January 27th, 2015

My mind was simultaneously a whirlwind of too many overlapping memories and a black hole of numbness from repressing my true emotions. Just a little bit under three months ago, my frantic Mom flew all the way to Ohio from Jakarta and bargained with the poker-faced licensed clinical mental health counselors to end my psychiatric incarceration. She was armed with a shitload of my childhood photos and drawings compiled in a thick homemade binder. Going through the pictures one by one, she argued that I was not mentally ill and thus did not belong in the ward with the patients suffering from borderline personality disorder, bipolar, and OCD. 

"Rin is and always has been a cheerful girl!" Mom pointed to a photo of me as a seven-year-old playing with my younger brother in a garden full of white roses and purple orchids. My wavy hair was tied into two short ponytails with red elastics and decorated with cherry-shaped plastic beads. My brother and I both wore matching Sesame Street T-shirts, mine featuring a giant yellow bird and his featuring a wide-eyed blue monster biting into a chocolate chip cookie. 

"Sure, she seemed to be, but that was like twelve years ago, wasn't it?" the most senior of the counselors spoke up. "The fact of the matter is that your daughter is now a sullen and petulant teenager who needs a lot of help overcoming her tendency to harm herself and others." 

"The medicines she's taking have changed her personality!" Mom slammed her hands on the cafeteria table. "She has no business being forced into experimenting with drugs that alter her brain chemistry. You've never done an MRI or CAT scan on her, so how can you be positive that there's something wrong with her neurology? Everything is a speculation at best and a Russian roulette at worst! The more pharmacological concoctions she inhales, the more she's going to turn into a husk of her former self."

"She signed an agreement to be compliant with the care she receives here," another counselor quickly quipped. "She knew that she needed medication to help bring her hormone levels to their normal baseline. The reason she appears to be different from how you remember her is that she needs time to adjust to being medicated and not because we've rid her of any happiness remaining in her as you've rudely accused us of doing." 

"Rin, say something, please! Anything!" Mom reached across the table to shake my shoulders. "They heavily drugged you, didn't they? I've never seen you spacing out this badly before." 

If I were honest, I would have told Mom that I no longer had any fucks left to give. Why should I care? I could not see a good outcome, none at all. If Mom won the debate, I would have to fly back home and face Dad's questions about my inability to stay afloat academically. If she lost, then I would inevitably spend decades of my life being institutionalized until the professionals declared I could be released to rejoin society. Either way, a lose-lose situation. This line of thought was probably my tendency to catastrophize manifesting, but as I said, I gave no fucks.

"Let's say we do discharge Rinjani," the leader of the counselors addressed Mom. "What do you plan to do with her from then on? Would you be able to ensure she continues to see a mental health provider in her own country? Would you acknowledge that she needs to recuperate before she can be reasonably expected to reintegrate into the academic environment?" 

"A provider with an understanding of our cultural practices, rather than an American one who knows nothing other than pushing pills, would be a million times better for her!" Mom wasted no time giving everyone a piece of her mind. "And I have no doubt Rin is intelligent enough to score an acceptance at a decent school, preferably an outstanding one that actually cares about its international students instead of throwing them to a jail-like place when they feel unwell."

"So you think she would be happier if she left Ohio for good?" 

"Yes! She needs to get out of here. Ohio might as well be a wasteland. I'll make sure she's able to have a fresh, new beginning in another state."

"Okay, so what you're saying is you want her to move on, is that it?"

"Of course!" Mom threw her hands up. "There is nothing else for her to do here but endless things to experience wherever she decides to resume her education, be it somewhere warmer like Phoenix, Arizona or somewhere historic like Seattle, Washington. Rin deserves to forget this hellhole. I want her to seek out new opportunities and thrive where she is valued."

"Anywhere is better than here, huh? I get it. Ohio lacks grandeur and fame compared to the rest of the United States, unfortunately. Ohioans are the butts of everybody's jokes!" the head of the counseling team laughed heartily. Mom remained unimpressed and stared at him with an icy glare that could freeze lava. I fidgeted with the worn-down medical bracelet on my wrist and stayed silent until somebody, perhaps a nurse, tapped on my shoulder and handed me a pen. 

