• Photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen on Unsplash

    My grandma and mom used to tell me about the things I shouldn’t be doing or saying at night. For starters, don’t stay out so late, do not whistle, sing, or ever say that you’re going “home.”

    ‘Til this day when I’m out and about at night or at a place where I feel is sketchy, I always say, “Let’s go (names of whoever is with me).” Never do I leave it open-ended. It’s weird, I’m not superstitious but at the same time I do believe in spirits and ghosts. I mean I had my fair share of strange and unexplainable experiences.

    This story is not super scary but it did remind me about the rules I was told to follow so I don’t attract unwanted guests.

    Back in late fall of 2021, I was still living in Marshall, MN with my fiancé and his younger brother, brother’s girlfriend, and another roommate. The big white house we lived in was just fine – not creepy, haunted or anything. One night I was in the kitchen washing dishes and right in front of me was a window in which I opened to let in some cool air. While I was washing dishes, I started singing, just minding my own business. All of a sudden I looked up out into the darkness outside and got this weird feeling like someone or something was watching me. I just knew that I had messed up.

    I finished washing the dishes and carried on like usual, forgetting that moment as I told myself that it was probably just my mind psyching me out.

    Later that night, I had the strangest dream. I dreamt that I was sleeping in bed and my fiancé walked in. My eyes scanned him up and down and while he looked like my fiancé, at the same time my mind and body told me that it wasn’t him. I was skeptical. But he insisted and tried to get into bed with me.

    At one point, my mind was getting foggy. It was like a war in my head one side ringing with warning bells to be careful while the other half was telling me that all was okay, I was safe.

    My fiancé said, “Do you want to kiss me?”

    I moved towards him and planted a kiss upon his lips. It was soft and warm at first but then my body went cold as his tongue pushed inside my mouth. This tongue was rough and scratchy and my mind knew that this indeed wasn’t my man. I pushed away from him,

    “Who are you?”

    “I’m your fiancé.”

    I narrowed my eyes at him, “No you’re not.”

    He kept fighting me, insisting that I was confused and when I wouldn’t let up, he started to transform right before my eyes. My fiancé turned into a creature that I could only describe as similar to a troll. He had a big nose with rounded bumps and leathering greenish-gray skin. I can’t remember what his hair color was (I believe it was a lighter color) but it was short and stuck out in all directions atop his hair. His clothing was unclear too but it was in shades of brown and looked raggedy.

    He accused me, “You’re a tease.”

    I was absolutely dumbfounded. I immediately thought about the love song I was singing earlier while washing dishes before the opened window.

    He aggressively advanced on me but I yelled at him. A common phrase I’d say when I find myself in these kind of dreams is, “You have no right to be here. Go and leave me alone!” I would repeat that multiple times until I start to stir awake. He disappeared or perhaps I just woke up – I don’t remember much after that but the first thing I thought about when my eyes opened to the darkness of my bedroom was that I would be more mindful about where and when I chose to sing.

    I felt safe singing in the house and that was why I did it in the first place but never again before an open window at night anymore.

    Truth is, sometimes I do wonder if my mind just conjured up this nightmare because of the rules my elders told me. I mean it wasn’t until I looked up and realized that I had the window opened the whole time that I started feeling like something was watching me. At the same time however, I do remember abruptly cutting off my singing in the middle of the song, so perhaps a part of me was already sensing that something was off.


  • As a Hmong American woman I despise the phrase “ua stab ntev,” meaning “be patient.”

    I once retorted, “Be patient for what? For your man to continuously mistreat you?” No, I don’t stand for that.

    All my life, I’ve seen my mother get hurt by the men who supposedly loved her. I also hear countless stories about many other Hmong women who deal with cheating and beating husbands while all that their family members have to say is “be patient.”

    I’m not going to pretend that I fully understand the Hmong customs because as soon as I could I chose to leave the part of me that is Hmong behind. Now, I can barely speak the Hmong language even though I studied it through all of grade school and middle school. I tell people it’s because I stopped using the language but that’s only partly true. It’s because there’s a bitter taste in my mouth and I can’t seem to see beyond my anger to fully embrace the other side of my culture; the beauty of being Hmong though I’m trying to reconnect.

    First things first, I’m not saying all Hmong men are bad husbands and lovers. I think for the most part the younger generation doesn’t stand for that inequality and “ua siab ntev” bullshit. It’s just wrong. But for the people who still resort it, I do want to know what it is you’re thinking. Not trying to be rude – I just want to hear your reasoning for telling a woman who comes to you that they are unloved and mistreated that they just need to be patient.

    As a child I would nod, believing in the elder’s words that in time things will get better but rarely do they ever do. It’s honestly funny to me that one would have to go to their elders concerning their relationship when it only takes two people to be in a marriage.

    After the fourth, fifth, sixth time of repeated offense, one would hope that their elders and family members who still use “ua siab ntev/be patient” would be on the women’s side. And then I realized the most messed up part which is that even if they were to be on the women’s side, sometimes they’ll still just tell you to hold on. I’ve seen it happen. Why? Because you want to save face? Because you don’t really want to deal with it? It’s not really your problem until it is right? When something really bad happens.

    It makes me angry and sad, and I find myself pulling further away, unable to face my mother who I love dearly. She, who I’ve now accepted that will not change her way of thinking when it comes to her relationships and life because it has been grounded into her for so long. I can’t stand it and won’t accept it but there is nothing really I can do but voice myself.

