A Blossom in Bloom: Drawing Strength from My Asian Women Ancestors

By Tien Ngo

Tien Ngo is diaspora Vietnamese. Whose family are post-Vietnam War survivor. She began her journey to first understand and then heal from her personal experiences over ten years ago. As she processed the experiences that made her who she is and ultimately led her down a different path, Tien felt called to guide others to move away from a volatile cancel culture, disrupt the model minority myth, and build a new community culture. Her healing path lead her to call onto her ancestors for strength and guidance, especially the Vietnamese women of her ancestry.

In a candid story of self-discovery, Tien shares insight into what it is like to navigate through the unsettling feelings of not belonging to a country while facing discrimination, hate, expectations, violence, biases, assimilation, and erasure as a first generation Vietnamese woman living in the United States of America. As she leads others through her recollections, Tien reveals how she was able to accept and name her experiences, and then create a spacer to reduce her caretaking role for those who abused and oppressed her and allow her to become her real self.

A Blossom in Bloom is the memoir of a first generation Vietnamese American woman determined to heal from erasure, assimilation, hate, and the model minority myth and help others be seen and know they are not alone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Jan 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798765247921

Tien Ngo

Tien Ngo 's journey unfolds in the midst of a family history shaped by colonization, erasure, and enslavement. From a lineage marked by inherited resilience and compassion, Tien's relatives survived the aftermath of the Vietnam War by embracing the model minority myth. Navigating the complexities of preserving cultural identity and grappling with societal expectations in the wake of trauma. Life's experiences sculpted Tien into a dissenting voice, a healer, a disruptor of shame, a catalyst for change, a devoted parent, a guiding leader, a trusted friend, a confidant, an educator, a captivating performer, a passionate human rights advocate, and a breaker of systemic barriers.

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Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1 Isabella

Chapter 2 First Love

Chapter 3 Forgiveness, Healing, and Boundaries

Chapter 4 Chi Tuyet

Chapter 5 Home Instead

Chapter 6 Mr. Jones

Chapter 7 Drake

Chapter 8 Friends

Chapter 9 Slide

Chapter 10 Fear

Chapter 11 Life Coach

Chapter 12 Steven

Chapter 13 Recurring Thoughts of Defeat

Chapter 14 Dream One

Chapter 15 Your Honor

Chapter 16 Dream Two

Chapter 17 Dream Three

Chapter 18 Inadequate

Chapter 19 The Wedding

Chapter 20 Thoughts

Chapter 21 Dream Four

Chapter 22 Chance Help

Chapter 23 Dream Five

Chapter 24 Fuel to the Fire

Chapter 25 Ideal World

Chapter 26 Surviving

Chapter 27 2020

Chapter 28 He Was Having a Bad Day

Chapter 29 Dream Six

Chapter 30 Dream Seven

Chapter 31 Triggering News

Chapter 32 Dream Eight

Chapter 33 Access

Chapter 34 EMDR

Chapter 35 Black Tiger

Chapter 36 I Am Human Too

Chapter 37 Dream Nine

Chapter 38 Attack of My Identities

Chapter 39 Processing Growth

Chapter 40 Where to Next?

Chapter 41 Bitter Medicine

Chapter 42 Retaliation

Chapter 43 From Walter

Chapter 44 Dream Ten

Chapter 45 Matriarch

Chapter 46 Dream Eleven

Chapter 47 Dream Twelve

Chapter 48 Until Next Time

Introduction

When I started writing this memoir, it was a place for me to share my experiences for my children. They were too young when I wanted to share. I was worried I would forget the experiences that have shaped me into who I am. I started to write them down. Throughout my journey of building courage to write my story, I found it harder and harder to relive and unpack those experiences. Then a few years went by because I didn’t want to know what I had already written down and now edit what was written. My heart had hurt, and my tears had fallen when I’d attempted to write the first time. I had to be even braver to go over it again and again.

