I am totally grateful of the fact that my heart got completely obliterated not too long ago.
I obviously haven't looked at it this way always. In fact, I was angry, heartbroken, sad and confused for a while.
But I now walk a fine line between being cautious and self-aware and "hard" – so to speak. I look at things much differently now. I shock myself all the time still. Where is the Michal that wouldn't only meet people halfway, but walked most of the way and put in the majority of the effort? Where is the Michal that beat herself up for other people's misjudgments? Where is the Michal that let every tiny negative thing change the course of her day?
Gone, gone, gone. I don't know if those parts of me will ever come back, and I don't think I want them to.
But at the same time I often have to check this new self. I often find myself saying, "I can try and try and if you don't want to meet me halfway, that's on you, boo!" That's fine. I can write nice emails and have a forgiving attitude about people who have hurt me and if they aren't willing to see their own mistakes, that's on them. I don't let it bother me when people blow me off, either. Their loss.
But what about the unchecked, negative and cynical person I can see emerging if I'm not careful?
There is a fine line between confidence and arrogance, between caution and cynicism, between compromise and nonchalance.
As India sings, I need to find the middle.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Hate on me, hater, and let me know how far it gets you!
"Hate on me hater, now or later. 'Cause I'm gonna do me. You'll be mad, baby!"
There isn't any refuting Jill Scott's argument here. People are going to hate, hate, hate, even if I'm being my true and authentic self. People are still going to think I'm being "phony" or "fake" of just find some other way to disapprove of me, but I don't need anyone's approval to be myself. If you don't believe that I'm being me, that's on you and not me.
I have worked hard to prove myself at Sonoma State. I work hard in my academics, I work hard for my students, I work hard to make this school a better place than I found it. I don't pretend to be anyone I'm not in the process. I know that for myself, and whether or not others believe it is up to them.
Why do people hate? That's almost asking the same question as, "why does the sun set?"
We hate or dislike or discredit because we become convinced that it comes along with our basic "human nature," which simply isn't true. It does, however, come with our egos.
There's always a reason for our hating on each other. "She think she better than me!" "I don't like his attitude." "She's always got a facade up." "I don't like the way she acts." And so on, and so forth.
But are these things really the truth, or stories we convince ourselves are real?
I can hate and hate and hate on the people in my past who have caused me pain, and where does it get me? Nowhere, or worse, behind where I started from. I had to learn that the hard way.
I can't help the way people perceive me, and neither can any of us. Because the truth is, I can do all the work I do and bust my hump and try to help as much as I want, and there are always going to be people who don't approve or like what I'm doing. They may dislike my personality. And ironically, the people that make the most judgments about me don't know me well enough to even open their mouths.
But guess what? I'm not going to change anytime soon, so that's on you, boo.
There isn't any refuting Jill Scott's argument here. People are going to hate, hate, hate, even if I'm being my true and authentic self. People are still going to think I'm being "phony" or "fake" of just find some other way to disapprove of me, but I don't need anyone's approval to be myself. If you don't believe that I'm being me, that's on you and not me.
I have worked hard to prove myself at Sonoma State. I work hard in my academics, I work hard for my students, I work hard to make this school a better place than I found it. I don't pretend to be anyone I'm not in the process. I know that for myself, and whether or not others believe it is up to them.
Why do people hate? That's almost asking the same question as, "why does the sun set?"
We hate or dislike or discredit because we become convinced that it comes along with our basic "human nature," which simply isn't true. It does, however, come with our egos.
There's always a reason for our hating on each other. "She think she better than me!" "I don't like his attitude." "She's always got a facade up." "I don't like the way she acts." And so on, and so forth.
But are these things really the truth, or stories we convince ourselves are real?
I can hate and hate and hate on the people in my past who have caused me pain, and where does it get me? Nowhere, or worse, behind where I started from. I had to learn that the hard way.
I can't help the way people perceive me, and neither can any of us. Because the truth is, I can do all the work I do and bust my hump and try to help as much as I want, and there are always going to be people who don't approve or like what I'm doing. They may dislike my personality. And ironically, the people that make the most judgments about me don't know me well enough to even open their mouths.
But guess what? I'm not going to change anytime soon, so that's on you, boo.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Sociologically wired brain
I have always been observant, even from a young age.
I try to be careful to not make assumptions about how the actions and personalities of individuals tie into a greater social construct, but I have a sociologically wired brain.
I see many things as interconnected to larger social issues. I can think somewhat psychologically, but in my eyes individual traits and assets and behavior are connected to larger influences (birth order, parents' marital status, etc.)
Just this morning I was sitting in my Sociological Research Methods class, and was surprised by something that went on. At the table there were three Latina women, two white men and one white woman. I appear to be the only African American in the class. We were supposed to be discussing our proposed topic for our research proposal. Instead the two men began talking one-on-one, the white woman was quiet for a while, and the two Latina women I was sitting between (who I assume knew each other) began speaking in Spanish. Eventually the third Latina woman chimed in and the three of them began talking, and the white woman had also joined the conversation between the two men.
I may as well have been invisible.
I wasn't particularly offended by the fact that no one paid me any attention or asked me about my research topic; I took it as an opportunity to make observations. The white students, I noticed, were speaking about schedules and where they were from, where the Latina students were speaking about men and machismo, and other things related to their boyfriends and the assumptions they carried as Hispanic men.
I had to try not to assume the reasons behind the differences in conversation, and also not to become irritated with the constant talking through me that was occurring.
I tell the story mostly to highlight my increasingly changing vision. Since I entered the Sociology major, I view things with even more clarity and connect them to what I already understand about particular structures. I'm excited by my opportunity to explore the field more - especially since I can directly relate it to Student Affairs and learn future practices that I can later apply. I have sociological eyesight and I hate to cut this short, but I've got to go observe people in the coffee shop.
I try to be careful to not make assumptions about how the actions and personalities of individuals tie into a greater social construct, but I have a sociologically wired brain.
I see many things as interconnected to larger social issues. I can think somewhat psychologically, but in my eyes individual traits and assets and behavior are connected to larger influences (birth order, parents' marital status, etc.)
Just this morning I was sitting in my Sociological Research Methods class, and was surprised by something that went on. At the table there were three Latina women, two white men and one white woman. I appear to be the only African American in the class. We were supposed to be discussing our proposed topic for our research proposal. Instead the two men began talking one-on-one, the white woman was quiet for a while, and the two Latina women I was sitting between (who I assume knew each other) began speaking in Spanish. Eventually the third Latina woman chimed in and the three of them began talking, and the white woman had also joined the conversation between the two men.
I may as well have been invisible.
I wasn't particularly offended by the fact that no one paid me any attention or asked me about my research topic; I took it as an opportunity to make observations. The white students, I noticed, were speaking about schedules and where they were from, where the Latina students were speaking about men and machismo, and other things related to their boyfriends and the assumptions they carried as Hispanic men.
I had to try not to assume the reasons behind the differences in conversation, and also not to become irritated with the constant talking through me that was occurring.
I tell the story mostly to highlight my increasingly changing vision. Since I entered the Sociology major, I view things with even more clarity and connect them to what I already understand about particular structures. I'm excited by my opportunity to explore the field more - especially since I can directly relate it to Student Affairs and learn future practices that I can later apply. I have sociological eyesight and I hate to cut this short, but I've got to go observe people in the coffee shop.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Growing up
I am nineteen years old. I'll be twenty in a month and a half.