    I know I’m not the only one out who feels conflicted and hates this phrase. This is just my little piece about it.

  • Because environment matters too.

    During my sophomore year of high school, my Chinese teacher had pulled me aside for a conversation. He asked me what was going on since I constantly had a long face. Additional to my teenage emotional turmoils and dramas, I was on the brink of fully shutting down. I dreaded going home because it was the place where I felt the deepest loneliness and sorrow. In truth it was a place of trauma for me that would result in many years of gruesome nightmares. That day though, I’m glad my teacher was there to lend a listening ear, however no matter how much I try to remember our discussion, I honestly don’t recall anything other than his last question, “So what do want to do now?”

    I simply told him, “I want to go home and clean my room.”

    I remember him giving me a strange expression but I didn’t take any offense to it. He didn’t know the extent of my home life or that my room was a tornado from floor to ceiling. My only safe haven yet it was an unhealthy mess.

    Getting on the city bus, my ride home was a lot calmer thanks to my teacher. Even the rest of the trek home I wasn’t as anxious. Then I stepped foot through my front door and the noise was loud and far away at the same time. I didn’t blame my little siblings greeting me at the door but I barely acknowledged them either. Usually without saying a word, I just headed downstairs to where a sour and musty smell greeted me. I had to walk through the family room to get to my bedroom which was more a small office space. Around me dirty furniture, broken toys, and garbage that I paid no mind to. Upon reaching my bedroom door which at the time had no door handle but a gaping hole, I pulled it open and stepped onto wrinkly papers, old notebooks and art supplies scattered across the carpet floor.

    Just from that less than a minute walk from my front door to my bedroom, I already felt my motivation leak away. My twin size mattress had mounds of clothes and all of my belongings were crammed against the side of the wall opposite from my bed. The room was so claustrophobic that I only had a small unclear pathway between everything. For some reason though, my small closet wasn’t filled at all except for a few hanging garments which I’m pretty sure weren’t even mine. Thinking back now, perhaps I didn’t care to put anything in there as we often swapped rooms.

    Anyways, it was cold and gloomy down there just like my mood. I picked up my clothes from my bare mattress and dumped them on top of baskets already occupied by more clothes. I just remember sitting there then, looking at the gray smudges along the white walls from dirty hands and feet and eyeing the cream colored curtains which were yellowing around the edges from years of being there. I hated moving the curtains aside because I didn’t like seeing the sun – the brightness of outside. During that time I much preferred the rain and gray clouds.

    I laid in bed in a sort of defeat until night arrived and I finally got the push to get up and start organizing my room, starting with picking up all my random shit lying on the ground to folding my clothes only to put them back in the baskets which I pushed into the closet. It took a few hours moving things around to allow me whatever space I could get from the tightness of the room. I don’t recall anyone calling for me or bothering me and that was nice as I just wanted to get my bedroom semi-decent. Once I was done I again felt a lot better but I don’t believe I dared stepped outside my room unless I had to use the bathroom. I even mused that perhaps I could paint the room.

    Not long after, my room reverted back to a disorderly mess. Still my safe haven in a way but a reflection of what I couldn’t yet change or escape. It was just a tiny room within a house.

  • Between late 2020 and early 2021, I bought a whole bunch of personal development and self-help books which I was extremely excited to read at the time of purchasing. However, if I’m being honest I have not read most of them yet. My excuses were that I was too busy and that work was draining me. *Cough – I spent my time admiring my collection of books from my bed while scrolling through my phone doing research about personal development and blogging and metal stamping and how to start a business and… yeah you get it.

    Did you know that continuous learning without actually doing was a form of procrastination? I honestly don’t remember where I read that from as it was during my many hours of researching all and everything. When I think about it, I suppose it is true because why do all this work to not actually do anything? What’s the endgame?

    See, my mindset was there but my discipline was not. I was motivated but not determined enough. And I’m not just talking about reading these books – I’m also referring to the many projects I started and never finished and scrapped. Yeah, I gave myself a lot of crap and often felt bad for not doing the things I said I would do. I mean I made list after list and planned everything from my reading schedule to blogging to crafting, exercising, meal-prepping, and working. So yes – it was quite disappointing when a year passed and I was still in the same spot.

    Now thinking back I not only lacked discipline but the main reasoning to my results of nothingness was because of my fear and learned helplessness. At that time I was too scared and anxious, not that I’m not still feeling that now. I am learning to take things one step at a time and am really focusing on working through my underlying negative beliefs about myself and my life. It was just that back then I was able to fool myself into believing that I actually didn’t want to succeed as bad as I thought I did. They say that if you want something bad enough, you’ll work hard to get it. So… I guess I didn’t want to change myself for the better then. That’s what my mind concluded to and where I kept myself for a while.

    I self-sabotage all the time and let my mind carry me away.

    Over the years, I have picked up a few of my personal development and self-help books, and though they make me feel good after finishing them, I only quote my favorite lines. At this point of my life, I am reminding myself that that just won’t do it anymore. Now that I have a better understanding of my underlying beliefs about myself and my life, I do want to try again and see where I go from here. My fiancé say I need a lot of discipline and I totally agree with him because mindset doesn’t equal discipline or behavior.

    It has been a slow progression but I feel happier and more hopeful.