Why They Cried For Me (and more)

Eye-Opening Moments are real-life stories of adversity, encounters, and perspectives intertwined. In this episode you will hear about Why They Cried For Me & To Go Dutch or Not

Website: https://inspiremereads.com
Books: https://amazon.com/author/emily-kay-tan.2021_ 

Chapters

• 0:21 Introduction
• 1:01 Why They Cried For Me
• 14:42 To Go Dutch or Not
• 19:00 Key Takeaways

Transcript

Hello and welcome to episode #165 of Eye-Opening Moments where you’ll hear stories of adversity, encounters, and perspectives intertwined. They are moments that can lift your spirits, give you some food for thought, or move you. For the introspective mind that likes to reflect, discover, and find solutions or meaning in a complex life, this is for you. I’m your host Emily Kay Tan. In this episode, you will hear about Why They Cried For Me & To Go Dutch or Not.

Why They Cried for Me
I decided to quit my job. I loved it for five years, and then I didn’t. I decided to leave and fly back home to the USA. One lady I only knew for a short time cried. Another lady who infuriated me and was one of the reasons I wanted to leave had tears roll down her face. A woman I worked closely with hugged me and cried with quivers in her voice. And my superior cried many tears several times. All their unexpected tears shocked me. No one ever cried for me, and here, four people who were just people I worked with cried because I was leaving. It was most puzzling to me, and it took me some time to realize why they cried for me. It may have been obvious to others, but it was a big mystery to me. Why? I asked. I was reluctant to accept the answer because I didn’t believe it. It was difficult to digest, and it reopened a door I didn’t like to open.

Working in a boring position for a year, I was ready for a change. I wanted to cut my working hours and do other more interesting things. Instead of reducing my hours, my boss offered me other tasks. Little did I know it would be an interesting and challenging job I had never done before. I was excited and up for the challenge. Suddenly, work was no longer dull, and I was promoted without asking for a promotion. Every day would bring new surprises and issues to tackle. Going to work was sometimes like walking into a soap opera; there was so much drama. It made me appreciate how simple my life became while living abroad. Many seemed to have so many problems. I was too busy solving other people’s issues to have any problems of my own. Each day, I would go to a different branch and meet with different people. I reveled in the various locations, people, and issues I encountered. I rejoiced in having a monotonous-free job. 

The job allowed me the opportunity to exercise my strengths while also challenging me to do things I never did before. It gave me the chance to practice helping others daily and utilize creative skills to solve problems. It stretched me to grow and develop further as a leader. I couldn’t be happier with my job. Then, one day, something happened, and my beautiful work-life crashed. I hung on to the job, but things did not improve. I was no longer happy with the job.

I always look to improve or make things more efficient or effective. If not, the job would be meaningless. The job became meaningless when I realized all my efforts to improve things would not change, no matter what I did to try to change the situation. It had nothing to do with my ability but everything to do with culture and limited powers. A meaningless job became a pointless job. I was unaccustomed to doing work that would go nowhere or not produce desired results. It was time to go, and I gave my resignation notice.

When Kellie, a subordinate, discovered I was leaving, she cried. I was surprised because I had only known her a short while and had only helped her a little. Why would she be sad and weep because I was leaving? I didn’t understand how she could have such a reaction.

Stella, one of the managers, walked away, shedding tears when another manager told her no one could persuade me to stay. Stella’s tears completely baffled me. She hardly showed any kindness, sympathy, or compassion for others, including me. She once asked me to help her, and I worked overtime to do it. I thought I was helpful and a good team player, but she commented that I should not get overtime pay since I was already well-paid in my salary. My head heated and burned in fury. We were all on vacation the next week, and as I sat on a tour bus, I fumed in anger. Stella’s comment angered me for nearly a week, and I tried desperately not to think about it because I was on vacation and wanted to enjoy myself. I couldn’t understand why I was so angry. I only knew my head was as hot as an oven and needed to cool off. My head pounded as if it had a heartbeat, and the pounding hurt so much I wanted to cry. I was nice to help, and how could Stella be so cruel? I asked myself. She disrespected my time, suggested that I was overpaid or overvalued, and knew I had skills she didn’t have, yet she said what she said. She did not appreciate my skills but liked using them to help her. Feeling like a used and unappreciated piece of meat, I fumed some more. Why would a person like that cry when I was leaving?

