Stumbling Toward Enlightenment

I happened upon this quote by Rachel Macy Stafford the other day (scroll down), and it literally took my breath away. I read it over a few times, digesting it, and felt a validation that I had never felt before. I wish so much that I could have read it 10, 15 years ago. (for more on the full back story, scroll back to my July 2020 posts...) It spoke to the years I spent trying to please others, trying to fit in, trying to tread lightly and create harmony and weakly explain myself. All the while navigating my own survival amid my own family turmoil. Barely holding myself up while navigating the fallout from my parent's abrupt divorce, my mom's painful illness, my sibling's prison sentence, taking food to my cousin while he battled addiction all while I had to turn around and attend a function so far removed from what I had just witnessed and so lacking in basic concern that it still blows my mind--but I continued to go, to attend events with gifts for all, to hold my tongue...

I recently read  this article on being proactive vs reactive. It really captures how I've developed and how we have developed as a family in the age of Covid. Life in the 'before time' was reactive--we took life as it came, and were simply doing our best. The problem is, that wasn't enough. In fact, it wasn't good at all. We (hub and I) were tired, stressed, too busy, and just barely balancing it all. Post-quarantine has stripped all of that away, in some ways for the worse (probably common to many) but also for the better. Being stripped of all of the 'to-dos' and social planning left us with much to think about, with many raw emotions and ancient pains that rose to the surface in search of healing. And healing, while painful and messy, is also beautiful and brave and a worthwhile journey. So here we are, clinging to one another, grateful for one another, and regularly turning to eachother while doing dishes or some other mindless task, and saying "we...

 Those of you who tend to be caregiver types, you know what I mean. Maybe you feel that if you don't keep the world spinning, it will stop. Or if you let go for too long, it will spin out of control. For those of us who have always been the "hold down the fort" type of people, I can tell you that none of that is true. You can still be a caregiver to a loved one and take care of yourself. You can (and you must) fill your own cup before you can fill someone else's. Sometimes this means leaning on your people, and if this doesn't come naturally to you, practice. Because as the saying goes, those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind. As tough as this year has been, learning how to let go and ask my tribe for help has helped me learn how to let myself be loved. If I had allowed myself this same breadth of spirit and generosity with myself while I was caring all those years for my mom and my brother, I may not have harbored so much trauma. But ...

I've been reading a lot of Gloria Anzaldua lately. Her soul speaks to mine, and I wish I had found her writings when I was a young adult. As it was, I spent late high school and college clinging to writers like Michelle Serros, Richard Rodriguez, and Sandra Cisneros. Today, there are so many writers that are sharing our stories, it's such a beautiful, wondrous thing! They are sharing those stories of borderlands--las fronteras--not just geographical borderlands, although the stories of border towns need to be told--but the cultural border that is the Chicanx experience.  And things are changing! The writers hold that power. Our voices are finally being heard, being valued. This is such an exciting time in our history--we are the children, the grandchildren of that generation that sacrifiiced everything--we are the dream, fully realized. To be able to finally share those stories in book groups, in virtual learning communities, in our friendships, is allowing these stories to unf...

I had a thought today that the act of opening--opening our hands and our hearts--allows us to simultaneously accept things as they are, and let go of things as they are.  This has been my experience during this strange 2020, an experience of opening up and becoming vulnerable and fierce at the same time, of standing for what is right and holding others accountable without being viscious. Such a year of dichotomies. In allowing ourselves to be vulnerable, we become strong, and in pushing back against provocations, we reclaim our space.  💥💕

I read recently that when you can't kindle your own inner light, look to others' light to gain the strength to rekindle your own. I've always envisioned this little flame inside my heart, a pilot light of sorts, and that during the times when my heart was full and life's flow was steady, that flame would roar into a fire like the ones we used to set at beach parties during college. Inversely, during those times in which fear ran high or grief was near, my flame would dim so low that it was hardly detectable at all. BUT--it was always there. My pilot light has never gone out, it's just become a matter of adjusting it to fit the circumstances. This is one of those times.  No matter how hard things have been--and 2020 has been a doozy--I've relied on what I've learned the last few years about digging deep and finding the fuel for that flame. Prayer, texts and calls with girlfriends, uplifting reading, finding my breath and practicing self-care--it's all for...

Today I decided to prioritize myself and in doing so discovered an area where I've been stuck but can finally let go.  I decided to skip today's family lunch. I've done this before, but usually because I don't have the energy  and today it was with more of a clear intention--to mindfully disconnect from the noise. I just can't with that shit today. Normally, I would just go, but today I took a stand on the issue. But I felt terrible about it...terrible about how it effects my husband. He is totally fine with it, and according to him, if he could get away with it, he wouldn't go, either. But I still couldn't shake the feeling that I was letting him down, or not being fair. I felt like a selfish jerk who was only thinking of her own comfort. So he left to go meet for lunch, and I stayed home and fretted over what a horrible person I was being. But then I had a HUGE realization that I wasn't the one actually causing this situation. I wasn't the one who...