Developmentally I've always felt a little bit ahead, even as a child, whether that is an illusion of my ego or just the truth.
Over the past several months, I feel like I have grown an incredible amount, the amount that some people spend over years. My most trusted mentor at Sonoma sat across from me yesterday and ran over the ways I've changed just since the past semester. It was weird looking back with her to the time I was a freshman to now. I could have lived five or six years in that time.
In particular, the time over the past six months has been difficult and testing of me in every way imaginable. I have gotten through things with the support of family and friends and mentors like Julie, but most of my strength came from a source within that has always been there.
I think back to even a few months ago, when even the slightest obstacle or event in my day could irritate me on command. This isn't so anymore, because there is no point in looking at the world this way other than to make myself miserable. It sounds simple to just look at the world in a positive light, but it is much more easily said than done. The person who told me this ended up hurting me more than anyone ever has, and I still live by it. But she couldn't have taught me anything if I wasn't ready to discover it by myself, and I have. I can't help but be thankful for the entire experience, even the agony, because who knows how long it would have taken me to learn some things if she had never been there? Even today I was with a friend who was rushing me, which feels like something I would have done months ago. But in the end, things are going to take as long as they are meant to take, and if we try to rush through them the universe will just put an obstacle in front of us to keep us waiting. T.I.M.E is "this I must enjoy," not "this I must endure." For every person who cuts in front of me there are going to be two to cut in front of them. I remind myself constantly that this applies to the process of forgiveness, which sometimes takes more time than I would like it to, but it is what it is and rushing forgiveness only makes it more difficult and not genuine.
I am ultimately my source for everything. Sure, people can point me in the right direction of something, even a simple resource, but it is up to me as to whether or not I want to or am ready to pursue my own personal growth. It hasn't been an easy task, but I feel a lot happier now. I've grown so much I don't even recognize myself half the time; some parts of myself I laugh at and others I am surprised by constantly. Who is this new person?
The new person is confident, strong, and independent. Michal's here!
Developmentally I've always felt a little bit ahead, even as a child, whether that is an illusion of my ego or just the truth.
Over the past several months, I feel like I have grown an incredible amount, the amount that some people spend over years. My most trusted mentor at Sonoma sat across from me yesterday and ran over the ways I've changed just since the past semester. It was weird looking back with her to the time I was a freshman to now. I could have lived five or six years in that time.
In particular, the time over the past six months has been difficult and testing of me in every way imaginable. I have gotten through things with the support of family and friends and mentors like Julie, but most of my strength came from a source within that has always been there.
I think back to even a few months ago, when even the slightest obstacle or event in my day could irritate me on command. This isn't so anymore, because there is no point in looking at the world this way other than to make myself miserable. It sounds simple to just look at the world in a positive light, but it is much more easily said than done. The person who told me this ended up hurting me more than anyone ever has, and I still live by it. But she couldn't have taught me anything if I wasn't ready to discover it by myself, and I have. I can't help but be thankful for the entire experience, even the agony, because who knows how long it would have taken me to learn some things if she had never been there? Even today I was with a friend who was rushing me, which feels like something I would have done months ago. But in the end, things are going to take as long as they are meant to take, and if we try to rush through them the universe will just put an obstacle in front of us to keep us waiting. T.I.M.E is "this I must enjoy," not "this I must endure." For every person who cuts in front of me there are going to be two to cut in front of them. I remind myself constantly that this applies to the process of forgiveness, which sometimes takes more time than I would like it to, but it is what it is and rushing forgiveness only makes it more difficult and not genuine.
I am ultimately my source for everything. Sure, people can point me in the right direction of something, even a simple resource, but it is up to me as to whether or not I want to or am ready to pursue my own personal growth. It hasn't been an easy task, but I feel a lot happier now. I've grown so much I don't even recognize myself half the time; some parts of myself I laugh at and others I am surprised by constantly. Who is this new person?
The new person is confident, strong, and independent. Michal's here!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Colorism in the African-American community
It's no secret to the Black community that there are issues between light skinned folks, and darker skinned folks and everyone in between.
This is something I've had a rude awakening to for...well, my entire life.
As a child I really never understood why I would be so disrespected and constantly harassed and abused by other Black girls. There were days that I would pretend to be sick or avoid going to school for as long as possible because the teasing would get so bad. Through high school and college the situation has not improved much, but that is partially do to my personal experience of rejection from the greater African-American community, and fear to even attempt entering into it again.
As a people, this attitude must change. We are all striving towards similar things and pushing for continued civil rights, yet we discriminate constantly within our own community. We have witnessed biracial president Barack Obama's election as a huge moment in our history, accept him into our community, yet are quick to reject a sister or brother because they are "too dark" or "too light" skinned.
I am very light in complexion, but both parents and sets of grandparents are African-American. My family ranges in complexion from deep, rich chocolate, to coffee with cream to very light. One of my uncles is even lighter than me and has blue eyes and red hair, and one can only imagine the struggles he went through growing up in the civil rights era.
I have privilege because of my skin color. I have never rejected this, because there is no point in rejecting it. America values lighter skin over darker skin; this has been proven in a myriad number of statistics and data. But what I challenge us to think about is the fact that we all come from similar ancestry. I have had to contemplate the painful history of enslavement and rape and cruelty that most of us have. I have the same frustrations with encountering racism and folks that don't understand what it is like to be the only student of color in my classes.
We should all be united by similar struggles, not standing divided because of our skin colors.
Start confronting someone with their assumptions about how dark-skinned Black people are "too mean" or "too dark" and likewise about how light-skinned people are "stuck up" and "get everything they want."
I am not a "stuck up" Black woman - I fully acknowledge the opportunities I have because of both the way I look and my social class. But I cannot change my skin color, and neither can any of us.
How can we confront racism in a broader context when such a huge problem and animosity exists in our community?
This is something I've had a rude awakening to for...well, my entire life.
As a child I really never understood why I would be so disrespected and constantly harassed and abused by other Black girls. There were days that I would pretend to be sick or avoid going to school for as long as possible because the teasing would get so bad. Through high school and college the situation has not improved much, but that is partially do to my personal experience of rejection from the greater African-American community, and fear to even attempt entering into it again.
As a people, this attitude must change. We are all striving towards similar things and pushing for continued civil rights, yet we discriminate constantly within our own community. We have witnessed biracial president Barack Obama's election as a huge moment in our history, accept him into our community, yet are quick to reject a sister or brother because they are "too dark" or "too light" skinned.
I am very light in complexion, but both parents and sets of grandparents are African-American. My family ranges in complexion from deep, rich chocolate, to coffee with cream to very light. One of my uncles is even lighter than me and has blue eyes and red hair, and one can only imagine the struggles he went through growing up in the civil rights era.
I have privilege because of my skin color. I have never rejected this, because there is no point in rejecting it. America values lighter skin over darker skin; this has been proven in a myriad number of statistics and data. But what I challenge us to think about is the fact that we all come from similar ancestry. I have had to contemplate the painful history of enslavement and rape and cruelty that most of us have. I have the same frustrations with encountering racism and folks that don't understand what it is like to be the only student of color in my classes.
We should all be united by similar struggles, not standing divided because of our skin colors.
Start confronting someone with their assumptions about how dark-skinned Black people are "too mean" or "too dark" and likewise about how light-skinned people are "stuck up" and "get everything they want."