In A Blossom in Bloom: Drawing strength from my Asian women ancestors, you get a glimpse of how I processed my experiences that made me who I am and why I crave for community. This crave for community was missing not only in my life but missing in many of our lived experiences. I realized the solution for me was to help guide people to understand the need for community care. To move away from cancel culture and build on community culture. You will see that I could not have just one thought, one time frame. Everything had layers which added more emotions and confusion. Being present was not experienced as a singular moment in time. I jump around in different times in my life because it was my norm, it brought ease. A sense of connection to something when being an outsider was my norm. Our body doesn’t recognize time when we are experiencing trauma, stress or re-living trauma. Once a memory is open, I’m back in that time again. One of the challenges I had going through EMDR was not knowing what time I was in. I would practice grounding myself to know where and when I was.

Another discovery I made with these repeat experiences I would have was that, once I realized the situation I was in, I could start to heal my past experience by changing the current narrative. I was given the opportunity to unlearn and try again. I was learning to walk away as soon as my gut told me so. I recognized those gut responses were my ancestors telling me to pay attention—the gut feelings that had been passed down to me by all my ancestors’ experiences. I was listening. It was my opportunity to break cycles and heal—to not pass down the generational trauma to the next generation. I started to understand that healing was not for me to be able to live with trauma but to live to accept joy. Joy didn’t feel like something I can accept or that I was worthy to experience or collect joy. Joy was a foreign feeling. I believed joy didn’t belong in my body. As I journey through healing, I am reminding myself that I can accept and experience joy. That I am worthy of joy and this is healing.

There is much work for each of us to do to shift our culture and foster communities where people feel supported, heard, and cared for. We’ve been taught to assimilate and conform. And we’ve often been left not knowing the extent to which this erasure does damage to our relationships with ourselves, our family, and our relationships. It is a vicious cycle that makes lateral violence go unnoticed. We don’t see the purposeful design in this erasure—how we are meant to hate our parents, hate our culture, and hate anyone who doesn’t resemble the White culture. Colonization is taught as progress of the future. And we don’t see that the future doesn’t include us. Doors are held open to make us think we can walk in and be successful. No one tells us there is a price to pay for admission.

We have to change or give up our names, our hair, our clothes, our language, our grammar, our ideals, our ancestors, our family, our community, our knowledge, our time, our energy, our personality, our tone, our size, our food, our behaviors, our culture. If we display who we are, they feel betrayed. Some feel betrayed to the point of retaliation. And the point of that retaliation is to get us back to where they designed us to be. We are not seen as equals or human. In the meantime, they take our culture, piece by piece, each piece one of their discoveries and something they can capitalize on.

I want my kids to see their value and worth. I hope they build boundaries to preserve their space, time, and heart. I want them to be able to recognize when to leave a situation they thought was great. I want them to be able to see the manipulation, toxicity, and narcissism that will be attracted to their heart and spirit. And I also want them to recognize the anti-Asian hate within themselves and reflect on who they are centering and why. To pull out trauma and ideals people have placed onto them. I want them to know that I will always support and invest their growth and love. I want them to recognize when I remove away from people they adore in their life, that it is about that person, not them. I want them to trust their intuition, what their ancestors are telling them. I want them to be proud of their heritage and who they are.

I’ve realized I continued to write because I hope my story will help others feel they are not alone. There is nothing wrong with you, and you are not crazy. You are worthy. You are valuable. You are deserving of love and joy.

I started this journey 10 years ago. As I make my last round of edits, I’ve taken out stories that I’m not ready to share. Healing is messy and there is no summit. I aim for progress and sometimes that I means I must step back or remove myself for a bit. Have my thoughts of hurting myself stopped? No. Have I made any attempts lately? No. Do I think about it often? Yes. What keeps me going? My kids. Am I invisible in work situations? Yes. Am I silent about it? No. Do I experience anti-Asian hate? Yes. Am I silent about it? No. Has my oldest been able to come home? No. Do I continue to dance? Getting there. Am I exhausted? Yes. Is my soul exhausted? Yes. Have I found my spirit? It is slowly growing. Do I trust my ancestors speaking to me? Yes. Yes. Yes.

I created a local collective for Asian and Pacific Islanders to meet regularly for a restorative circle. To heal from erasure, assimilation, hate, and the model minority myth. We are building a community because we are all isolated here. We are giving youth the language to recognize it is not them. There is nothing wrong with them. My hope is for our community to metabolize trauma, pull out experiences, not internalize hate, heal, and recognize it is ok to speak when we are taught and expected to be silent. I want our community to see the beauty of their ancestors, heritage, language, and culture. It is time for us to rise like the Phoenix, soar like the Dragon, and connect like the elements.