In the midst of all the craziness that is my current career path, I feel that I have at last found my flow. That every step I've taken up to this point--every uphill battle, every almost-gave-up moment, every credential complication--has actually served several purposes. I wanted  this path, I chose this path against all the odds that were stacked against me. From the initial last minute application process to the overnight stays in a shady hotel in the armpit of LA County in order to finish my last classes, I did it. I did the hard things. Now I can say that I fought for my place here, and certainly not for fortune or fame. In fact, I didn't even end up at a "good" school or in a comfortable district--I am here after a hardscrabble journey, with my students who have also had hardscrabble journeys, who deserve teachers who fought to be with them.  So that's it. That's the post. 

I'm in a better space today, thanks to touching base with friends and with myself. I realize that I was holding onto anticipatory anxiety--that I was already bracing myself for the lift of the quarantine and the ensuing toxicity of forced interactions. I was preparing my energy to become defensive, protective, contained and suppressed (which is so against my nature). It is draining to come out of those interactions, and I was mentally girding myself to head back into battle. Sounds dramatic, I know, but that is what it feels like to deal with narcissism and another person's unresolved anger--it's exhausting! And in this particular situation, I am not the only one who has felt this over the years. The ripples of that locus of rage can be seen in my own distancing, sibling dysfunction, marital strife, fakeness of many kinds, kids, etc. But by all means, continue with the sarcasm, LAUGH, and have another drink. So I gave myself permission to not just go back to business as us...

Thank goodness for writing therapy, amiright? I mean, I have a lot of patience for most people, so my fury is like a comet, only coming around every ten years or so. But when the emotional load gets to a certain point and tips the scale just so, look out. It's about to go down. This needs to be said--has needed to be said for years--and will be said the minute my switch is flipped in person. So the next time you decide to make fun of people’s "eccentricity," (you're using the word wrong in the wrong way, btw, and there ain't nothin wrong with being whomever the fuck you want to be so screw off with the judgmental bullshit), or weigh in on our choices of "weird" vacation spots or jobs that should be more "prestigious," (WTF?) or refer to me as "white" when you know damn well that I'm not; or "check in" on people who just lost a parent to Covid--not because you actually care about them, but because you want to get the scoo...

Alrighty, folks, bear with me. Hell, no one reads this, so I'm gonna go ahead. If there's one thing I've grown to detest, it's smug-ass privilege. Now, I didn't know much about this concept until recent years. I had ignorantly assumed that most everyone grew up like me--working class, ungated communities, family members on the wrong side of the law, and a general sense of just getting by. I'm not complaining, I had a great childhood and had no sense that we were all squished into a tiny house and had never been on a plane-vacation. Our house had a familiar and worn in revolving door, and I actually loved it. My cousin lived with us, my uncle, my grandma for a while, then more cousins came after I moved out, then me again for a while, and so on. The furthest we went on vacation was Santa Cruz, and we stayed at a Motel 6 and ate breakfast cereal in styrofoam bowls in the Safeway parking lot to save money--actual restaurants were for special occasions. Yet there is...

I spent some time with a friend recently, and I went away from the experience not knowing what to think. She seemed restless, tired, snarky. She made some pointed comments to me, and almost seemed to be picking a fight, which is just not like her. I'd normally have dished back, or stood my ground on some of the points she seemed to be making. But then I thought of my students, especially the ones at the school that provides behavioral and emotional support for troubled kids. I thought of the phrase that I repeat to myself so often when one of them is in a particularly bad place: " They're not giving you a hard time, they're having a hard time ." Something shifted in me, and I realized in that moment that my friend was overwhelmed. She was hurting. She was tired. She was still dealing with some unresolved grief, self-doubt, exhaustion from all those mom-hours. I understood her, because I had also felt this way before. In my case, I turned to the mom of one of my ...

If there is one phrase that would sum up what I've learned this year, it would be this: Bless and release. Reading over my past blog posts, I realize that I spent my 20s and 30s in a vulnerable space of fear and resentment. I was angry over being willfully misunderstood, and I was fiercely protective of my experience. Yet I couldn't speak on that experience, or share my pain, as it simply wasn't safe to do so. I very much lived in my story, and that story was the context of my life. I felt I had to explain myself to people, to tell them my story so that they could understand me. It came before me, and I never veered from it. But what a burden to carry! I've learned to consciously let go of those experiences and heal them from the present. To put down my weight and allow myself to live in a place undefined by past events or how lost I felt for so long. To let go of unhealthy attachments and see the world as a place where joy can live. I've learned something from al...