"We're discharging you, but we need your signature on this form. It's a statement guaranteeing that you and your family would not sue this hospital and/or the college you've formally withdrawn from should anything go wrong in the aftermath of your terminating the services you've received. By signing this form, you're acknowledging that if your mental health declines even further then it is a result of pulling yourself out of our care way too soon." 

"I think her mental health would deteriorate even faster if I hadn't jumped onto a plane and gotten myself involved! You guys should be ashamed of yourselves for using her as a lab rat!" Mom snidefully remarked. "She's finally free! Good riddance!"

I wanted nothing more than to slap duct tape on her mouth so that she could stop making me feel embarrassed by her disparaging the mental health workers, but I also understood that she talked with no filter because she was convinced she had to defend me at all costs. Mom was not the most diplomatic woman out there, but I would be a fool not to recognize that she did love me, even if her way of showing love was misguided and mortifying. 

*****

The Department of Homeland Security gave me 90 days to leave the United States after my student visa was nullified (the legal term they used was "canceled without prejudice", meaning that my visa was void not because I broke the law but because of an extenuating and unprecedented circumstance). The officers who did the nullification explained that I would have to get a new student visa approved if I wished to transfer to a different American university, but I was in no way penalized or blacklisted from ever entering the United States again, it was simply the protocol. I was relieved to hear it but I still worried about whether getting approval for a new visa would be easy enough. The first time I applied for a student visa, I had to go to the American Embassy in my hometown and went in for an interview in which I was asked many questions about why I chose the academic discipline I intended to major in and what my career goals were. Now, after the shitstorm I had to endure, I felt purposeless and directionless. Given that I lost any motivation to keep going, how would I pass such an interview a second time?

Despite what Mom promised the psychiatrists, she was not really in a hurry to take me back to Jakarta. She and Dad had a friend in Virginia, Rena Wong, who was a former classmate of Dad's back when he did his petroleum engineering internship. Rena lived in the capital of Virginia, a big city called Richmond, and Mom believed it would be fun for us to spend Thanksgiving there. 

In reality, it was not that Mom cared about Turkey Day as much as she thought Rena could drive me around Richmond to visit the various public universities there. Mom briefed Rena on the TL;DR version of what happened to me and, thanks to Mom's persuasive nature, the next thing I remembered was listening to a student ambassador of Richmond University going on and on about the state-of-the-art facilities the university has and how being a student there has been life-changing for him. If Rena had noticed me zoning out, she had not outwardly expressed any disapproval of my distracted state of mind. Maybe she was aware that I preferred to not be disturbed. When she was driving me to yet another boring campus tour, however, she broke her silence and asked if I wanted to get lunch and just not bother with the rest of the campuses. Mom would be none the wiser because while Rena and I were out and about she was busy babysitting Rena's 10-year-old son, who just began his Fall break and couldn't be more excited.

"Have you ever had pollo a la brasa?" Rena glanced at me when the car stopped at a red light. "It is like rotisserie chicken but more succulent and served with cilantro rice and mint sauce. It's super delicious and I swear if the restaurant were closer to my office I would eat it more often." 

"What did you do for a living, anyway?" I faked interest in small talk just to be polite.

"I'm an environmental consultant specializing in petrology. In a nutshell, if a company wants to drill for oil, I would give the engineers consultation on how to minimize the environmental destruction resulting from drilling activities. It's a tough job but it pays handsomely. If I hadn't pursued this line of work, I wouldn't be able to send Austin to St. Andrew's Elementary, a private academy for gifted kids of above-average IQ. Austin's previous teachers told me he just was not living up to his potential in a regular school and he needs to be challenged or he is going to get too bored." 

"Huh. Now I wonder what my IQ is. Probably pretty low." 

"Don't say that, Rin. I understand that you're sad about having to quit college for now, but I'm sure it has nothing to do with your intelligence and everything to do with having to find the right personal fit. Maybe you're the opposite of Austin in terms of how much challenge you require. You might learn better in a low-pressure setting than in a high-pressure one, but there is no shame in needing more support. I think every child requires support, but what you need would be different from what Austin needs, for example. That doesn't mean you're unintelligent." 

"You're too kind, Rena, but if I were intelligent then why did I mess up?" 

