I am her therapist; I hate this the most because (1) her outburst is so random and spontaneous that she would yell at me suddenly even when I am not doing anything except being quiet, (2) I did not agree to entertain the outburst, especially when it is being yelled at and called a burden, and (3) seriously, she is just projecting her anger at me who is the weakest member of the family and it isn't helping anyone, not even her. When she yells at me, I can't do anything besides cry and she won't even look at me after her rants. Obviously, I was crying and it was so easy to see because I was constantly wiping my tears. When she does notice, she would go "Why are you crying?" and obviously I did not want to answer because if I did, I would be blunt and say it was her and she will not accept that answer. And when I don't answer, I shake my head so she keeps pushing until she goes away while complaining how I am so sensitive. Of course I am so sensitive, I have zero self-esteem since ever and you fucking yell at me constantly. Like seriously, fuck you, grandma. The medications doctor is giving me isn't going to cure me because I will always have depression as long as my family still refuses to learn and change; at most, these medications keep me awake in the morning and sleep early but I still cry spontaneously and unreasonably.\tNow that I am older and been through different things, I know why I cry. Sometimes I cry out of frustration and sadness, but many times it is because I am jealous and happy. I was the shy and quiet kid (my teacher literally gave me a makeshift award for being the most quiet person in class) and people took pity on me so they invited me to hang out with them. And I cry whenever they show me kindness and when they see me crying, they aren't forcing me to answer and they will not leave alone when I don't give them an answer. They will pat my back and stay until I was comfortable and ready, they don't even need to ask when I finally got the guts to speak. I often lie about my reasons because I didn't know back then, I usually make up excuses like maybe I was emotional because my grandfather died recently or how my mom left, but now I know a little more about little me. I was a crybaby who was accepted without ridicule and broke down from the simplest forms of kindness. It was sad because I feel guilty hating my family when they provided to my materialistic needs and desires yet I still hate them for their lack of understanding and empathy. Not only is it sad but it is also a problem. Because of my resentment to my family, I also became to resent others' families out of jealousy.\tI have met so many people who have healthy families and it was weird hearing how healthy families should be. I remember my organization's president sharing a story about going to their one classmate's home and seeing how none of the family members talked to each other, not even at the dinner table, and she says it is so weird. That hit me. Hard. My family is also like that, they rarely talk to each other unless it is something they deemed "important". Whenever we do end up talking, the conversations become one-sided, side-tracked, condescending, and many times angry. It wasn't even the comical kind of rage, it was spontaneous rage that attacked others and forces us all to become silent. Whenever I hear stories of families being together and emotionally supporting each other and doing something as simple as admitting their mistakes and apologizing, I get heartbroken because my family will never be like that. All we have is our empty promises and illusion of progress. I always fantasize the perfect family and I know I shouldn't because what I have right now is all I could have but my dreams is what gives me hope to keep living. They aren't true but they distract me from reality; my therapist says distractions are good and I am not sure if she is right but it does make me forget my problems sometimes. I honestly think she is wrong because ignoring the problem will only make it grow just like what happened with my dad and his angry personality, it was ignored and now we are here. I just wish my family could put down their pride, their old ways, their old everything, and just get therapy. Honestly, them dying is actually a viable option in my head as well since it does "eliminate" the problem; but that is going too far and I know it is wrong to indulge in such thoughts yet I can't stop thinking about it sometimes. I should really organize my thoughts or else I will end up making a novel again.\tBefore I end, I have to tell some certain people about something. They would never read it because I am not sure if they will see it but, I want to talk to them about family. These are the people who believe family is everything, especially blood family, and how we have to just accept them. BULLSHIT. If your family is being toxic, cut them out of your life and find people who actually care about you. This is actually my plan when I can finally get out of this house. I don't care if they come texting me or something in the future of wanting to make up, the past doesn't change and I am not risking meeting them if they will likely continue the same mistakes. These anger issues has been going on for years with so many red flags yet the same mistakes are made by my family and no one is willing to change except me. Wait, actually they did change. They changed their anger's target every once in a while. Seriously, the "but they're still your family" is bullshit to me. Now, I shall conclude everything.\tThe story of a big crybaby is filled with anger and mistakes. Mistakes are made but they become a problem when they are repeated so many times especially without the attempt to fix the mistake. Please, for the love of God, families and friends, please learn to control your anger and toxicity. If you do not, you end up creating a cycle and hurt future generations. My brother and I cannot be saved from this cycle, the moment we get children will be the moment we become like those before us and my only way to stop it is to not have kids. I cry thinking about this, not only because of what my family did to me but for the possibility of becoming one of them. I do not want to be like them and I want to fulfill my fantasy of having the ideal family but the reality is that I will always have a dysfunctional family. I will always be crying about it just as I live up to my name which is the wailing sound of a baby.