Let it Flow

For months I’ve been using Liquid Plumber and Draino in my shower because once  a week it would become slow to drain. Today, I decided to unscrew the drain and use one of those  long plastic drain cleaners ( I have no idea what they're called). First of all, as soon as I opened it I saw why nothing was going down. The clog was right under the surface, it wasn't even deep.  It was so disgusting, the amount of shampoo gunk, and build up that was underneath the service. As I put on a pair of plastic gloves to get down and dirty, I was apprehensive because I was afraid of what I might find, and God forbid have to touch. But  as I began pulling out more gunk  and goo(there wasn't really hair), I worked even more feverously. I was finally clearing this drain myself. Fast forward about 15 minutes, my shower drain was clean and completely clear. It was a beautiful sight, and I felt accomplished.

The clogged drain is a metaphor for life. We continuously go through it trying to find simple, temporary solutions to “fix” things when what we really need to is open up the drain and get to bottom of the mess. Dig deep, bit by bit pull of the gook that is blocking our hearts, minds, or spirits. Whether it’s relationships, finances, goals, trauma, or breaking bad habits, we have to attack the problem head on, do the work. Otherwise it will continue to resurface and you will find yourself standing in the murky waters of your own bullshit.

Check your Bags

 My work with young people who have experienced trauma has opened my eyes to the traumatic experiences that many adults (friends, family and strangers) have dealt with and continue to do so daily. This ability to empathize with their struggles has made me much less judgmental and a better listener and understanding my own trauma is why I choose to do what I do. I write about it in more extensively in my memoir. But there are so many people who have yet to address their trauma and it’s a detriment to their health and happiness. Some people drag their baggage around everywhere they go, some try to force others to carry their load. Then there are those who wear all of it like they are trauma brand models.  Oh, and let us not forgot who try to disguise the baggage as fancy accessories, concealing the pain and hurt. In the end, none of it does us any good. While everyone is not going to go for their checkup from the neck up as I previously suggested, there are steps you can take to begin to unpack.

1.   Be present-  Especially when you are about to make a decision. What is it you are doing or are about to do? Pay attention to your body’s physical response and ask yourself why. As someone who struggled with eating disorders in the past this has helped me significantly with my emotional eating.  I ask myself why I really want to order Chinese take out, is it because I’m stressed out about work, or a project? Possibly feeling resentful towards someone? Or is it because I’m hungry and I haven’t had any in a while and I really just want some beef teriyaki?

2.   Reflect instead of deflect- Particularly after a conflict or in a moment of regret. Have you looked at the situation from the other person’s perspective? Was there something you could have done or said differently (in my case it has been that maybe I shouldn’t have said anything)? Ask that WHY once more. Why did you respond that way? What were you feeling? Were you hurt or embarrassed? What were you trying to obtain in that moment?

3.   Reframe your negative experiences- I actually have a full workshop on how to do this. It’s basically the step following reflection. You try to determine the lesson in the experience and find a silver lining. You got laid off?  Perhaps it’s because it’s time for you to chase that dream you’ve been putting off? How has your pain helped you become stronger, or set a positive example of resilience for others?

Our baggage plays a major role and how we came to be who we are today but it doesn’t have to dictate who we will be tomorrow. That is totally up to you!

Dance with My Mother

I’d be dishonest with the world and myself if I didn’t admit that occasionally I feel a sense of envy and hurt when I see the relationship some of my closest friends have with their mothers. They party together, gamble to together, or live across the street from each other. I can’t help but think that if my mother was alive, she’d dance with me at family parties; I’ve been told all my life that she could cut a mean rug!

