I know that growing up through the years, my parents were doing their best to raise my brother and I in a totally new land and culture, and that the pressure, stress, and uncertainty must have been immense for years. I know they love us from the bottom of their heart and would sacrifice everything for us. Furthermore we were never abused, and we were at least stable economically and as a family unit. But I can't let go of certain memories and patterns of looking at the past, and they affect the way I treat my family to this day.

I strongly suspect that borderline trait, if not full-on quiet or high-functioning BPD, runs strong on my mother's side. I can see myself mirroring her in ways that I hated seeing growing up.

Such as chronic, repeated episodes of simmering resentment at perceived failures by others, such as myself and my brother for not doing enough studying, practicing, helping out around the house. Not instinctually mind reading and taking up some kind of extra responsibility. Or against family members or friends for spending money a certain way, raising their kid a certain way, or putting in their "fair share" of something like driving a carpool or inviting to dinner. Like clockwork this would lead to regular explosive but private tirades. 

If it was about my brother and I, it would be preceded by an extremely moody "aura" period where we would walk on eggshells more than usual, lasting hours to days. Followed by an explosive tirade at us directly about our failures, usually lasting hours. Followed by a multi day period of touchiness or moodiness.

If it was about someone else, it would usually be just her ranting to my dad about how terrible these people were. Looking back, I've realized that we don't keep in contact with basically any of our family friends, as well as some branches of our family, that I came to know through my life. We just have basically two families that my parents are close to currently. This was a bummer growing up as the few childhood friends I had would just fade away, and I didn't know how to express that I was sad, or that it was even a possibility to ask to see them again, I just thought that was the way things happened in the world.

We never talked about how I as a kid was to navigate the world and peer relationships. My parents simply came from a different place and I learned quickly on that there was no point in expressing or asking about emotions. They just didn't know what it was or how to deal with it. At best they would be confused, shrug, say something meaningless and avoid the issue. At worst I would get a another guilt-tripping tirade about being spoiled or making my mom's life harder.