December has been a foggy month. Between the rush of job interviewing, negotiations and managing offers, the crash that came after the ink dried on the offer letter left me wanting to do nothing but sleep.
So slept I did. In the midst of holiday preparations and closing out projects while preparing for the transition. Sleep came surprisingly easily.
Strange things happen to your brain and your body when one finds themselves unraveling. Though your brain can still be going a million miles an hour, you also can feel like you're moving through molasses. To those outside observing, one may simply seem out of sorts. But the reality is so much is happening underneath the surface.
The past couple of days have marked a need to reravel. The news of loss (really Universe? It had to be both Carrie Fisher and George Michael within days of one another?) combined with my birthday and finally the urgency with my family to make amends with my grandmothers (apparently they are both on borrowed time) has forced to resurface from the fog I've been in. Be it very reluctantly. I know there's still more healing to do; the hours spent knitting, reading, reflecting and dozing haven't fully cleared my head.
But that will have to be for another time.
Friday, December 30, 2016
Monday, December 26, 2016
#MicroblogMondays: Picking up the needlings
Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.
Knitting has always been a refuge; a gateway to meditation. Like anything that is good for me, I struggle to pick up the needles until well after the point I needed to, but the healing they bring is always immeasurable.
Knitting through the valleys and cliffs of graduate school. Knitting through the trauma, heartache and despair of infertility. And now knitting again through this transition.
Two hats and a set of fingerless gloves down. Martha's hat to go and these gloves for me in progress. Plans for other projects to come.
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
Short
It's been almost 48 hours since the "not No" email and already the drama is in high gear. There's panic about when I can start the position. There's panic about how exactly I did the interview process (really?). But the final component is the one Grey and I have been most concerned about: salary.
One of the hardest realities of being an educator in higher education institutions is how poor the pay is. While tenured faculty can make a comfortable living, those in temporary, non-tenure positions usual make far less (below $50,000 per year is not uncommon). Add in no office space for office hours, lack of job security, uncertainty about benefits and zero voting rights, and you have a subclass of educators who make up the majority of instructors in post-secondary institutions all over this country. There have been efforts to resolve this (unionizing faculty across the country) that have been met with a ton of resistance. The culture is one where university education has become a business, focusing on new dorms, rec centers and wade pools instead of fair pay and support for those who are doing the teaching.
Today I had a meeting with the admin to talk about my offer for this position. After answering a few questions, she told me a number that immediately made my heart sink. Circling back, I began to state my case for how my years of instructional experience warranted that I be in a higher pay grade. Even then, given the argument that it's academia, the offer will be $5000 less than what we were hoping for.
So here I sit in a cafeteria, waiting for my next meeting, feeling frustrated. On the one hand, this opportunity could open doors. I'm also burning out on research, particularly as my bully is still persisting with her toxic campaign, making work a less-than-fun experience. The flip is, what if something better comes along if I just waited it out? The point of being a postdoc is to train and make these connections, something that would become limited again if I took this position due to obligations to the course.
I've been told that I may get a formal offer by Friday. The question is, is it worth it?
One of the hardest realities of being an educator in higher education institutions is how poor the pay is. While tenured faculty can make a comfortable living, those in temporary, non-tenure positions usual make far less (below $50,000 per year is not uncommon). Add in no office space for office hours, lack of job security, uncertainty about benefits and zero voting rights, and you have a subclass of educators who make up the majority of instructors in post-secondary institutions all over this country. There have been efforts to resolve this (unionizing faculty across the country) that have been met with a ton of resistance. The culture is one where university education has become a business, focusing on new dorms, rec centers and wade pools instead of fair pay and support for those who are doing the teaching.
Today I had a meeting with the admin to talk about my offer for this position. After answering a few questions, she told me a number that immediately made my heart sink. Circling back, I began to state my case for how my years of instructional experience warranted that I be in a higher pay grade. Even then, given the argument that it's academia, the offer will be $5000 less than what we were hoping for.
So here I sit in a cafeteria, waiting for my next meeting, feeling frustrated. On the one hand, this opportunity could open doors. I'm also burning out on research, particularly as my bully is still persisting with her toxic campaign, making work a less-than-fun experience. The flip is, what if something better comes along if I just waited it out? The point of being a postdoc is to train and make these connections, something that would become limited again if I took this position due to obligations to the course.
I've been told that I may get a formal offer by Friday. The question is, is it worth it?
Tuesday, December 6, 2016
When the answer isn't no
The email came around 2:30 pm. Preparing to go into the lab to do some bench work, I was checking my phone for any urgent emails when I spotted it. Taking a deep breath and steadying myself against my desk, I opened it and began to scan for the usual rejection line stating that they had decided on another candidate.
First pass yielded nothing.
Shaking my head, I did a quick second pass, glossing over the paragraphs.
Odd.
It was then that I realized I wasn't staring at a rejection letter. I slowly sank into my seat so that I could carefully read the letter that was in front of me.
I'm still waiting on the formal offer letter. Still planning on applying for those other positions that are sitting on my to do list. Even if that looks good, E and I have to figure out how to do this transition. Nothing is finalized and all of this can still fall apart.
But for the first time in a while, the answer isn't no.
First pass yielded nothing.
Shaking my head, I did a quick second pass, glossing over the paragraphs.
Odd.
It was then that I realized I wasn't staring at a rejection letter. I slowly sank into my seat so that I could carefully read the letter that was in front of me.
I'm still waiting on the formal offer letter. Still planning on applying for those other positions that are sitting on my to do list. Even if that looks good, E and I have to figure out how to do this transition. Nothing is finalized and all of this can still fall apart.
But for the first time in a while, the answer isn't no.
Monday, December 5, 2016
#MicroblogMondays: Climbing back in the saddle
Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.