"People make mistakes, young people especially, but maybe it's wiser not to see your mistakes as a roadblock and instead see it as a chance to rebuild your life," she replied while preparing to merge onto an exit lane, her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. "Or, just like a driver, you can see it as a chance to have the road take you on a wild journey. Maybe it's okay not to have a specific destination when you are still young. You're just about to enter your twenties, right? Time is on your side, Rin. Life is more forgiving for you than it is for older people, trust me."

"But it feels like life is punishing me for being reckless." 

"It isn't!" Rena chuckled. "It's not a punishment as much as a nudge. Life is reminding you that you need to have a balance between enjoying yourself and working toward self-improvement. It's great that you wanted to do well in your studies, but studying too hard is unhealthy." 

"For an East Asian lady, you sure do not act like one."

"You do know East Asians, just like any other ethnicities, are not a monolith, don't you? Listening too seriously to stereotypes is stupid," Rena frowned. "But I get what you mean. You see, I used to be a typical Tiger Parent who demanded absolute perfection from Austin. When he got diagnosed with giftedness, however, I had a wake-up call. Children like him already wanted to be perfect without their parents demanding them to be flawless. I realized if I kept insisting on parenting him the way my parents raised me, he would develop anxiety disorder just like I did. His psychologist also made me re-think why I burdened him with so many unrealistic demands. In hindsight, I was using my child as a tool to stroke my ego. After my divorce, I was so afraid of being looked down on for being a single mother. I thought if I could successfully raise him to be a high achiever, people would praise me instead of telling me I am an incompetent mother."

I had no idea how to respond to this overload of information I did not ask for, so I just nodded and smiled at Rena. Later on, however, I reflected on the correlation between one's upbringing and one's inclination to be too hard on one's self or one's kid. I knew very little of Mom and Dad's upbringing other than the fact that Mom grew up poor in a small village and Dad grew up with five siblings. Perhaps both Mom and Dad mistakenly held on to the belief that they had to be tough on my brother and me because they had to toughen themselves up when they were children themselves. Maybe they were scared that if we were too soft and too spoiled we would not survive when we reached adulthood. But look at me now! Look at where I landed because of the so-called tough love. Perhaps it was finally time to be my own person, even if it meant going against everything Mom and Dad had taught me about persistence and perseverance. 

****

December came and went so fast. Mom and I made it safely to Jakarta just two weeks shy of Christmas. Since we lived in a mixed -faith household, with Mom being a Christian and Dad being a Muslim, we celebrated not by doing the usual gift exchange or going to a church at midnight, but by going to a dim sum eatery in a shopping mall. 

Din Tai Fung, a Taiwanese dumpling soup franchise, had been a favorite of my family's for as long as I could remember. I loved their xiaolongbao and Rahmat loved their stir-fried bok choy in oyster sauce. Dad and Mom shared an affinity for their garlic broccoli. 

While waiting for our orders to arrive, Rahmat brought up the topic of New Year's wishes. 

"I wish for good health so that I can keep playing soccer at recess and I also wish for more pocket money so that I can keep treating my friends to chicken noodles after soccer practice!" he beamed. "Health and money, that's not too much to ask for, yeah?"

"Why can't your friends be the ones who treat you?" Dad cut in. "Are they only friends with you because they know they can ask you to buy them noodles?" 

"Oh, no, they treat me too. It's just that every guy gets assigned different post-workout food, you see. For example, my best friend Aldo buys us shaved ice, the striker in our team buys us boba tea, and the goalkeeper buys us nuggets from McD's. It's a rotating system, sort of." 

"You have an interesting social life," I commented offhandedly. "Must be nice being popular."

"Not my fault that I'm endowed with natural charm!" Rahmat smirked. "But enough about me. What are you wishing for, Rin? Let me guess, you would wish for Goena to stop ghosting you?"

"Nah. A part of me will always miss Goena, but he has his own path to walk on and I have mine. I would rather wish for something more important, like an uneventful year." 

"Rin," Mom interrupted. "2015 would not be uneventful. I have signed you up for biweekly English lessons so that you can ace your International English Language Testing System exams. That's one of the requirements for getting a new student visa, isn't it? I know you're good at reading and writing but need help with speaking and listening sections of the exams."

