Roll with it

Day 4 of the school year has been completed, with Maddy and Teddy navigating distance learning. Due to our essential workers' status, Grey and I enrolled both kids into a learning pod at their school for the morning instruction followed by a pod for aftercare, leaving me to cover school instruction post-lunch. There have been so many balls in the air just with navigating how distance learning is happening for these kids  (Google Classroom, Zoom meetings, and Seesaw), so adding in this learning pod arrangement has also been another level.

Never mind the fact I've been teaching from 10 pm -12 am my time for the past 2 weeks, developing curriculum, running pilots, and managing the panicked state/lack of attention from my learners.

It would be logical to be insanely anxious about all of this, but looking at the schedule on Sunday and after having a short cry due to a house being in utter chaos, I found the Id part of my brain took over and the theme became "roll with it."

Yes, both kids have missed a couple Zoom meetings. Yes, we've been missing worksheets during lessons (which I've had to recreate on the fly). Yes, we're all exhausted and need a weekend to recharge. But the beauty of rolling with it, accepting that "good enough" is the hero in the story of what should be utter chaos and that recognizing how much the teachers, both at school and in their learning pods, are giving to make this work, is seeing the potential of what can be done and recognizing the changes we're long overdue to be made.

For the past 2 weeks, I've been taking a Virtual Trainer course with my coworkers. And what we've been confronting through the absence of in-person instruction is the recognition that many things we thought were working actually weren't working as well as we thought. It has been hard to see curriculum and practices that have been the labor of love for so many literally getting tossed in the waste bin, and I can confess I've had my moments of panic seeing things I thought were done going back into draft mode. But what's been coming out is something that wouldn't have been possible before; seeing the budding of projects and curriculum that was previously dormant.

A year ago, a paper was published about how paradigm shifts occur when star scientists die. The argument made by the authors is that change can't happen when those dominating a field or thought process are still occupying the stage. I for one am going to argue that the pandemic has ushered in a new form of death, shifting so many perceptions about life and how the world functions. The rules that existed for so long, with certain practices being best are in direct contradiction with keeping people safe. Survival means listening to the outsiders in order to find a new way.

I'll confess, I still have my moments. A midnight training on software really didn't go the way I hoped, leaving me in a bit of a panic. Sending Maddy and Teddy to learning pods leaves me with a since of guilt as others talk about how they are making the decision to keep their kids home (I commend them; it's not an option for us). And it's been a week of adjustments for all of us. 

But the beauty of rolling with it, accepting that there isn't a perfect, has allowed for so much good to come about even after 4 days. To hear the kids are better with masks and social distancing than most adults, to be learning new tricks for Zoom from them (they found the emojis for the chat function), and to be able to take what they are doing and incorporating with global training for a biotech company that is on the front-lines of this pandemic and learning that we're actually training better than before, has been something to hold onto. All of it "good enough" instead of "perfect." I'm starting to see the value in that.

Bob

I remember the first time I had to tread water while holding a 10 lbs brick. I was 15 years old, enrolled in Lifeguard training, and we were going over all the requirements needed to pass certification. Distance swimming wasn't a problem for me (still isn't) and mastering all the holds, maneuvers, and First Aid was something I knew wasn't going to be a problem. But sitting in the deep end of the pool, looking at the bricks, which were meant to simulate holding a human head,  I remember wondering how in the world I was going to keep my nose above water for more than 10 mins.

Full disclosure, there was a failure in those first few attempts,  including me sinking like a stone after 10 seconds on that first day, but with trial and error I eventually figured out how to kick, position the brick on my body to stay afloat and push through the panic of feeling like you're about to sink. But another thing I learned is how to hold just enough air in my body combined with spreading out my body on the water, allowing me to bob on the surface enough to hold that brick well beyond those 10 minutes.

I've been having flashes of bobbing over the last month as my manager has returned from maternity leave and we're in the thick of trainings. Her first week back was basically someone throwing her into the deep end with cement blocks strapped to her legs as the pandemic has scuddled any in-person trainings, but the demand for virtual trainings is at an all-time high. It's been rocky, with both of us trying to figure out how to navigate everything, especially since she came back to a whole new program that she didn't have much say in building, but I've been surprised that things have been progressing in the direction that I've hoped for. A silver lining in all of this.

But as I've been sitting in professional trainings for me, geared towards eLearning design and delivery, I've witnessed how many have been struggling with this new reality and are finding it difficult to adjust. Part of this comes from a lack of guidance and structure, with no direction from their leadership on how to pivot into the virtual space and making teaching more effective. But there's also been roadblocks in mindset around this adjustment, with the assumption still that online learning is a poor second option compared to in-person training. What few are exploring is why this mindset exists, how it can be adjusted, and whether it's masking something that has actually been limping along and not working terribly well despite these assumptions.

I have so many thoughts on change and how humans see the world. There's been so much of it recently, all sparked by a novel virus that we are still learning about every day. And while it's easy to blame everything on SARS-CoV-2, what people are slowing coming around to is the fact that we were living under a false sense of security that everything was fine and working well. Never mind that racism is very much alive, Rich Asshole syndrome is a huge problem and at the root of many of our societal ills, and we as a global community have our priorities wrong as tax-cuts are pushed to the collapse of community and social issues (*cough*cough* public education *cough*cough*). 

All that without talking about the Elephant-known-as-Trump in the room.

All said and done, though, I have been witnessing people who truly have no other option, learning how to bob. My manager demonstrated this today as we sat through our training together, with the facilitator repeating a lot of the same principles and guidance I've been talking about over the past month. There's still resistance to change and I'm still witnessing old assumptions, but I'm also seeing signs of shifting as the messaging is coming from multiple sources. I've also been seeing this in my community too, with people finally venturing away from the echo chambers, being willing to listen and seeing the value of community. "Us vs. them" is becoming very unpopular.

