Pretending to be O.K.

**Trigger Warning** This piece discusses suicide and suicidal ideation, and some people might find it disturbing.

The repeated theme in my practice had been control and worthlessness. I remember crying on the first silent retreat in 2018 because I realized that I could not even observe breathing without trying to control how I breathed. It came to me as a surprise that the most fundamental thing to live—breathing — I could not let it happen as it was. (Additional shame for being a professional performer. Breathing is the foundation! ) Worthlessness washed over me with doubts as I sat in the meditation hall, but I would hunker down to finish it as music from a nearby village enhanced. It makes me laugh that I was controlling so hard not to control. In 2022, I would only try to observe one or two breaths and am joyous if that even happens. Michele often says lowering the expectation :-)

I guess that excessive controlling tendency was there partly because I had lived to control my identity to fit in. That’s one of many causes that I can think of. I would not have been able to live safely in the condition I was in as a queer kid in Japan. My 4th grade teacher called my mom because she was concerned that I might get bullied for hanging out only with girls… I don’t remember explicitly being bullied but I was afraid that I might. My parents let me be who I was but it was not enough in the environment that I might have gotten bullied just because I played with girls. I needed more encouragement and protection from adults around me. It hardened my heart, yet I still remember longing to be kind. Just to be kind. That was all. There was a glimmer of goodness. Then I clung on to that, and it turned out to be manipulation. I just felt like a control-freak, and maybe I was, and still am.

I have learned through practice that those “negative” traits were mere protections. They protected me to make me feel safe even though there was a price to pay later. I was in survival mode constantly. The worthlessness I had felt took a critical part in my suicidal ideation as a form of protection. Basically I did not carry on with it because I thought I did not deserve even a suicide; I was not worthy of ending my life. Worthlessness saved my life. But what would be the price of that much self-hatred!? I hardly trust myself. Maybe it’s the internalized version of the dominant force that has denied all that I am. I’m not sure any more. To carry on with my life, perfectionism became my vehicle. I overachieved in school and look at me now on Broadway while still being miserable pretending. The worst part was that I didn't even know that I was pretending.

In All Good Pretense

Sometimes I dislike people because of their privileges, and distance myself. 

That’s the honest truth. 

Especially when I cannot ever get there. 

I know it’s not fair for them whom I might not even know, 

swiping left for White gays. 

But that’s my protection. 

And there are people I have known for a long time, 

I gradually realized our differences. 

The distance has grown over time… 

or maybe I intentionally let it grow. 

Distance is the most effective protection that I learned to use. 

Shut myself off emotionally. 

Run away thousands of miles geographically so that I don’t have to look at them. 

It might look like I’m the one who’s hating, 

when my friends and family are trying to reach out. 

I feel guilty. 

I feel guilty that I cannot just be a friendly one 

who overlooks all the microaggressions for a day. 

Telling myself just to put a smile on my face. 

Pretend that all is good as my pain inside increases 

as the proximity of a relationship gets closer. 

Yikes.

It’s so close that I cannot see the violence coming from them or myself. 

All is good. 

That has been my life. 

Pretending that I am good, 

In the truest sense, 

I didn't even know I was pretending to begin with. 

I used to tell my friends which girls I liked 

when I was thinking of which girls I wanted to be like. 

I kept auditioning with White people 

when I literally had 3% or less chance to be on Broadway. 

I said I love you to my White exes 

when the only thing I needed was the validation from their kind.

I should win Emmys for this. 

We all should, not those White celebrities. 

I don’t win any awards for being on stage because I’m not pretending, maybe. 

I know it’s not their fault and they are trying. 

Then so am I. 

It is not my fault that  I do not want to be hurt. 

It is not my fault that I do not want to pretend anymore. 

It is not my fault that the oppressions oppress. 

And again it is not their fault either…  as individuals… or is it?

Then how. 

How could I ever go back to those days that were all good. 

The system will break me, 

or I can break the system inside of my narrow perspective. 

But what will be left is not a la-la land. 

It is the pain and struggle. 

What is different is that this pain and struggle is for freedom. 

It no longer leads to dehumanizing pretense of all is good. 

I’m reclaiming my worthiness through simply holding the texture of worthiness which for me is softening and subtle vibration. Michel sometimes tells stories of the Mya Taung Sayadaw in Burma. He practiced cultivating worthiness by looking at a statue of Buddha. It’s the first of the Four Guardian Meditations.

(1) Recollection virtues of the Buddha

(2) Contemplation of the 32 parts of the body

(3) Loving-kindness

(4) Reflection on death

It’s not widely taught in the U.S. maybe because these practice sounds simple. I find it very nurturing and protective.