I am not a "stuck up" Black woman - I fully acknowledge the opportunities I have because of both the way I look and my social class. But I cannot change my skin color, and neither can any of us.
How can we confront racism in a broader context when such a huge problem and animosity exists in our community?
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Time alone
I used to feel depressed or like I had done something wrong if I spent hours or days to myself.
I would tell myself stories about how I had no friends and no one wanted to hang out with me, or convince myself that there was something wrong with me. I would convince myself that I was antisocial and unfriendly.
I've always known that I'm an introvert. I get my energy from a source inside of myself and from being alone. I interact well with others and like to have fun, but know that at the end of the day I need to close my door to outsiders.
Now, at the start of the semester, I can spend a full day by myself and, well... feel absolutely fine about it.
I realize now that this is probably some gradual shift in being happier. The reason I would feel guilty or depressed about spending so much time alone is that I was not happy with myself, and needed to feel complete by constantly being with friends or lovers so that I felt appreciated. It sounds pretty common if we stop and take a moment to think about it - the addictive turns that relationships can sometimes take often have to do with wanting to feel loved because we are incapable of loving ourselves.
But I don't need anyone to love me anymore because I, myself and the most important person to myself, loves me.
I recognize now that I need to appreciate myself, and I do. My acts of turning down offers to go out, reading by myself and taking care of myself by myself, are an act of self respect and appreciation, a sense of self worth that I have only recently obtained.
Today I stayed in my room, played my guitar and started writing a song, did some reading for a class, took an extra long shower, laid in bed and watched baseball. To me this doesn't sound like a productive day in terms of "getting things done."
But the importance of self refection and meditation is essential for me.
I think Saturdays will be my day, so please don't ask me to hang out.
I've got a hot date with myself.
I would tell myself stories about how I had no friends and no one wanted to hang out with me, or convince myself that there was something wrong with me. I would convince myself that I was antisocial and unfriendly.
I've always known that I'm an introvert. I get my energy from a source inside of myself and from being alone. I interact well with others and like to have fun, but know that at the end of the day I need to close my door to outsiders.
Now, at the start of the semester, I can spend a full day by myself and, well... feel absolutely fine about it.
I realize now that this is probably some gradual shift in being happier. The reason I would feel guilty or depressed about spending so much time alone is that I was not happy with myself, and needed to feel complete by constantly being with friends or lovers so that I felt appreciated. It sounds pretty common if we stop and take a moment to think about it - the addictive turns that relationships can sometimes take often have to do with wanting to feel loved because we are incapable of loving ourselves.
But I don't need anyone to love me anymore because I, myself and the most important person to myself, loves me.
I recognize now that I need to appreciate myself, and I do. My acts of turning down offers to go out, reading by myself and taking care of myself by myself, are an act of self respect and appreciation, a sense of self worth that I have only recently obtained.
Today I stayed in my room, played my guitar and started writing a song, did some reading for a class, took an extra long shower, laid in bed and watched baseball. To me this doesn't sound like a productive day in terms of "getting things done."
But the importance of self refection and meditation is essential for me.
I think Saturdays will be my day, so please don't ask me to hang out.
I've got a hot date with myself.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Strangers on planes
Yesterday I was flying from St. Louis to Atlanta.
The man I was sitting next to looked very familiar to me for some reason, but I had never met him before in my life. He was an older man, probably in his mid-forties or early fifties, and I later learned that his name was Chuck.
Me and Chuck hit it off immediately, and talked non-stop for the entire two-hour flight.
We talked about my career aspirations, Eckhart Tolle, political affiliations, homophobia, high school experiences... you name it. We talked about the lessons we had learned and were learning in life, he asked me if I had a girlfriend, and I told him why I didn't.
While I was going over some painful recollections I never once thought, "This dude is a complete stranger." I felt entirely comfortable, and from the best I could tell so did he.
He shared his stories about past loves and loves lost, how he met his current wife, and everything in between. I did the same, still not even realizing that I was probably revealing far too much about myself to a complete stranger on a plane.
But I realize something now. Without sharing who I am and the places I've been with other people, whether they are strangers or not, I would learn very little about who I am. I would learn nothing about others, either. I would learn nothing about the positive aspects of being alive. Love is not simply something that is shared between two people, it's all around us. My openness with Chuck was me loving myself, putting myself out there as 100% me and not regretting a word. He could have judged me like many others have, but would his judgment have mattered?
I believe now (and have always believed, but this conversation just reinforced it) that being vulnerable is an attribute of the strong. What could be more brave than putting yourself out there, being completely honest and open about life, even when there is no reason to trust the person you're talking to? Being closed off rarely solves anything.
Being closed off rarely solves anything. I smiled as I wrote that sentence... what can denying myself pleasure or love or attraction because of something someone else did possibly solve? I understand now, through talking to Chuck and having conversations with my notebook, that I have been afraid to be vulnerable. I have no problem sharing parts of my life with people I know and people who I don't, but currently the idea of sharing my heart with someone makes me close up completely. That's something I'm going to have to get past, in time.
When I was done with my story (the long and overly-dramatic tale about the past five months and the lessons I've learned), he pulled his business card out of his wallet and said, "You obviously need some type of closure. Call me when you've called her."
I laughed and asked him if he thought he would still remember me in twenty years.
My life is a paradox.
The man I was sitting next to looked very familiar to me for some reason, but I had never met him before in my life. He was an older man, probably in his mid-forties or early fifties, and I later learned that his name was Chuck.
Me and Chuck hit it off immediately, and talked non-stop for the entire two-hour flight.
We talked about my career aspirations, Eckhart Tolle, political affiliations, homophobia, high school experiences... you name it. We talked about the lessons we had learned and were learning in life, he asked me if I had a girlfriend, and I told him why I didn't.
While I was going over some painful recollections I never once thought, "This dude is a complete stranger." I felt entirely comfortable, and from the best I could tell so did he.
He shared his stories about past loves and loves lost, how he met his current wife, and everything in between. I did the same, still not even realizing that I was probably revealing far too much about myself to a complete stranger on a plane.
But I realize something now. Without sharing who I am and the places I've been with other people, whether they are strangers or not, I would learn very little about who I am. I would learn nothing about others, either. I would learn nothing about the positive aspects of being alive. Love is not simply something that is shared between two people, it's all around us. My openness with Chuck was me loving myself, putting myself out there as 100% me and not regretting a word. He could have judged me like many others have, but would his judgment have mattered?
I believe now (and have always believed, but this conversation just reinforced it) that being vulnerable is an attribute of the strong. What could be more brave than putting yourself out there, being completely honest and open about life, even when there is no reason to trust the person you're talking to? Being closed off rarely solves anything.
Being closed off rarely solves anything. I smiled as I wrote that sentence... what can denying myself pleasure or love or attraction because of something someone else did possibly solve? I understand now, through talking to Chuck and having conversations with my notebook, that I have been afraid to be vulnerable. I have no problem sharing parts of my life with people I know and people who I don't, but currently the idea of sharing my heart with someone makes me close up completely. That's something I'm going to have to get past, in time.
When I was done with my story (the long and overly-dramatic tale about the past five months and the lessons I've learned), he pulled his business card out of his wallet and said, "You obviously need some type of closure. Call me when you've called her."
I laughed and asked him if he thought he would still remember me in twenty years.
My life is a paradox.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Looking back through sophomore year
A friend of mine recently wrote about his third-year adventures in his blog, through his leadership and personal experiences, and inspired me to reflect on the previous year.
