# A Story About Me

> Disclaimer: if you find yourself thinking "it's not that bad" or "others have gone through worse" after reading this article, please keep those thoughts to yourself. Pain cannot be compared, doing so only makes it more painful.

I basically had no childhood. Most of my time was spent studying and doing homework. My parents didn't allow me to play any computer or mobile games, so I would sneak in some playtime on the computer when they went grocery shopping. But several times, I got caught, resulting in being scolded or beaten up.

My parents were extremely strict about my schoolwork. Since my mom is a stay-at-home mother, she would check on my studies in person until middle school. They had high standards for my grades too. Every test or exams required a perfect score. I'd be hit once for each point below 100 (for example, a 96 in Chinese meant four hits). If I didn't score 100, I'd usually get scolded with phrases like “Are you brain-dead?” or “Did you even study hard?” I believe this was the primary reason for my low self-esteem in my student life.

I don't remember much about my elementary grades, but I recall one test about mobile internet. I didn't know mobile phones had wireless internet since I was not familiar with technologies. I got that question wrong, and I was so frustrated that I hid under my desk.

Apart from schoolwork, my parents sent me to an English cram school after classes, where I was taught beyond the school curriculum. The same rule of “one hit per missed point” applied to cram school exams, along with additional punishments like reciting the whole textbook several times while standing. This explains why my English was much better than average back then, so that I didn't need to study English in normal school.

Because of all this, I became a top student in middle school. I ranked first in class in 16 out of 17 exams. Still, my mother would still scold me when my rank in school wasn't good enough.

You know those people in class who do well but always say they're terrible at it? Those people can be annoying, right? Well, I was one of them – mainly because of my low self-esteem. I was given a nasty nickname, and that, combined with a temper influenced by my mom, made me easy to rage. So, I was bullied throughout middle school, including some physical attacks. It was hell both at school and at home.

Thankfully, I found relief in burying myself in math. I even participated in some math competitions, earning good scores. Thanks to these and the hands-on experience from the science class I was in, I got into the science class (a special national program, there are only around ten science classes in whole Taiwan) in the top high school of my region through a special exam. Despite that, my mother still forced me to take the normal high school entrance exams – ironically, my score wasn't high enough for that same school.

One morning in my third year of middle school, I went for a walk and heard the wind band playing downstairs. The music moved me deeply, and I decided I'd join the wind band in high school. That choice led the wind band to become the heart and soul of my high school years.

At the top school, my grades naturally dropped as my classmates were exceptionally talented (spoiler: of the five perfect scores in the national university entrance exam, four were from my class). This made my mother very angry, as she believed my slipping grades were due to participating the wind band. But the band had become my sanctuary, a place where I was happy. I couldn't give it up, so I entered my rebellious phase.

Second year in high school, my mother forbade me from joining the band, but I joined anyway, sneaking off to rehearsals for a whole semester. To avoid being caught, I couldn't take on any leadership roles, and I had to invent reasons to be at school for Sunday rehearsals. After school, I couldn't stay to practice because I was required to come straight home. These are some of my life's greatest regrets.

Sadly, this secret was discovered in the second semester of sophomore year, and I was forced to transfer from the band to the school newspaper club, which required minimal participation. I still snuck out to band activities whenever possible, though several times I got caught, leading to more arguments with my parents. Once, I even packed my things and tried to leave home, only to be caught at the bus stop.

In the past, I had no goals; I did whatever my parents said and rarely talked back. But high school was different. I had my own goals, which led to arguments. My mother stopped hitting me, replacing it with emotional blackmails. She would scream hysterically in her room or even hand me a knife, telling me to kill her. She became mentally unstable, though I didn't realize it was a mental health issue, and she had no awareness of her condition either. Each time I came home, I grew more afraid.

In my third year in high school, after the national university entrance exam, I got into the best computer science department in Taiwan, National Taiwan University CSIE.

But I remember my mother wasn't happy for long – maybe five minutes – before she told me seriously, "study hard in university and don't fail." It felt like another heavy burden, as I had hoped college would finally free me from my family's grasp, but it didn't seem so optimistic.

Many people told me that things would be better in uni since I could live independently, away from the childish bullying of the past. They were dead wrong. My university life turned out to be the hardest period of my life.