CHAPTER 1

Isabella

The atmospheric pressure made me feel like the new moon wanted to come out of me. The moon energy had control of my body. There was a shift, and I wasn’t ready to listen. For a couple of weeks leading up to Isabella’s arrival, one intense event after the next had taken place. I don’t remember sleeping or preparing myself for what was to come. The full moon eclipse was magical to see before Isabella arrived. I took it as a sign of the powerful change Isabella would provide for the world. I stayed up to watch the sky change and took in the beauty of what I was hoping would be the start of a new focus for me. Walter was filling the room with his I’m important talk, and it was pulling me into a black hole. The universe was closing in all around me. I needed to get out of that space, so I headed toward the deck. The stars came out with smiles to say hello and were ready to give Isabella a welcoming ceremony made for heroes. I felt someone grab my hand. It was Steven. His happy smile and embracing hand led me to a weightless space. So many colors were floating around us. For a second, we were joyfully prancing around, being silly, and floating on rainbows. It was almost like he knew I was fading into a black void. Walter did not like that we walked away and yelled at Steven to go to bed. We went back inside.

As soon as Steven was settled, Walter said he was in extreme pain, and he thought he was having a heart attack. He said he was having chest pains and a hard time breathing. So I woke up Steven, and we went to the hospital. The sky was just getting back to normal from the eclipse. The sky glowed, and I really didn’t want to listen to Walter talk. We got to the hospital. I held Steven’s hand and propped up Walter as we walked into the emergency room. Walter put the majority of his weight on me. I was surprised I didn’t go into labor with all the pressure I was feeling. A nurse met us outside with a wheelchair and brought it to me. I said it was for my husband. She looked stunned for a second, and then Walter sat in the wheelchair. What a relief it was for the nurse to take over—over two hundred pounds off my shoulders. I was ninety pounds at the time. We were in the emergency room for about four hours. They did every test possible. The nurse told us there was an ice cream room, and Steven’s eyes grew wide open. There were three flavors to choose from, and Steven had several cups of ice cream. He probably felt like he’d hit the jackpot.

The nurse wheeled Walter back out to us. He hadn’t had a heart attack, just a sprained intercostal muscle. The doctor thought maybe he’d sneezed really big and sprained the muscles of his lungs. They gave him OxyContin, and we went home. I didn’t know it then, but I would later realize we’d only gone so Walter could get pain meds. It was the first time I’d experienced taking him to the emergency room. I had no idea he was just wanting a fix. It was a blessing though. I did get to have a full day of Walter being drugged out, and that gave Steven and me peace for a day. We headed back from the hospital at about 2:00 a.m. Steven was such a champ to be by my side the whole time.

I never settled my mind into living at that place. It was like living in a box. One foot would be in the kitchen and the other in the living room. It was advertised as a one-bedroom apartment, but the bedroom felt like a closet. Steven’s red car bed was the only thing that fit in that closet of a room. I didn’t mind that the red car was only used for naps. The only light coming into the place was from the deck, which was also our front door. The box was constantly dark.

We lived there for a very short period of time. I don’t have many memories at that place, other than the constant intimidation and yelling because I did not want to have sex. Walter was refusing to work, so income was solely on my shoulders. I was pregnant with Isabella, and Steven was barely two years old. I had two jobs at the time. One allowed me to have Steven with me for a few hours. The other job required me to drop Steven off at a day care center. Steven didn’t spend the day with his father while I worked because Walter wanted to play during the day and didn’t want to babysit his child. It broke my heart to see Steven’s sad face through the window at the day care center when I left. He would always be in the same spot when I picked him up. It still hurts my heart to picture his face at the window, not sure why I was leaving him with those strangers. Yet Steven would always be so happy to see me. He would forgive me for leaving him every time. How could I hurt him in that way?

