“My new schedule is going to be 5 days on, 5 days off! It’ll be like a long weekend every other week, Papa. J and I are thinking of getting a camper too.. maybe go on those national park trips we’ve been talking about. There’s so much out here in the Pacific Northwest.”
“Mmm hmm…”
Oh boy.. you know that sound, M. Wait for it…
One second. Two seconds. Three.
“Sounds nice.”
“Oh, just spit it out Papa. No point in holding back.”
“Well, M, if I had the skills and opportunities that you had, I’d just want to help more people, that’s all.”
Yup… there it is.
Taking in a deep breath to quell the instant frustration that filled my chest, I contemplated my next statement carefully.
Just pretend you’re driving through the dead zone, M. The call will drop – no harm, no foul. You knew you weren’t going to find support here.
No, not from my father.
Not from the man who single-mindedly pulled himself out of a rice paddy in the Philippines, moved to a country halfway across the world to Canada, worked in a cabinet making factory to put food on the table for his family AND put himself through university classes at night because he believed in the power of education.
Not from the man who rode the dot com boom and now found himself in the higher echelons of corporate management.
Not from the man who financed several of my innumerable cousins’ education so they could also pull themselves out of third world poverty, only asking them to pay it forward as repayment – never once letting them know the cost to him, to us.
Even after a year and a half of weekly Friday conversations about my work struggles, the quest to find a new job and regaling him of the whole interview process, I knew this discussion was coming.
Did you really expect the ultimate martyr/third world success story to sympathize with your burnout struggle?
“You know, when you spend 60 hours a week ‘helping people’ as part of your actual job, sometimes you just want to get lost in the woods where nobody can reach you.”
“I guess, M. But after all that time you spent getting to where you are… now you only want to work half the year? Is that what you really want? All that wasted effort…”
Another deep cleansing breath.
So mindful, M. Notice how your nostrils are flaring, how the heat is now moving from your chest into your carotids, heartbeat quickening in your ears. Now you’re just aware of exactly how angry you’re getting.
“Ok.. so what would be a reasonable ratio then? Of work to vacation time? What would be an appropriate expenditure of my time? Are 12 hour days still not enough? Do working nights, weekends and holidays again not make up for the longer stretches of time off?
Please tell me, Papa, what more should I do so the amount of ‘helping’ is acceptable?”
Temper the shrill in your voice, M. The moment your emotion betrays you, you lose this argument.
Silence. Then a sigh over the speakers.
“I don’t know, M. I just know that if I were you, if I had your brain… I wouldn’t be able to rest, knowing that I had the ability to help other people.
I guess you’re just different from me and you have your own priorities, that’s all.”
Yes, much different.
But similar enough to have the same unwavering stubbornness, strongly held opinions and need to be right – traits that had defined our tenuous relationship via multiple face-offs since I was a teen.
At least now as an adult, I had the wisdom to know which arguments were best left alone.
This was one of them.
First start by ignoring the disappointment in his voice. This was always something you were never going to agree on.
The joy of being second generation
Parents have always pinned their hopes and dreams on their children, but the weight of these feel much heavier when you’re the child of an immigrant.
Your life, your successes are not your own – they belong to your family.
And failure? Not an option.
My literal childhood
Sure, I’ve had the expected Filipina-Asian successes:
- Doctor
- Pianist
- Pretty decent karaoke voice
But my parents’ silence on my missteps also speaks volumes:
- Brief stint as a pharmaceutical sales rep before med school
- Moving to the other side of the country, away from the only family I have in North America
- My polite declination to have children after 8 years of marriage to a non-Filipino
- And now, my decision to pursue something other than the doctor life they had envisioned for me
With every side step from the life for which my parents worked so hard and sacrificed so much, I have struggled to shrug off the deep need to earn their respect.
Even now, I still deal with the constant fear of not living up to their expectations, the anticipation of feeling their disappointment rain down upon me when I even think about falling out of line with my pre-determined life track.
This doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of immigrant parental guilt.
Carry on my wayward son (daughter)…
When do you stop living for your family/parents and live for yourself?
Is 33 too soon?
Is this just the entitled millennial in me, still living out my teenage rebellion as I throw the doctor life they wanted for me in their faces while I search for a camper to literally live in down by the river?
Do they see their years of modeling a life of selflessness and service to others casually cast aside so I can #livemybestlife on Instagram while I chase mountains and waterfalls?
How self-indulgent.
“It’s all about choices, M. It’s up to you to make the right ones,” my dad said as we ended our weekly conversation.
He really has mastered the ability to decimate any enthusiastic thought you’ve ever had in the fewest number of words possible. It’s quite impressive, actually.
Attracting J’s attention as I tripped over the dogs while walking through door, he took one look at me and recognized my frustration.
“How’s Papa?”
“Oh, you know… the same.
Show me that camper you found on Craigslist with the solar panels again… I think that’ll work best.”
It’s all about choices.
You don’t truly understand someone until you’ve met their parents. I feel like I understand you a little better now.
“driving through a dead zone” is how I would describe most interactions with my parents.
I actually laughed out loud when I read the line about decimating any enthusiastic thought you’ve ever had in the fewest words possible. Parents know just where to stick the knife.