It feels weird to think about, as if I'm a world away from it now. Success, failure, love, heartbreak... last year was an emotional roller coaster with chances to learn at every opportunity. Because of the experiences I had sophomore year, I have grown personally, intellectually, and as a leader.
I came into the year with a full plate already: 17 units, a peer mentor for UNIV 102, an active member in the cast of the Vagina Monologues, and as President of the school's Queer-Straight Alliance. I was nervous, unsure of myself, and lacking in confidence, but I managed to perform successfully academically and to the best of my abilities to my students and club members.
Reflecting now, I realize that I probably wasn't well-prepared for some of the things the year required of me. I had a desire to prove myself but little confidence to do it, something I still struggle with at times.
I come into my third year knowing my strengths and weaknesses.
I still have a desire to prove myself, one of my qualities that can be either an asset or a setback. Julie has had to remind me at least a dozen times that I don't need to have my hands in EVERY aspect of student leadership to "prove" myself. After working summer orientations this summer, I have a new found confidence and enthusiasm for working with students. I know how to relate to them and use my experiences to reassure them.
At the same time, I constantly need to remind myself that I am in COLLEGE to be a STUDENT, among other things, but first and foremost a student. I also am a feeler, and need to learn how to think through decisions before instinctively going with what raw emotions tell me. At times, being a feeler has benefited me (in personal relationships, being able to empathize with others), and others, it has been a detriment (impacting others negatively by decisions made because of my own emotional needs).
I went through some of the hardest times I've ever experienced in the spring semester of sophomore year, for several reasons, but times that I realize now are vital to my development. I could not have gotten through any of it without constant support from my friends and family, but ultimately it was me who toughed it out and rose to the occasion, earning my highest semester GPA since being in college. I feel stronger than I ever have before, more independent, less concerned by intimate relationships and things that aren't going to matter in the larger scheme of things. Still there are downsides to these experiences. I enter this year with no intention of dating, no intention of trusting, no intention of "letting anyone in." Some call that cynicism, I call it survival. But the fact that I recognize my own cynicism proves my rising level of consciousness and self-awareness. The pain I was in did not have the potential to change who I was inside, yet I was harsh and sharply unforgiving in the face of it. I am still learning that forgiveness, especially of myself, is a very long process.
There were many challenges in sophomore year, and some of those challenges were self-created. I learned that the greatest obstacle to my happiness was myself and my attitude. It has been a painful and confusing process, and one that I'm still going through, but one that I place highest on my priority list.
This year will be the busiest so far, with a high unit load and my first advanced leadership position of my undergraduate career. But I have every intention of it being the best one.
It feels weird to think about, as if I'm a world away from it now. Success, failure, love, heartbreak... last year was an emotional roller coaster with chances to learn at every opportunity. Because of the experiences I had sophomore year, I have grown personally, intellectually, and as a leader.
I came into the year with a full plate already: 17 units, a peer mentor for UNIV 102, an active member in the cast of the Vagina Monologues, and as President of the school's Queer-Straight Alliance. I was nervous, unsure of myself, and lacking in confidence, but I managed to perform successfully academically and to the best of my abilities to my students and club members.
Reflecting now, I realize that I probably wasn't well-prepared for some of the things the year required of me. I had a desire to prove myself but little confidence to do it, something I still struggle with at times.
I come into my third year knowing my strengths and weaknesses.
I still have a desire to prove myself, one of my qualities that can be either an asset or a setback. Julie has had to remind me at least a dozen times that I don't need to have my hands in EVERY aspect of student leadership to "prove" myself. After working summer orientations this summer, I have a new found confidence and enthusiasm for working with students. I know how to relate to them and use my experiences to reassure them.
At the same time, I constantly need to remind myself that I am in COLLEGE to be a STUDENT, among other things, but first and foremost a student. I also am a feeler, and need to learn how to think through decisions before instinctively going with what raw emotions tell me. At times, being a feeler has benefited me (in personal relationships, being able to empathize with others), and others, it has been a detriment (impacting others negatively by decisions made because of my own emotional needs).
I went through some of the hardest times I've ever experienced in the spring semester of sophomore year, for several reasons, but times that I realize now are vital to my development. I could not have gotten through any of it without constant support from my friends and family, but ultimately it was me who toughed it out and rose to the occasion, earning my highest semester GPA since being in college. I feel stronger than I ever have before, more independent, less concerned by intimate relationships and things that aren't going to matter in the larger scheme of things. Still there are downsides to these experiences. I enter this year with no intention of dating, no intention of trusting, no intention of "letting anyone in." Some call that cynicism, I call it survival. But the fact that I recognize my own cynicism proves my rising level of consciousness and self-awareness. The pain I was in did not have the potential to change who I was inside, yet I was harsh and sharply unforgiving in the face of it. I am still learning that forgiveness, especially of myself, is a very long process.
There were many challenges in sophomore year, and some of those challenges were self-created. I learned that the greatest obstacle to my happiness was myself and my attitude. It has been a painful and confusing process, and one that I'm still going through, but one that I place highest on my priority list.
This year will be the busiest so far, with a high unit load and my first advanced leadership position of my undergraduate career. But I have every intention of it being the best one.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Alone but not lonely
I'm not entirely sure I believe in this "other half" business.
Why is it we're constantly fed the message that something is missing in our lives, something that can only be filled with the presence of another person?
I definitely believed in the other half at some point, as many of us do. I think it's normal that I felt complete with someone, or that what was missing was finally there.
But what was really missing is contentment with myself. I don't care who you are, if you're not happy with yourself, you can't be 100% happy even when you have the most amazing person ever right by your side.
When what we perceive as our "other half" is suddenly taken away from us, it hurts like hell. Worse than almost anything. (Fuck, I haven't been using "I" statements, have I?)
I need to learn how to enter a relationship as already whole and content with myself, because if I don't, it will hurt worse and worse the closer I cling onto that other half. But I'm living without that other half right now, aren't I?
We do crazy things out of the fear of being alone. Jumping into relationships that have warning signs we choose to ignore, before we're ready, before we've thought things through, before we've dealt with a different relationship...
I've been guilty of almost all of those things except for the last.
There is nothing wrong with being alone. But we get fed constant messages that there is. "When are you going to get married?" "Find singles in your area!" "Make it work!"
My position is a cynical one, and yet I'm happier than I've ever been.
Even when I've had wonderful partners, really close friends and whatnot, I feel more happier now than I ever was with them.
Why? Because I forced myself to look at myself, take care of myself, and understand that I've been me all along, without anyone to help me. Now, my true love could be standing right in front of me and I may not know it.
But I doubt it. True love begins with me.
Why is it we're constantly fed the message that something is missing in our lives, something that can only be filled with the presence of another person?
I definitely believed in the other half at some point, as many of us do. I think it's normal that I felt complete with someone, or that what was missing was finally there.
But what was really missing is contentment with myself. I don't care who you are, if you're not happy with yourself, you can't be 100% happy even when you have the most amazing person ever right by your side.
When what we perceive as our "other half" is suddenly taken away from us, it hurts like hell. Worse than almost anything. (Fuck, I haven't been using "I" statements, have I?)
I need to learn how to enter a relationship as already whole and content with myself, because if I don't, it will hurt worse and worse the closer I cling onto that other half. But I'm living without that other half right now, aren't I?