On another occasion, Stella reminded me to do something about one of my subordinates, which was already a part of my job. I did it, and then she talked to the big boss about it. The result was me being knocked down in front of one of my subordinates. My subordinate performed horribly, and I implemented the consequences. The big boss retracted my subordinate’s consequences because of Stella, who was not my superior. More disrespect from Stella followed me. Why would she cry when I was on my way out the door from the company? My interactions with her were needed more often than not. Sometimes, her actions angered me, and I was happy to depart from working with her. Why would she be upset that I was leaving? I didn’t understand. She didn’t appear to value my help or presence and looked like she only expected me to resolve issues with not even a thank you. I beg to ask why she cried when I was on my way out!

Bianca, another manager, worked closely with me as I often needed information from her to help me do my job. No one else around had the answers, but she did. Bianca was the most helpful and significant contributor in helping me complete my tasks when I started in my new position. She was kind to me and had a good heart for the most part. We had a good working relationship, but I did not think my departure warranted tears.

Since I was leaving, I needed recommendation letters for my next job. I thought Bianca would be a good person to ask for one. She refused. After six years with her, I finally saw an unkind part of her. She said she would not write one. I offered to help her write it, and she’d sign it. She adamantly refused. I said, “I need your help!” “No!” she retorted. I told her I couldn’t get a job without the letter. I told her I couldn’t meet daily expenses without a job. “Good! Then you can’t leave!” she said. I practically begged Bianca, and she would not budge. She said I could not leave and that she would not help me escape from my wonderful job that turned into something that became pointless to me.

I never got a letter from Bianca; she walked away from me in tears. I couldn’t believe she could be so upset about my departure. We were good co-workers, but we were not best friends. Why did she want me to stay so badly? I couldn’t comprehend her reaction. I thought she overreacted unnecessarily. However, when the final day came, she hugged me, and tears rolled down her face. With her weird sense of humor, she said it was all my fault that she cried because she never cried for anyone else leaving the company.

Alena, my boss, was a wonderful person for the most part. She was a kind, generous, and compassionate person. I saw her cry about my departure four times. I knew she liked me, but I did not understand the flood of tears. I could believe that she valued my skills because she praised me often to others. But she did not say much to try to persuade me to stay. I have heard her convince others to stay, and then they did, perhaps with a pay raise. She did not try to convince me to stay with anything, so I did not think my departure was a big deal. We had a great relationship, but the last year was not good. I was angry that she retracted the consequence I gave to my subordinate, and I never seemed to recover from it. She had to do what she had to do. I was left feeling disrespected and distrusted. I held a grudge; it was my greatest weakness. Alena was the most forgiving kind of person; I am the opposite of her greatest strength. I couldn’t forgive her. Our relationship was never the same after that incident. Why did she cry? She didn’t try to make me stay. She only said that if I needed a vacation, I could take it and return soon. And then she cried some more. Why did she show such emotions when she did not try very hard to urge me to stay? I mumbled inside.

These four people who cried for me did not make me shed a tear. I was disgusted with how things were done and found myself powerless to do anything about it. With a meaningless job where I was not allowed to improve it, I didn’t want it. I wanted to leave. A sad movie could make me cry; four people crying for me did not make me want to cry. I was too angry and disgusted to feel any sadness.

As I recall my departure seven years ago, I can still feel the distastefulness on my tongue. Much time has passed since that time. The emotional side of my brain has calmed a bit for something on the left side of my brain to tell me something I never saw until now. It was a blind spot hidden from me. Residues from my emotional side still don’t want to believe what the left side of my brain tells me. They fight with each other, and it seems the right side has been winning all this time.

The logical left side of my brain popped up to inform me that these people loved and appreciated me, so that was why they were sad that I was leaving. The emotional right side of my brain keeps jumping up and down to laugh at me and say they didn’t love me. They couldn’t have loved me. And then the demons came out to laugh at me, too. 