Friday, after spending 2 days feeling sorry for myself, I made the decision to get back into the job hunting game. Shaving my legs, curling my hair and donning a new (to me) dress, I went into work and spent most of the morning updating my resume and searching job boards. The goal is to get back into the routine of hunting, with applying for/inquiring about at least 3-5 positions a week. No matter the outcome, I just need to keep putting myself out there.
To fuel this climb back into the saddle has been the soundtrack from Muriel's Wedding. Nothing like the story of an underdog who finds a way to come out on top to motivate.
Saturday, December 3, 2016
Navigating a jackassed world
*TRIGGER WARNING: Post about motherhood and the Beats ahead. For those not in a place where they want to hear about small children and encounters with other mothers, PLEASE skip this. As always take care of yourself first.
It was a simple incident. One that happened so fast that I find myself questioning it. Did it even happen? Does it truly matter? And yet it's been sitting with me all afternoon. So I might as well get it out.
This morning, as Grey was out running errands, I walked with the Beats down to a local shop to buy a crepe for them for lunch. In an effort to avoid the busy main streets, we walked through the neighborhood. Coming back from the shop, we encountered a woman you was pushing a stroller towards her car parked in front of her house. Eying me and the Beats she said hello before swinging the stroller in next to her car. Seeing that she had loaded a young boy in the stroller and I looked back to see if she would be heading our direction. Knowing I had two small kids on foot, sharing the sidewalk wasn't going to be much of an option.
Once it became clear that she was heading out direction, pointing her stroller directly at us, I stopped the Beats and informed them that we needed to cross the street to make room for the stroller. Looking both ways, we hustled across. As soon as we got to the other side, I heard this woman ask the boy if he wanted to cross the street at the exact location we had vacated. In seconds, she was behind us.
"Can I get by?" she asked sweetly. Looking around, the only option was for me and the Beats to step into the road. Yet she insisted. Looking at her, I pointed out that we had literally just crossed the street to avoid this issue. To which she responded "Oh! But he wanted to cross here." She then pushed passed us, narrowly missing both kids, and proceeded ahead of us.
"Why did she do that Momma?" He-Beat asked me as soon as we were back on the sidewalk. Both shocked and angry, it took me a second to recover before we turned the corner to make our way home.
"I don't know baby," I answered. "Sometimes people do selfish things."
***************
Two weeks ago, Mel and Lori both wrote tandem posts that talked addressed the human selfishness. Lori's post about a driver who parked insanely close to her car, prompting her later reflect on her continuing to think about that incident has been on my mind all afternoon. After all, I was allowing this incident to affect my mood, which wasn't a good thing. But I've been countering Lori's insight of jackassing ourselves with Mel's question about whether people are actually good.
The bow on this inner turmoil is a documentary I recently watched about why people lie. Dan Ariely's work on irrationality isn't new to me, but what stuck with me is all the mechanisms we natural put into play in order to defend behavior that only gives us a slight advantage. We cheat because others are doing it, or we have some sort of inherent right, or because it's only a small fudge and won't really hurt others. Equally striking was how quickly that can all be torn down when people are reminded of their moral code. Ask them to swear on the bible or recall the 10 commandments (even if they are atheist), or simply ask someone to sign an honor code before a test or situation where they have the potential to cheat and cheating/lying disappears. When we are faced with our morality, often it wins.
I recently had my own encounter with morality. I believe in free speech and that conflicting opinions should be heard. Even when I don't agree. Because of this, I have approved 99.9% of comments that have been posted by actual humans to my blog (spam aside, of course). On Wednesday I got my second ever troll comment from LydiaofCO. A new commenter with an account I can't access. The post was simple: "What a great night the election turned out to be! Remember, you preach love, open minded and tolerance. Practice what you preach!" My gut was initially to delete it. After all, who would know. But my moral code had me hold the comment, asking me if doing so was somehow silencing an valid opinion that needs to be heard outside the echo chamber. After all, this is someone who clearly has different views from myself.
At the end of the day, I won't be posting LydiaofCO's comment. I'm not interested in my comments section becoming a forum for others to scream nonsense at one another and, frankly, she doesn't express anything that adds insight to the conversation. But what it did do is provide the final piece to the puzzle today. One of wondering whether a similar exercise for the stroller mother would be useful.
***************
During nap time, I wrote the following letter.
"Dear battling mother,
Just writing this letter alleviated a lot of the pent-up negativity. The question now is whether to send it as I have her address and can easily mail it. On the one hand, am I just adding to the negativity, causing more harm than good (a fear I generally have). But on the other, after living in a world where people block any perceived negative feedback, would the shock of this letter actually benefit? We are living the direct consequence of so many putting their heads in the sand, ignoring the plight and insights of others as it makes us reevaluate ourselves.
Thoughts?
It was a simple incident. One that happened so fast that I find myself questioning it. Did it even happen? Does it truly matter? And yet it's been sitting with me all afternoon. So I might as well get it out.
This morning, as Grey was out running errands, I walked with the Beats down to a local shop to buy a crepe for them for lunch. In an effort to avoid the busy main streets, we walked through the neighborhood. Coming back from the shop, we encountered a woman you was pushing a stroller towards her car parked in front of her house. Eying me and the Beats she said hello before swinging the stroller in next to her car. Seeing that she had loaded a young boy in the stroller and I looked back to see if she would be heading our direction. Knowing I had two small kids on foot, sharing the sidewalk wasn't going to be much of an option.
Once it became clear that she was heading out direction, pointing her stroller directly at us, I stopped the Beats and informed them that we needed to cross the street to make room for the stroller. Looking both ways, we hustled across. As soon as we got to the other side, I heard this woman ask the boy if he wanted to cross the street at the exact location we had vacated. In seconds, she was behind us.
