The long-standing scars of narcissistic behavior: a retrospect.

Every now and then, I'll come across a couple rough weeks, from a mental aspect. And these moments usually come when I'm gifted with lots of positive energy from good things that have happened in my life.

Sounds weird, doesn't it? You'd think that when positive moments happen around you, then everything around you feels good, inspiring, and empowering. But for someone who has been mentally abused and raised by narcissistic individuals who made sure you regretted all the good that you did, it's hard to accept that, you too can enjoy happy things. A lot of that comes from years of "gaslighting," lack of emotional support, and negative reinforcement among other toxic behaviors associated with narcissism.

[Note: If you need the definition of a narcissistic individual, click here. Please note that narcissism is not an actual condition, but many traits of this behavior lend itself to even more problematic issues.]

On why I can't talk to my mother (and tips on how to prevent your adult kids from shutting you out).

For more of a background story to this piece, click to read my blog post, "How to suck at parenting. Effing badly."

I didn't need to hear from my mother on the day before my 31st birthday.

Now hear me out, it's not often that I do hear from her (or from anyone else in my immediate family at that). Usually they'll call in the event of a tragedy or if a computer needs to be fixed, which I then ignore due to my work schedule. Most, if not all conversations aren't very positive after I see the dreaded number on my caller ID, and any sort of dialogue dissolves very quickly within a matter of minutes.

Accepting the way the cookie crumbles...

Last week, I had the chance to participate in a Christmas activity for the first time in my life: festive cookie baking.

Now, I've baked mad stashes of cookies in the past, during various times of the year, but there's a charm to the special Christmas-only cookies that come with the season. Also, since I was staying in NE Ohio this weekend instead of making my weekly migration down to Columbus to see my husband, it gave me something to do that Saturday before he showed up.

M&M Candy Cookies and Butterballs! The powdered sugar on the Butterballs was all me.

What made this special was that I was creating treats from recipes that were several generations old, passed down from a grandmother who worked at a historical bakery in Cleveland and could whip up a dish regardless of what was in the pantry. Some additions have been made through the years, and as a guest I had the chance to indulge in a tradition with legendary concoctions that were many years in the making.

My first go at using a cookie press. I can say they came out quite well.

Preparing the Pinwheels for a trip through the oven.

The finished products! After posting this picture on Facebook, I was getting requests to send a number of these to California. Maybe I should quit my day job in December and just do this.

On why I chose to ride a motorcycle.

A few nights ago, I had a strange conversation with my brother (who doesn't ride a motorcycle) about transportation and getting around in Ohio. When I had mentioned that I only had one car and two motorcycles between me and Matt and that we were in the process of acquiring a second car for winter driving purposes, he responded with this:

"I don't even know why you have a motorcycle out in the Midwest anyway. You don't have to deal with the kind of traffic [like we have in California]."

I was slightly taken aback by the comment, and I had to step back a little and consider that his point of view is valid to some degree. Yes, I don't have to deal with the same level of vehicular congestion in Ohio that I faced in the Los Angeles/Orange County region of California. However, horrible traffic is not, and has never been, the primary reason of why I ride a motorcycle. In fact it had everything with to do with not being allowed to drive a car...

Life, love, and the privilege to play hockey.

Since I'm at the hockey rink several times a week, I often see younger hockey players practice while their parents watch. Some of them are quite enthusiastic and even cheer for their kids during mundane scrimmages or drills.

Sometimes I'd even hear a positive comment or two directed at their kid, something like "You did a great job out there." or "I like how you fought for that puck and didn't give up on the play."

When I think about my own childhood experiences in hockey (or anything else for that matter), I find that interaction between parent and child to be quite strange and awkward. All I remember was the lack of compliments despite my successes, the non-existence of affection that was usually replaced with a surplus of insults and discouragement. This pattern continued throughout my younger years and it has only been by my move across the country a couple years ago that their nagging and complaining has finally diminished to just very deep and painful memories.

Now, besides the motorcycles that are obviously one of the loves of my life, I've enjoyed watching and reading about hockey for as long as I could remember, which was pretty strange for a young Asian girl growing up in the suburbs of Los Angeles. Perhaps it was the equipment, the cool uniforms, or the finesse of the players as they would glide across the ice with ease. Or maybe it was that damn Disney movie. Regardless, it was a sport that hooked me once I scraped up the $15 to buy myself a street hockey stick and ball and strapped on those rollerblades nearly a decade and a half ago.

How to suck at parenting. Effing badly.

In the last few years, society has been introduced to the many uses of the word "FAIL." Many examples of this from the point of view of child-rearing have made it to websites such as http://parenting.failblog.org and spread among e-mail to those with a sense of humor. As funny as many of those are, demeaning a child and then continuing to belittle them into their adult years is a common practice many know all too well. I myself am a survivor of those issues, and like anyone that's lived through traumatic experiences, they've left their scars.

Bad parenting extends far beyond outright lack of thought that makes Internet fodder for discussion. In many cases, the little negative things, what is said and done with repetition throughout a lifetime, can make an impact on a child long into their adult years. Although some of these thoughts may be trivial to some, leaving youth like me with way too much time and advanced critical thinking skills for their age to fester in these issues for years is just plain wrong. So, in lieu of venting to a therapist, here's a few things I've learned as the child of emotionally abusive parents.