One morning, we were getting ready to leave. Walter had already left to go snowboarding with his friends. We walked to the sliding glass door and saw a full-sized adult black bear on the deck! I quickly locked the sliding glass door and pulled the curtain shut. I was about to give birth, and I picked up Steven and ran to his room. We shut the door, and I had him hide in the closet. I pushed the red car bed to the door. My mind was going wild picturing the black bear bursting in and destroying the place—and then destroying us. For a moment, I thought how nice it would be to just not have to be in a world with Walter anymore. But I quickly snapped out of that thinking because no one would take care of Steven and Isabella. Then I fantasized about Walter forgetting something, heading back to the place, and the bear attacking and destroying him. Our problems would be solved, and we wouldn’t have to be in this confusing and unloving environment. I told myself not to think that way because I was a wife now. Wives don’t think terrible things of their husbands. I thought I needed to snap out of this and try to be a better wife.

After twenty minutes of hiding in the room, I moved the red car bed out of the way and got to the phone. I called my work and told them I was going to be late because there was a bear on the deck. I went back into Steven’s room, and we read books and colored for another thirty minutes. I didn’t even think about how inconsistent Steven’s life had been for the past two years. We’d moved about eleven times since he was born. We never had money to do anything, and we lived on the opposite coast from my friends and family. All I had was Steven and Isabella.

My darling Isabella would be here soon. Would she love me? Would she feel empty? I’d found out I was pregnant with Isabella when I was four and half months pregnant. There was no way I could be pregnant. We weren’t having sex. I wanted to leave Walter when we moved to Telluride. I didn’t know how. I felt so trapped. Once I found out I was pregnant, my only goal was to survive and hope that Walter would magically be a better human.

The nightmare I’d had about a monster on me hadn’t been a nightmare. I recall that hazy night. We were living in a house at the edge of a hill at that time. I cleaned and maintained the vacation home that was next to us. I felt unusually strange one night after dinner. My head was heavy and cloudy. I passed out when I put Steven to bed. I usually clean after Steven is asleep but had no strength to do so. That night, I had a nightmare of a monster-type beast on top of me, having his way with me, and I had no strength to fight back. That was about four months before I found out I was pregnant. Could Walter have drugged me? He had gotten back from an interview that day and had made dinner to celebrate the opportunity. I had gotten home from working at the restaurant and didn’t complain about not having to cook that night. He did tell me the mushrooms he was making had a special expensive sauce he picked up that wouldn’t be good for Steven. I didn’t think anything of it. And he said it was just for me. I was such a trusting person then.

I had already given up my future education at Dragons Den School of Eastern Medicine by convincing them Walter would be a better healer than me. They were ready for me to work at the school with Steven by my side. I was excited too. The school welcomed me in as staff and student. It is so heartbreaking to me now that I thought I wasn’t worthy of the position. Why was I finding work and education for his future? Was it love? Or was it dumb obedience and self-hate? But Walter came home one day miserable about work. He convinced me his life was worthless because of his job and that he was smarter and better than me—that I was taking his dream away. He told me I needed to try to be a good wife and give him what he needed to make his dreams come true. As a good wife, I convinced the school to accept Walter instead.

There was no stopping Isabella from entering this world. She was ready. But was I? I had so many questions about the future. Sweet Steven was with me as we walked to my delivery room. His curly hair and loving smile filled my heart. He was going to be a leader whether he liked it or not—a future role model. But who would be his? How could I lead him with anything? Who would teach him to keep his heart strong and his body protected? Who would teach him how to treat others with respect and love. Who was going to teach him about boundaries and growth? I was not the role model he needed. Walter was not the role model he needed. How could I provide what was needed for him? Where would I learn how to be a role model for him?

The spring mountain storm was beautifully drumming the entrance of my future and only daughter, Isabella. The raindrops were clearing the energy for Isabella. The smell was refreshing. The barometric pressure was pulling her closer to gravity. My contractions were steady at every five minutes. I tried my best to rest that night. The next morning was a beautiful spring day in the mountains. My contractions were now every four minutes, and it seemed it was time to get to the birthing center. We called his parents and drove to the birthing center. It was a gorgeous drive through the mountain. We parked next to the hospital’s park to let Steven know he could play there after I get checked in. My doula, Daniella, came in. She was full of life and compassion. She made a cast of my belly a month before Isabella was born. She painted art on the belly cast. It had mountains, streams, and a magical mood. Walter did not let me keep the belly cast. He destroyed it after it was gifted to me. Shattered it with a hammer and tossed it in the trash.