"Can I get by?" she asked sweetly. Looking around, the only option was for me and the Beats to step into the road. Yet she insisted. Looking at her, I pointed out that we had literally just crossed the street to avoid this issue. To which she responded "Oh! But he wanted to cross here." She then pushed passed us, narrowly missing both kids, and proceeded ahead of us.
"Why did she do that Momma?" He-Beat asked me as soon as we were back on the sidewalk. Both shocked and angry, it took me a second to recover before we turned the corner to make our way home.
"I don't know baby," I answered. "Sometimes people do selfish things."
***************
Two weeks ago, Mel and Lori both wrote tandem posts that talked addressed the human selfishness. Lori's post about a driver who parked insanely close to her car, prompting her later reflect on her continuing to think about that incident has been on my mind all afternoon. After all, I was allowing this incident to affect my mood, which wasn't a good thing. But I've been countering Lori's insight of jackassing ourselves with Mel's question about whether people are actually good.
The bow on this inner turmoil is a documentary I recently watched about why people lie. Dan Ariely's work on irrationality isn't new to me, but what stuck with me is all the mechanisms we natural put into play in order to defend behavior that only gives us a slight advantage. We cheat because others are doing it, or we have some sort of inherent right, or because it's only a small fudge and won't really hurt others. Equally striking was how quickly that can all be torn down when people are reminded of their moral code. Ask them to swear on the bible or recall the 10 commandments (even if they are atheist), or simply ask someone to sign an honor code before a test or situation where they have the potential to cheat and cheating/lying disappears. When we are faced with our morality, often it wins.
I recently had my own encounter with morality. I believe in free speech and that conflicting opinions should be heard. Even when I don't agree. Because of this, I have approved 99.9% of comments that have been posted by actual humans to my blog (spam aside, of course). On Wednesday I got my second ever troll comment from LydiaofCO. A new commenter with an account I can't access. The post was simple: "What a great night the election turned out to be! Remember, you preach love, open minded and tolerance. Practice what you preach!" My gut was initially to delete it. After all, who would know. But my moral code had me hold the comment, asking me if doing so was somehow silencing an valid opinion that needs to be heard outside the echo chamber. After all, this is someone who clearly has different views from myself.
At the end of the day, I won't be posting LydiaofCO's comment. I'm not interested in my comments section becoming a forum for others to scream nonsense at one another and, frankly, she doesn't express anything that adds insight to the conversation. But what it did do is provide the final piece to the puzzle today. One of wondering whether a similar exercise for the stroller mother would be useful.
***************
During nap time, I wrote the following letter.
"Dear battling mother,
Today you
had an encounter with myself and my two 3 years olds that presented a safety hazard
to my kids. We were walking home after a trip to store when we encountered you
pushing your stroller out to your car to load your son. In an effort to accommodate
you, I crossed the street with my kids so that you would not be burdened with
having to walk behind two toddlers. I found it interesting that you decided to
cross at the exact same location, knowing full well that there would be two
toddlers walking directly in front of you. When I pointed this out, your excuse
was that your son had requested you cross there even though witnessed you
stopping your stroller and then asking him and being aware that we had just
done the exact same thing.
Three weeks
ago, we learned how deeply divided our country is and how filled with hate so
many of our citizens are. There has been a call to build community both to
weather the pending storm that is coming but also to help foster the next
generation. After our encounter, which left myself and my kids very shaken, we had
a long conversation about selfish behavior and putting ones wants over the
safety and security of others ends up costing us all. Though you may not see
this, your decision effectively was one that forced my kids off the safety of
the sidewalk and into the dangers of the road. This could have easily been avoided
all together given that you could easily have pushed your stroller on the other
sidewalk for a bit and then crossed.
What
followed with this conversation was reasons why people who see themselves as
inherently good make such decisions. We talked about the fact that you could
have been having a bad day. Or that you were sad for some reason. Given how
interested you were in these two, it’s possible you may have had a bad
encounter with another mother who also had toddlers and felt a need to punish
us for someone else’s wrong. You could also be sad as you may be dealing with
secondary infertility or having conflicts with your partner about growing your
family again. Or you could
have just felt a need to pick on someone who seemed foreign to you. After all,
there’s no reason you would ever see us again, so why treat us fairly?
So in a
way, I do have to thank you as this encounter has been the start of a life-long
discussion my husband and I will be having with our kids. About how we need to
model our moral values and hopes for the world. Because the interaction with
you today demonstrated the negative impacts self-centeredness and pettiness
have on us at both as individuals as well as at global level.
I am sorry
that you felt the need to act the way you did. In the end, everyone lost in
that situation. Even your son as you modeled for him that it is okay to treat
others poorly in order to get something you want. It’s so sad because this
mentality only leads racism, xenophobia, bigotry and general fear. It’s a hard
way to go through life. I’m even more sorry that you felt the need to act this
way towards a stranger. That though you and I will likely never cross paths
again (I can’t risk exposing my children to you again as their safety is my
primary concern), you felt a need to treat two toddlers who are significantly
smaller than you and their caretaker in such a manner. "
Just writing this letter alleviated a lot of the pent-up negativity. The question now is whether to send it as I have her address and can easily mail it. On the one hand, am I just adding to the negativity, causing more harm than good (a fear I generally have). But on the other, after living in a world where people block any perceived negative feedback, would the shock of this letter actually benefit? We are living the direct consequence of so many putting their heads in the sand, ignoring the plight and insights of others as it makes us reevaluate ourselves.
Thoughts?
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
Square peg, round hole
Last Tuesday evening, just as I was packing up for my commute home, I got an email thanking me for my application to a position and asking if I would be available the following morning to meet to talk more about it. The offer to meet that evening with such short notice gave me pause, but I wrote this person back telling her I could meet the following morning.
