So, I quit my job today. Normally, people would wait this out and blog about it after successfully launching a million dollar gig overnight of some sort.

I don't have any of that. And although that would be an awesome, glorified story of "Why Quitting My Job Was The Best Thing That Happened To Me," life isn't always made up of those moments.

Moments like these, that are dark and raw, and absolutely unknown, are the real everyday struggles that build up those stories.

How do I say this in a way that you will hear me? Hear me pleading for the Hmong women who didn’t know better and could only do the best they could to love you. How can I say it in a way that doesn’t coddle and cushion what you did and have no interest to care for? Because I want to speak for her, who binned by society's dead ends, cannot say so herself.

It must be the timing of life, but documenting our family stories and elders seem to be in more need than ever. Or maybe we, in this generation, are just older now so it's more relevant. I've lost all the elders in my life that I didn't realize I'd have to say goodbye to one day, and all I have left is my grandmother. My love for her, is one that has especially grown with the lost of every loved one out of pain for the things I didn't do for them.

For my grandma's 77th, I wanted to change that. I wanted to finally start everything I always wanted to do, everything I said I would do "later" when I had "time."

Well, time is not coming. And it is not staying.

On the funeral day of one of our greatest grandmothers (Youa Chang), we lost the very last of our Yang clan's oldest elders: our great-grandfather, Nyiaj Ntxawg Yaj. 2017 has been funeral after funeral for our family. Maybe like all. Or maybe it is the time.

But at the news of every death, there is a pause.

Pause.

All my fears & worries--pause. All the things I thought was important--pause.

Pictured above is a man, with 105 years of wisdom and experiences instilled within him. Every freckle, and every wrinkle. He was the symbol of longevity. Till his last day, even if weaker, he was still standing.

For all the couples who cannot publicly celebrate today...taboo couples, couples in hiding, couples who cannot speak of their existence: I hope you celebrate your love proudly and fully today. For the beautiful unification that you are, the ability to love beyond society’s norms; be it gender, race, social status, disapproval, or last name; the capacity to pave paths unwalked, and the belief in something greater than eyes know.

I am just far too much sometimes. Too much of a lot things. Too much that I can completely understand that in these years of my becoming, why no one could last too long near me. Why things couldn’t hold onto me.

I Am Too Much.