As a father of 3, I’m sure I’m ruining my kids somehow. I will try to let them live their own lives without guilt or obligation, but I’m sure many a parent has told themselves the same thing.
At the end of the day, you’ve got to live life for yourself. Until you let that guilt go, it will keep holding you back.
Great post!
Haha.. I’m pretty sure my parents never said they’d let my sister and I live our own lives, but I may just be a tad biased 😉
It’s such a hard thing to navigate – of course my parents want what’s best for me. It’s just that we differ in what “best” looks like.
I’m sure I’ll understand better how hard it is to NOT ruin kids if J and I choose to have some little minions of our own, but in the meantime I’ll just continue to blame everything on my parents like a good millennial.. hah!
Thanks for the inspiration!
Oh my gosh. Immigrant parental guilt is so real! And yes, discussing big life choices with parents is often very difficult. I feel frustrated with your father for trying to emotionally sabotage you into doing what he thinks you should do.
I think some perspective is called for here. Does he know what a hospitalist does? Perhaps it would help for him to understand that you will be taking care of people who are very ill, which affords some unique opportunities for connection and encouraging life change. It’s still full time clinical medicine. It’s not like you’re opening a cosmetic Botox clinic.
ALSO, you are allowed to take care of yourself! This is not a revolutionary concept! Maybe when he sees that you are happier he will get on board.
I wish taking care of yourself wasn’t a revolutionary concept, but I really do believe it is for him.
I could go on forever if I delved into his psyche, but suffice it to say I grew up with the concept that we were only put here to provide value to society as a whole. So the whole self-care thing doesn’t even have a place in that line of thought.
Perhaps one day when I feel less frustrated when we talk about it I’ll tell him more about hospitalist medicine. In the meantime, I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing and hope he changes his mind 🙂 He’s just so damn stubborn it may take an eternity… but I do have to appreciate the apple didn’t really fall too far from that tree 😀
Thanks for the comment!
I totally understand your frustration. I try to approach these types of situations (sometimes successfully, sometimes not) with some reframing, in order to notch a few “wins.” Of course, the wins are only noted upon later reflection – not in the moment.
For example, you’ve recognized your reaction (anger) to your father’s attitude, and you’re trying to breathe with that emotion for a few seconds before you respond. You have successfully stretched the interval between your emotional reaction and your overt reaction, and you’ve *almost* been able to check your overt reaction before it comes out. That’s probably leagues better than the way you reacted 5-10 years ago to the same stimulus, right? A win!
Eventually, you will stretch that interval even further, you will realize that it is unlikely that you’ll change your father’s attitude by “educating” him, you will accept his position for what it is (his position), and you will let your own decision and feelings about your decision be unaffected. Ultimately, this will allow both of you to “win,” which is important for your relationship, since you’re both the same in needing that win.
We never stop wanting our parents’ approval, but we can eventually stop *needing* our parents’ approval.
So, so wise.
It almost sounds like you’ve ripped it off from a Tim Ferris podcast that you keep wanting me to listen to 🙂
I am light years away from what my responses would’ve been 10 years ago.. so much so that I tend to do more non-responses/non-committal answers than anything. There is a fine line between that and avoidance which is also quite tempting, but non-productive.
Reading this, I am feeling spoiled to have had such strong support from my family when I told them about my decision to quit hospital OB work at age 43 (thanks so much for the shout out to my PoF post and for the kind words M!) Although my parents were also immigrants who achieved success through higher education (both teachers), my mom actually tried to talk me OUT of being a doctor because she was worried about my stress level! (mothers are so wise!!)
(I also wanted to say that I just read your excellent post about being a paediatrician without kids, it was bang on- as a “child free” OB I can totally relate.)
Keep up the great posts M, we’re here for you even if your parents aren’t! 🙂
Aw, thanks Kristina! I’m so glad you had support from your family – it definitely makes life transitions much easier! I do have my wonderful husband and my sister who’ve been supportive, plus all my real life and virtual friends – I’m glad I can add you to that list!
BTW, it was my pleasure to send that shout out! My motto is to give kudos when they’re due, and you are so inspiring to me 🙂
Oh yeah, most definitely I ripped this off from someone way wiser than I. Tim Ferriss or one of his brilliant podcast guests is a good bet!
I like your point about the line between avoidance and what I’m suggesting. It may seem like semantics to some, but I would agree there is a meaningful difference.
I’m glad you agree I’m right 😉
When I was mired in burnout, tossing around the idea of quitting, changing careers, opening an ice cream shop or other business, or just retiring. My father, then in his mid-80’s and retired from his second dental career at age 81, was beside himself.
What the hell was I doing…to him? What kind of career should I (we) consider? Should I go back to school for a Master’s degree (read: the solution always lies with additional formal education)? He was totally wrapped up in my inner emotional conflicts and mostly making it worse, even though he thought he was being helpful.
Ultimately, I made some changes, sucked it up and then went part time. That was good for him because my (our collective) status was largely unchanged. It’s funny how some parents just cannot stop parenting, even when their children are 50 years old!