"Why do I have to go to America again? Why can't I go to an Indonesian university?"

"Because I want you to have the highest quality of education possible and you know perfectly well that Indonesia is yet to have any of its universities secure a place in the Top 100 World Universities Ranking. Do you think we would let you settle for mediocrity?" Mom folded her arms. "Don't be mediocre when you can aim higher."

"So you would rather see me crash and burn from stress?"

"That's not what she's implying, dear," Dad shook his head. "She just does not want you to limit yourself when you're destined for something incredible. We know that if you manage to keep your depression under control then you can do whatever you're brave enough to dream of doing. You don't even have to major in political science anymore. If you want to major in, say, Geography or Journalism or Communication and Digital Media, go for it."

"Does it have to be a school in the Top 100 World Universities list? Can't I just apply to the flagship universities in whatever states I happen to like? For example, South Carolina's best university is Clemson, followed by Furman and College of Charleston. North Carolina's best university is either Duke or UNC-Chapel Hill. Tennesse has Vanderbilt and U of Memphis. Georgia has Emory. Kentucky has U of Louisville, Arkansas has Harding, and Alabama has Auburn."

"Oh, I've heard of UNC-Chapel Hill!" Dad's eyes lit up. "Rena considers sending Austin there once he is old enough. It's a very reputable school, among the top five public universities in the United States. Okay, Rin, how about this? I won't expect you to land in a Top 100 World University, but I want you to try and apply to a university whose reputation is equal to UNC-Chapel Hill. Aren't there like 17 other campuses in the UNC family? For example, there is UNC-Charlotte, UNC-Wilmington, UNC-Greensboro, and UNC-Pembroke." 

"Fair enough." 

****

I spent the first couple weeks of January 2015 perfecting my English and doing research on the most acclaimed universities in North Carolina. At some point during my intensive research, I made a Facebook account and joined a group called NC Hopeful Ragamufins Riffraffs. Despite its funny name, the group was full of non-traditional students (which means those who are older than the regular 17 and 18-year-old freshmen)seeking legitimate and genuine advice about re-entering college after temporarily dropping out. I posted a short introduction about wanting suggestions for colleges that have a robust international student population. Several members of Ragamuffins responded to my post, but one took the cake by sending me a direct message.

Hi Rinjani!

I hope you're having a good day so far (or a good evening? You said you're on the other side of the globe, lol). Your post caught my attention because I don't think I've ever seen a non-US citizen on Ragamuffins. I'm kind of embarrassed to say I barely even travel outside of my own state, but hey, it's never too late!

My name's Franco Coleman. My list of colleges to consider is still tentative, but I've narrowed it down to Mars Hill University, Elizabeth State, Winston-Salem State, Warren Wilson, Appalachian State, and UNC-Asheville. I'm betting on UNC-Asheville, though. That one has a major called Ethics and Social Institutions. My goal is to one day work for non-profit organizations like PeaceCorps, so that major sounds like it would be suitable for an aspiring globe trotter. 

Would you mind if I sent you a friend request? I want to know more about Indonesia. Don't laugh, but I had to open Google Maps to get an idea of where your country is! I know, I am a typical uncultured American, but I don't want to keep being one.

Franco's message made me burst out laughing. Oh God, I forgot the last time I heard the sound of my own laughter. I clicked "Accept" on his friend request. 

Hey Franco,

You have no idea how glad I am to know that even though you didn't know anything about Indonesia you are still interested enough to check it out on Google Maps. Most Americans would just be dismissive and be like "okay, cool, anyway..." and change the topic of our conversation before I could even say anything else about my place of birth because it made them uncomfortable to admit their ignorance. In my opinion, there is nothing wrong with being ignorant but there's something very wrong with unwillingness to learn!

I will tell you everything you want to know about my country, but first, tell me about yourself. So you're a native North Carolinian, eh? What do you like and dislike about living there?

I had a huge smile on my face as I hit the "Send" button. I almost wished I did not have to go to sleep, but Rahmat would snitch on me if he caught me staying up late and then Mom would lecture me for wasting time on FB, so I hesitantly logged off and went to bed. I was certain that Franco's responses would be waiting for me in the morning.