Sixth Former Christine Gu, of Chengdu Sichuan, China, addressed the School community at Church Assembly on Thursday, January 26, 2017. Christine spoke of facing up to hardships rather than denying them.
The fortuneteller told Caesar to "beware the Ides of March," and the Ides of March 2013 did not go very well for me: I got rejected by all the boarding schools I applied to and was waitlisted at Portsmouth Abbey. It went downhill from there.
At that same time, my mom accepted a new job in the southernmost province of mainland China. My dad has worked in western China for as long as I can remember. But they decided that when my mom moved I should stay in our apartment in Beijing by myself. Our family would form a perfect equilateral triangle on the map. I was told to keep the "Home Alone" thing a secret from my grandparents; my parents definitely did not want them having to take care of a fourteen-year-old. As for my friends, I chose not to tell them. Why worry them just because I was lonely?
In China's massive capital Beijing, population 12 million, the number of people I could turn to for help was zero. I went to school, behaving like my normal self, but I secretly forged my mother's signature on every math test parents were supposed to review at home. I tried to linger on campus after school for as long as possible, taking my classmates' cleanup duties, joining physics study groups I had no interest in, and making mistakes in choir rehearsals so the teacher would give me detention.
I just did not want to go home.
At home, or the place which used to feel like home, loneliness made me extremely sensitive. The smallest sounds were magnified to deafening cacophonies. The tick-tock of the clock, the water in the bathroom pipe, and the sounds of my neighbor's television all made me cautious.
But nothing was as frightening as opening the apartment door when I got home from school. It was an ordeal, every day. Before I pulled my keys out, I always tried the door first, to make sure I had not forgotten to lock it in the morning, when I was always rushing to catch the bus. I kept my eyes closed every time I unlocked the door, refusing to open them until my hand reached the light switch and turned it on. I was so afraid that someone, probably a killer, would leap from the darkness and strangle me. I would tentatively ask, "Anyone there?" Did I think that the killer would be too polite to ignore my question? When I finally got inside, I would always pull the door handle three times to make sure I did in fact lock the door after me.
Of course, forgetful person that I am, I left out a crucial step—check to make sure I did not leave the keys in the lock.There was that one day when I was in the shower and I realized that the keys were still outside the door, hanging there welcoming all intruders. My mind fast-forwarded to the shower scene in Psycho. Never had I ever felt so unprotected, vulnerable, and helpless. I could not decide if I should finish showering or run to get my keys, shampoo in my hair and no clothes on. My solution? Break down in tears.
Being alone haunted me day and night. I cannot deny that I blamed my parents many times, regardless of how much the mere idea of blaming them troubled me. Thankfully, before my dissatisfaction became a bigger problem, the Abbey accepted me.Before leaving for Rhode Island I was able to stay with my dad for a while.
For all my Abbey years, I have refused to talk to my parents about what really happened. Instead, I told them a better version of the story: I said I was perfectly fine living by myself and that I kept myself entertained well. I said it made me super good at cooking and got me into the great Culinary Arts Club. I said it made me more independent and kept me from ever getting desperately nostalgic during my four years here. And I said it made me happy that I sacrificed so that my mom could work a job she loves.
They might have believed it, but I didn't. As I tried to come to terms with my experience, I never called it a "blessing in disguise." Instead, I locked up my feelings and got defensive about the whole topic. However, I finally decided to share this experience in church today because my wounds have healed and I am ready to talk to my parents and, of course, all my Abbey friends.
Everything isn't "all for the best." Not all painful memories reward you in some way, later on. Life is most likely not a fairy tale. After all, the Ugly Duckling grew up to be a beautiful swan only because his parents were beautiful swans first. When reality makes you weep, talk to your friend, be honest with your parents, and pay close attention to your mental health. Most importantly, try not to deny your obstacles by translating them into more acceptable terms, like I did. Sugarcoating a hardship does not alleviate it. Facing up and trying hard to resolve it does.
Thank you.