LOL.. thank you for that perspective! I thought it was only me who felt like a perpetual child 😀
You know, a lot of what I see in the clinic are people who are stuck in their parental scripting, unwilling to make choices that would their own personal lives happier. It especially spikes around the holiday season when people get more anxious and depressed about living up to their family’s expectations… then that’s when all the Xanax requests start rolling in so they can deal with their over-bearing parents (usually mothers!).
I find it so fascinating the lives we lead and the choices we make and don’t make. The fact that most of us are blissfully unaware of this happening just adds another layer of complexity.
ANYWAY.. enough of that! I’m glad your world did not collapse when you decided to go your own way.. I will take that lesson and run with it 🙂
It really is amazing how this scenario plays out over and over again on a daily bass. with children of immigrants.
Expressions like Tiger Mom (or even helicopter parents) really do no justice to what is actually happening.
I have had way too many bad choices in my life because I tried to appease my mom’s wishes. None worse than the emotionally and financially devastating divorce after my arranged marriage.
I now don’t even consider my mom’s feelings in anything I do going forward. I think in fact that I would be better off doing the opposite of anything she suggests.
No one walks in your shoes besides you. Thus you have the right to make decisions for you.
100%.
My dad had “joked”/”threatened” that he would arrange my marriage to my elementary mortal enemy back when I was in grade school, and his style of “intensive parenting” convinced me that he would actually follow through on it despite that being uncommon in the Philippines.
Our parents don’t have to live with the outcomes and consequences of our actions like we do, though I do think they suffer if we make choices that result in bad outcomes. No one wants to see their children in pain. But to live our lives to meet others’ expectations of what they envision our lives to look like is the surest way to discontentment for everyone involved.
I’m glad you were able to break free 🙂
M,
This was great. My parents (non-immigrants but still with their own bootstrap experiences) have been supportive of my decision to do locums – for now. I have definitely heard, “Well, don’t you think you’ll want to be more than a substitute doctor at some point?”
The whole “help more people” argument is inherently bankrupt. There will always be more patients to help, more people suffering. So, at some point you have to draw a line and say, “This is what I can do.” And few people look over the career length timespan. If decreasing workload now lengthens your career by 10 years (because you restore some joy to practice), what is that worth?
But, I think the problem with these conversations is they start with different questions. We are asking, “What is enough?” Your father and many others around us, are asking, “What more can you(or I) do?”
These questions are not reconcilable. There are a lifetime of experiences and assumptions that get us to these questions. The conversation can’t be productive unless we are starting with similar questions.
So good.
Yes to everything you just stated.
I’m finding the generational differences between us are exactly this: the older generation created and lived in a world of productivity, improving metrics and profits while squeezing every last ounce of productivity out of their lives and are now flabbergasted when we start to push back and ask, “I thought it was supposed to be quality over quantity?”
We are no longer interested in the “more” argument.
It’s playing out in so many arenas in our lives now – down to the demise of the McMansions, the rise of minimalism, even the rejection of crappy mass produced beer and American cheese (no joke, that’s an NPR article I read today on how millennials are killing American cheese – just add that to the list).
I’m not sure we will ever meet in the middle – our markedly different experiences may not allow for that.
Really interesting post.
I kind of keep coming back to an economics perspective: what is your time worth?
When I was young, my time wasn’t worth much, and I’d gladly exchange it for any type of work (the worst, incidentally, was packing motorcycle parts in a mail order warehouse).
Now that I’m older, it’s worth much more, so the balance between work/life is something I think about a lot.
Absolutely.
One of my favourite posts by The Happy Philosopher (https://thehappyphilosopher.com/how-understanding-the-marginal-utility-of-money-will-make-you-happier/) includes a little hand drawn graph where he depicts the value of time vs time itself –> It’s definitely worth the read if you haven’t read it before!
I definitely exchanged a lot of my life for things I wouldn’t deem worth it today, like sitting in a car dealership for 3 hours just to “score” a $15 oil change when I was working minimum wage in college. Now, as I’m nearing my mid 30s and am hyper aware that these may be the years that I peak, my time is much more precious to me.
Thanks for stopping by!
I’m late to the game on this post but you said it so well: “I have struggled to shrug off the deep need to earn their respect.” and the disappointment of being perpetually unable to impress our own parents. Millenial-Revolution has some posts on this as well, how even as a millionaire her parents are disappointed she doesn’t own a home: the pinnacle of success for her family. Her parents doubted her and didn’t respect her until she was on the news for her accomplishment of being the youngest retiree in Canada. Even then, there is a sense of sadness that her parents don’t share in her joy or success. It’s amazing how this can follow us in our 30s and beyond, when we would think we would be unaffected.
I’ve read that one and I felt her pain so viscerally!
I took a year off between pre-med and med school to be a drug dealer/pharmaceutical sales rep – my parents were CRUSHED because they always envisioned me as a doctor. Fast forward 13 years with a medical degree, my parents are STILL disappointed but this time it’s because I haven’t provided them the grandchildren they thought they’d have at this point.
Point is, the target is always changing.
The fastest way to misery is to try to live up to someone else’s expectations.
I’m just glad our generation coined the phrase: “You do you!”