Tag Archives: vulnerable

My Mom

This isn’t what I was going to write about today, day 31 of 31 in the Slice of Life Challenge. I had planned on writing a reflection on the past month of writing, my take-aways, if you will. But damned if the universe had different plans for me.

To unwind after a long day, I sat down to watch the latest episode of Grey’s Anatomy. If you are a fan and haven’t watched it yet, stop reading now, as there are some major spoilers in this post. This week’s episode centered around Maggie and her mom, who has cancer. During the episode, Maggie is fighting her mom’s cancer, taking every risk she can to keep her alive, and the steps she takes only end up making her mom sicker and sicker. Her mom ends up stopping the treatment, and later in the episode, she passes.

Just before her mom dies, Maggie says, “She’s gonna go. I’m not ready. I’m not ready.” With tears in her eyes, Meredith responds with, “You’re never ready. You just…do it. Listen to her. Talk to her about whatever she wants to talk about. Record her voice in your mind. Just keep sitting there.” That quote really hit me. Throughout the episode, we see glimpses of Maggie’s journey- the denial, the fighting to stop it, the crushing realization that she can’t, the spending every ounce of time she can with her mom, and the bond between family, blood-related or otherwise.

It was absolutely gut-wrenching. I cried no less than 5 times while watching this episode. I cried because it was an extremely sad story, of course, but it was more than that. I cried because that will be me someday. Someday, my mom will pass. I hope and pray it’s many, many years from now, but the reality is that the pain Maggie experienced will be my pain. Right now, my mom is healthy, active, and leads a full life. She’s not sick, and I hope it doesn’t happen. But in some way, age will catch up to her, like it will to us all, and I will be faced with a devastating loss.

It makes me think about how finite our time is on this earth, and the fact that we need to treasure every moment we have, especially with the people we love. Living abroad means I don’t see my family very often- only twice a year to be exact. I want to make sure that I make those moments count. I want to be more intentional about the time I spend with my mom. I want to listen to her stories, and commit them to memory. I want to learn her recipes, the ones she knows by heart. I want to do things she enjoys, rather than sneaking off to do my own thing. I want to tell her I love her each and every day, because I do, and she needs to know that. I want to tell her thank you for everything she’s done for me, and for being my biggest fan. I want to tell her I know that she loves me so much it hurts, because I can see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. I want her to know how proud I am of her, too, for all the sacrifices and hard work she’s put in to being the best daughter, wife, mother, grandmother, aunt, entrepreneur, and friend she can be. I want to travel with her, and show her my favorite parts of the world, so she can see the world through my eyes, and I can see hers light up with the excitement of new experiences, tastes, sights, and smells.

My mom is one of the best people I know on earth, and without her, I wouldn’t be who I am today. She showed me how to be fierce and independent, something I wonder now if she wishes she’d done a little less of, considering I choose to live alone halfway across the world. She supports me in everything I do, and she loves me unconditionally. It kills me to think about a time without her in my life. Who will I call when I need advice? Or when I’m scared and alone? Or when I just want to celebrate? For now, I’m fortunate I don’t have to think about these things. I’ll just cherish the time we do have. That will have to be enough.

I love you, mom.

 

31-day-streak-with-border

Let’s Get Vulnerable.

On my lunch break, I like to take a few minutes to myself and watch videos on YouTube while I eat my lunch, clearing my mind from the morning. Usually I watch Jimmy Fallon segments, as they’re guaranteed to make me smile. But today was different. Today I scrolled through one of my favorite channels, Soul Pancake, for something new to watch. For those of you who don’t know, Kid President is the brainchild of Soul Pancake.

The That’s What She Said playlist caught my attention. Expecting something light and humorous, something akin to Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, I pushed play. The first episode was entitled “Beauty and Body Image.” Whoa, that got real, real quick.

A focus group of an eclectic group of women sat around a table, talking about body image issues, sharing their perceptions of beauty, particularly their own, as well as recounting times in their lives when they questioned their body. Everyone shared these vignettes from their past when someone said or did something that caused them to doubt their beauty. As I listened to these women laying it all out there, I found myself nodding in agreement, tears welling in my eyes. Why is it that we allow others to define our beauty? Why do we give power to this negativity? Why do we consume media that promotes unattainable beauty standards and think we are less than when we don’t, when we can’t, measure up?

After watching That’s What She Said, I clicked on the That’s What He Said suggested video on the side, not really sure what to expect. The men’s version, entitled “Self Esteem and Body Image,” tackled similar issues related to body image and the messages men receive from others and the media. What surprised me most was that men faced the same things women do. They doubt themselves. They strive to fit this mold of what an attractive man is, someone who’s tall and strong, who can protect their loved ones. It shouldn’t surprise me that they feel this way, but it does. It’s not as widely talked about a topic as it is with women. Listening to them sharing their struggles and concerns was eye-opening. It made me understand a little more what’s beneath the often macho exterior of men.