In short, though I'm exhausted, I'm still somehow afloat while desperately treading water with cement boots. I'm seeing this from others too. May we all continue to bob.

#MicroblogMondays: Follow

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When the blinders come off

I remember the first time I was accused of being racist. I was new to the condo board and Cyrol and I had begun to battle over his treatment of other people. In a rage, after I pointed out that he wasn't being fair about a situation involving the property manager, he responded that I was being racist and not respecting his cultural viewpoint. The goal of throwing out "racist" was simple: it was meant to shut-down the conversation and allow him to win, but at that moment I remember being horrified that a label I found so abhorrent was being applied to me as that was not how I saw myself in the world.

The past few weeks have ripped the blinders off so many, forcing them to confront their privilege and racial viewpoints. The response has been mixed on this front. One camp is hearing the call to begin educating themselves, focusing on listening and approaching the situation with curiosity despite being painfully uncomfortable with the truth. Then there's the other camp, where the focus is on justify their stances, fighting to maintain the labels and self-identification that allowed them a level of comfort in the world. What been interesting about this camp is watching to see how their fear drives them almost to the point of absurdity; maintaining their arguments even when it's clear that doing so is harming others. And that one very easy way to win this argument is to distract, playing a card about victimization or being harmed themselves.

It's no secret that humans struggle to talk about unpleasant truths. Racism definitely falls into that category, but so does gender identity and sexual preference. But this problem is more pervasive than these topics, present in any community where some hold power (social or political). Substitute "racist" with "radical," "judgemental," "sinner," or "oppressor," and you end up with a similar outcome, where those doing the screaming hide behind some moral justification they have for why they are threatening others. What it really is is an exposure of fragility and an awakening that what they hold true is in danger of being proven wrong.

One truth I learned to embrace is that being called "racist" isn't the worst thing that can happen to me. The worst thing that can happen is that I allow my fear of being labeled to prevent me from removing the blinders and finding learning from what's happening around me. True learning involves pain and failure, making mistakes, and stumbling. It means having to apologize for not knowing better and being embarrassed while being corrected. True learning means looking incompetent and weak; feeling like one is failing despite efforts made to do better. It's often an uncomfortable and demoralizing process, especially when the stakes are so high. And yet, not doing this work and leaving the blinders on is far more destructive. I believe that it's generationally hazardous.

On my end, my moments of misstep had good outcomes. With Cyrol, his accusation masked his own racism and bigotry, which ultimately lead to him stalking me for close to 11 years, ending with a judge warning him that his behavior was punishable (he would later be fired from the Seattle Public School District for racist statements inside the classroom). This week, I watched as other rallied around Samantha Francine as she refused to back down while being attacked by an aggressive man during a peaceful protest. And then there's been the outpouring of support for the transgender community on the heel of J.K. Rowling's essay denouncing the transgender community. Despite her claims that she is protecting women from becoming victims, people have been holding her accountable for her words.

My hope is that the good people are seeing will help convince them to keep the blinders off and take risks with learning and growing despite the fear of revealing some uncomfortable truths. 

#MicroblogMondays: Shut up and listen

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It's been a week of listening. From conversations with connections inside and outside higher education to reading about anti-racism, a lot of my free time has been processing everything I allowed myself to be blind to. It's been hard to confront, but already rewarding as I've been starting to fit pieces together that previously didn't have places in the puzzle. 

But with all this good, I've been frustrated by side conversations that have been happening about feminism. And though I consider myself a feminist, what has left me angry is listening to those who embody privilege within feminism trying to align their own experience with the Black Lives Matter movement. 

In 2018, Rachel Cargle, a black feminist activist, wrote a piece in Harper Bazaar about toxic white feminism and how it's drowning out the message from anyone outside the white feminist mindset. It's a hard piece, as is this follow up one, but what was striking is that the same thing that happened then is happening now, with co-opting and silencing of the message by those who see themselves in certain lights who are finding themselves challenged and the backlash that follows. Instead of listening, probing deeper, and exploring, the result is to drown out or attack. 

To those who are deviating from the Black Lives Movement message, adding their tangents on feminism, I want to remind you that Amy Cooper considers herself not racist and a liberal feminist. 

Sit with that for a moment. 

This woman, who wore a mask and embodies so much of what we believe feminism should look like, made a false police report on an African American man solely because he asked her to follow the rules and leash her dog. This same woman likely has joined in discussion groups about patriarchy and how suppressed women are, advocating for "leaning-in" and equal rights. 

One of the hardest things about confronting one's own racism as recognizing one's own discomfort and learning to shut up instead of drowning out the conversation. Is patriarchy real? Absolutely. But many who are writing about it at this time aren't risking their lives to do so. They don't give a second thought about whether they will end up dead from raising their voices. And they don't seem willing to understand why diluting the message from this movement is a problem. That white fragility is very real and damaging, adding to the harm those who are risking their lives to speak out face.

It's time to shut up and listen. Suppressing the urge to align your views of life with those who are raising their voices. I can guarantee that doing this listening and reflection is going to make you uncomfortable, making you face your privilege. But the work is long overdue. Remember that Amy Cooper never owned her racist act, choosing instead to hide behind the defense of "not being racist" and playing the victim. Frankly, I don't want to live in a world where this response is seen as okay, because Amy Cooper doesn't represent the type of feminism I want to support. It's time to give the stage to those who do.

Leveling

This past week has been filled with uncertainty. Living on the east side of the Bay Area means that we've had a curfew and been on high alert for potential violence and looting. My neighbors, many of whom have lived in suburbia their entire lives, have been experiencing a new level of anxiety as the protests have come into this place they have called home. It's been interesting to watch as being able to leave isn't an option and most have never experienced the reality of that.

