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Fortunately, since this course is online, it may be a little bit easier for all of us to disclose more personal information. Overall, I’m pretty comfortable discussing any topic when asked, however, there are a few components in my life that I would rather leave shaded. These topics encompass the darker side of my life, but I want you all to know that my personality does not really reflect these events. I smile a lot!
1. My dad passed away when I was nine-years-old. He was a heavy smoker and an alcoholic. It was only about three months ago when my mom finally decided to show me the certificate written by his doctor at the time of his death. Seeing the word “alcoholic” actually written on paper changed my entire perception of him. I feel like I had fake memories of him until now.
2. I moved to Arizona a little less than 3 years ago. Within that time span, I’ve lost a significant amount of weight and have been the target of concern among my friends and family. I’m pretty sure I have some issues to deal with in that spectrum.
3. Growing up, I was a very loveable kid. Today, I cant even seem to give someone hug. I sometimes even resist hugs from my own family. I have issues with affection and it’s hard for me to get past that. I seem to be the only one of my friends that is not in a serious relationship, and on the surface, it doesn’t seem to bother me, but I’ve gotten so good at lying to myself that I’m wondering if this is really affecting my emotional state. I don’t even feel as if I have made any true connections with people out here. My friendships just seem so fake.
I’m pretty sure I spent majority of my childhood hating him. He practically tortured me. He pushed me around. He called me names. He pulled my hair. He once even stuck a Twizzler in my eye. And it seemed no matter how many times I yelled, or cried, or put up a fight, he would never back down. He was ruthless.
My brother, Ashwin, four years my senior, was always right. He was smarter than me. He was faster than me. He seemed talented at everything. And I resented him for that. No matter how hard I tried, I could never reach his level. I counted down the years until his graduation.
Growing up was hard enough and I certainly did not need his criticism. I remember second grade. I remember standing at the bus stop on those bitter-cold Michigan winter mornings while all the other kids waited comfortably in their mothers’ toasty minivans. Our mom worked long hours, often leaving early in the morning and not returning until dusk. She would always try to pack our lunches the night before, but it was our responsibility to get ourselves up and ready for our day at school.
I remember Ashwin’s stern voice. “You have to get up now! You’re gonna miss your bus.” Mom had long been out the door and Ashwin was instructed to make sure I got up on time. It was school picture day. It was my most dreaded day of the year. I was so awkward looking. All the other girls in my class were small and fair-skinned, and I was a frumpy Indian girl with frizzy hair and crooked teeth.
“I need mom to get me ready!”
“Mom left, just throw something on and go.”
“I don’t know what to wear though!”
“Who cares, just hurry up!”
I then did what any young distressed girl would do. I hugged my stuffed dog. I fell on the floor. And I cried.
What followed is something that still shocks me a little bit today. Instead of letting me suffer and telling me to grow up, Ashwin sat down next to me, wrapped his arms around me, and calmly said, “don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
And that’s exactly what he did.
I look back at that second grade picture and I remember everything about that moment. My ugly purple polka dotted dress. My hair pulled back into a disheveled ponytail. And my beaming smile reflecting how lucky I felt to have someone whom I could rely on. I felt like the most beautiful girl in the world that day.
I spent the first seventeen years of my life growing up in a little town settled nicely in southern Michigan. I resided in a safe and comfortable neighborhood where everyone knew each other and each other’s dogs. I had the same friends throughout school and we pretty much did the same thing every weekend. Countless hours were spent drinking coffee at Starbucks. Or hanging out in basements. Or driving around aimlessly just listening to music with each other. There wasn’t much to do in our little town, and that never seemed to bother us.
I floated through high school with no worries about the future. Like my brother, I was destined for the University of Michigan. I had good grades. I played sports. I joined student council. And deep down I knew that being a minority certainly did not hurt my chances of gaining entrance. As junior year progressed, we sent out our applications, which consisted of Michigan State University, the University of Michigan, or maybe both if we were still feeling a bit torn between the two.
I wrote the best essays for that U of M application. I checked the mail everyday for the next three months, and on that frigid afternoon in early March, I finally received what I had been waiting for. I quickly tore open the letter envisioning that glorious statement: “CONGRATULATIONS ON BECOMING A WOLVERINE!” I was so ready to overwhelm my closet with blue and gold and plan out the next four years with my best friends. But as I searched the letter for that glorious statement, all I found was “Sorry to inform you…”
That letter changed my life. That letter moved me across country. That letter tore me away from my home. From my family. From my comfort. And at the same time, that letter gave me my freedom. That letter allowed me to take on responsibility and mature into a confident young woman. That letter gave me a chance to experience real life, and meet different people. And most importantly, that letter made me realize how fortunate I am to have strayed away from the pack.