It was the beginning of a whirlwind I wasn't expecting.
The following morning both my graduate advisor and a former colleague contacted me to let me know they had unexpectedly received urgent requests for letters of recommendation. Following my morning meeting, I was contacted by the interviewer informing me that one of the professors who lectures for this course wanted to video conference with me. Could I do it that afternoon before the break? Then came the request for me to set up another video conference with another one of the course professors. Oh, and she wanted me to also talk with her consultant prior to our meeting. Could I fit both in the Tuesday after the holiday break?
By last evening, after riding the interview rollercoaster and experiencing some highs ("we're really excited!!" and "your letters are impressive . . . you have fans.") to a big low (the last interview was filled with me making a lot of mistakes), I found myself curling up on the front stoop at home to allow for a few tears to shed.
Because though I started out utterly pissed off that I was agreeing to meet last minute for a teaching position, potentially throwing me back into the crazy destructive pattern that comes with lecturing in academia, I also allowed myself to get my hopes up and see not only the possibility of what this could offer but also the potential path forward.
All of that tumbling down with 12 hours of silence and me convinced that I fucked it all up.
***********
It goes without saying that job hunting is insanely hard. Networking has become a second job, with me following leads and reaching out for potential opportunities that may not even exist. Applying for positions without an advocate feels utterly useless most of the time, due to the blackhole that is many an HR department. Yet all of it is necessary to get that one hit, that one lead that will lead to the next opportunity.
The problem comes in that a lot of the time I feel like I'm trying to fill a round hole with a square peg. There's also the combined factor that many, many people have advice on how to reshape that peg, but often it's to turn it into a triangle or an oval. Hence a lot of time is also spent listening, trying to glean what advice is helpful but also knowing often the most important part of networking is connecting on some level so that further connections and possibilities can come.
Given all of that, I'm still feeling pretty down. I knew it would take at least a year of solid searching to find a job following this postdoc, but I'm getting tired of the "no"s or "not quite"s. In a way, it reminds me a lot of dating, selling yourself to the other party as someone who could be a good addition to their life. After all, you get dressed up and spend a lot of time putting your best foot forward. Problem is, I wasn't very good at dating either.
**************
Last night I texted Martha to update her on the interview and how it all felt like it was terrible wrong. After the high from last Wednesday where it sounded like a done deal, I needed to confide in someone about my failure. It didn't take long for Martha to help me feel better as she sent this.
It was the beginning of a whirlwind I wasn't expecting.
The following morning both my graduate advisor and a former colleague contacted me to let me know they had unexpectedly received urgent requests for letters of recommendation. Following my morning meeting, I was contacted by the interviewer informing me that one of the professors who lectures for this course wanted to video conference with me. Could I do it that afternoon before the break? Then came the request for me to set up another video conference with another one of the course professors. Oh, and she wanted me to also talk with her consultant prior to our meeting. Could I fit both in the Tuesday after the holiday break?
By last evening, after riding the interview rollercoaster and experiencing some highs ("we're really excited!!" and "your letters are impressive . . . you have fans.") to a big low (the last interview was filled with me making a lot of mistakes), I found myself curling up on the front stoop at home to allow for a few tears to shed.
Because though I started out utterly pissed off that I was agreeing to meet last minute for a teaching position, potentially throwing me back into the crazy destructive pattern that comes with lecturing in academia, I also allowed myself to get my hopes up and see not only the possibility of what this could offer but also the potential path forward.
All of that tumbling down with 12 hours of silence and me convinced that I fucked it all up.
***********
It goes without saying that job hunting is insanely hard. Networking has become a second job, with me following leads and reaching out for potential opportunities that may not even exist. Applying for positions without an advocate feels utterly useless most of the time, due to the blackhole that is many an HR department. Yet all of it is necessary to get that one hit, that one lead that will lead to the next opportunity.
The problem comes in that a lot of the time I feel like I'm trying to fill a round hole with a square peg. There's also the combined factor that many, many people have advice on how to reshape that peg, but often it's to turn it into a triangle or an oval. Hence a lot of time is also spent listening, trying to glean what advice is helpful but also knowing often the most important part of networking is connecting on some level so that further connections and possibilities can come.
Given all of that, I'm still feeling pretty down. I knew it would take at least a year of solid searching to find a job following this postdoc, but I'm getting tired of the "no"s or "not quite"s. In a way, it reminds me a lot of dating, selling yourself to the other party as someone who could be a good addition to their life. After all, you get dressed up and spend a lot of time putting your best foot forward. Problem is, I wasn't very good at dating either.
**************
Last night I texted Martha to update her on the interview and how it all felt like it was terrible wrong. After the high from last Wednesday where it sounded like a done deal, I needed to confide in someone about my failure. It didn't take long for Martha to help me feel better as she sent this.
Trust. Trust. Let yourself fall back into the arms of the Universe. There is a spiritual side to this too. That is the "necessary" part. That it matches your heart. Maybe it is your heart telling you to be careful. Say the feeling you have today were most of the feedback you would get from her. If she offered the job would you want it knowing that? You were interviewing her too. . . . You are here and that is the "perfect." More things will open up if this doesn't. So the hunt is on. Let the games begin. I know rejection and disappointment are not fun but if that is to come to pass you can handle it.And Martha is right. I need to stop assuming that this rejection is somehow solely about me and instead look at it as a process. Easier said than done, especially as I'm still feeling pretty down. But then again, I knew I would have to kiss a lot of frogs. I'm just bummed because this one looked like it could be a pretty awesome prince.
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
#MicroblogMondays: Observations during the commute
Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.