On our end, both Grey and I have been conflicted. If Maddy and Teddy weren't here and still so young combined with the pandemic and us not knowing whether we've already been infected by SARS-CoV-2, we would be marching. In the absence of this, we've been donating to organizations that support this movement and making a point to support those in our community who have been harmed. All of it feels minimal, meaning we've decided it's overdue to begin looking outside ourselves and learning more.

Admitting that my thinking is flawed is not something new to me. When it came to parenting, I knew from the beginning that I didn't have a healthy foundation given the abuse I suffered as a child. So from the beginning, I worked to reframe what it meant to be a "parent," actively working against the defaults and instincts and seeking help to restructure how I viewed children, not only my own but others around me. A process of leveling that meant debunking myths and half-truths with data, counterexamples, and information that has led to a healthy mindset. It's not been easy, given that there are 30+ years of programming I've had to mindfully confront and there have been many moments of extreme hatred I've felt towards my parents for not doing this work (another topic for another day). But the work has been important as I knew from the beginning that I couldn't continue the generational practices that were passing on harm. If I wanted things to change, it meant that the work had to start with me.

With this mindset, I've begun to actively explore anti-racism literature and teachings, with the goal not only to learn about also to begin this conversation with Maddy and Teddy. Ibram Kendi has long been someone I've read, but it's time to dive deeper into his essays and to expand to the writings of others. Similarly, we're overdue to find authors to help us with this discussion with Maddy and Teddy. Meaning I have a lot of homework to do.

The final component, though, is Grey and I need to explore our own racism. This means admitting some hard truths about what we were taught by people we love and trust and confronting the messaging we were feed for so long. It's not easy because no one wants to be seen in this light, but I also have experience with being on the other side of privilege and being forced into silence because the message that was harming me made someone who was benefiting uncomfortable. The memory of that trauma and pain is still very real, making it easier to empathize and be open to the realities of the privileges I benefitted from.

So begins the processing of leveling: of bringing to light the message that has been suppressed for too long and silencing those who have dominated the conversation. Of not allowing those who have had privilege to hide behind the myth that they have "earned" it, despite their blindness to the advantages they had to even begin earning. And to begin rebuilding.

It's not going to be easy, but as before doing this work isn't solely about me. That makes it all the more important.

#MicroblogMondays: Noise

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I grew up outside Minneapolis. As a teen, I spent many a weekend or summer day venturing into the city, exploring the Uptown area and Nicollet Ave. I have fond memories of walking around Lake Harriet and Lake Nokomis. 

But as much as I loved this region, one thing I knew was odd was the lack of diversity. My high school and neighborhood were primarily white, with only a handful of kids who were African American. This absence of cultural diversity led to an insularity, with the naive assumption that racism was a thing from my parents' generation. It wouldn't be until I left home and began college that I would begin to see how wrong that assumption was. And it wouldn't be until I began working with under-represented populations that I would actually hear the stories first-hand, witness that damage of racism, and learn that the work is far from over.

Over the weekend, one of Grey's coworkers found himself being profiled after he had to evacuate his home due to the violence from the protests. Grey didn't hesitate to give him the day out to recover from the trauma of that experience, but it led us to reflect on the privileges we grew up with and how the teachings of "color-blindness" and "white silence" have exacerbated the problem. Adding to this conversation is that our town is in lockdown due to the violence only a few miles from us with a curfew in place to curb that violence. All the while I'm well aware that no one would bat an eye if I was out solely because of my appearance the color of my skin.

It's hard not to be angry with all of this. I'm worried sick for the people I consider friends who could easily be hurt if they say or do something that is considered "wrong." I have nothing by violent feelings towards the man-child who was elected to lead the U.S. But the thing I'm blind with rage over is that so many are trying to use this movement for their own gain, twisting a message that very much needs to be embraced, which is that no one, no matter their age, skin color, ethnicity, or creed, should fear for their lives simply because they are walking down the street or engaging in daily activities. 

So, despite how unpopular I know I will be, it's time to begin making noise again. It's time to start embracing the message of spreading anti-racism, acknowledging privilege, and focusing on the work needed to be done. It includes holding people like Amy Cooper accountable and making sure that those who murdered George Floyd are brought to justice. And it means being okay with uncomfortable silences. Because one thing is very clear after the pandemic and this recent round of senseless murders: it's time for change.

The end and the beginning

We're currently in the tail-end of a heatwave here in our region of the Bay Area. For the past 2 days, temperatures have been over 100 degrees F (39 degrees C for all of you who use the metric system) with today being 10 degrees cooler (only 32 degrees C). I've been tempted to place a frying pan on the sidewalk to see if I could actually fry an egg, but I've been too physically drained to do much more than what you see Jaxson doing (and he looks a lot sexier than I do while doing it).

In the midst of this, Maddy and Teddy have been finishing their last week of school. Though they are both ready for a break from distance learning and super excited about completing 1st grade, there's an element of sadness as they want to see their teachers and their classmates. Video conferencing isn't filling that social need for either of them, resulting in a happy/sad experience as the school year closes. The added layer is I've been running trainings twice daily, with learners all over the world. I've got 2 more sessions, so the end is in sight, but it's not over.

As I've been working with both kids to wrap up the school year, I've been thinking about this happy/sad that comes with being in the middle of the end and the beginning. When the shelter-in-place orders first came out in March, no one could have imagined the world we knew would forever be changed and that we'd be entering a new normal. Though I've extremely proud of how well my whole family has been weathering this, Grey and I also have acknowledged that we're only just seeing hints of the beginning of what this new world will look like.