My contractions started to be erratic. Daniella and my midwife, Mary, were amazing humans. They knew what I was thinking without me even saying anything. Walter didn’t want me to have anything to do with my doula or midwife. He told me they were both evil and were out to ruin our marriage and insisted that I not trust them. Mary noticed I was under distress and asked how she could support me to relax again. I was worried about Steven. Walter’s parents had just arrived at the birthing center and taken Steven with them. I hadn’t let Steven know I wouldn’t be able to speak with him for a while and didn’t know when I would see him again. I didn’t know if he’d eaten or if his grandparents knew about the park at the birthing center. I didn’t know what their plans were or if they were going to stay in town and watch Steven while we waited. I asked Mary to find out where Steven was and to let him know he was on my mind. Mary came back with news that Steven was in good hands and having lunch. Knowing he was OK and not worried about me, I took a breath of relief.

Daniella brought me some ice chips and walked with me in the room. She held me as I paced back and forth. I watched the wild turkeys roam around the hills from the window. I noticed they looked so free and happy. I was dancing with them and not in the birthing room. They were my dancing sisters, and we pranced around the trees. The flowers were in bloom and showing all the colors I would soon have in my life. Then I noticed a magnificent and hidden waterfall in the distance. I could just see its faint outline, and it brought me some peace. For a moment, I was not in fear. The waterfall was full of life and sprinkling life everywhere the wind would take its spray. I imagined myself with Isabella and Steven at the waterfall and saw how they loved how it tickled their faces.

My moment of peace was broken when Walter talked to Mary and Daniella about his healing abilities. Trying to drown out his voice was very challenging. He was saying how he knew he was the chosen one, and he would have followers. I asked him to check on Steven, but he continued to talk to Daniella about his understanding of how the body worked and how he could tell when someone needed his healing. He told her he was such a great healer he didn’t have to go to school and get a piece of paper that said he knew how to heal. He was always smarter than all the teachers he had. His teachers would ask him for advice and would ask his opinion of matters in class.

Patrice and Richard, Walter’s parents, stopped by to tell us they were going to shopping with Steven. They were very upset about us having another baby. They didn’t approve of having to watch Steven for us during labor and lectured us on how irresponsible it was for us to rely on them to watch Steven. Walter’s parents never accepted me and didn’t understand why I wasn’t a better person for their son. I was glad they only stopped at the door and didn’t come into the room. I was trying not to listen to their words and to focus on my labor. Daniella, Mary, and I decided to take a walk with the turkeys. I wanted to get away from the toxic environment and try to focus so I could be there for Isabella. The fresh smell of the storm rejuvenated me. The sparkling storm brought me to a place of breath and balance.

When we got back to the room, Walter was there. He told me he wanted to be the first one to hold Isabella. My patience was low. Daniella knew I was annoyed. She gave Walter a job that would require him to leave the room—sending him to get ice chips. When he left, Daniella asked me if he was bothering me and what needed to happen so I could relax. My labor started to slow down again. My progression stopped every time Walter started talking.

I decided to take a bath to center myself and look inward. I was catching up on my breath. Tanya brought me a birthday cake for Isabella. The chocolate cake was so yummy. It gave me some energy. I loved it. Flowers and cake represented the sweetness that was about to come into this world. Would I love her enough? Would she resent me if I left her father at a young age? Would she hate men because I couldn’t love her father anymore? Would she be happy? Would she find her value and strength? Would she find a partner who supported her, valued her, and encouraged her to shine and grow?

Thinking about how I would nurture Isabella helped me find my rhythm again. My labor started to progress. It was time. Daniella and Mary kept saying, She is ready. It was time for me to push. I didn’t believe them. It wasn’t possible. I didn’t feel the physical intensity, yet. All I could feel was the emotional intensity. Daniella held my hand and was helping me to breathe, reminding me Isabella was ready to be here. I had to do my part so this precious being could be here. Walter went to the other side of me and started talking to Daniella. He started talking about himself. How he knew what I needed to do. Daniella asked Mary if maybe Walter could help her.

Mary knew what Daniella meant. Give Walter a job so I can concentrate. Mary told Walter to help guide Isabella into this world. As Walter faded out of my sight and hearing, I was able to breathe. I centered myself. Daniella looked at me with great confidence and patience. She was a blessing. I couldn’t have gotten through that day without her and Mary.

