To Feel or Not to Feel

It’s a funny thing, how we learn to adapt and deal with the world around us. It’s true that this is an importation skill of survival and can often serve us well. But sometimes the ways we learn to cope are as unhealthy as the thing we are trying to protect ourselves from.

At least that has been a discovery I made about myself recently. Last week I had an interview for a job (I did not get it, but that is another blog post for another day). It was an event leading up to the interview that made me take a hard look at how I have been dealing with my life right now, and quite frankly it rattled me.

I was having dinner with my uncle the night before I was scheduled to go try to sell myself in that awkward way we do to get a piece of that economic pie. It was dinner during this the calm and pleasant dinner conversation that I just broke down. I cried in the middle of a restaurant in West Hollywood. I was mortified.

The thing is I couldn’t really pin point exactly what the catalyst was. It was like a damn had broke and this flood of emotion just came over me and there was no way to stop it.

I realized that it was not just nerves about the impending interview (although that definitely was a part of it) but actually it was a cocktail of emotions I have been suppressing for months. Between stressing about my post graduate life, and a significant chapter of poor health I had dealt with it was overwhelming on-slot of crud. But instead of dealing with it as it came I swallowed it down.

So why did I do this? Well I think it is because I have spent so much of my life in heightened states of stress and anxiety. And I have done lots of work to not let those intense destructive emotions overwhelm my life. But I think somewhere along the way I overcorrected. I have got to a place in my life were I just try not to feel at all. I think subconsciously I have convinced myself that if I feel any sort of negative or uncomfortable emotion than I am backsliding.

The thing is though, that I am going through a stressful transition in my life. And it is ok to honor those emotions that I will inevitably feel in this chapter. As my uncle so wisely put it “how quaint you’re being human”. I could not help but laugh the truth is it is okay to feel, it is human and as long as it does not stop my forward motion then it is a vital reminder of existence.

Weekend

It was one of those weekends. It was one of those reaffirming powerful kind of weekends that are filled with lots of family and friends.

It's so easy get caught up in the stress of every day life. I for one spend so much time going through the motions of my day-to-day existence that I often forget about the love and support that is the foundation of who I am.

But this weekend I got to spend some quality time with some of the people who matter most to me. 

We gathered together to celebrate the birthday of my sister and one of our dear uncles. So many family members came, and friends who are so close the might as well be family.

We don’t always get to spend time together, but there is something really beautiful about the moments that we take time out of our often-separate solitary lives to acknowledge our connection. I find these times encouraging and they give me the strength to go back into the life I am trying to create for myself. 

Sister Friend

I don’t remember a life without her.  I was only thirteen months and two days old when they brought my baby sister home. They say that the first few months of her life I tried to sit on her head, perhaps I was trying to get rid of this little creature that was taking away my privilege of being the one and only baby of the house.

But I don’t really remember my days as an only child. My earliest memories involve my sister, of being part of a pair. When we were little girls’ people would sometimes confuse us for twins (though we didn’t look alike, but our mother did dress us in matching clothes… so I’m sure that had something to do with it), Intensifying this pair-ness I was held back and did my first grade year twice. So from my second year of first grade made it so that my kid sister and I were in the same grade… we graduated high school together. 

Our journey was a very shared one, and continues to be so. There were many times growing up that we had issues with fighting and sibling rivalry. Being in the same grade, sharing friends, and being completely different personality types, head butting was to be expected.

But as I have gotten older, I am continuously amazed at how lucky I am to be apart of this pair. I know without a shadow of a doubt that my sister has my back, and I have hers.  She is there to give me a pep talk in my dark hours, and a swift kick in the pants when I don’t want it (but I do need it).

I know that not everyone has this close kind of relationship with their siblings, but I do and for that I am more grateful then just the mussing on this silly blog of mine can express.

We don’t always see the world the same way, but that’s okay, we give each other often a much-needed different perspective. 

At the end of the day my sister and I are a team, and we are friends and really what more could I ask for?

Rut

I have been in a rut. And nothing makes a mutable transit soul such as myself feel blue quite like ruts.

I think it all started with thesis that turned into graduation that turned into that nebulous new world of postgraduate life. I sort of just hit that preverbal wall that so many have talked about.

To compound that (or perhaps because of that) my health has not been that stellar the past few month I have faced allergies and infections that have lead me to just generally feel unwell.  Which of course leads to feeling emotionally unwell. To make matters worse my sleeping schedule is very unreliable. There have been times lately when I get no more then three or four hours of actual sleep. And all of this just piles up until you look around and realize that you are indeed in a place of creative and emotional stagnation.

It has all made me realize how important it is to take care of oneself, mind and body. I want to not just go through the motions of my life, which is what happens when you don’t feel strong and at your best.  I want to be a proactive participant in my life, and I know that to do that I have to really in earnest value my self and do whatever is in my power to help make this body and mind of mine work as efficiently as they can.

I can’t do it all at once, but I finally feel like I am moving forward again. I’m starting with small steps, but as I have learned so far on this road that I have traveled, small steps do begin to add up, and for that I am grateful.   