• Masks are now the norm, with me only not wearing one when outdoors where I can put a good amount of distance between myself and others. I don't see this changing for quite a while.
• Laptops are now are a requirement to learning, with me learning how to adapt asynchronous learning for learners with ADHD.
• Grey and I are very proud to be working for a company that is one of the first to implement testing for COVID-19. Leadership has gone to great extents to make sure all of us are safe, taking additional precautions so that Grey can continue working in the lab without fear of becoming sick.
• Additionally, I've been impressed by the community surrounding us. It's not perfect, but many are trying, working to be patient with each other, and finding ways to help one another.
• That said, we know that fear is still very high. I watched a man go into a full meltdown the other day because someone asked him to put his mask about his nose. It took a bit to calm him, as it was clear this was the final straw. 
• Earlier today, I got an email from the school district about the projected budget shortfall and the plan to cut funding despite the crisis. It hasn't fully registered how bad all of this is, but the part that has registered is already scared about what is coming as I think this will be enough to break the system,
• All the while, the news has begun focusing on social media and how there's about the be a political fight. I wonder if this will mark a change in social media as we know it.

There's an oddness that comes with being in the thick of a transition. The uncertainty and unknown for the road ahead usually initiates grief, but if one stays in the thick long enough, reflection and processing begins to happen. A lot of which I've been starting to see. People are writing about the lessons learned from this experience, reflecting on their lives from before, and facing what demons they can no longer ignore while shedding things that they thought suited them but actually don't. I love hearing about ways others are trying to come together, whether through phone calls, doing social distancing get together, spending time enjoying each others' company, etc. I also love how people are learning to love being alone, finding ways to just be without embracing expectations of "self-improvement." Not being able to escape the thick can actually be a blessing.

That said, it's still uncomfortable. And my body is ready to be done with this period, moving on to the next check-point on this new road. But I also know that despite what I want, it's not in my control. All I can do to continue to exist in this middle between the end and the beginning. Soaking in the lessons so that when the beginning comes, I'm ready.

Burnt

I cannot believe it's the end of May. For the past 3 weeks, I've been in a full sprint with teaching, creating content, and editing, all while juggling distance learning for Maddy and Teddy. Despite the end in sight for this madness (last week of school and I only have a few more days of training), I'm exhausted. Knowing that I still have a mountain of work to complete doesn't make this a good exhaustion.

Which led to Grey finding me outside in the backyard this morning, staring at these guys.

Bit of a back story, these doves moved into the back patio last summer and began building a nest. Given all the information on the internet about how difficult it is to host doves, we tried being quiet the first couple of days so that they could build their nest.

This also meant trying to keep Jaxson and Daisy inside. Given what I've previously written about Daisy, one can begin to imagine how well that one went over.

Over the next few days, despite me being very nice, I learned what crappy guests doves are. Though supposedly loving parents, they are terrible nest builders and frequently left debris scattered all over the backyard. Additionally, though I was trying to give them space, they didn't reciprocate and kept invading mine. The final straw was discovering Daisy had gotten outside and was in full hunting mode, to which the doves responded by flying to the ground within inches of her face. What should have been a blood-bath was actually her pouncing on the bird only to decide that clocking it over the head was more fun. I figured after that incident the doves would be long gone.

They were back the next morning, waking up the house.

The rest of the summer was spent either cleaning up after these birds or trying to get them to relocate. But the more we tried to discourage them, the more they insisted on returning. My kids beat their birthday pinata in front of this pair, which only seemed to amuse them. The cats regularly batted them around, only to have them show up with more material for their failed nest. And they started landing close to me, something that just left me confused. By autumn, they were gone, only having managed to put together a few twigs and (thankfully) no eggs, but it left me wondering how this species was successful given this pair's propensity to ignore danger, if not openly mock it.

So finding these two today, with both cats looking up at them with expressions of disinterest (been there, done that), all I could do was sit down and stare in defeat. And reflect how this situation mirrored so much of what was happening in my life at the moment.

To be clear, though I'm insanely busy, I am excited about the work I'm doing. There's a lot going on that is having a positive impact and I'm well aware that I'm the driving force. But part of being that driving force is also realizing that being nice doesn't get me anywhere other than frustrated and exhausted. All of which is second nature to me. What's not second-nature is saying "No" or "Not now" as I feel guilt for not doing better. And yet when I do, suddenly there's a level of respect I'm given that was previously missing. Like the doves, my superiors seem to show more interest when I'm not breaking myself.

I don't have any clue what I'm going to do about the doves. Other than to record Jaxson and Daisy interact with them for anyone who wants to scream at me about how cats are destroying the local bird population (I swear they all are scheming against me). But I do know what I have to do, which is figure out how to structure in a break after I'm done teaching next week. Otherwise, I won't be able to make my deadlines as I'll be burnt to a crisp.

#MicroblogMondays: Poolside

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Reset

Grey and I are on the tail end of an infestation. It started 2 months ago when Grey found the cockroaches had returned, which are common to the area. As Grey began his battle to rapidly reduce the population, so too began him finding other things, like the paper wasps nests that under the awnings of the house and the flies that would show up in the evenings. Then I found fleas on Jaxson and Daisy, where we learned that the local population of fleas was resistant to the flea treatment we were using. This was followed by finding the carpenter bees scoping out the backyard awning. The final straw was Grey discovering we had black widows.

The exterminator arrived the next day.

Part of this infestation reset has been a multi-step plan, both with instant eradication and prevention. The exterminator did a great job with spraying and removing any nests in order to deter reinfestation, but we've also been taking measures to flatten the curve. This has included applying cedar chips to the garden beds, being diligent about cleaning, and educating ourselves. The last part is the most frustrating as there's an amazing amount of information out there, some of which is bad, and navigate all of this is a full-time job.

With this infestation, particularly in regards to the fleas (because, seriously, who would have thought that flea prevention medication could be worthless!), I'm been finding commonalities with SARS-CoV-2 and all that we know about COVID-19. Despite months of lockdown in certain regions and promise of initial curve flattening, we're starting to see new clusters emerge as the world reopens. Additionally, there's a ton of information out there, some of it very good which I strongly recommend, but some of it harmfully wrong. Hence people are getting frustrated, wanting to see the end of this invisible force that has turned their lives upside down and frustrated that their efforts aren't being reflected.