Sometimes I wish that I could crawl up in the bed with her like I did when I was three and be vulnerable with her. I’m come along accepting this loss, using my poetry to deal with my emotions, honoring her with my pen name and a tattoo, and having a zest for life so I can live for both of us. Anyone who knows me, knows that I believe in spirit and that much like water, we humans only change form, but our spirits, our energy never really dies. I know her spirit is present, and I get little signs every now and then, but sometimes I just want that physical presence, arms to hold, neck to smell in an embrace. I even get the bigger picture, I wouldn’t be who I am if I hadn’t suffered the loss.  I wouldn’t have ever picked up a pen to process my feelings and written words that I can truly say have inspired others to write, reflect, or do better. I wouldn’t be the type of teacher or mentor who is on call 24/7 for babies. I wouldn’t have this relentless desire to inspire women and teens to take power over their futures instead of being consumed by the past. I know her time was limited, and her purpose was fulfilled in those 23 years (according to two different mediums and my own intuition), but sometimes it doesn’t make it any easier, and sometimes I become overwhelmed with emotions and tears fill up my eyes and I let out a broken cry. This is the reality. I never want to sound ungrateful, I’ve been more than blessed with an enormous family, surrounded by love and mother like figures, something I’m sure other people wish they had.  The older I get the more I come to understand the bigger picture, which is why 90% of the time, I can tell my story to a crowd without even a lump in my throat, but other times, l find myself wondering what would certain moments be like if she was physically there instead of just mentally. 

My mother, looking exhausted after giving me a bath

Bittersweet Choices

   

     Even though I’m consumed with
 my dissertation, I am also

 preparing for the biggest, most complex surgery of my life; my mind and spirit are all over the place.  First off, I am beyond grateful that because of technology I am able to take steps to prevent the breast cancer that took my mother away at such a young age. But when I look at my toddler, I’m sad because my sister and I were so close to his age when she passed away. My baby is 3 ½ and he comes looking for me in the middle of the night. I couldn’t imagine not being there for him, and knowing that I was dying and wouldn’t get to see him grow up. My oldest son just graduated high school, and last week I took him to get his college ID. My mom missed that. My grandmother missed that. And so many other things in between. So lately I’m extra attached to both of them (even though the teen is totally not feeling mom). 

    Then I feel blessed again because it was my choice to wear 

my fabulous wigs, and to chop all my hair off, and it wasn’t the case for my grandmother. I remember coming home from school one day and she was sitting on the couch with a pile of hair in her lap. She explained to me that it was an effect of her chemo. Looking back, her wigs were in no way as beautiful as her once long dark hair.  And when it grew back, it looked a lot like mine does now, just gray. I have options, and it’s amazing, and it’s still scary and bittersweet.

      Then there's my mortality, something I struggled with so

much as a young person, so much that I refused to wear bandanna scarves because I remember my mother wearing them while she was in treatment. 

Now that older, and I’ve outlived my mother, it’s coming into a play again.  I’m going under the knife for 10 to 12 hours. YIKES!!! I’ll be in ICU;  in the hospital away from my baby for 5 days. I’ll have to look at my breasts without nipples or areolas for about 6 months. I will have a huge horizontal scar across my abdomen; I’ll try best to look at that with gratitude because I have a choice. That choice doesn’t involve radiation, chemo, or not being here to see my sons grow and evolve. I have a choice, but it doesn't mean I'm still not apprehensive.

Empathy Matters

For many of us when we are little toddlers we live in this protective bubble created by our parents; we are loved, nurtured and made to feel like we can do anything. I was one of those people who was blessed enough to experience this. My grandmother didn’t have high school diploma, but she had good sense to love me and build me up enough to love myself. As we grow up, we step out into the real world and for some of us, it’s like stepping out into the street and being hit by a truck at full speed. We suffer irreparable hurt, because for some reason, people don’t see or don’t acknowledge our beauty, our talent, our existence. So we build wall to protect us, walk around in armored suits and masks not being our true selves. Or we imitate those who appear to be surviving a bit better than we are. I’ll admit, I’VE DONE IT. But I’m telling you, it was something about the way I was raised that never let me lose site of who I was (except when I wanted to be T-BOZ from TLC).


But what happens to those who never felt that protection; that initial unconditional love? Do they ever take off the armor and the mask? Do they ever truly discover their uniqueness; their greatness? It’s hard when the world around them isn’t empathetic and can’t even begin to conceptualize that this person is afraid, hurting, and unsure.

My job working with many youth who are in this predicament has helped me to become more accepting and aware when I come into adults I meet. Lucky for them ;) it allows me to be more patient when I come across people who rub me the wrong way. I don’t have to be friends with them, but I can try to be understanding of the fact that they, like all of us have some unresolved issues. So I don’t go off on them, I don’t internalize their behavior. I can brush it off and keeping it moving, or perhaps be that sunshine they need for the day. This is called GROWTH. And my interaction with them, my response, may help them to grow as well.

    "Do not judge your neighbor until you have walked two moons in his moccasins." -Cheyenne Tribe