Cuttings

"No! Don't use your left hand, use your right hand", pounces onto Hana's mind. She lowers her, half raised, left hand and exchanges it for her right as she picks up her coffee. "You shouldn't use your right hand, go for the left", intrudes on Hana's thoughts as she attempts to open her car door. "Don't listen to this song, skip this song", Hana tries to find music to listen to on her commute to work. "Not this one either.. damn, I really love this song though. It should be fine if I listen to this one.. no, no, let me not.", she skips another tune.

Hana arrives to her job, she's established a good career as a nurse. While she is grateful to have the stable career that she has, it's never been something that she was passionate about. She enters the building with her daily routine; finish coffee, take a five minute pseudo break in the bathroom, and then greet every coworker with a wave and a slight grin. It's been seven years on the job, she loves being able to help people, but each day feels like a reduction on her happiness and sanity.

"I feel like my life is controlled by three minds, two of which are forces and one is but a whisper of a whimper."

On the menu for lunch today, a chicken and lettuce sandwich with a side of chips. The same meal as yesterday, and the week before, and the month before that. She sits with only the noise of her, rapidly, tapping fingers, on the table, to break the silence. She daydreams of all of the bright ideas in her head. All of the scenarios of different paths that she could've chosen to be anywhere but here. It's a reoccurring "dream", but today feels more intense. There's conviction behind it. It feels like a breaking point with a slow, quiet tension.

After another "bathroom break", Hana decides to take off work early. She's feeling a little "sick".

On her way home, Hana decides to pull over at an empty park. A nice, quiet, sit outside sounds pleasant. She sits and, further, reflects on her previous thoughts. "I feel like my life is controlled by three minds, two of which are forces and one is but a whisper of a whimper." Hana has long struggled with deep anxiety, which gives her a lot of nagging habits that protrude on her day-to-day tasks. She feels as if these habits, forces.. voices are outside of herself. Voices that shout over the whispers of her own voice. She often feels that bad things will happen if she doesn't take heed to her anxious feelings. Whether it's a minor inconvenience or a week altering event, something always seems to go wrong whenever she talks herself out of giving in to her anxious thoughts.

Hana was raised by a single father. Loving, caring, providing. Her mother was never part of her life, she disappeared without a word when Hana was just six months old. Hana's father did everything he could to give her the tools to be successful. The two have always had vastly different personalities. Hana with her head in the clouds, her father with his feet planted, firmly, on the ground. She's always been, hyper, aware of the efforts that her father went through to provide for her. So, she promised herself that she would do everything in her power to return the favor. Be, "successful". He pushed her hard to pursue success, while neglecting her dreams, her interests. His visions were never her own, but she felt it was the minimum that she owed him for all that he's done for her. A force guiding her footsteps to prosperity.

Hana realizes that she's never really been happy. Stable? Yes. But happy is somewhat of a foreign concept to her. She's become this "successful" person, her father is proud, so why can't she do what makes her happy now? "I'm going to run towards happiness", Hana speaks, gently, aloud.

"You don't want to use your left hand, use your right", Hana begins to put her left hand down before firmly placing it back on the car door. Equal parts worried and excited, today is the day that she no longer gives into the anxious voice in her head. "That song I skipped earlier, yeah, I think I still want to listen to it", she cranks up the volume and sings her heart out.

Hana awakes the next morning with a new found moxie. She revisits the coffee shop, giggling, as she alternates picking up the cup with whatever hand that she pleases. She makes it in to work, greeting everyone with firm handshakes and eye contact. "It feels so liberating, how have I been living the past thirty-two years this way". She even starts debating careers, is this the time to make a professional pivot? Daydreaming of every aspiration of middle school Hana, "oh, she would be so proud if I wrote that comic book. Or what about joining that orchestra?". It's looking like Hana is going to feel "sick" for a second day in a row, "You know, I've never been out of the country.. well, I've hardly been outside of my city. I've always been too worried".

Hana gleefully plays hooky, again, from work as she plans out a mini road trip to a restaurant that she's want to try for years. It's about a four hour drive away, and she couldn't be happier about that. One stop to fill up her gas tank, then her drive to inner freedom begins. Someone's calling her phone, a number from work. She doesn't usually pick up on calls when she's "out sick". "Well, what the heck, we're doing things different now". She answers the phone, "Hello, you've reached Hana, I'm not sure if anyone mentioned it, but I left early due to not feeling well". A long pause. "Excuse me, could you repeat that?". A long pause.

Hana speeds back to work and rushes inside, "Which room is he in?!". She was informed that her father had been admitted into the ICU. He's had a history of heart attacks. "This! This is why I have to always listen! I should have never allowed myself to get too confident!", Hana thinks as she runs to her father's room. She arrives to his room and halts before entering. "Don't use your left, use your right. No! Wait. Use your left, not your right", her left hand trembles as she slowly reaches for the door knob. She slowly approaches her father and sits beside him.

She grabs his hand and holds it in stillness. "Hana, I'm sorry. I'm sorry and I'm so proud of you", he gathers the energy to speak. "I'm not proud just because of your career, I'm proud because of how strong you are. I know you didn't grow up in an ideal situation and you always held together, even when you were hurt. I'm sorry because I didn't give you an outlet for all of the things that you were feeling". Hana's eyes begin to tear up. "I'm sorry for being too goal oriented. I'm sorry for not allowing you to just be Hana. I want you to know that you don't owe me anything, I owe everything to you. For giving me a purpose. I've always had these fears, these thoughts, that something bad would happen to you if I didn't approach everything in specific ways. I allowed it to shape the way that I raised you, but I don't want that to be your life. I want you to live."

Hana, now bawling, embraces her father, "Please don't have any regrets. I'll promise to not live with any, if you promise me that you won't die with any."