It's hard to be in the middle of an infestation, especially when the offending population reemerges and leaves you to battle yet again. For us, the fleas have been the source of most stress with Jaxson and Daisy suffering the insult of being bathed multiple times and me tackling mountains of laundry. It wasn't until we got our hands on this new flea medication that the tide turned (and even then there was a delay), but we're still finding the occasional flea that sends both Grey and me into panic mode as all we want is this to be done.

What has become apparent, both in our work and this battle on the homefront is that there's a need for a reset. For too long fear has been driving our world, both a fear of this disease but also a fear of the unknown. We already know that this virus is going to be with us for the foreseeable future, which has added to that fear given that the end isn't in sight. The problem isn't a community call of reset, which is desperately needed; an acknowledgment of that fear of the unknown due to a pandemic that is causing economic collapse combined with a call for community action to continue taking actions to protect one another. All of which needs to be fueled with education both about this virus, how it spreads (human-to-to through droplets people, hence the need for face coverings), what the models mean and predict, and, finally, how the immune system is playing a role in developing COVID-19.  It's not just a matter of whether or not you become infected.

To date, Grey and I have won our battle against this infestation. But we also know that letting down our guard is unwise given that it could all easily reappear. With the long-game in mind, we're resetting our focus towards prevention. Something we're also doing with SARS-CoV-2.

Grit

About a month ago, I found myself with a few days to spend some time completing an online course about personalized learning. One of the speakers was Angela Duckworth, a psychologist who has spent her career focusing on helping children thrive inside and outside the classroom through understanding the development of grit and self-control. I spent a good two days diving into the Character Lab and thinking about how I could apply Angela's work both to my training as well as with my kids.

It's only been recent that I've been thinking about grit in regard to this pandemic.

This past week, California has begun taking steps to reopen and relax the lockdown. Parks have been opening, stores that were previously not considered essential business have been allowed limited reopening, and people have begun venturing out more. With this reopening, I've been seeing a couple of responses. The first, and one the majority seem to generally be practicing, is a measured one, with people easing back in while taking necessary precautions. But then there's the second response, with people not abiding by social distancing recommendations and lashing out at anyone who reminds them of these recommendations. Again, this seems to be a minority, but it exists none the less. And often those who are taking the second route are those who fall into the population that is most at risk to develop COVID-19.

Which brings me to grit. One thing that this pandemic has revealed for so many are ill-prepared for handling life-altering events. For many in the ALI community, we see this directly as others around us either minimize our pain or throw platitudes about "never giving up" while we grapple with having our lives turned upside down. For Grey and me, this pandemic has been hard, but we've approached it with the attitude that we've weathered similarly shitty things. A sentiment I've been seeing from others in this community. Yet for many, this pandemic has been the singularly most traumatic thing they've ever had to face, resulting in mental meltdowns due to a lack of tools and resources those with foundations in grit have developed long ago. There's lashing out and threats of violence from those who see regaining some level of control by refusing to follow social distancing guidelines. Additionally, there's so much out there about depression and grieving, with many struggling to grasp this new normal.

Mali had a recent post that I think gets to the heart of why we are lacking in grit when dealing with trauma. With her focus on admitting in regards to resolving infertility without parenting, the points she talks about are ones that so many could benefit from doing some self-reflection with. Because I think a lot of what is exacerbating the trauma so many people are experiencing is an inability to admit how exactly this pandemic has turned their lives upside down. It's put a spotlight on how unhappy so many are and how little control they truly have in many aspects of their lives. This denial has stifled their development of grit. And it's insanely scary to face that.

The good news is that it's not too late to develop this grit toolkit. Over the past 2 months, I've seen so many articles about processing trauma and grief as well as practicing mindfulness, and Dr. Duckworth's work has been popping into my feeds more and more, meaning this is something people are embracing outside the education world. There's a lot of good that is coming out of all of this. The question I now have is how to grow that grit, helping those around me as well as myself develop this toolkit that aids in weathering trauma.

#MicroblogMondays: Pour

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

I've been struggling. Two weeks ago, my aunt and uncle requested a phone call with Grey and me to let us know that my aunt has been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. Being in this realm for so many years, Grey and I know very well the different types and prognosis for each. When she told us the type, my knees buckled and Grey let out an audible moan.

One would think that a diagnosis like this would be enough. Nevermind a diagnosis in the middle of a pandemic.

Then yesterday I got the wind kicked out of me some more. After a benign text to my aunt, telling her that I was checking in, she called me to tell me some more news. Her son has died. My uncle and aunt, in addition to navigating chemotherapy, are now making funeral arrangements during a period of social distancing.

There's a part of me that wants to cling to the fairytale that all things happen for a reason and that there is good in the end. But moments like this are a reminder that life is far from fair. There are so many good people who suffer for no good reason while others who deserve some level to snap them out of the BS never seem to get a scratch. And yet I know my aunt and uncle will be surrounded by people during this time who will try to find a reason in order to make sense of the senseless. I guess it's that part that makes me the most nervous. That instead of being there, allowing them to grieve, they will be managing others' anxieties about all that has happened. Something I'm desperate to shelter them from.

When it rains, it pours. How I wish I could be there to offer them love during this storm.

Stupid

A few nights ago, following a day of teaching, I sat down and watched "Becoming." Like many, I devoured Michelle Obama's memoir and wished I had had access to her wisdom and insight while in Boston. What stood out for me, though, was a moment where Michelle talked about going to Princeton and being thrown into the "elite" world. Particularly the point she makes about how they aren't actually any smarter than the rest of us.

I've been thinking about this a lot over the past few years during my time and then exit from the Ivy League university I worked at. I remember a particular class where the topic was on the genetics of intelligence, with all the students completely engaged as the professor spent the lecture period walking through all the research trying to determine if there's a heritable link. The answer, which disappointed them all was "it's unclear, but likely no." It's far to complex, with environment and access playing far more of a role, which is something everyone there was visibly uncomfortable with. And yet its a truth I can attest to both after working with students from all walks of life. And the pandemic has shined a glaring spotlight on it.