We do crazy things out of the fear of being alone. Jumping into relationships that have warning signs we choose to ignore, before we're ready, before we've thought things through, before we've dealt with a different relationship...
I've been guilty of almost all of those things except for the last.
There is nothing wrong with being alone. But we get fed constant messages that there is. "When are you going to get married?" "Find singles in your area!" "Make it work!"
My position is a cynical one, and yet I'm happier than I've ever been.
Even when I've had wonderful partners, really close friends and whatnot, I feel more happier now than I ever was with them.
Why? Because I forced myself to look at myself, take care of myself, and understand that I've been me all along, without anyone to help me. Now, my true love could be standing right in front of me and I may not know it.
But I doubt it. True love begins with me.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Hey there, Oreo
"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were white."
"Which one of your parents is white?"
"You're the whitest black person I've met!"
In the end, it doesn't really matter how I identify myself to myself and to others. It is ultimately their choice how they decide to see me and judge me.
Both of my parents are African-American, and each of their parents are African-American. Therefore, I identify as African-American. (Not bi-racial, not anything else a person could assume.)
My skin color has been the cause of a lot of struggle throughout my entire life. Black folks constantly say that I'm "too white," or assume that I think I'm better than them. This couldn't be farther form the truth. Black folks are all different shades and colors. One of my uncles was born with practically white skin, blue eyes and orange hair while my brother is a deep shade of chocolate.
So maybe it's true that I don't "act Black enough" or "dress Black enough" or "talk Black enough." But by saying that, are you not perpetuating stereotypes that have been used against the African-American community for decades? And maybe, just maybe I don't identify with that culture because I haven't been invited into it.
"Which one of your parents is white?"
"You're the whitest black person I've met!"
In the end, it doesn't really matter how I identify myself to myself and to others. It is ultimately their choice how they decide to see me and judge me.
Both of my parents are African-American, and each of their parents are African-American. Therefore, I identify as African-American. (Not bi-racial, not anything else a person could assume.)
My skin color has been the cause of a lot of struggle throughout my entire life. Black folks constantly say that I'm "too white," or assume that I think I'm better than them. This couldn't be farther form the truth. Black folks are all different shades and colors. One of my uncles was born with practically white skin, blue eyes and orange hair while my brother is a deep shade of chocolate.
So maybe it's true that I don't "act Black enough" or "dress Black enough" or "talk Black enough." But by saying that, are you not perpetuating stereotypes that have been used against the African-American community for decades? And maybe, just maybe I don't identify with that culture because I haven't been invited into it.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Lust is exciting, love is scary
Lust is incredibly easy and even more powerful.
We are excited by the draw of another person, the desire to connect with that person on the physical level. The connection provides us with pleasure or it doesn't, leaves our bodies satisfied or unsatisfied, and sometimes paints the illusion of something deeper.
Can love be produced from lust?
Lust can produce the feeling of something new and exciting, especially when change is needed in a person's life. But it can't produce love.
Love is incredibly difficult and even more powerful.
It is romanticized as a feeling of attraction toward someone, or material things, or even simply lust.
But is that all it is? Why is it that sex seems so easy to some of us with people we may not even know, yet loving someone we've known is so much more difficult?
Because love is scary, when it is real love. We fear the worst when it comes to letting people inside. We fear rejection, letdown, betrayal...
We don't have to fear these things when it comes to lust. But when our lust for a person (or even a thing such as power or money) is fulfilled, what is left?
Anyone has the ability to lust after another. But love is not for the faint of heart.
Use the word wisely.
We are excited by the draw of another person, the desire to connect with that person on the physical level. The connection provides us with pleasure or it doesn't, leaves our bodies satisfied or unsatisfied, and sometimes paints the illusion of something deeper.
Can love be produced from lust?
Lust can produce the feeling of something new and exciting, especially when change is needed in a person's life. But it can't produce love.
Love is incredibly difficult and even more powerful.
It is romanticized as a feeling of attraction toward someone, or material things, or even simply lust.
But is that all it is? Why is it that sex seems so easy to some of us with people we may not even know, yet loving someone we've known is so much more difficult?
Because love is scary, when it is real love. We fear the worst when it comes to letting people inside. We fear rejection, letdown, betrayal...
We don't have to fear these things when it comes to lust. But when our lust for a person (or even a thing such as power or money) is fulfilled, what is left?
Anyone has the ability to lust after another. But love is not for the faint of heart.
Use the word wisely.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Glimpses of privilege are everywhere
I've found myself in a bit of a difficult situation.
My best friend has been living with us for a few months because she doesn't have anywhere else to go. I agreed to let her stay here and even urged my mom and her partner to allow it, because I didn't want her to end up somewhere dangerous or not have a roof over her head.
It's now almost August, and, as one can probably imagine, sometimes I need a little space and alone time. As an introvert, the ability to have my own space has been extremely important to me. I usually have a rough time adjusting from being in school to being back at home, and the adjustment has been even harder lately because of the fact that I don't have my own space. I allow the fact that I don't have my own room to sometimes effect my mood and behavior, but I had to stop and think about it for a second when a voice popped in my head...
"And how many people in the world do you think have actually access to their own room?"
Then I thought of different people's stories I had heard about sharing one room with seven family members, and suddenly I had nothing to complain about.
Because I grew up middle class (although now things have changed and gotten a bit harder), I have a hard time seeing things any other way. I am entitled to my own room, to living comfortably, to being able to pay for things when I need them, etc. I rarely stop to think about other people's experiences in terms of these types of things, because I don't have to.
The same could be said for those who have white privilege, heterosexual privilege, male privilege, class privilege, ability privilege, and so on.
Talking about our privilege doesn't mean that we have to feel guilty about it. How can we feel guilty about something that we were born with? The problem arises when we are not aware of it or we deny it, because then it becomes impossible to change.
A lot of the times people who belong to one or more minority groups assume that they have no privilege. As an African-American, queer woman, I belong to three, but I still carry privilege every day. I have it when I can walk up the stairs instead of using the elevator, when I can be sure that I won't go hungry, and when I have the ability to have my own space.
Glimpses of it are everywhere, but can you see them?
Can I?
My best friend has been living with us for a few months because she doesn't have anywhere else to go. I agreed to let her stay here and even urged my mom and her partner to allow it, because I didn't want her to end up somewhere dangerous or not have a roof over her head.
It's now almost August, and, as one can probably imagine, sometimes I need a little space and alone time. As an introvert, the ability to have my own space has been extremely important to me. I usually have a rough time adjusting from being in school to being back at home, and the adjustment has been even harder lately because of the fact that I don't have my own space. I allow the fact that I don't have my own room to sometimes effect my mood and behavior, but I had to stop and think about it for a second when a voice popped in my head...
"And how many people in the world do you think have actually access to their own room?"
Then I thought of different people's stories I had heard about sharing one room with seven family members, and suddenly I had nothing to complain about.
Because I grew up middle class (although now things have changed and gotten a bit harder), I have a hard time seeing things any other way. I am entitled to my own room, to living comfortably, to being able to pay for things when I need them, etc. I rarely stop to think about other people's experiences in terms of these types of things, because I don't have to.
The same could be said for those who have white privilege, heterosexual privilege, male privilege, class privilege, ability privilege, and so on.
Talking about our privilege doesn't mean that we have to feel guilty about it. How can we feel guilty about something that we were born with? The problem arises when we are not aware of it or we deny it, because then it becomes impossible to change.
