Tuesday.
We are having a heat wave here in HK. That means everyone else is sitting inside enjoying the air on whilst I, a not-so-recent refugee of the unforgivingly cold and terrible winter weather of South Dakota, sit outside and bask in the glorious heat.
I never want to experience the cold, bitter, dark loneliness of the frozen tundra ever again. I never want to put on another heavy jacket or a set of long underwear or a pair of big old snow boots. I just want sunshine and warmth and halter top bikinis and flowy dresses with open-toed sandals. Forever.
Warm weather = my true soulmate.
I don’t care if I melt into a puddle of sweat. I need this heat more than anything else in the world. This frozen heart needs to be thawed. Show me the Vitamin D!
Yesterday was a holiday. It was not very exciting. I did two hours of Yin Yoga aimed at releasing ALL of my bad feelings about my past life in SD. I talked to my brother via video call. I went to the health cafe and got some fruit juice and a giant salad. I continued my re-watch of Emily in Paris in French. Ended the day with a conversation with my hot neighbor on the rooftop.
He apologized to me for being rude last time, then told me he knew that I was drunk. He said, “I knew because I heard you come home. You always talk to yourself loudly when you’re drunk. I can hear you. We can all hear you. Everyone on this floor can hear you. Please, please, please, on behalf of all of us, we like you, you’re cool, but please shut the fuck up.”
I just laughed at him for being so direct and said, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve gotten a lot better,” he said. “Especially the last few weeks. You’re nowhere near as bad as when you first got here. I can tell you’re trying, and we appreciate that. Just know… you’re not invisible here. We see you. We hear you. We know you.”
Sigh.
“I had a really scary experience at a bar in the Mid-Levels,” I explained. “It put a lot of things into perspective for me. It was like ‘Scared Straight: Hong Kong Edition.’ It was bad, but nowhere near as bad as my ‘Scared Straight: Bangkok Edition’ episode featuring the Irish Mafia. That’s the universe’s way of saying I need to get my shit together.”
He gave me a knowing smile.
I realized in this moment that this man was a true friend. I was not upset by his very justified criticism. Instead, I thanked him for genuinely trying to help me in a way that I did not particularly understand or recognize. He didn’t see me as a problem to get rid of. He saw someone who was struggling to make it here on their own and couldn’t deal with whatever pain from the past they were carrying. He genuinely wanted to help out of the kindness of his heart.
It was then he told me a story of how he had once found someone in crisis on the rooftop of his old apartment and stopped them from jumping. When I heard his story, I finally understood what he was seeing from his point of view. That was why he seemed to be so understanding and helpful.
I decided to change the subject. I thanked him for his advice about my CV and the job hunt. I told him about my interview and the kinds of questions they asked. He said he was fairly confident that I was a shoe-in. Then he gave me some more advice about how to build relationships, maintain a professional attitude, and ensure my reputation is protected on this very small island.
As he was giving me this advice, I thought back to my questionable experiences at The Wolf and The Sketchy Place and cringed. I thought to myself, “I hope in the future that if anyone recognizes me from the first six months of my time here in HK, they will say they remember me as someone who had a rough start, somehow managed to keep her head above water even though she was drowning and bleeding out in a literal shark tank, magically got her shit together, and eventually grew up to become the serious, professional she always dreamed of becoming.”
I guess we will see if Hong Kong deems me worthy of another chance at this life. I’ve noticed they tend to be surprisingly forgiving, especially if you are super positive about the local culture, which I am.
I just hope I’m good enough. I really struggle with feeling like I’m good enough… for anything in general. Understandable when your own family appears to be on a mission to make you feel as worthless as humanly possible. Many Hong Kongers and Asians in general can definitely relate!
Today I am filled with gratitude towards all of the expats who have helped me out this year. They have saved me from drowning in this shark tank so many frickin’ times. I am actually in awe of them. In SD, I became so accustomed to being treated like garbage. People are so hostile and cruel there.
Best example: how I was treated right after my dad died. Did my co-workers at Starbucks say or do anything supportive? No. They weaponized my grief against me in order to push me out of my job so I would lose the health insurance I’d been fighting to get for years. Why would they do that? Oh, just to get themselves more hours, of course.
Just disgustingly selfish, nasty, cruel people. After 15 years of bullshit, that experience was just the icing on the cake for me. I don’t care how many of those assholes bitch about me “making generalizations about South Dakotans.” You earned it. You deserve it. You did nothing the entire time but make me feel like I didn’t deserve to even be on this planet, let alone at that university or in that town. Now you’re mad that I’m calling you out on it?
Look, if SD people had been nice to me, I would just say that. I would write about them the way I write about the Expat community here in Asia. But I don’t. Why? Because you didn’t earn it, you don’t deserve it, and you should constantly be reminded how shitty you actually are in order to be held accountable for your crappy behavior.
I can’t wait for my life five years from now, when SD is a distant memory and I have all of my shit together. I hope for that to happen next year, but we’ll see. I’m still in transition.
One thing I know for sure is that I never would have made it this far on my own. I had help every single step of the way. I acknowledge that help. I appreciate that help. I am grateful for that help.
I never want to be one of these assholes who says, “I am so successful. I am self-made. I did it all on my own. Nobody helped me! I pulled myself up by my own bootstraps.” It’s such a crock of bullshit!
If you want to pretend you did it all on your own, great. I’ll be over here thanking the people who helped me get out of immigration jail, got me to the hospital when I was attacked by red fire ants, taught me how to pay my phone bill, and found me a locksmith when I locked myself out of my apartment at 4:30am like a dumbass. They are the real ones.
Thank you to everyone who has supported me on this very messy journey. It’s been the most incredible year of my life. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I just hope I get a second chance to do it right, whatever that means.
Off now. I must go buy a new package of bottled water. I learned recently that, by Hong Kong standards, I should be drinking at least 1-2 liters of water and doing 10,000 steps per day. I’m averaging about half a liter and doing about 4k steps on a good day. Not great. No wonder my skin looks so horrible. I’m dehydrated AF. Less alcohol, more water and fruit juice. Noted.
Have a good day!