Grey and I are both products of the U.S. public education system, starting from kindergarten and ending with PhDs. Additionally, since undergrad, we've both lived in city environments, usually sharing walls with people who live on the poverty line. There's a lot of good that comes from public education, giving access to those who would otherwise not have it. But there's also a clear divide in quality when private options are readily available. A little over a year ago, our environment changed when I started my current position and we moved out to the suburbs to be close to work. A consequence of this move was we ended up in one of the better school districts in California, with active PTAs that make sure the schools have access to funding so that the kids can thrive. Similar to what Grey and I grew up in, private schooling isn't a readily available option here,  which results in the benefit of everyone having to swim in the same waters and, hence, people either invest or move due to the pressure for not investing.

Since the shelter-in-place orders, this advantage has become glaring, especially as we talk with Moon and Lucus about what their experiences are with distance learning on their region of the Bay Area and how much more structure Maddy and Teddy are getting. Within a week of lockdown, the district provided both kids with laptops, the teachers have been mastering Google Classroom (and giving me ideas as I set up my own form of virtual learning), with a weekly updated schedule and daily assignments that have allowed both kids to continue their schooling without burning them out on from video conference. But most impressive has been how the community has rallied around the teachers and staff, making it clear that all their hard work is beyond appreciated and supported. Teacher Appreciation Week has always been mandated in this district, but students and parents were actively encouraged to go all out, fueling the engine that is getting us through this period. I've been blown away by all of this because I know that if we were still living in our previous environments this wouldn't be happening. That the teachers would be figuring all of this out without support from the community and many parents wouldn't be able to be as invested in distance learning. It's been so shocking to see how the gaps, though there, are being minimized. It's that minimization that I want others to see so we can mandate it globally.

There's still a myth that persists in our culture that being "smart" is a fixed trait; you're either born that way or you aren't. With this assumption comes the idea that those who are "smart" should be the ones we invest in. That poverty is something people living in it deserve and those in power are superior because they have the brains. But the reality is intelligence is very malleable and what is holding most people back is access and opportunity. And the gatekeepers have very fixed ideas about who is worthy to that access, aiding to maintaining this myth. One "blessing" of this pandemic is the glaring light we have on how utterly stupid most of those in power are. Yes, we have hard, messy problems that aren't going to be resolved overnight, but one thing we can no longer ignore is that. Another blessing is those that normally can afford support and resources giving their children access are suddenly tasting lives without those safety nets. The ability to work remotely during this pandemic is a privilege, allowing many to be able to continue supporting their families that those at the poverty line don't have, but the lack of childcare and help is something most in positions of privilege don't consider. Frankly, the only ones who aren't struggling with this are completely disconnected with the 99% and it shows.

Like Michelle Obama, I've finally found the courage to start speaking out about the myth of deserving and those in positions of power being inherently "smarter." It's a myth that needs to be shattered and my hope is that this pandemic is thoroughly doing that. This now means that we have a moral obligation to do better and make sure everyone has access, not just those who can throw money at the gatekeepers. If we want to preserve the future, we need to fund it. If we want to see the end of the poverty cycle, we need to build support systems so people can permanently exit. If we want smart leadership, we need to stop promoting those who can buy access. We need reform throughout.

It's not going to be easy. Frankly, anything worth doing rarely is. And so many will resist because they have spent a lifetime in the previous mindset. But looking at the world around me, seeing the quiet and safe neighborhood that just over a year ago seemed inaccessible, I'm driven to see this change for so many.

It's stupid not to.

Rabbit hole

About 2 months ago, just before shelter-in-place orders were issued across the Bay Area, my manager went on maternity leave. Prior to her leaving, she constructed a plan for me, with goals that she wanted me to reach while she was out and some opportunities for career growth. Looking back on that plan, I can honestly say I wasn't excited about it. I had been pushing for opportunities to gain experience with virtual learning but didn't feel supported to explore this avenue. It was clear it wasn't a priority for her to have me focus on this, which I struggled with.

As of today, I have about a month-and-a-half before my manager returns from maternity leave. Over most of that time she's been out, the world has been turned on its head and all the priority items that were on my to-do list have either been canceled or tossed out the window. In place of that, I'm currently living and breathing the virtual learning space, developing or converting content, structuring asynchronous learning with synchronous and training across the globe.

I'm exhausted from the hours of work, thriving in developing this new path, and making all sorts of new connections with others in my company who have the same goals towards helping us adapt and excel in the post-COVID world.

And I'm terrified of my manager returning to witness what I've been doing.

I don't talk much about the impact not having my contracts renewed at 2 different positions had on me. Logically I can see how dysfunctional both those positions were, given the poverty-level pay, the insane hours, and the lack of opportunity to grow. Yet I struggle with being let go and how poorly my supervisors treated me in hopes that I would outright quit. It's because of these experiences that I've found myself falling back into a pattern of pleasing to a fault. It's something I've been doing with my current manager, even though her reviews have been positive and it's clear I've been meeting the goals set for me.

These next few weeks I have a number of deliverables, with so many watching to see: four separate courses across multiple time zones, developing new content, and most recently a new collaboration with the goal of broadening training to benefit the whole company. It's honestly insanely exciting to be a part of this and it's what I've been looking for many years. Yet in the quiet hours, I'm worried that I'll be facing unemployment again when my manager returns. That she'll see what's been happening and become insanely angry/threatened even though what I'm doing now was asked of me.
A weird rabbit hole of fear based on the trauma of failure inflicted by abusive past managers.

Today, I'm trying to focus on what I need to do to get through the next few weeks and meet my deadlines. Because the rabbit hole of fear is one I need to avoid both for my sanity and in order to grow.