A lot of the times people who belong to one or more minority groups assume that they have no privilege. As an African-American, queer woman, I belong to three, but I still carry privilege every day. I have it when I can walk up the stairs instead of using the elevator, when I can be sure that I won't go hungry, and when I have the ability to have my own space.
Glimpses of it are everywhere, but can you see them?
Can I?
Joy can only truly arise from presence
I, like most other humans, have wasted an incredible amount of time either lingering on things that have happened in the past, or imagining future scenarios.
I have spent countless hours of my life letting my past run my life, or holding onto how someone has treated me badly, or having constant regrets and wishing I could have done things differently.
Being preoccupied with the future is almost just as bad. We all have counted down or looked forward to a particular day or point in time, treating the present moment like it's some obstacle that has to be overcome. Then, when we finally arrive at that particular point in time, we are underwhelmed.
The past and future can both be used in ways that would benefit us. But when we linger and obsess over things that do not technically exist (except for as a memory in the brain or an imagined circumstance for what is to come), we are not living.
This is a lesson that I'm still working to learn. It's easy to have regrets in broken relationships in friendships and with mistakes we have made in the past. But what difference would it make to the present moment if I had made a different decision? There is a difference between realizing how the past shapes the decisions we should make in the present and obsessive over mistakes that have been made. There is a difference between making positive decisions in the present moment that will shape our future (karma) and living only for what the future holds.
If we're not present in the work we do, with the relationships we have, within ourselves, we aren't happy. How can we be? When thinking of the past, we are living in something that no longer exists. When thinking in the future, we avoid the present moment by wishing we were somewhere else. Both past and future only exist in the mind, where the present always exists.
The "now" is all there is. Let's live here.
I have spent countless hours of my life letting my past run my life, or holding onto how someone has treated me badly, or having constant regrets and wishing I could have done things differently.
Being preoccupied with the future is almost just as bad. We all have counted down or looked forward to a particular day or point in time, treating the present moment like it's some obstacle that has to be overcome. Then, when we finally arrive at that particular point in time, we are underwhelmed.
The past and future can both be used in ways that would benefit us. But when we linger and obsess over things that do not technically exist (except for as a memory in the brain or an imagined circumstance for what is to come), we are not living.
This is a lesson that I'm still working to learn. It's easy to have regrets in broken relationships in friendships and with mistakes we have made in the past. But what difference would it make to the present moment if I had made a different decision? There is a difference between realizing how the past shapes the decisions we should make in the present and obsessive over mistakes that have been made. There is a difference between making positive decisions in the present moment that will shape our future (karma) and living only for what the future holds.
If we're not present in the work we do, with the relationships we have, within ourselves, we aren't happy. How can we be? When thinking of the past, we are living in something that no longer exists. When thinking in the future, we avoid the present moment by wishing we were somewhere else. Both past and future only exist in the mind, where the present always exists.
The "now" is all there is. Let's live here.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
When you just know
I would estimate that I make decisions with my gut about 90% of the time. My gut is correct in almost every single circumstance, negative or positive. I just know things without having to use my senses.
And when it comes to things like what career I want to go into, or whether or not I'll have a family, or which graduate program to select... I still trust my heart above all else.
I got an anonymous comment the other night complaining about how much I talk about my summer job. "Don't you think about anything else?"
The answer to that is: rarely.
The positions I've held over the summer are more than just "jobs" to me. They represent the solidification of my goals and aspirations for life, not just for the time being. Without these opportunities I still would be unsure of which direction my life was taking. This "job" has introduced me to an incredible group of leaders, opened my eyes to explore different career options, and has strengthened my own leadership abilities.
So is it worth me updating people on how much I love it and how important it is to me? I'd say yes.
I just know.
It's an exciting and scary time because for the longest time I've had no idea what I've wanted to do, and the answer has come to me over the course of the past few weeks. I almost started crying last night because I'm so overwhelmed by gratitude by the wealth of knowledge I've been able to attain over the past month and a half. It represents more than just a paycheck. It's actually tangible and fulfilling work to see that I have the potential to inspire students to be the best they can be.
And I just know. Student affairs is it.
And when it comes to things like what career I want to go into, or whether or not I'll have a family, or which graduate program to select... I still trust my heart above all else.
I got an anonymous comment the other night complaining about how much I talk about my summer job. "Don't you think about anything else?"
The answer to that is: rarely.
The positions I've held over the summer are more than just "jobs" to me. They represent the solidification of my goals and aspirations for life, not just for the time being. Without these opportunities I still would be unsure of which direction my life was taking. This "job" has introduced me to an incredible group of leaders, opened my eyes to explore different career options, and has strengthened my own leadership abilities.
So is it worth me updating people on how much I love it and how important it is to me? I'd say yes.
I just know.
It's an exciting and scary time because for the longest time I've had no idea what I've wanted to do, and the answer has come to me over the course of the past few weeks. I almost started crying last night because I'm so overwhelmed by gratitude by the wealth of knowledge I've been able to attain over the past month and a half. It represents more than just a paycheck. It's actually tangible and fulfilling work to see that I have the potential to inspire students to be the best they can be.
And I just know. Student affairs is it.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
The diversity of perception
Diversity is usually understood to be differences between race/ethnicity and cultures.
The word can encompass a lot, and I think sometimes we forget how diverse all of us really are, even when we are in the same racial category, have the same sexual orientation, socioeconomic statuses, etc. Because no matter how alike we all may seem, the way we perceive and understand things is never the same as someone else.
This is all pretty obvious, and the reason I'm writing this is because I recently had an experience that brought all of this back to the surface.
A few nights ago, while training with 15 other peer leaders at a beach house in Bodega, cultures clashed in what can be described as a prank gone too far.
It was a little past midnight, and me and the other women in my room had just turned out the light and the TV. Then, out of nowhere, a figure holding a candle and gliding by the window appeared. I didn't get a good look at them, but everyone panicked immediately, and my roommate whispered something about a white hood.
That's when I went into absolute panic.
I didn't have time to think that it was a joke, because the first place I went is that the KKK were outside. It was one of the scariest moments of my life. Now while this reaction might seem ridiculous or out of line to some. I had one of my peers make a mocking joke about how I had responded. But let me ask a few questions. Have you thought about the fact that in my history and the stories I've heard growing up, the KKK were famous for lynching members of my community? Do you know that my grandfather was a civil rights leader and had shots fired into his house when my mom was growing up? Did you even think about how scary it is to be in an unfamiliar place in the middle of nowhere and have someone stare into your room with a candle and a while cloak?
The possibility that those things weren't thought about highlights an ignorance and a glaring privilege.
My roommate Rebecca was in an entirely different place than I was.
She thought the figure outside was an alien, because the stories she grew up with were full of aliens and the supernatural. Her perception of the event was entirely different than mine, but that doesn't make it any less "feasible" or "legitimate." She has just as much of a right to think that it was an alien than I had thinking it was the KKK, because both of those experiences are linked to our past and our background.
Meanwhile, the women on my staff who decided to play the prank had no idea what the impact would be on the rest of us. It was a spur of the moment thing they did to cause laughs, but it caused the exact opposite of what they had intended. I was in tears, the men were in a panic and rushing outside to respond to the situation (very gendered, in my opinion), and some of us were just frozen. My peers felt genuinely guilty and upset by the impacts of their actions. They explained to us that in their Mexican background it was common to play pranks on people and scare each other out of good fun, and that they never even thought about how other people from other backgrounds would experience it. Our entire staff got together the next morning and debriefed about it. Some tears were shed, experiences and perspectives were shared, and I felt closer to everyone than I had the night before.
