Division of Labor: When You Crave Order and Your Family Doesn’t
“My parents had a shared language I didn’t understand, messes I couldn’t always be there to tidy.”
“And what are you here for today?” a nurse asked my mother.
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“I saw that God I’d been so determined to believe in not as an absolute, but as a construct that couldn’t take a joke.”
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There’s a distinct kind of relationship that privileged first-generation children have with their immigrant parents.
When my grandfather threatened to kill himself, I began to wonder if, as he sees it, he has effectively stopped living.
I dug my hole trying to keep up with a social calendar I couldn’t afford, which is often what happens when you feel like you don’t belong on the social calendar to begin with.