“Finding Me”

Mai Yer Xiong

Hmong | Saint Paul | she/her/hers | Non-Profit Sector

Warning: This story could be triggering, because it is about suicide.

I grew up a Hmong daughter to extremely traditional refugee parents. My parents often compared me to my siblings, so I always thought that something was wrong with me. I felt unworthy, unconfident, and unloved. In college I felt like I was starting to discover my true self.

Though I was finding myself, I also became involved in many toxic relationships because I didn’t understand love. I didn’t know how to love myself, and searched for it in other people. I quickly fell in love with a friend, and overlooked the fact that he dealt drugs and partied every single weekend. At that time, I thought what we had was love.

Every week was the same. We’d start partying on Wednesday, and it wouldn’t end until Sunday. After he got into trouble with the law, I opened my home to him. He eventually moved in, and asked me to be his girlfriend shortly after that.

I thought I was deeply in love and even thought I could marry him. I was infatuated with him. After a month of officially dating and living together for over a year, I found out he had cheated on me. I felt betrayed, angry, and upset with myself. I kicked him out and spent months learning how to cope with the pain.

I couldn’t focus on school or work; I didn’t have the energy to do anything. I began journaling and meditating to get my mind off of him. I then realized that I needed to do more for myself, so I began to take antidepressants. Although I knew it would take six months or more for the medication to start working, I quit after the first month because I wasn’t allowed to drink any alcohol while on antidepressants. The night after getting off the medication, my close friends and I decided to get black out drunk.

I woke up the next morning only remembering flashes of the night before. I didn’t even know how I got back to my own bed. I do recall that I was drunk and became hysterical. I wanted to kill myself. My best friend cried and persuaded me not to. As the thoughts of the night before came back, I then ran into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, took it back to my bedroom, and was ready to end my life. I held it to my wrist.

At that moment, I realized how pathetic it all was. I couldn’t do it. I was worth more.

#MinneAsianStories Series