As an Asian-American, shame has always been my nature whenever it came to how my mother viewed me as a young child, even till now. It's inevitable not to have words that come out of her mouth that makes me feel like I'm either not good enough or that I'm just a complete failure. However, after a couple of years of growing anxiety I've learned to not bring her comments upon me as heavily and think about how I should view myself without pride.

This started when I was in my first long term relationship with a previous boyfriend I was dating then. All of the elements he had was nothing my mother didn't want for me: he wasn't Korean, he had a single mother who was living with another man that was not my boyfriend's biological father, and he was a single child. My mother had assumptions that the guy that I was currently dating then would turn out to be someone that would be socially unacceptable and someone that wouldn't allow my future to grow because of it. Not only did that create a deep hatred for her but also on how I viewed her as a person.

I've gotten my very first tattoo two years ago and had my mother over the clouds when she saw it on my skin. She went mad and asked again and again if what I had on my skin was truly real. I don't remember how it went afterwards but then I found myself wanting more on my skin and came back with new ones almost every month. And then did I realize what kind of person she was.

She called me weird and asked what kind of friends I was hanging around with that would influence me to ruin such beautiful skin I have. She also asked if I could get my tattoos removed soon and if I was to ever get a tattoo done on me to have ink that would be small and hidden from the public eye. Friends would ask her what was wrong with me and that would have her embarrassed to a point where she would ask me what's wrong again.

It angered me and always left me with the thought of "I hate my mother, who does she think she is by judging me" and tears furiously rolling down my eyes. But now, I find it more than just the tattoos that bring her to an awkward position when being asked about me.

Similarly to majority of children, I've always been a rebel child and brought home trouble to my parents. I wasn't the best student in school who cared so much about her grades and instead wanted to skip school to spend time with the guy she had an immense crush on. I also wasn't the kind of child that would respect parents' friends and would continuously have a nasty scowl on her face so they would leave. And now, as a twenty-something-year-old, I've brought home tattoos, insulting words, and bad guys to their home.

So maybe it's my fault for allowing my mother to feel ashamed of me but then again, it's not her that should be controlling my life. Right?