Isabella was here. What a powerful soul! She spun my world. My perspective began to shift. I didn’t know it, but the shift was in motion. Steven loved her. He showered her with kisses and hugs. He protected her from the beginning. He would always protect her. I was looking into fading eyes. Milk was finally coming in. She was in bliss. Steven was hugging me. All three of us were in bliss together. We shared so much love. We finally had some peace together. Isabella stretched and opened up her hand. A shining red star glowed in her hand. It was so bright I could feel the warmth from it. She closed her hand and placed her hand on my heart.

With her touch, my heaviness started to settle. She let me know it would all be OK. Her presence would make a difference for our family. I didn’t know when or how, but I trusted her breath and the promise that peace would be coming. She was the seed that would provide us strength and courage to move forward. To laugh freely. To love openly. To live happily.

***

The young lady of my heart, Isabella. She has over the years since her birth opened my heart to many amazing feelings. Watching her grow has been pure awesomeness. She is a complete kick-ass person. I am at constant pride of her skills, intellect, beauty, and strength. I continue to want to grow up to be like her. It made my heart sing when she wanted to take my last name. I appreciate her because she is courageous, loving, giving, compassionate, learning to be mindful and empathetic, forgiving, sassy, and a bit smart-assy.

CHAPTER 2

First Love

I was wearing my favorite overalls—light purple corduroy. I would wear them almost every day. I sat there in the college cafeteria doing my math homework. I was waiting for Trevor to get there. Trevor loved me. He wanted a future for us. He even gave me his high school ring. I was so shocked when he gave that to me. He was expecting me to be overjoyed and spilling tears of happiness. But I didn’t. I gave him a weird look. The look asked, Why in the world do you think I want your ring? Yes, we were together, but I was just going with the motions.

Trevor was a sweet young man. I believe he was fifth-generation Nippon American. I didn’t understand why his grandfather never liked me. I really wasn’t Asian in his grandfather’s eyes. He viewed me like an unintelligent peasant. He would never say anything to me or make eye contact with me and would leave the room if I was there. He probably knew Trevor was into the relationship more than I was. But I adored his grandmother. She was receptive of me and enjoyed telling me stories about raising her children. Trevor would have done anything for me but I never asked anything from him. I don’t even remember why I started dating him. I know we met at a college party. We spent the night talking with each other. We ended up in the dorm room and fell asleep on the top bunk of someone’s room. I don’t recall knowing many people there. It was my first time sleeping on a bunk bed, and waking up so close to the ceiling put me in a panic. Trevor was there and helped me through the panic. He was by my side for over a year after that.

Trevor and his friends never understood me. They were privileged and abundantly wealthy kids. Their parents paid for the college education. Their parents even bought them houses to live in and collected rent from their friends. They didn’t have to work or worry about completing their education. Everything they spent was at the expense of their families’ wealth. Theirs was a debt-free education. The majority of them didn’t care about what they were learning. It was more about where you went shopping and whose party you were invited to and who was going to Paris for the summer. I remember meeting the heir to a makeup company from Nippon. He was the first grandson from the first wife. He only like women blond and blue-eyed. Each girl he was with would get a diamond ring. And I don’t even know how many times he would get a new Porsche because he would wreck the cars so badly. I think about him and wonder what ever happened to him. Did he ever grow up? Is he actually running a business these days or just living off his grandfather’s legacy? He was handsome, too. He had perfect melanin and black hair. He was rich and handsome, nothing but trouble.

Trevor was average-looking. He was short with wavy black hair and a stalky build. And he had a kind and wide smile. He was quite gentle with life. His soft eyes and glasses made him look like a leader. He lived with his grandparents while he was going to school. His Aunt Kitty lived with them, too. His parents and sister lived in a mountain town several hours away. Aunt Kitty was an elegant artist. I never found out if Kitty was her real name or a nickname. She was very kind to me. She shared with me her many relationships as an adult. She was a twin. They both had beautiful, straight, salt-and -pepper hair. It ran down past their bums. She would wear simple spring dresses every day. I enjoyed her carefree style. I did ask why she lived with her parents. She told me that every man she’d been with had died at a young age. So she ‘vowed not to be in a relationship again. She believed she was bad luck for men. I felt that turmoil within her. Yet, I also envied her for not feeling like she had to be in a relationship. She was in her fifties, single, and happy. I secretly wanted that for myself.

