My Autobiography

Preface

When I was little I remember wanting a stuffed animal. I wanted a big brother to protect me. I used to tell my teachers in Vietnam that I spoke fluent English even though I spoke no English at all. I never wanted to be anything when I grew up because I never knew you had to get a job and make your own way in the world. In those days I had long mangling hair that was uncut because my father didn't believe in cutting hair for girls. In Vietnam I remember taking group martial arts outdoors and after having watched sooooooo many martial arts movies as a child even by the ripe age of five, I told my instructors that I could easily leap onto the rooftops as they did in the movies. I got A's, B's and C's at school. I think the question that adults often ask children--What do you want to be when you grow up? Is one that needs clarification. Firstly, your question in living life and getting to know yourself each day, is who am I? What am I good at? What am I bad at? What am I interested in? What do I hate? Am I a people person or an introvert? Then the next task is to decide who other people are? You can never know unless you participate. You have to get in the fray to understand how hard it is to get consensus. If you choose to sit in the corner and never experience life then learning will not magically happen. The question--What do you want to be when you grow up? Is really asking how well do you know yourself and others? How much have you put yourself out there and allowed yourself to fail so that you can learn from the experience?   

Being a mom, most and foremost I've made an effort to be powerful in the world to be an example to my children but there's always that fine line between being respectful and allowing oneself to being disrespected, refinement and brutality. There's a lot that I still have to learn about life. There's a lot that the future still may yet bring. What I do know about myself is that my mother taught me to work hard and to keep my word. Growing up in Las Vegas, Nevada my story became a larger story of a people that immigrated to America and contributed to making America. It's not always pretty and it's far from perfection. This is my story. This is what I have. This story is what I own.

So far in my life I have been a real estate agent, an Usborne books consultant, a Toyota new car salesperson. I have been a bride, a new mother, a daughter and most recently a substitute teacher. It has been an amazing platform to make a difference in the lives of children. On some days it's more challenging than anything that I could have imagined.

Chris Bassett and I got married in 1999 and we moved to his house in Beavercreek, Ohio on Spicer Dr. From Kemp Road, you had to make four turns before you could reach the house. It seemed a strange house, south facing, with a sunken living room level and a narrow hallway from the areas to the bedrooms but the house was close to Chris's work. He was very happy about that.  

The house on Spicer is where I crawled around relentless after Bryan who was a tireless child. My job was his entertainer. There were endless mom's group activities, outings, me reading to him and us playing kid games. He was my everything. Between his naps I read about how his mind was developing and what I could do to help promote his well being. I remember that I was never allowed to say, "No, that's bad."

Instead I had to say, "We don't that in our family."

I was never allowed to slap his hand because it discourages creativity and mostly I always gave him space to take as long as he wanted at an activity. I suppose it was a way of being child led.  

My brain literally exploded with things that I learned each day from reading. When Chris came home from work it was just wonderful, because I got to share everything that I learned that day.  

Then it was over. When Bryan was fourteen he didn't get on with his little sister, Breeanna. Chris and I were divorced. I took Bryan to his grandfather's house and I wanted Chris to raise Bryan. I didn't know how to manage the two children constantly bickering.  

I didn't know if I would ever find myself again after that day, after that moment. It felt numb and surreal. I was exhausted. I felt like it was the best option at the time.

So let me start here in this redbrick house that I moved into a few years ago. It sits on a quiet neighborhood street. I have mementos around the house that reminded me that I once had children, that it was all real, photos of Bryan water rafting with his boy scout Troop down a river, pictures of Breeanna doing art at K12 Art Gallery. The house is empty and all is quiet.

I was thinking of how late November was rolling into the Thanksgiving holidays and shopping season would be next. Christmas was always big in our family. You either had to believe in Santa Clause or return all the presents ever given to you.  

My ex-husband is recovering from a stroke in May of 2021 which affected his right brain and took out control of the left side of his body.  

Bryan is twenty. And Chris's sister, Cathy has custody of Breeanna, who is currently fourteen.

And here I am, with me and my life, and with but a few things to say.