I know the various thoughts people could have depending on their experience:
"Wow, I never thought of it that way."
"That was horrifying."
"People are overreacting. This whole thing is ridiculous."
"I feel terrible."
"I don't see what the big deal is."
I find the fact that we all see, experience, and perceive things differently to be a beautiful thing. Each of us bring something different to the staff or any group of people we are around. It is when we begin to question or negate each other's experiences that conflict arises.
The word can encompass a lot, and I think sometimes we forget how diverse all of us really are, even when we are in the same racial category, have the same sexual orientation, socioeconomic statuses, etc. Because no matter how alike we all may seem, the way we perceive and understand things is never the same as someone else.
This is all pretty obvious, and the reason I'm writing this is because I recently had an experience that brought all of this back to the surface.
A few nights ago, while training with 15 other peer leaders at a beach house in Bodega, cultures clashed in what can be described as a prank gone too far.
It was a little past midnight, and me and the other women in my room had just turned out the light and the TV. Then, out of nowhere, a figure holding a candle and gliding by the window appeared. I didn't get a good look at them, but everyone panicked immediately, and my roommate whispered something about a white hood.
That's when I went into absolute panic.
I didn't have time to think that it was a joke, because the first place I went is that the KKK were outside. It was one of the scariest moments of my life. Now while this reaction might seem ridiculous or out of line to some. I had one of my peers make a mocking joke about how I had responded. But let me ask a few questions. Have you thought about the fact that in my history and the stories I've heard growing up, the KKK were famous for lynching members of my community? Do you know that my grandfather was a civil rights leader and had shots fired into his house when my mom was growing up? Did you even think about how scary it is to be in an unfamiliar place in the middle of nowhere and have someone stare into your room with a candle and a while cloak?
The possibility that those things weren't thought about highlights an ignorance and a glaring privilege.
My roommate Rebecca was in an entirely different place than I was.
She thought the figure outside was an alien, because the stories she grew up with were full of aliens and the supernatural. Her perception of the event was entirely different than mine, but that doesn't make it any less "feasible" or "legitimate." She has just as much of a right to think that it was an alien than I had thinking it was the KKK, because both of those experiences are linked to our past and our background.
Meanwhile, the women on my staff who decided to play the prank had no idea what the impact would be on the rest of us. It was a spur of the moment thing they did to cause laughs, but it caused the exact opposite of what they had intended. I was in tears, the men were in a panic and rushing outside to respond to the situation (very gendered, in my opinion), and some of us were just frozen. My peers felt genuinely guilty and upset by the impacts of their actions. They explained to us that in their Mexican background it was common to play pranks on people and scare each other out of good fun, and that they never even thought about how other people from other backgrounds would experience it. Our entire staff got together the next morning and debriefed about it. Some tears were shed, experiences and perspectives were shared, and I felt closer to everyone than I had the night before.
I know the various thoughts people could have depending on their experience:
"Wow, I never thought of it that way."
"That was horrifying."
"People are overreacting. This whole thing is ridiculous."
"I feel terrible."
"I don't see what the big deal is."
I find the fact that we all see, experience, and perceive things differently to be a beautiful thing. Each of us bring something different to the staff or any group of people we are around. It is when we begin to question or negate each other's experiences that conflict arises.
Closure with myself
The last time I cried about it was the day of graduation.
I'm pretty sure that was everything combined - from knowing that I probably wasn't going to see her for at least years if not ever again, from knowing that she had almost blindly found someone to take my place, the fact that she acted completely oblivious to the fact that everything she was doing was breaking me down more every time, from knowing that she had just thrown me out of her life completely... I couldn't help being bitter and angry. It was supposed to be me, it should have been me, how could it not be me?
This was no ordinary cry. It was what I had been holding back for almost a month. The anger over having to deal with seeing her flaunt the person she left me for all around campus, introducing her to people she never took the time to introduce me to, blah blah blah.
And after that meltdown I finally realized something: The reason I'm so upset over what she's done and how she's hurt me and boo hoo is that the two of us never had closure. But why? Why is it so hard to come to an understanding about how each of us have hurt each other, and about what we expect from each other in the future?
Because I'm dealing with a narcissist.
I've realized over the past month that I can't sit here and wait for closure, because closure would involve several things a narcissist is incapable of: First, an ability to empathize with how the other person is feeling. Second, an ability to realize one's own mistakes. Third, the ability to give up a certain level of selfishness.
If my ex was capable of any of those things, the two of us would have had closure months ago. Does a person have control over their narcissism? I don't know, but I accept her for how she is. But I also have to accept the fact that we will probably never be able to talk about closure because she can't empathize with me. (But she'll be able to once someone does the same things to her that she did to me.)
So, what can I do?
I'm no longer in pain from the situation, but sometimes it pops back up in my mind and I find myself wondering if I'll ever be friends or what have you with her ever again. Is it possible?
I don't know. But I do know that I have found closure with myself and defined what it means. It's a sad fact, but I have finally accepted that I will never get what I need from her. She won't be be willing to give me what I need of her, because she is too self-centered as of now. If she wasn't she couldn't have ever done the things she did. But who knows if that will always be the case?
When it isn't any longer, I'll be ready.
I'm pretty sure that was everything combined - from knowing that I probably wasn't going to see her for at least years if not ever again, from knowing that she had almost blindly found someone to take my place, the fact that she acted completely oblivious to the fact that everything she was doing was breaking me down more every time, from knowing that she had just thrown me out of her life completely... I couldn't help being bitter and angry. It was supposed to be me, it should have been me, how could it not be me?
This was no ordinary cry. It was what I had been holding back for almost a month. The anger over having to deal with seeing her flaunt the person she left me for all around campus, introducing her to people she never took the time to introduce me to, blah blah blah.
And after that meltdown I finally realized something: The reason I'm so upset over what she's done and how she's hurt me and boo hoo is that the two of us never had closure. But why? Why is it so hard to come to an understanding about how each of us have hurt each other, and about what we expect from each other in the future?
Because I'm dealing with a narcissist.
I've realized over the past month that I can't sit here and wait for closure, because closure would involve several things a narcissist is incapable of: First, an ability to empathize with how the other person is feeling. Second, an ability to realize one's own mistakes. Third, the ability to give up a certain level of selfishness.
If my ex was capable of any of those things, the two of us would have had closure months ago. Does a person have control over their narcissism? I don't know, but I accept her for how she is. But I also have to accept the fact that we will probably never be able to talk about closure because she can't empathize with me. (But she'll be able to once someone does the same things to her that she did to me.)
So, what can I do?
I'm no longer in pain from the situation, but sometimes it pops back up in my mind and I find myself wondering if I'll ever be friends or what have you with her ever again. Is it possible?
I don't know. But I do know that I have found closure with myself and defined what it means. It's a sad fact, but I have finally accepted that I will never get what I need from her. She won't be be willing to give me what I need of her, because she is too self-centered as of now. If she wasn't she couldn't have ever done the things she did. But who knows if that will always be the case?
When it isn't any longer, I'll be ready.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Caution before a jump, or complete cynicism?
Love. The romantic kind, of course.
I would have to say that I am in a strange place about this word. "Loving" a person has completely changed me, not only because with that person I was shown exactly what love is not, but because of the things I learned within myself knowing that my own was and is genuine.
