My name is Giyen - pronounced GEE-yen (which rhymes with pee-yin). I am a 34 year-old single mum of a 14 year-old girl named Paige. We live in the lovely city of Seattle, Washington where there are more dogs per capita than children and more bookstores per capita than anywhere else in the United States. Paige and I have a sometimes contentious relationship due to the fact that she is a born litigator and likes to argue every angle until (a.) I mentally shut down, (b.) I bring out the ugly voice or (c.) I buckle under the pressure of her extreme cross-examination. God, I love that child more than anything (but at this juncture I don’t have a dog so things could change).
Growing Up
I was born in the armpit of Texas, a.k.a. El Paso. I have no recollection of living there and have no sentimental regard for my hometown. Coincidentally, most people that I have talked to about El Paso don’t speak very fondly of the city and as a result it has hindered any feelings I might have about taking an obligatory “pilgrimage journey” to visit my roots. After a brief stint in Texas, my parents settled in the small coastal town of Coos Bay, Oregon. You would think that as recent immigrants to the United States, my parents would want to move to a more urban city with more Korean people who speak their language, but they didn’t and the rest is, as the say, history.
I spent the majority of my formidable years in considerable turmoil. My Mother, a paranoid schizophrenic, was sent back to Korean in the early 80’s and was institutionalized by her family there. She subsequently died in the hospital of complications stemming from pneumonia. I never got a chance to speak with her after she left the United States in 1980 and have no knowledge of my maternal family members. I hope someday to change that.
My Father quickly remarried someone who I considered a Nazi (Wife # 2 of 4 marriages). While I won’t go into the details of it all, I will say that all of my parental figures did a good job at royally screwing up their children. Most of my neurosis stems from the fact that I never felt good enough growing up because - well, my parents told me that I was never good enough. I rebelled by quitting high school and pursuing a variety of rakish endeavors. I will be screwed if Paige inherits some of these behavioral traits.
(And as you can imagine - there was also that whole liberal Korean in a redneck town subplot going in my life. I can still hear the caricatures of Mr. Miyagi in my head, “Wax on! Wax off!”)
After three stints at sitting in the therapist’s chair, four attempts at taking antidepressants and a bunch of self-help books later - I think that I turned out okay. Sure I am still estranged from my immediate family but really, it’s mostly because I have nothing in common with them. I really would like to think that I can maintain a relationship with my siblings but just as with everything else, there tends to be a process. I am keeping the faith.
Being A Parent
In 1994 I discovered that I was pregnant. I pretty much weighed each option I had very carefully and decided to have a baby despite all of my earlier conventions about never having kids “so I won’t screw them up like my parents did.” Beautiful Paige was born in October and we never looked back. Putting aside the trials of her teen years, Paige has turned out to be a dynamite person and has been instrumental in propelling me forward as a human being. You really can’t wallow too much in self-pity when you have to support the needs of someone else.
If you are doing it right, being a parent has to be the most heart-wrenching, soul-stripping, self-sacrificing pursuit. Every childhood neurosis that sticks with you as an adult is amplified when you have kids. You actually find yourself being afraid of getting picked last for team sports but only it’s 10 times worse because it’s your kid who is in danger of getting picked last and somehow that is a societal reflection on the both of you. It’s pure torture. If my heart can survive years 14 - 18, then I think I can do just about anything.
Being An Adult
In 1991 I got my first job serving tables at a 50’s Diner in Coos Bay. I actually had to wear a poodle skirt as part of the theme. I only mention this because it epitomizes how demeaning being a waitress can sometimes be - I did it for 10 years in a variety of cities. It doesn’t matter where you live, people can be rude. Be nice to your servers.
I became a “foodie” as a result of my stint in the restaurant world. I have probably spent large portion of my undocumented tip income on going out to eat and drinking copious amounts of wine & spirits at very fine restaurants and a number of memorable dives. I still am in love with sweet bourbon.
In 2001, I was approaching my 30’s and was in a long-term relationship. I decided to get a day job and joined the legions of 9 to 5 workers who make this good country run. I started working for a nonprofit organization and worked in a variety of capacities for 7 years. I learned a lot about integrity there and I am so glad to have had that experience even though I really, really hated my job.
Quantum Leap
Sometime in late February 2008 I woke up after a few restless hours of sleep and made the decision to resign. Instead of doing what most rational people do in this predicament - find another job and then quit - I ran to work, wrote my resignation that day and set it on my boss’s chair before I turned chicken shit. Aside from parenthood, this act is the most significant thing I have ever done in my adult life. In fact, it is also the most selfish and rash decision I have ever made. I can only sum up my actions by saying that it was the greatest demonstration of love I could ever fathom showing myself. I deserve to be happy.
Instead of getting a real job, I now do freelance consulting. I still chuckle to think that people pay me for my opinion on things, but I think I do a good job. I also have a part-time gig for the health insurance. I just quit!! Yay!
When I am not working, I am chronicling my journey in life. I find myself in unchartered territory here, learning how to be a happy person after years of being the contrary. I truly believe that if someone with as much emotional baggage as I have can break free and live a happy and authentic life, then just about anyone can do it. It’s hard, but it’s worth it. I promise.
Lovefest or Hatemail to:
baconism@baconismyenemy.com
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