I've been doing a lot of writing lately in various forums (fora?), but I feel like I should maybe keep it all in one spot. I've also removed my blog link from all social media, so this will be my spot to write without a personal audience for the most part. Looking over my old posts from 5 years ago and remembering all those old emotions. 😥 Not reliving them, just remembering them. It's a good thing to be able to use my old writings in that way--I have friends who are in some of the places I was in those years ago, so I can so empathize with them. And that makes those experiences seem worth it if I can turn them into helping someone else. But now is time to turn a new page and see what's what, as my mom used to say! 😉

I just read this powerful article. It resonated with me, especially now, as I turn over in my mind what makes a person kind. I consider myself quite fortunate, as I've probably encountered two or three people in my adult life that I would describe as truly unkind. That is, lacking a basic compassion and care for others that I've always assumed is present at birth and either expanded or diminished according to one's life experiences. What I realize now, at almost 38 years old, is that there is a connection between kindness and hardship. Nearly everyone I know has experienced it: loss and its attending grief, illness, emotional pain, disability, health catastrophes, accidents, and the list goes on... For the few (very few) that I've encountered over the years that truly showed little to no compassion, empathy, or even basic kindness, they had one thing in common: they've ambled through their lives with no real bumps in the road. Not that life is perfect for anyone...

I can finally say that the month of May is not what it used to be. This weekend was my happiest Mother's Day to date, and I'll be silently wishing my Mom a happy birthday on the 18th in a happy-sad way, not a sad-sad way. I can't help but to think back in gratitude to how far I've come from my first Mother's Day--it was both my first as a mom and my first without my mom. What compounded the difficulty was how it was spent: At a Chinese restaurant in Moraga with my in-laws. No one mentioned my Mom. No one addressed the particularly bittersweet day or asked me how I was doing. In short, I gots no love. At the time, I didn't want to come off as me-me-me (that's what a blog is for, right?), and I didn't want to force anyone to acknowledge my pain. So I went, I remained polite, I listened to a speech about what a great day it was for my MIL, (hell, I even fended off a coupla pot-shots regarding my brand new parenting skills!) and I crumpled in an exhausted h...

I feel compelled to write because that's what I do when I'm anxious. And then I go to the gym and I sweat it out. My mind, like so many others, has been plagued with thoughts of the Newtown shootings. And while we try to make sense of the perfect storm that created this mess of a kid who would do such a thing, there are so many factors that I'm sure we'll be debating them for months or even years to come. But one thing I'm sure of--we live in a very, very angry world. There is anger everywhere--I encounter it on a daily basis. There is the lady who threw a fit the other day in my local post office because the line wasn't moving fast enough--complete with calling someone a "queer ass"--all the while wearing a Christmas sweater . A Christmas sweater, for goodness sake!!! And I'm sad to say that I've seen her type all over town. (yes, I'm about to stereotype...) Middle-aged White Christian women tearing down the street in their SUVs, latt...

I keep seeing these car stickers and their message irks me a bit. Perhaps you've never seen it, but it refers to a Christian-themed brand called "Not of this World". It is a Christian idea, this detached-from-the-world-living-in-God's-kingdom stuff. As a cradle Catholic, I completely disagree with this logic. Are we truly called to live our lives with our head in the clouds, proclaiming to others that our hearts and minds are in the heavens, all the while (let's be honest) partaking in all the human drama and emotions that define our lives? Nope. Is the point of life truly to detach oneself, in a ironically Buddhist sense, from the world that God has placed us in? Again, nope. In my opinion (this is my blog, after all), we should never seek to remove ourselves from our own human lives, but occupy them, touch others' lives, fully engage in the life that God gave us. What is the good in pretending like you're "not of this world," other than t...

Six months ago, I found a lump in my breast. I'm a big advocate of regularly feeling yourself up, because I've walked the breast cancer walk with my mom (not the fundraiser, the real thing) and I'm determined that my kids won't have to go through what I went through with her. So while it is empowering for me to regularly check myself for lumps, it takes some major courage to monitor that aspect of my health. Hands trembling, I do it anyway. That night I hadn't expected to find anything, as a week before I had seen my doctor for my annual checkup and breast exam. So when I found this lump--this hard, marble shaped mass just below the skin, I freaked. I tried hard not to ask Dr.Google his advice, and I tried so hard not to compare myself to my mom. I'm 35 years old--I never smoked (like she did for 14 years), I breastfed my two kids for a year and a half each because I've heard it lowers your risk for breast cancer, and I eat my 5 fruits and veggies a day....

Since my school plans have changed, I've been craving a new project. After indulging in a day out with girlfriends (a rare treat!), feasting our eyes on fabric and handcrafted goodies, I've got the crafting bug again. Given my thwarted fall plans, the timing could not have been better. I've had my eye on a new etsy-competitor ( http://www.artfire.com/ ) and am busy creating new inventory to start selling again. Since everything I posted on etsy sold, I'm hopeful that my new sewing projects will do just as well. So enough blahblahblah, here's a sample of what I've been working on: The Inspiration Stash: My first cuts: Coming together... The final product, along with a few others: More handtowels coming down the pipeline!: And more...