My childhood demons, who rarely leave me alone, were in control. They appeared when I was five when Mom tossed me out. The five-year-old me said I was not lovable and that no one could love me because my own mom sent me away at five. Those vicious demons constantly reminded me that no one could love me. No wonder I was puzzled and baffled as to why these four people cried for me. I couldn’t believe anyone could love or care for me. I never wholly believed any of my boyfriends, fiances, friends, and family loved me. This demonic door was the door I didn’t want to open and face.

The door is open, and I stand up to fight back this time. I say, “Shut up! I am worthy of love, and others can love me.” Though adversity keeps knocking on my door, I keep knocking it down because I am like a bamboo that may fall and bend but will not break. I leave the door open. Demons disperse; you cannot control me anymore! I declare. Loving hearts will chase you away. I have shut others out for too long; I have shut love out for too long. Love will now disappear the devils. Belated thanks to those who loved me and cried for me!

To Go Dutch or Not
Carina and I finished a delicious meal, and each paid for our portion. That was how it was with most of my female friends unless it was somebody’s birthday. I never gave much thought to it because it was the practical thing to do. However, it was different with my friend Selina. She didn’t like to go Dutch, making me feel guilty each time she paid for my meal. However, I later learned something most valuable from Selina’s stance.

Whenever I went out to dinner with Selina, she often paid for the meal. I thought it was her acting like a big sister to me since she was a year and a half older than me. She was insistent; I‘d let her pay, and then I’d feel guilty. I asked myself why I felt terrible. She was doing something for me that I could do myself. Independent me said I could pay for my own meals, so I was uncomfortable having her pay. Rather than fighting with her, I let her do as she wished, even though I would be guilt-ridden.

Since Selina and I started as co-workers, we had many meals after work. Again, she would insist on paying. I later rationalized that it was a cultural habit. My traditional Asian grandmother always paid for family meals when we went out. She said it was because she was the oldest. She would not let anyone pay. If anyone attempted to foot the bill, she would pull and tug with the other person until she won. Like Selina, she was extremely insistent that she paid. It led me to believe that the older person paid the bill in our Asian culture. I needed to accept it instead of feeling guilty about it.

A couple of times when I had dinner with Selina, she would tell me to pay for it. It was because she did not have enough money on hand to pay for it. Those few times I got a chance to pay relieved my guilt, and I gladly paid.

After some time, it occurred to me that Selina enjoyed paying the bill. I always thought her to be a kind and generous person. She often gave to others, and that was how she was. However, it occurred to me that it gave her satisfaction. Perhaps I didn’t know that before because I was selective when it came to giving. I did not give generously to many; she did. 

While abroad, Selina came to visit me once, and we had brunch together. I offered to pay, and she gladly accepted without a fight. She said getting treated once in a while was nice because she was exhausted from giving all the time to others. Her comment gave me much food for thought. 

Though Selina enjoyed giving to others often, sometimes, it would be nice if others gave to her, too. I learned valuable lessons from Selina.

It gave Selina joy when she paid for meals because it was one way of giving. It could be exhausting when others don’t give back because receiving the giving is also a form of joy. I didn’t know how to enjoy the receiving because my ego was in the way. My guilt said I could do it myself and didn’t need others to give to me. With a shift in perspective, I see the joy in giving and receiving. It is with a big heart, like Selina, who can gift so much joy to others. And it is happiness to accept it, too. 

I want to take turns with friends to foot the bill when we go out for meals, but not many have accepted my offer. They still prefer to go Dutch. Luckily, I know I can do it with Selina because she knows the value of giving and receiving. When you give, you bring joy to others. When you receive the giving, you enjoy the gladness. They are precious treasures to behold. Thank you, Selina.

Key Takeaways
Though I didn’t understand why others cried for me, I uncovered the obstruction and released love.

Though paying your own way can be practical, giving or receiving a treat from others is also nice.

Next week, you will hear two real-life stories called Mom-in-Law Moments & I Can Explain. If you enjoyed this episode of Eye-Opening Moments, please text someone and ask them what they think about this podcast, or go to www.inspiremereads.com and leave a message. Thank you for listening!