To the ride on the train:
To the bus ride home:
From the walk to the bus stop:
To the ride on the train:
To the bus ride home:
Combined with the articles coming into my inbox, it's been overwhelming how much anger is being highlighted in the world at the moment.
What is missed, though, is the dog on the train who makes everyone in the second car smile as she greets them. Or the people who readily offer an older woman their seat. Or the young man who is teaching two children how to make turn their handprints into turkey on the condensation-rich windows of the bus, afford a mother a few moments of rest. Those small acts of kindness that bond us together, despite the many reminders of what divides us.
Wednesday, November 16, 2016
Where to begin the explaining
It started with me combing his hair. Ignoring protests, I place He-Beat in front of me so I can untangle some strands. It's in that moment that he begins to whimper, crying out "No!" before turning to kick, pinch and punch.
"Do you need to find your calm space?" I ask.
At which point he completely melts, tears streaming down his face.
Giving him a minute to calm down, I kneel so that I'm eye-to-eye with him and tell him that he's loved. As he collapses into my arms, She-Beat comes over to offer him a hug. In an instant Grey is there too. Wrapped in a group hug, I can feel the shudders dissipate.
"We are family," Grey tells them. "We will make it be okay."
*****************
One of the hardest things about this past week is figuring out how to explain all that has happened to the Beats. To children in general. There's been the old advice to leave adult matters to the adults, sheltering them as best we can from all of this. But having grown up in an era where this was the norm, I know this tends to have the opposite effect as children are much more aware then most people give them credit for.
So the question becomes what exactly to tell them. How to explain what is happening in a world we don't fully understand ourselves. And that is where I'm at a loss.
The truth is, I'm terrified of what is to come. I struggle to fully understand how we found ourselves in the situation at hand. All the news coming in at the moment continues to leave me reeling and as much as I want it, the added salt in the wounds has inhibited any healing from happening. There's the additional factor that emotions are still extremely high with a lot of infighting. Combine this with acts of violence and we've got quite a storm.
The past few days I've begun hunting for some sage advice about all of this. Trying to find something that I can use as a foundation for starting these conversations. A recent post by Shreve Stockton has helped. Particularly an email she shares from a friend.
Given all of this, I'm slowly starting to piece together that all of this is going to require baby steps. That there are going to be days that I fuck up royal if not flat out fail. And yet, not trying is not an option. Too much is on the line. The Beats need me to be a model and to create something of a foundation so that they too can do the work that is required of them.
Still, there are many moments I wish we didn't have to do this. That I could instead go back to assuming that the majority of the world isn't as scary as the bubble I believed I solely lived in.
"Do you need to find your calm space?" I ask.
At which point he completely melts, tears streaming down his face.
Giving him a minute to calm down, I kneel so that I'm eye-to-eye with him and tell him that he's loved. As he collapses into my arms, She-Beat comes over to offer him a hug. In an instant Grey is there too. Wrapped in a group hug, I can feel the shudders dissipate.
"We are family," Grey tells them. "We will make it be okay."
*****************
One of the hardest things about this past week is figuring out how to explain all that has happened to the Beats. To children in general. There's been the old advice to leave adult matters to the adults, sheltering them as best we can from all of this. But having grown up in an era where this was the norm, I know this tends to have the opposite effect as children are much more aware then most people give them credit for.
So the question becomes what exactly to tell them. How to explain what is happening in a world we don't fully understand ourselves. And that is where I'm at a loss.
The truth is, I'm terrified of what is to come. I struggle to fully understand how we found ourselves in the situation at hand. All the news coming in at the moment continues to leave me reeling and as much as I want it, the added salt in the wounds has inhibited any healing from happening. There's the additional factor that emotions are still extremely high with a lot of infighting. Combine this with acts of violence and we've got quite a storm.
The past few days I've begun hunting for some sage advice about all of this. Trying to find something that I can use as a foundation for starting these conversations. A recent post by Shreve Stockton has helped. Particularly an email she shares from a friend.
"Several weeks ago my partner said she saw Trump as a heyoka (Lakota clown who mirrors the dark side). The heyoka’s role is to illuminate the shadow and ultimately help the people. In my prayer this morning, in despair at the election, I got back immediately that you do not engage the heyoka. You stay seated on the ground and you do not give into the fear that the heyoka creates. Stay in your prayer. Stay out of speculation. These just feed that kind of energy.
I got very strongly that the best medicine for us as a people is to keep our homes peaceful and calm, to engage in our community, to do all the small things that make up a good life, to remain kind and thoughtful, to stay in our prayer. We are part of the nurturing, and we have no idea how many of our small acts are helping other people, who go on to do other small acts. Strong community, strong neighborhood, strong households."On the heels of this was a post from Lisa about her email to her daughter.
"My job is to set an example for you and teach you to be a good person. I will stand up for you, your dad, and others whenever I can. I'm not entirely sure what that looks like right now, but I hope that by the time you are reading this you can tell me I'm doing a good job. I'm not going to lie, I'm scared. I'm an introvert and I hate confrontation. It makes for an interesting combo. "Grey also reminded me last night that we've already been doing this. For almost 10 years, I haven't felt safe in my own home. Cyrol has been a big factor with this, but so has living in a neighborhood with active prostitution and crime (our parking spot was a favorite for the girls to take their clients, evident each evening by the used condoms). And there's the fact that we also lived next door to a man who was convicted of raping his 16 year old daughter. Until this past year, I could not answer "yes" to the question "do you feel safe in your own home" that my health care providers routinely ask.
Given all of this, I'm slowly starting to piece together that all of this is going to require baby steps. That there are going to be days that I fuck up royal if not flat out fail. And yet, not trying is not an option. Too much is on the line. The Beats need me to be a model and to create something of a foundation so that they too can do the work that is required of them.