Emerge

Two weeks ago, Grey and I had a telehealth visit with the Developmental Medicine practitioner to formally Maddy's and Teddy's ADHD diagnosis. There are many out there who have been critical of me pushing for evaluations and intervention, assuming that I'm solely looking for an excuse to medicate them (I'm not) or that I'm being a helicopter parent. But without any hesitation, the diagnoses were applied, allowing me to communicate with Maddy's and Teddy's teachers to solidify plans to help both give both these kids the tools they need to be successful and happy in life. Something that's been on my mind a lot lately as I reflect on my own life.

Last summer, after months of searching, I received a diagnosis of ADHD and began a treatment plan of my own. The process to get to this point was years in the making, with me assuming for so long that my inability to focus for long periods was a character flaw. Being in academia for close to two decades only intensified these feelings as I watched others around me excel and be elevated with me assuming again that it was due to me being unworthy. The damage to my self-worth is something I've only begun to repair, with me still being prone to pleasing others to a fault.

What changed my mindset and forced me to seek help was watching Maddy and Teddy struggle and hearing the same rhetoric being applied to them. For the first time, though, I began to critically evaluate who was casting this judgment and see how broken the strongest critics were. Suddenly, as I was challenging these criticisms, I found myself questioning my own critics. And having a shift in mindset about how we thinking about learning disabilities.

Why I speak about this now is that I was told today that my ADHD has been a benefit as I've been adapting training to the online world. While others struggle to keep people's attention, I've been crafting videos that are short, succinct, and outline clear goals from the beginning. Where all of this comes from is my own understanding of what keeps my attention and focusing on what needs to be communicated. Apparently, an understanding that isn't common, making my ADHD a superpower in this post-COVID-19 world. A thought I've been hearing more and more with virtual learning.

Since the meeting, Grey and I have started to see how the new tools we've been given have been helping Maddy and Teddy. With the support of their teachers, both kids have been doing well academically and socially, providing another layer to the foundation we've been working on. But another outcome of that meeting has been me tearing down out of my rotten foundation and embracing this aspect of myself that once I found shameful. Because this new world is teaching me that those who previously silenced are at a loss for how to build a road forward. And though that reality is glaringly scary, it also presents an opportunity for those who were silenced and shamed to emerge for the better.

#MicroblogMondays: After

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

Yesterday snuck up on me. Most years, I spend Mother's Day in a quiet funk due to remembering my miscarriages and the fact that I'm estranged from my mother. Instead, due to being extremely busy, I started my Sunday the way I normally do before Maddy ordered me back to bed so she and Teddy could bring me coffee. The rest of the day spent quietly, but not with the usual melancholy.

Give this odd change in my outlook, combined with observing that Grey's older sister was having a very hard day due to a pending divorce and thinking about all that has been happening in our world, I've been thinking a lot about afters. There's so much out there about the pain caused by this current pandemic and how much people are struggling.

But what isn't being talked about is the growth coming from all this change. The emergence of urgency to no longer ignore some problems and the push-back that is happening with those that are attempting to return to the previous normal. All combined with the shifts so many are making in their daily lives.

Pain is an amazing teacher. My years of infertility and loss taught me how motivating it can be. But equally important is recognizing that pain has to be moderated, as too much can stifle growth. The issue is determining how much is too much vs. what is actually required. Something that is tricky to figure out at the moment and usually only assessed best in the after.

The Great Pause

About a month ago, Grey's older sister sent me a piece from Medium about preparing for the post-COVID-19 world. Titled "Prepare for the Ultimate Gaslighting," her attraction to it stemmed from how people try to push for a return to normal after traumatic events, even though doing so means pretending that the trauma never happened. It's a good piece, and I recommend it as well as Part 2, as it offers good insight into how those in power push to remain there.

But what stuck with me was the evidence of change the author focused on due to this pandemic.
"What the trauma has shown us, though, cannot be unseen. A carless Los Angeles has clear blue skies as pollution has simply stopped. In a quiet New York, you can hear the birds chirp in the middle of Madison Avenue. Coyotes have been spotted on the Golden Gate Bridge. These are the postcard images of what the world might be like if we could find a way to have a less deadly daily effect on the planet. What’s not fit for a postcard are the other scenes we have witnessed: a health care system that cannot provide basic protective equipment for its frontline; small businesses — and very large ones — that do not have enough cash to pay their rent or workers, sending over 16 million people to seek unemployment benefits; a government that has so severely damaged the credibility of our media that 300 million people don’t know who to listen to for basic facts that can save their lives."

For the past 2 months, I've been submerged in the science of this pandemic. When not focusing on homeschooling Maddy and Teddy, I've been absorbing all the scientific community has been communicating about COVID-19 and learning how sick we are as a global community. As of now, based on limited testing, we know of ~3.9 million confirmed cases globally with well over 250,000 confirmed fatalities (the Financial Times has a good tool). The mortality rate is around 0.5-1%, but we still don't know of those who are infected are most at risk. Sadly, we also now know that there's a strong correlation between being put on a ventilator and dying. What is emerging though is a link between a compromised immune system and mortality, as those who are dying aren't mounting an appropriate immune response, but the mechanism for how and targets for treatment is still something we're working on understanding.

In the brief moments that I'm able to surface above all of this, I've been marveling at what's happening around me. There's no doubt that social distancing has been hard on people, as I see so many struggling with the drastic change to this new normal. But what I also see is the good that is coming out of this crisis. I see parents seeing their children in a whole new light, having to experience what it actually means to be a teacher. I see families connecting in ways they haven't before, with our own participating in regular Zoom calls. I hear about the animal shelters that are empty, something I never would have imagined, and find that my local bike shop is sold out of all their bicycles. I also see people being more patient with one another as they try to navigate shopping and social distracting. Yes, there's the few that aren't handling things well and adding to the trauma, but the truth is the majority are trying.