As I watched both videos, I found myself noticing how beautiful each and every person was. Even as they described issues they had with their bodies, I would think, But look at your eyes; they’re so striking. He has a nice smile, one I’d notice across a room. Her hair is lovely; I wish I had hair like that. Her skin is radiant; I love the way her freckles dot her face. Why is that we can easily notice the beauty in others, but not always see it in ourselves?

Some of the questions and discussions posed in the video got me thinking about my own experiences. How do I feel about my body? First off, I struggle with my weight. I’d like to be much thinner, more fit. I’ve never had a flat stomach. Oh, how I wish I had one. My hair, while a pretty color, doesn’t know what it is. Is it curly? Is it straight? I wish it’d make up its mind. I’ve always been self-conscious of my smile. I have nice eyes, but the dark circles under them have always been there. I wonder if that makes me look tired.

When was the first time I felt not good enough, physically? Thinking back, I was in 7th grade when the self-doubt about my body started to creep in and consume my thoughts. I had always been small growing up. I was short and athletically thin, a result from the endless hours I spent outside running around and riding my bike. In middle school, my body began to change. Puberty hit me full-force, causing my body to grow softer and larger in certain areas. I was no longer thin. I found myself looking at my friends, with their flat stomachs and perfect bodies, and wondering why I didn’t look like that. Boys didn’t pay me much attention, like they did to my friends. I started to call myself fat. I’m pretty sure others did, too.

For the past 20+ years, my weight has fluctuated, from fat to not-as-fat, but I’ve never felt entirely happy with myself when I look in the mirror. I have never worn a bikini. Even when I wore a size 4 (a size 4!), I was too fat for a bikini. I wish I was that fat now.  I can recall, almost verbatim, the times in my life when people I loved have commented on my body. The time when my haircut made my face look too fat; when I wasn’t thin enough for him; when I didn’t look like a model and he deserved that, you know; when I was asked, not so subtlety, if I’d put on weight; when I was asked what I ate that day and whether or not I had worked out; when I was asked what’s wrong with me that I’m still single. Why do I let their commentary continue to play in my head?

When do I feel most beautiful? That’s a hard one. I wouldn’t use the word beautiful to define me. Cute? Maybe. Pretty? Sometimes. But beautiful? Hardly ever. If I had to answer that question, I’d say I feel most beautiful when I’m sharing a story with a friend or laughing with my whole body. If I really think about it, I think that I push people away, afraid to let anyone get too close, because I don’t feel beautiful enough. I feel confident in myself in terms of my personality. I know I’m a good person. I’m intelligent. I’m funny. I’m adventurous. I’m kind. But I lack the physical beauty that people seek. So instead of opening myself up for heartache, I find that I close myself off to others. I hope that the confidence I have in my inner self can be echoed in my confidence in my outer self.

This journey I’m on is definitely a life-long one. Learning to be comfortable in my own skin, accepting who I am and what my body looks like, and gaining self-confidence are all things I’m working on at the moment. I have good days and I have bad days. Today’s not a bad day, but it does leave me thinking.

What Can Happen When You’re Vulnerable- SOL

Earlier this week, TWT posted a quote that resonated with me. I immediately pulled out my writer’s notebook and scribbled it down under “Quotes I Love.” For today’s slice, I thought I’d write in response to it and see where it takes me.

“To write something, you have to risk making a fool out of yourself.” by: Anne Rice

In writer’s workshop, you have to be a risk-taker. When a writer writes, he bares his soul for others to see. Opens himself up. Becomes vulnerable. It can be scary to do that, especially if you don’t feel comfortable with your classmates. If you’re worried about being made fun of or called stupid, you’re less likely to do real writing and far less likely to share your writing with others.

OK, so how can you get past this hurdle? How can you make your classroom a place where students feel comfortable to write and share their true feelings? One way is by modeling. Being authentic and genuine in front of your students. Have you ever truly been your authentic self in your classroom? Have you allowed your students to see the “real” you, not the “teacher version” of you? If you allowed yourself to be open, and showed a bit more of you, you’d be surprised by how the authenticity will spread through your students. Now does this mean you have to reveal your deepest, darkest secrets? No, of course not, but it does mean that you what you write shows who you are. If you’re afraid to write or share your writing with your students, how can you expect them to risk doing it?

As a teacher of writing, it’s important to carve out time to write. To nurture and grow yourself as a writer. I know it’s hard. I know there isn’t always time. I don’t always do it, but when I do, magical things begin to happen. My students value their own writing more, they become more willing to try out new things, and they begin to see writing as life work rather than school work. That’s the point of writer’s workshop, isn’t it?

Sometimes I make a fool out of myself in front of my students. Sometimes this is when I’m sharing my writing, but in doing so, I’m actually showing them that it’s OK. It’s OK to make a fool out of yourself. We all do it. No one’s going to laugh at or ridicule you. We’re a community and we care about and support one another.

Writing about writing and being able to be vulnerable in front of others got me thinking about the value of being vulnerable in other areas of my life. It’s risky to open your heart and show others both your strengths and weaknesses, but the dividends that result from living this kind of authentic life are worth it! I strive to be authentic. I strive to be genuine. I strive to be vulnerable.