The Day My Walls Came Down

A Tiny Life Moment — “On Shaking, Crying, and Cracking up with Laughter”

The Moment

We were sitting at a hotel restaurant in the heart of Downtown Vancouver. His father broke the ice by saying:

“We heard about the talk, all about it. And we want you to know — everything will be alright.”

Rendered speechless, I put my head down, nodded once that I understood. My hands on my knees clutched the fabric of my summer dress, and I began to tremble in my seat from uncontrollable sobs.

My first cries were like a contagion that went around the square table, tugging on each corner’s heartstrings.

The absurdity of four adults dressed up and crying at a fine dining restaurant morphed our tears into bursts of laughter that echoed the room.

The Reflection

For the better half of my life, I kept parts of my past about my upbringing a secret. They plagued me. My family was abnormal and dysfunctional; my early days as a child riddled with conflict and trauma — the primary source of this was my mother, who became estranged when I was seven.

Growing up, my father had a hard time supporting three children, and we lived off paycheck to paycheck, among a plethora of other struggles.

Because I couldn’t relate to anyone, it caused me to internalize a lot of pain and shame. When the very people you call friends would make hurtful comments, I had a crippling fear of judgement and ridicule. Especially during high school.

I couldn’t even fully open up to my ex of five years because I wasn’t mentally ready. And I realized he never truly listened to me. He meant the world to me, but we were worlds apart. The burden of keeping everything inside me was too much to bear.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” — Maya Angelou

It wasn’t until I met my boyfriend after him that things began to change. It could’ve been because I’d matured into my 20s, or it could’ve been because he was humble and genuine. Whatever it was, I finally felt safe to confide in someone.

We’d been dating for a few years when he said,

“If we were ever to get married, we’d have to tell my parents the truth. We can’t hide anything from them.”

I felt resistance and remember thinking I’d rather disappear from all the dread the thought filled my insides. I knew it would mean the end of us if his parents didn’t accept me, but at the same time, I knew he was right. Fearful of their reaction, I reverted to my anxious self.

It was only my third time meeting his parents who flew into Canada from Japan.

This time, he had told them. Next, came the magical moment where we cried and laughed together in public.

Few words exchanged that day, but it was the most powerful display of human connection through emotion.

We have a photo of the four of us taken together shortly after that bonding moment, our faces still red from crying. It was unforgettable, how one sentence spoken from someone I hardly knew, made the walls I’d spent my life building come crashing down. I was bare and exposed — and everything was alright.

We got married two years later when I moved to Japan. Reflecting, our unexpected cries in the hotel marked the moment my in-laws would be a part of my happily ever after, and we have gone on to share more tears and laughs over the years. But our third meeting marked the start of my healing.

I am always in a state of gratitude for the kindness they have shown me. In many ways, they have saved me from myself.

The Lessons

• Your past makes you who you are. It helps shape you but doesn’t define you. Embrace it.
• It takes time to process, heal and learn from trauma. Be kind and gentle with yourself. Please don’t force it.
• The fear of judgement is often worse than being judged.
• You must be willing to bare your soul if you want an authentic connection with others.
• People who genuinely care about you will accept you for who you are, but you must first accept yourself.
• Family is more than blood ties.
• Laughter can diffuse any awkward situation and is always the best medicine.