My flight is booked. My mom already asked what time I’ll land. And somehow, even though I love them, I can already feel my body tensing.

Every trip home I tell myself: “Its going to be different. This time, I will stay grounded. I won’t let their little comments get under my skin, I’ll breathe before reacting. But before the plane takes off, I’m already dysregulated; I am mentally preparing for the worst, since the worst is the most normal.

If you are child of immigrants like me or a first generation American, you probably know this feeling all too well. Going to see your family isn’t just about taking the time off work or school, or making the trip itself.