If I had never loved, what would I have learned?
Through being shown a false display of affection labeled "love," I have been able to more clearly define what love is for myself. But I also understand that very few people in this generation (to my knowledge) even understand what they are saying or expressing. And that is my cynicism.
For instance, a person can go from one lover to the next in fairly short periods of time, claiming that they "love" each person. You mean just as you "loved" all of the other lovers you abused and hurt more than you could possibly comprehend? That is a twisted and selfish way of love.
And the selfishness seems to be a common trend in what we view as "love." We convince ourselves that the person we "love" is the one who is going to "make us happy" and "make us feel good." We couldn't imagine our lives without them, we have a constant need to see them and speak to them, and so on and so forth.
These things aren't bad initially, until they become addictions. We become addicted to the other person. It's a mistake I've made several times.
But love isn't selfish, it's selfless.
I've spent a lot of time over the past few months being sure of what love isn't, not because I think about it on a regular basis but because people in my life have shown me for themselves. I witness it around me all the time. Materialism is not love, marriage is not always love, and neither is simply telling a person that you love them and then treating them as if they never mattered to you in the first place. It isn't sex, because any two people can have sex.
We need to define love for ourselves before we are ready to say it to another person. We need to define it to the person we're telling it to. For me, love is sacrifice and unconditional. It is accepting a person entirely for who they are no matter what mood they're in, what they've done or how they may have abused me. It is seeing myself in another. It is forgiving the most difficult things to possibly forgive. It is supporting someone in anything they want to do. It does not end, even if its form may change.
But it is meaningless to define "love" for ourselves and then not act it out in everything and everyone we do love, romantically or not.
I'm sorry my definition was so vastly different from yours.
But it ain't no big thing.
I would have to say that I am in a strange place about this word. "Loving" a person has completely changed me, not only because with that person I was shown exactly what love is not, but because of the things I learned within myself knowing that my own was and is genuine.
If I had never loved, what would I have learned?
Through being shown a false display of affection labeled "love," I have been able to more clearly define what love is for myself. But I also understand that very few people in this generation (to my knowledge) even understand what they are saying or expressing. And that is my cynicism.
For instance, a person can go from one lover to the next in fairly short periods of time, claiming that they "love" each person. You mean just as you "loved" all of the other lovers you abused and hurt more than you could possibly comprehend? That is a twisted and selfish way of love.
And the selfishness seems to be a common trend in what we view as "love." We convince ourselves that the person we "love" is the one who is going to "make us happy" and "make us feel good." We couldn't imagine our lives without them, we have a constant need to see them and speak to them, and so on and so forth.
These things aren't bad initially, until they become addictions. We become addicted to the other person. It's a mistake I've made several times.
But love isn't selfish, it's selfless.
I've spent a lot of time over the past few months being sure of what love isn't, not because I think about it on a regular basis but because people in my life have shown me for themselves. I witness it around me all the time. Materialism is not love, marriage is not always love, and neither is simply telling a person that you love them and then treating them as if they never mattered to you in the first place. It isn't sex, because any two people can have sex.
We need to define love for ourselves before we are ready to say it to another person. We need to define it to the person we're telling it to. For me, love is sacrifice and unconditional. It is accepting a person entirely for who they are no matter what mood they're in, what they've done or how they may have abused me. It is seeing myself in another. It is forgiving the most difficult things to possibly forgive. It is supporting someone in anything they want to do. It does not end, even if its form may change.
But it is meaningless to define "love" for ourselves and then not act it out in everything and everyone we do love, romantically or not.
I'm sorry my definition was so vastly different from yours.
But it ain't no big thing.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Lacking a creative title
I've been working Summer Orientation up here at Sonoma State for almost a month now, and in that time I've realized some really important and exciting things. I've been totally immersed in work that I love, have formed new friendships and bonds with the people I work with, and have continued to heal and grow and learn.
So, it's no real surprise that, as it's coming to an end, I've been feeling a little blue. By the end of this one-month work period I will have worked with over 50 students. But what has made the job most enjoyable for me is our staff. I am inspired and energized every day by each of the enthusiasm, love, and compassion each and every one of us has brought to the table. We came together for a common goal, bonded and grew closer to one another, and "built our community."
Each of my groups have brought something different, and each conversation I've had with a student has shown me that helping them is something that I not only was hired to do, but could see myself doing for years in the future. Before this summer I had a lot of difficulty seeing the things that I did well while working with students. I was much better at focusing on what I needed to do better, what went wrong, and never with what I had actually done well.
It's clear to me now that I can very positively affect the lives of students, especially given the opportunity to work with them for extended amounts of time. Even in the short amount of time (two days) I am given to interact and connect with my students I have answered a myriad number of questions, had students open up to me about things they felt they couldn't talk about with other people, and consoled students who were feeling all the various pressures of coming to college for the first time. If I can connect with students on that level only after a day or two days, the ways in which I could positively effect their experience in college when I'm bringing my best self are many.
So, it's no real surprise that, as it's coming to an end, I've been feeling a little blue. By the end of this one-month work period I will have worked with over 50 students. But what has made the job most enjoyable for me is our staff. I am inspired and energized every day by each of the enthusiasm, love, and compassion each and every one of us has brought to the table. We came together for a common goal, bonded and grew closer to one another, and "built our community."
Each of my groups have brought something different, and each conversation I've had with a student has shown me that helping them is something that I not only was hired to do, but could see myself doing for years in the future. Before this summer I had a lot of difficulty seeing the things that I did well while working with students. I was much better at focusing on what I needed to do better, what went wrong, and never with what I had actually done well.
It's clear to me now that I can very positively affect the lives of students, especially given the opportunity to work with them for extended amounts of time. Even in the short amount of time (two days) I am given to interact and connect with my students I have answered a myriad number of questions, had students open up to me about things they felt they couldn't talk about with other people, and consoled students who were feeling all the various pressures of coming to college for the first time. If I can connect with students on that level only after a day or two days, the ways in which I could positively effect their experience in college when I'm bringing my best self are many.
Monday, July 5, 2010
I have given myself an assignment.
I've given myself a thousand excuses over the years for not writing as much as I'd like to or should. It's true I've been busy with school and the multiple things I've gotten involved in. Too busy to spend thirty minutes a day writing or playing my guitar? Probably not.
Even now I don't know what to write about, but at least I'm in the process of creating something right here and now. My assignment to myself is to keep a journal, both online and on paper. It sounds pretty simple to some, and it should be for me. But I lost my drive to write somewhere along the way, and that scares me, especially because I have a talent for it. What confuses me the most about my inability to write is that over the past few months I've grown in ways that take years for most people. One would think I would have a lot to say!
It's July 5. I'm shooting for a blog every other day, maybe every day if I have time. I don't know what they'll be about, but it doesn't really matter. This is my space for introspection and reflection.
Even now I don't know what to write about, but at least I'm in the process of creating something right here and now. My assignment to myself is to keep a journal, both online and on paper. It sounds pretty simple to some, and it should be for me. But I lost my drive to write somewhere along the way, and that scares me, especially because I have a talent for it. What confuses me the most about my inability to write is that over the past few months I've grown in ways that take years for most people. One would think I would have a lot to say!
It's July 5. I'm shooting for a blog every other day, maybe every day if I have time. I don't know what they'll be about, but it doesn't really matter. This is my space for introspection and reflection.
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