What is normal?

Two years ago, Pulitzer Prize-winning artist Kendrick Lamar released the album Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers.

Two years ago, the lyrics "I hope you find some peace of mind in this lifetime," echoed into my soul. 

Two years ago, I realized the bass blasting from the stereo was actually my heart pounding through my chest,  recognizing the lyrics hit close to home. 

The album was Lamar's letter to himself, filled with themes of seeking help and addressing his generational trauma. But that Friday morning, it felt like Lamar sat in the passenger seat and spoke to me about my life, telling me to look inside and reflect on who I was. 

Because I was the first in my family to attend college, I always felt the pressure on my shoulders to be the best. In her book First Gen: A Memoir,  Alejandra Campoverdi uses the term "First and Onlys" to describe first-generation students breaking the mold and pursuing higher education. Similarly, I considered myself a trailblazer and believed only my academic success would inspire my younger siblings to seek higher education. 

Every class, every exam, felt like balancing on a tightrope supported by a tower of loose books. Teetering constantly, I would look over and see the fall would be a long one. As the oldest sibling and first-generation American from Mexican parents, I felt myself the product of my family's hardships every time I walked onto the UC Irvine campus. "You're the first in your family to be here, you need to do better," was a belief I constantly considered normal. 

What I didn't realize was my life was filled with Adverse Childhood Experiences. 

The U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) explains that Adverse Childhood Experiences, or "ACEs," are traumatic events encountered during childhood. The CDC provides a non-exhaustive list of factors and experiences considered ACEs. More shockingly, ACEs not only affect how kids think or see the world but also impact their physical health. An article from Global Pediatric Health explains that the more ACEs a kid experiences, the more likely they are to experience risks to their physical health as adults.

Many ACEs are attributed to living in low-income neighborhoods ,and as we've learned, first-generation students are most often from these neighborhoods. 

So, after listening to Kendrick Lamar's life and realizing we shared similar traumas, I began to realize what I considered "normal" was far from it. For one, my mom worked two jobs and had to balance dealing with a troublemaker, yours truly. She told me stories of how I was moved to three different preschools because I was always getting into trouble. Well come to find out years later, I had ADHD that went undiagnosed until I was 23. I never confronted her about it. Instead, I hinted at her stories. 

Then, the bombshell:

"Oh yeah, I had taken you to see a doctor, but they were going to give you pills and you would have been different. I didn't want to lose you." I didn't react, I just nodded and told myself it was a selfish move.

Grinding my teeth until I felt a headache, I was angry. She had taken away my chance to live a "normal life," where I could sit still, follow along in class, and not blame myself for being "stupid." Every exam I  struggled with was not from a lack of knowledge about the concepts, but instead stemmed from my inability to sit down and just take a test. The fuse had been lit the moment I  attended preschool, ticking every time I failed a subject or struggled to understand topics in class. What I didn't know was that the fuse would have to burn out.

You see, believing these ideas of having to be "good enough" and "you've come so far, you need to be better" left its mark. Every time I made the tiniest mistake, I would apologize to the fullest. I could never make a mistake because it meant I wasn't perfect and anything less than that meant I'd never become successful. Years of living this way left me with anxiety. My mental well-being was burned out.

Therapy was never an option because it meant, "I was crazy" and I never wanted to believe that something was in fact wrong with me. But, inspired by Kendrick Lamar, I did it anyway because I knew it was time to change. It was there I learned about ACEs, about how my mom had lived through her own traumas, and that I was her first opportunity to live a "normal life". I learned about my family history, and how we dealt with alcoholism, anxiety, and other trauma but no one did anything about it. Not because they didn't want to but, because they didn't know how. We just lived that way and assumed everything was normal.

To quote Campoverdi, "We heal generational trauma when we choose to evolve versus repeat . . . changing the future for our own bloodlines." I don't resent my mom for her decisions, knowing that normal isn't always in the cards for first-gen students or their parents. 

I hope that my post can allow others to look into themselves too and realize that maybe the loose tower we struggle to balance on as first-gen students can be replaced by a sturdier foundation by taking care of your mental health and yourself.