Teacher Person

A couple of days ago, I taught my first class as a legitimate part time, college professor person.

The thing is I have taught before, both as a sub for K-12 (yeah that was a special Job, let me tell you) and as a Graduate Teaching Associate (or graduate student teaching with training wheels) But this it the firs time I am a professional teaching and undergraduate class of my own.

Yes I am seriously green and have a lot to learn. Yes I tend to have little freak-outs before my lectures (and from what I hear, those don’t go away for a long time). But the truth of the matter is that I enjoy it. I like teaching at the college level, and I would like to do more of it in my life.

I enjoy when the students are engaged and I enjoy talking to them and answering their questions. I like that when I teach about writing, I become a better writer myself.

Now I know that with all things, there comes a time of burn out and tired. I understand that grading can be a pill (I have already done lots of it). I know that I am going to make mistakes (and hopefully learn from them) and that I will be thrown curve balls in this process that will make me loose my balance, that stuff happens.

But I figure I have two choices I can boggle myself down with the stress and misery of all the bad that could and very well might happen. Or I can enjoy the fact that I am enjoying in now, and deal with the crap when it gets here.

All I know is that I want to be the best teacher I can be. I want the students in this class to know more than when they came in. That would make me very happy.

Active Coaster

I really like roller coasters. I didn’t always, when I was really young I found them terrifying, but as I got older I learned to enjoy the thrill of them. I love the rush of speeding down from great heights, or being turned upside-down in one of those crazy loops. Of course there is one part of the roller coaster that I hate. It’s that slow ride up before it drops you. The anxiety and anticipation is dreadful, it’s the scariest part of the whole experience. And to be honest I am still a fraidy cat, it takes some doing to get talked onto a new roller coaster (fear of the unknown) but once I get there I am glad I took the ride

Am now recognizing that I approach a lot of aspects of my life the way I do roller coasters. When confronted with new situation I find myself feeling much like I do when I am climbing that first hill of a roller coaster. The only difference is that in life I am typically not strapped in, making it easy to bolt. The trait of fight or flight is rather strong in me. And more often than not flight is my go to move (though I got some fight in me too, just ask my sister… on second thought don’t).

But the thing is, if we always run away we never give ourselves the chance to enjoy the moment. Look I understand that the next roller coaster I get on could be the worst experience of my life. It may make me so sick that I loose my lunch, or it scare me so bad that I never want to get on another ride again. These are very real possibilities. But it could also be the greatest ride of my life, and I’ll never know unless I hold on and take the chance.

The Lost August

I went to see a doctor yesterday.  This is something I try to avoid with a stubbornness that borders on the absurd.

Now to be honest I do believe that we are an over-medicated society and that we more time on treatment than prevention and that is a mistake. I can be a bit of a hippy-dippy holistic bohemian. I will own that.

However that is only part of the truth, the part that I use to rationalize and ignore the more embarrassing part. But here it is, I am afraid of doctors. Yes I know this comes as a shock to any one who reads this because It’s not as if I am afraid of my own shadow (yes that was sarcasms).

I have a great deal of respect for the medical profession. I am so glad for how doctors and nurses have continually helped my friends and family in their time of need. As for me, I will tolerate an insane amount of discomfort before seeking out medical attention. And even then it is usually with some prodding by loved ones.

I can’t help it. I don’t know where the fear comes from. But it’s terrifying. I don’t like sitting nervously in the lobby, I don’t like being weighed in front of someone, and these things are definitely unpleasant. But the real horror comes in when the start pocking and prodding me. From the moment they rap my arm in that scary bondage thing to measure blood pressure I freak. I know that soon the doctor will be pocking at my orifices while he shines lights in them, and even the though makes my palms sweat. In fact just seeing a white coat can send a chill down my spine. It’s stupid really, I know that I have in the past survived these doctor encounters and so it only seems rational that I will survive them again. But my pour brain does not think like that.

So what made me do the unthinkable and roll into a clinic for help yesterday? Well I would like to say that it was because I have been sick this entire month. Yes this is what will now be referred to as the lost August. But with every passing week I kept saying to myself “it will get better, really I just need to drink more hot tea”. But every day I would wake up with substances coming out of my nose that, quite frankly, looked like belong in some bad B sci-fi movie from the sixties. I probably would have kept going like that for another few weeks though, because I am that ridiculous. However every time a friend came by they would tell me how terrible I sounded, and how tired I looked. But the real kicker came from my sister, bossy brat that she is, who kept hounding me, and hounding me about it, and well it worked. When I tried to make her promise not to tell mom I was still battling this junk because I did not want her to worry, I knew I had a problem.

So there you have it, I have already taking my first dose of antibiotics and I am hopeful that this delightful bacterial infection that has been making residence in my body this entire month will take the hint and let me be. And for the record the doctor, and everyone at the clinic I went to were extremely nice to me, and for that I am grateful.

And who knows maybe this month of misery will teach me to not let it get this bad without help in the future… but I wouldn’t hold my breath.