My freshman year grades were decent. I tried to make new friends but struggled due to my lack of social experience and the effects of my mother's influence. My weird and sensitive personality caused a lot of friction. I realized it wasn't just me, as I saw classmates bullied by others too. Eventually, I decided to cut off all involvement with my department's activities, learning that there was no need to force myself to fit in anywhere and that finding a place where I could grow was what mattered.

The first semester of my sophomore year was perhaps the lowest point of my life. I failed three required courses due to their difficulty and my misjudgment, resulting in academic probation. (I still remember spending 72 hours in the study lounge on an algorithm assignment, only to score a zero. I was desperate.) I began to think I'd reached my limit – that my intelligence wasn't enough to handle these courses.

After exams of that semester, I was in the dorm lounge, feeling hopeless. My mom called to ask about my grades, and I replied irritably that I didn't know. I did not go home that whole month because I didn't want to. I went on a trip with my high school band. (Yes I still constantly go back. I even stayed at my junior's place when I needed to, just to not let my parents know I was there.) While at a meeting during another event, my younger brother called, saying my mom wanted me home. I explained I was busy, and in all of a sudden the voice changed. It was my mother herself, who yelled over the phone, threatening to cut off my tuition and living expenses if I didn't return. In front of roughly twenty people, I froze, excused myself, and went outside to calm down.

I started panicking. I did not know what to do, going back to the so-called 'home' was the last thing I wanted to do in my life.
I tried to reach out for help, and then my dad called. I told him in tears I didn't want to go back. He choked up, admitting he couldn't go back either. It turned out my dad did not know anything just happened because he quarreled with mom and went out to calm down.
I forgot how the conversation went, but the conclusion was that they'd pick me up to "talk".

I forgot how it went, but it started as calm scolding, and then hysterical yells, and then crying. For three hours it was like fighting a boss in a video game with three stages. I survived but was emotionally scarred. Emotional Damage. I tried to ignore everything she said. I still have a recording of it but haven’t dared to listen to it again. I remember her saying things like she wished she hadn’t given birth to me and raised me up till university.
My dad drove me to the train station afterwards, giving me a hug before I left, both of us in tears.

After that, I returned to my dorm, feeling like a soulless shell. That week was one of the coldest I remember, and I spent it gaming through the nights and sleeping through the days, not even bothering to shower.

In March, while showering, I suddenly started banging my head against the wall. There was two conflicting thoughts – one telling me to end my life, and the other telling me not to. I never thought depression would happen to me, and that was when I first realized.

So began a long road of therapy, counseling, and medication. Some methods worked; some didn’t. I started to avoid my parents, refusing their calls.

One night after staying up late, I decided to get breakfast at a nearby convenience store, and, turning my head, I saw... my mom. She also saw me and shouted, “Don’t you dare run, or I’ll call the police!” I was terrified, too shocked to move, my hands quivered hard. My dad arrived soon after, trying to calm me down. I don’t remember how that day ended, but I agreed to communicate only through my dad and meet him in Taipei occasionally.

Gradually I have chances to talk about the past with my dad. He actually did not want to be strict on me, but it was his love towards my mom. He did not want to let my mom feel isolated and alone. I realized for years my mom was stressed by many things in life, resulting into mental illness, and my dad was constantly in a difficult situation. Even though I could rationally understand them, but I still could not emotionally forgive them.

One day, he told me my mom wanted to apologize. I choked up, but it wasn’t because I was touched – it was because, after all the harm, an apology felt meaningless. I didn’t know how long it would take to process everything, maybe years or decades, or maybe never. But eventually, I could go home during holidays without anxiety, and we tacitly avoided discussing the past. My mom even mentioned supporting me if I wanted to study music, which surprised me.

From my junior year until graduation, I experienced intermittent depression and anxiety, with irregular sleep and difficulty focusing. Thankfully, I graduated in five and a half years.

In my fourth year, I stumbled into the world of VTubers, where I slowly regained confidence and healed my sensitive and low-self-esteem personality. But that's another story.

> The blessed heal their life with childhood;
> The cursed spend their whole life healing childhood.
> But I think, to have come this far, it’s a blessing after all.