Still, there are many moments I wish we didn't have to do this. That I could instead go back to assuming that the majority of the world isn't as scary as the bubble I believed I solely lived in.
Monday, November 14, 2016
#MicroblogMondays: Silver Linings
Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.
"We are the silver lining in any and every dark cloud we could ever find. There is no need to go looking for the light when you bring it with you." ~ Tyler Knott Gregson
The past few days have been hard. The shock of the presidential election results combined with election results from other races has made clear that we are a deeply divided nation. It has also shown how out of touch both political establishments and the media are with the silent majority that voted as well as those who chose not to vote (this lowest in 20 yrs). Adding to all of this is the fighting. Either through the protests or people screaming into the online world about who is worse and why they are right with their choices. We are a grieving nation, waffling between denial, anger and sadness.
Slowly the call for unity has been becoming heard. The reality is these attacks aren't going to unite us has started to sink in. And we are a country that desperately needs to be united; finding peace in compromise and recognizing that none of us approaches anything from the same point of view.
The question many are asking is "what now?"
So simple and yet revealing a road forward that is very complex.
*******************
Grey woke me at 4 am on November 9th with the news about Trump winning the race. Lying in bed, I immediately felt the familiar burning tingle that comes with grief. Over those morning hours, we both cycled between the numb, the sadness and the anger. The next day we would throw in schemes of bargaining. But like with miscarriage and loss, we knew deeply that there was no going back. Despite picking apart all that had gone terribly wrong, the reality is that one can't undo the damage of the brick through the window. Like with infertility, the scars are going to be too deep.
So in addition to asking "what now?", a mission has emerged. Embracing that call to unity has also come the call to promote the change and values we want to see. Starting within our family and those we love, but expanding outward unapologetically through a manner that embraces love and empathy. Already Grey has been better at this, reaching out to loved ones and dear friends through emails and texts, letting them know we are thinking of them and will stand by them. I've been slower with adding my voice as my mind has been racing and foggy (all due to grief). Still it needs to be done. The factor I've been considering is how do I start.
This morning while the Beats were eating breakfast, they excitedly pointed out all the tiny rainbows that filled the living room due to prism I had attached to the window. And in that moment as they played with those rainbows, it dawned on me: I need to start by finding the slivers of hope. The silver linings
*****************
"We are the silver lining in any and every dark cloud we could ever find. There is no need to go looking for the light when you bring it with you." ~ Tyler Knott Gregson
The past few days have been hard. The shock of the presidential election results combined with election results from other races has made clear that we are a deeply divided nation. It has also shown how out of touch both political establishments and the media are with the silent majority that voted as well as those who chose not to vote (this lowest in 20 yrs). Adding to all of this is the fighting. Either through the protests or people screaming into the online world about who is worse and why they are right with their choices. We are a grieving nation, waffling between denial, anger and sadness.
Slowly the call for unity has been becoming heard. The reality is these attacks aren't going to unite us has started to sink in. And we are a country that desperately needs to be united; finding peace in compromise and recognizing that none of us approaches anything from the same point of view.
The question many are asking is "what now?"
So simple and yet revealing a road forward that is very complex.
*******************
Grey woke me at 4 am on November 9th with the news about Trump winning the race. Lying in bed, I immediately felt the familiar burning tingle that comes with grief. Over those morning hours, we both cycled between the numb, the sadness and the anger. The next day we would throw in schemes of bargaining. But like with miscarriage and loss, we knew deeply that there was no going back. Despite picking apart all that had gone terribly wrong, the reality is that one can't undo the damage of the brick through the window. Like with infertility, the scars are going to be too deep.
So in addition to asking "what now?", a mission has emerged. Embracing that call to unity has also come the call to promote the change and values we want to see. Starting within our family and those we love, but expanding outward unapologetically through a manner that embraces love and empathy. Already Grey has been better at this, reaching out to loved ones and dear friends through emails and texts, letting them know we are thinking of them and will stand by them. I've been slower with adding my voice as my mind has been racing and foggy (all due to grief). Still it needs to be done. The factor I've been considering is how do I start.
This morning while the Beats were eating breakfast, they excitedly pointed out all the tiny rainbows that filled the living room due to prism I had attached to the window. And in that moment as they played with those rainbows, it dawned on me: I need to start by finding the slivers of hope. The silver linings
*****************
Three weeks ago was my 5th blogoversary. When I started this blog in the fall of 2011, I naively believed that to be happy in life required finding one, solitary silver lining to the trauma that was a recent diagnosis and losing my family. I believed that a baby would help heal the wounds, helping me find my way back to being whole. Going through the first part of 2012, I held onto that belief even after our first loss. It wasn't until my second loss, the one that broke my heart into a million pieces, that I began to rethink this definition. In my grief, I began to see how wounded and battered I already was coming into this journey, but now the facade I had generated in an attempt to cover those flaws had been stripped away. And so as Grey and I began to explore adoption, recovered from the failure of our 3rd FET and focus on healing ourselves and our marriage, did I begin to see that the silver lining wasn't singular and nor was it a person in the form of a baby. And it wasn't something external, created only from perfection and one defined version of beauty.
This idea expanded even more following a post by Keiko Zoll where she wrote about being grateful for her infertility. Published just I was starting Lupron for my final FET, I remember being shocked at first from reading that anyone could be grateful for this life-changing disease. At the time, this post was a hard one for me. Whereas other post-infertility posts, like this one from Tertia, certainly rang true, the whole idea of being grateful for the heartache, the losses, the pain and the rage seemed a bit over the top.
Yet these posts stayed with me. Making me think more and more about my own journey, not only through infertility but life in general. It stayed with me through my pregnancy, a difficult delivery, time in the NICU and through the past few years as I've navigated my way through learning how to parent and a major move. And now again with this election.