As I was doing my math homework in the cafeteria, eating my usual tuna melt sandwich on sourdough, I heard a, Hello. I’m Robert. He pulled out a seat at the table. I gave him a confused look and looked around as if he’d mistaken me for someone else. Robert told me he’d been wanting to meet me for months. He had seen me in the math building. He asked what I was working on and if he was able to help me at all. He told me he was the math tutor in the lab and saw me in the lab often. According to what I believed the world told, Robert was tall, handsome, and intelligent. He had dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and a chiseled body. He was wearing a leather jacket, so I figured he had a motorcycle. I didn’t think anything of it, though. I figured he was bored and didn’t want to sit alone.

I could feel Trevor’s energy coming to our table. I didn’t see him, but I felt the energy of a dog marking his territory. I looked up, and there was Trevor. He started kissing me before he even sat down. I thought that was different. He wasn’t a public affection kind of guy. I introduced him to my new friend, Robert. There was a brief awkward silence. Robert excused himself by saying he had homework to do. Trevor never said anything about it. He took a bite of my sandwich and pulled out his homework. We sat quietly for thirty long minutes. I felt like Trevor was mad at me, but I didn’t think I had done anything wrong. I started to feel terrible inside and I didn’t understand it.

Trevor and I had calculus class together. Trevor really struggled in the class. We studied together every day. I would help him see the math in a different way. I usually went to the math lab to get help when I was stuck. Lots of brilliant math geeks could be found there. Trevor never went with me to the math lab. The tutors at the math lab also helped me with my chemistry and physics questions. I know what you’re thinking; I was boring in college. And yes, the math lab was filled with stinky, boyish men. When I think of the energy and smell, I think of our local Game Stop shop. I bet there were a few DND groups at the math lab. Once in a while, there would be a girl. But I never saw a girl tutor. If there was a girl tutor, I would’ve gone to her for sure. There was this one Asian girl I would see once in a while. She was a character. I think she was in the math hall to find a mate, not a tutor—a different problem to solve entirely.

Well, I went into the math hall and saw Robert. Funny that I’d never noticed him before. I said hi and asked if he would help me with my physics lab. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. We started hanging out and doing math and science problems together. Why would I think there was anything going on between us? I was oblivious of his intentions.

After a math break during class, Trevor asked me if he could borrow my calculator. I picked up my backpack, wondering why my bag was so heavy. I opened it up to find my calculator, one of those big T1 nerdy calculators. And there was a portable CD player in the backpack. Trevor was that kind of sweet, romantic guy. For no reason, at least I thought no reason, he’d bought me a gift. Instead of being happy, I got mad at him. Why did you waste your money on this? I didn’t want one. I never asked for one. I said this in front of the whole class.

Why was I so mean? I felt deeply embarrassed. My friend Lacy was in class with us. She scolded me for being so cruel to my boyfriend. But I didn’t understand why he’d bought me a gift. I really didn’t know how to respond or whether there was a catch to the gift. Now, I felt like I owed him or was obligated to him. I was very confused. I was frustrated in why I couldn’t accept a gift and be happy. Why was I annoyed with his kindness?

Receiving gifts was a rare occurrence for me. I’m not sure if it is because I don’t want people to waste their money on me or if I had to repay them somehow. When I did receive gifts as a child, it was usually a bribery of sorts. I also didn’t want to seem needy if I wanted something. It is very easy for me to give to others. I am a generous person. If I didn’t have money, I would give you my time and energy. Constantly giving. I thought giving was how people will value me. I gave so much of myself and didn’t know I was losing myself in the process. Or maybe giving was a way for me to hide from myself. What do you tell people when they ask, what do you want? That seemed like a trick question to me. Do I tell them what I need to survive or ask for something that would give me a temporary fix of material joy? Would answering make me materialistic and shallow? People already saw me an unintelligent and subhuman. All of these thoughts floating in my mind.

A few weeks went by. The term was almost over. Robert and I were becoming good math friends.