I have lived with a literal pain in my neck since I was a teenager.
Throughout high school, my pediatrician told me to fix my posture, which would eventually make the problem go away. On the more painful days, he advised me to put an ice pack on it and take some Tylenol.
But it did not go away. The pain got worse, and by the time I was in my late 20s, there were days when my neck had zero mobility. By then, I had seen a plethora of doctors and their treatment plans were all the same: physical therapy and stronger doses of pain medications.
Three years ago, at the age of 41, I was rushed to the emergency room due to a seemingly unrelated eye issue where my right eye swelled and I temporarily lost vision. The ER doctors gave me some eye drops and said the pain should subside in a day or two. But in the meantime, they also wanted me to submit a blood sample to ensure my eye issue wasn’t a symptom of a systemic problem.
“It doesn't hurt to check,” they assured me before receiving my discharge papers.
Two days later, I received a phone call from the hospital: my test results revealed a condition called ankylosing spondylitis (gesundheit). In short, AS is a chronic autoimmune disease that causes inflammation in the spine and neck. In rare cases, AS also causes uveitis, severe inflammation in one or both eyes.
After receiving this diagnosis, along with AS-specific treatment, my neck pain has reduced significantly and “I’m back to living a normal life” (medication commercial voice). Looking back on my symptoms with the knowledge of a correct diagnosis, I can finally make sense of my pain. Hindsight is truly 20/20.
Soo Jin Lee and Linda Yoon, co-authors of Where I Belong: Healing Trauma and Embracing Asian American Identity, present a mental health version of this corrective hindsight as it relates to properly diagnosing trauma in the Asian American community.
They speak out about “invisible trauma … a combination of different factors including our cultural conditions, environment, and upbringing.” Lee and Yoon’s thesis is that, for “many Asian Americans, functioning impairment may not show up in ways that other Americans may experience. … Trauma may show up in silent ways, such as shutting down, overachieving, people-pleasing, or perfectionism.” These attributes are often perceived as strengths for Asian Americans, especially when reinforcing the model-minority myth. But Lee and Yoon have correctly assessed them for what they truly are for our community: symptoms of invisible trauma.
Each chapter of Where I Belong weaves together clinical explanations, Asian American history, and personal testimonies and concludes with simple grounding exercises to promote self-awareness. The result is an enlightening diagnosis that begins the path toward correct treatment rather than the mental health version of “fix your posture and take some Tylenol.”
Recognizing mental health issues is still in its infancy for the Asian American community—even more so in many subsets of Asian American Christian communities—so many of us need to heed the simple reminder that Where I Belong offers to us: “It doesn't hurt to check.” (TarcherPerigree)