In a weird way, as terrible as infertility is, I've been finding many many reasons to be grateful for that journey into the land of being the worse case-scenario. There was so much needless pain and suffering that came, along with isolation and separation. And yet, without having traveled this path, spending my time in the trenches, I would not have learned some of the most valuable lessons that have radically changed me on so many levels: personally, professionally and even spiritually.
In short, though originally I was looking solely for one silver lining, instead I've found (and continue to find) many.
And I think that even though the worlds seems like a dark and scary place, those slivers of light are still shining through. In some ways, far more intensely than ever.
******************
So how does one begin, especially when all seems so hard and painful? Maybe it starts with emails of love and unity. Maybe it starts with mobilizing those around you at the local government level. But maybe it also starts with finding that reason to smile again. Finding those tiny bits of wonder that exist in the world. Because once we find our inner light and give it permission to shine into the world, the rest can come. Finding those silver linings despite a trauma allows us to build for what we want in this world.
And there's no better time to start than now.
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
The worst case scenario
*I've been drafting this poem in my head for a couple of months now. Afraid to share it as I'm far from a poet. But today it seems fitting.
No one wants to be her: the worst case scenario
The sadness in her eyes is telling
An undesired outcome
A dream that was lost along the way
No one wants to imagine the life she leads
This worst case scenario
Grief a familiar shroud;
Myths and misconceptions surround
Assumptions of a regret for an unobtained goal
But if you ask her, this worst case scenario
About her journey along the way
If you listen carefully to the words that she'll say
Though she'll tell you of loss
The sharp pain felt so dear
She'll, too, tell you for the joy she's felt
The battles won
The moments and lessons that have shaped her now
And who she will become
Because the greatest stories all involve
A worst case scenario
It's just that it marks a new beginning
Not a permanent end
No one wants to be her: the worst case scenario
The sadness in her eyes is telling
An undesired outcome
A dream that was lost along the way
No one wants to imagine the life she leads
This worst case scenario
Grief a familiar shroud;
Myths and misconceptions surround
Assumptions of a regret for an unobtained goal
But if you ask her, this worst case scenario
About her journey along the way
If you listen carefully to the words that she'll say
Though she'll tell you of loss
The sharp pain felt so dear
She'll, too, tell you for the joy she's felt
The battles won
The moments and lessons that have shaped her now
And who she will become
Because the greatest stories all involve
A worst case scenario
It's just that it marks a new beginning
Not a permanent end
Tuesday, November 8, 2016
When puppies say it best
Somehow I got it into my head that watching election results return was a good idea. . . .
 |
| On the left: Oscar; representing how I want to feel. On the right: Grace; how I'm actually feeling |
Monday, November 7, 2016
#MicroblogMondays: Over it
Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.
Today has been a cranky mood day. Cranky in that not only am I feeling it but other's have been exhibiting it towards me (almost walked out of a meeting due to it). On days like these, all I really want to do is go home and pull the covers over my head.
I get the feeling others want to too.
So in this cranky space, instead of voicing opinions about politics, state of the world and even general human interactions, I'm taking a moment to list off what is good in this moment. Like that the leaves are turning or that there was an extra hour of sleep. That even though I'm clueless with some things, others I seem to understand. That tomorrow is a new day. And that even when the worst does happen, it's rarely as bad as we imagine it to be.
That sunshine has a way of finding it's way into dark corners.
Monday, October 31, 2016
#MicroblogMondays: A Halloween Blessing
Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.
Pumpkins and paint. Costumes to be assembled. Anticipation of a night of tricks and treats. Spookiness around each corner. There's been excitement in our house, with questions about when Halloween is coming (usually combined with bouncing). Flashes of my own childhood have been at the forefront of my mind.
But so has the memory of 3 yrs spent avoiding all triggers.
Today marks the beginning of the holiday season. A period focused around children and one specific version of family. Those who don't fit into this definition are either omitted or forgotten. Those who struggle with any emotions outside of complete happiness are often shunned.
In light of that, in the midst of an evening focused around ghouls, goblins, magic and make-believe, a night where alter egos are celebrated, allowing sides not normally seen to be displayed, I want to offer a blessing and reminder. For this night is also a sacred night to those who celebrate Samhain. A marking of a new year. And with that comes an entering into a period of death, a winter, that is necessary to usher in rebirth.
So to all who hurt today, finding triggers around those spooky corners, I wish you an evening with moments of peace and the knowledge that from death, life can be reborn. Though not always in the form or manner that we planned for, there is beauty that can come. Blessed be to you and to all.
Friday, October 21, 2016
Measuring myself
"I read somewhere how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong, but to feel strong. To measure yourself at least once. To find yourself at least once in the most ancient of human conditions."
~ Christopher McCandless (aka Alexaxder SuperTramp); Into the Wild
I rarely cry with movies. Though many stories have characters I can connect with, it's rare that the emotions of a moment, such as death or tragedy or loss, for the character bring me to tears. So it was a rare moment at the end of Into the Wild where the tears easily flowed. The touching of a personal truth.
For a long time I've struggled with finding my road through life. While others around me happily settled onto a particular path, I've never found something that I can truly settle into. On the one hand, having the comfort of predictability and stability seems ideal, especially during moments where I feel overwhelmed. To not live paycheck to paycheck, to be able to afford regular vacations and to know exactly what the work day will entail. On the other hand, though, is the knowledge that such stability often leads to me being bored at best, if not severely depressed. Its in those moments of stability that I've craved finding meaning and adventure. And so I find myself dropping the stability and looking for opportunities to live more on the edge.
In the past, this testing limits has come in different forms. From moving to Seattle with only a small cushion of money and no job lined up, to pursuing graduate school, to pursuing risker outdoor sports (rock-climbing, cliff jumping, skiing out of bounds and hiking trips through rougher terrain) dating Grey (we initially didn't get along) and decisions made will in the treatment trenches, those moments/decisions to do something outside my comfort zone have brought insights and benefits that I wouldn't have known otherwise.
With job hunting, I've found myself facing the dilemma almost daily. I come across opportunities that would offer stability and good pay, but I usually find my stomach turning with the thought of solely being confined behind a desk, clocking hours solely so someone else can become a little richer.
On the other end is the excitement that comes with science education research, pursuing grants and utilizing my skills in a way that truly would have an impact. The problem there, though, is knowing that there's a lot of risk with grant writing as one's position is constantly focused on finding grant opportunities continually applying as funding rates are at an all time low.
In a weird way, I'm measuring myself. This transition in career has become a strange journey of applying all the lessons I've learned and determining what road ahead is the one to pursue that will allow me to live with myself. To have no regrets both in making the best decisions for my family's security but also finding enough meaning in my world so that I'm also being true to this need for adventure.
Maybe that's why those tears came so readily last night. Why today has been more of an emotional one. That though Chris McCandless's story ends with him dying alone in the middle of the wilderness due to starvation and poor planning, he did so living a life filled with meaning and purpose.
~ Christopher McCandless (aka Alexaxder SuperTramp); Into the Wild
I rarely cry with movies. Though many stories have characters I can connect with, it's rare that the emotions of a moment, such as death or tragedy or loss, for the character bring me to tears. So it was a rare moment at the end of Into the Wild where the tears easily flowed. The touching of a personal truth.
For a long time I've struggled with finding my road through life. While others around me happily settled onto a particular path, I've never found something that I can truly settle into. On the one hand, having the comfort of predictability and stability seems ideal, especially during moments where I feel overwhelmed. To not live paycheck to paycheck, to be able to afford regular vacations and to know exactly what the work day will entail. On the other hand, though, is the knowledge that such stability often leads to me being bored at best, if not severely depressed. Its in those moments of stability that I've craved finding meaning and adventure. And so I find myself dropping the stability and looking for opportunities to live more on the edge.
In the past, this testing limits has come in different forms. From moving to Seattle with only a small cushion of money and no job lined up, to pursuing graduate school, to pursuing risker outdoor sports (rock-climbing, cliff jumping, skiing out of bounds and hiking trips through rougher terrain) dating Grey (we initially didn't get along) and decisions made will in the treatment trenches, those moments/decisions to do something outside my comfort zone have brought insights and benefits that I wouldn't have known otherwise.
With job hunting, I've found myself facing the dilemma almost daily. I come across opportunities that would offer stability and good pay, but I usually find my stomach turning with the thought of solely being confined behind a desk, clocking hours solely so someone else can become a little richer.
On the other end is the excitement that comes with science education research, pursuing grants and utilizing my skills in a way that truly would have an impact. The problem there, though, is knowing that there's a lot of risk with grant writing as one's position is constantly focused on finding grant opportunities continually applying as funding rates are at an all time low.
In a weird way, I'm measuring myself. This transition in career has become a strange journey of applying all the lessons I've learned and determining what road ahead is the one to pursue that will allow me to live with myself. To have no regrets both in making the best decisions for my family's security but also finding enough meaning in my world so that I'm also being true to this need for adventure.
Maybe that's why those tears came so readily last night. Why today has been more of an emotional one. That though Chris McCandless's story ends with him dying alone in the middle of the wilderness due to starvation and poor planning, he did so living a life filled with meaning and purpose.
Monday, October 17, 2016
MicroblogMondays: from infertile soil
Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.
This past weekend Grey and I took the Beats apple picking. Per recommendations from Grey's coworkers, we selected an older orchard that was only 30 mins away, allowing us a morning of fun without having to sacrifice nap time.
As Grey and I chased two excited preschoolers among the trees, Grey pointed out the large granite stones embedded in the earth. Tapping them, I immediately had visions of how destructive they would be to a plow, making farming for crops a next to impossible event.
Yet the trees didn't seem to mind. In fact, as Grey pointed out, they were thriving. Soil that was not fit for farming was actually perfect for an orchard.
I've been thinking a lot about this observation and how this theme plays throughout life. There's my current theme of career transition (so much going on there at the moment), but there have been other themes too. From life goals to dating to family building. There's what I originally had in my mind as being ideal and perfect, fighting to make something work that clearly wasn't a good fit.
How I use to curse this seemingly infertile soil I had been given.
Without that soil, though, I wouldn't have discovered some amazing fruits. Something precious that most aren't willing to consider given the toil involved.
This past weekend Grey and I took the Beats apple picking. Per recommendations from Grey's coworkers, we selected an older orchard that was only 30 mins away, allowing us a morning of fun without having to sacrifice nap time.
As Grey and I chased two excited preschoolers among the trees, Grey pointed out the large granite stones embedded in the earth. Tapping them, I immediately had visions of how destructive they would be to a plow, making farming for crops a next to impossible event.
Yet the trees didn't seem to mind. In fact, as Grey pointed out, they were thriving. Soil that was not fit for farming was actually perfect for an orchard.
I've been thinking a lot about this observation and how this theme plays throughout life. There's my current theme of career transition (so much going on there at the moment), but there have been other themes too. From life goals to dating to family building. There's what I originally had in my mind as being ideal and perfect, fighting to make something work that clearly wasn't a good fit.
How I use to curse this seemingly infertile soil I had been given.
Without that soil, though, I wouldn't have discovered some amazing fruits. Something precious that most aren't willing to consider given the toil involved.
We're told we reap what we sow. But often it's more than that given where we are sowing seeds. Infertile soil that can yield something special.