And then there are the incredible stories of wildlife taking over the cities. The biologist in me is screaming for joy.

With all this good, my big fear is that people will forget it in the face of trying to race back to the previous normal when in truth the world we knew a few months ago is forever gone. The push coming most from those who benefited from that previous normal, even though we can clearly see now how detrimental it was to the majority.

2020 has been an interesting year for me. Grey's older sister is navigating an incredibly hard divorce and I learned last week that a beloved family member has been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. Shelter-in-place also completely threw all my professional deliverables out the window while reorganizing how I do my job overnight. But with the hard has come some good with this great pause in the world. Both Maddy and Teddy have been diagnosed with ADHD, a health visit that Grey was able to attend due to telehealth visits. Distance learning with their schools has given me a direct window in what both kids are learning, allowing me to work much more intimately with their teachers in order to support these two (and has strengthened those relationships). Weekly family Zoom meetings have resulted in reconnecting with Grey's sister, allowing all of us to better support her as she navigates the additional trauma of a pending divorce. And I've finally been able to forge ahead with a side project that has suddenly become a company priority. Something that is requiring a lot of additional hours, but is being embraced and I'm enjoying doing. So many things that I don't want to lose with the shelter-in-place restrictions lifted.

In my eyes, the curse of the pandemic has brought blessings with the Great Pause. While others call them silver linings, what I think is being missed is the benefits that are emerging. Our healthcare system is extremely broken, with medical workers at the mercy of the insurance industry (which is set up to make a few extremely wealthy). Too many are living without any safety net, illustrating a sick mindset from corporate culture. Our education system is taxed beyond repair, meaning we need a massive reset in how we educate as that foundation is important for ensuring a better future. And our leadership is in need of a complete overhaul. Allowing someone to suggest injecting oneself with bleach as a "cure" would never have become a headline.

I don't know what lies ahead. All the numbers I see suggest we haven't seen the peak of this pandemic and without universal testing, we have no way to contain this virus. I also am waiting to see what the damage will be economically as we are seeing a financial crisis that mirrors the Great Depression. Opening up the states does not mean we are anywhere near the end of all of this. But my hope is that despite the attempts at gaslighting, people will not be able to easily forget what has come from this period. That in addition to making right all the wrongs, they remember the good that came out of this. And that combined, it makes us a better species.

From the front lines

It's been 3 weeks since the world I knew changed. 3 weeks since schools were closed and the shelter-in-place orders came for the Bay Area. For many, this period has been something of a shock, leaving them filled with anxiety about the unknown.

In all of this, Grey and I have been hard at work. Being a part of the biotech industry, our company has been open and working to supply those on the front lines of the infectious disease community with the tools they need to characterize this virus. We've watched the number, seen the statistics, had access to all the data that is being shared across the globe as so many researchers work tirelessly to find answers to SARS-CoV-2.

And in this, we've also heard the stories of those on the front lines in the hospitals. The lack of PPE and the scariness of knowing that the majority of those who walk into a hospital will likely not walk out again.

Here's what we know about SARS-CoV-2: though it's not rapidly mutating, it's still highly infectious. We know that most diagnoses are coming 2-3 weeks after infection. We know that we don't have an accurate understanding of infection rates as we're not broadly testing. But most scary of all, it's not the virus that is killing people but their immune system. That for most, the infection will result in a predictable immune response, but where it gets deadly is when the immune system becomes hyperactive, attacking not only the virus but also the individual. That people are dying because the cellular system meant to protect them against getting sick is actively attacking them. And that we still don't have an answer for why. Meaning that we can't determine who will survive infection vs. not.

Given this, there's so many reasons to lose hope in this period. All the assumptions about safety and givens are gone, leaving many lost. And the truth is, even when we come out the other side of this, there's likely going to be more hardship with a pending recession and many without employment.

But oddly enough, despite all the bad, I've also been witnessing so much good. During meetings and conversations, I hear about what my colleagues in my company, as well as other researchers around the world, are doing and discovering. They are freely sharing their research with a singular goal of finding a cure and vaccine. So many biotechs have started partnering, making sure that tools, materials, and people needed to advance the research are provided, often through donations.

Then there's what I've been seeing in my community: the neighbors who leave each other meals and notes, practicing social distancing but making sure no one is isolated. Being at home with Maddy and Teddy, learning first hand about how remote learning is being delivered and being a part of an effort that though messy is working to continue education. Witnessing first-hand the kindness at grocery stores where people are thanking the service workers for their bravery so that grocery stores, gas stations, medical clinics, and other essential businesses can remain open.

All of it a constant reminder that even when things seem dark, the light has a way of shining through.

It goes without saying that one day we'll all be looking back on this. So the question is, how do all of you want this part of history to be remembered? Will this be what you consider one of the darkest periods in your life? Or do you want to be part of the light I see shining from so many?

If the latter, but you don't know where to start, I have a shortlist of how to contribute (and I welcome other suggestions).

• People need face coverings. Did you know you can sew your own? Did you know these can be donated to the medical community?
• Speaking of donations, donate blood. The need right now is great.
• Outside of the hospitals, people are struggling with isolation. Find creative ways to connect, whether it be digital (video conferencing, email, texting, etc) or through more classical methods of notes, letters, or simply knocking on doors and having loud conversations at a good distance.
• Smile at someone. 
• If you can afford it, pay your babysitter, housekeeper, lawn service, etc. 
• If you know someone who is currently unemployed, offer to help with all things that come with it. Resume writing is a drag and LinkedIn can be intimidating. Help make the process less painful.
• Three words: virtual happy hours/coffee breaks. The one rule is to talk about anything other than COVID-19. I recommend silly hats too.
• Have you heard about the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Morning MediOceans? I just found these and am already a huge fan. 
• Plant something. Climate change is real people and plants are key to our survival. Plus getting your hands dirty can be insanely therapeutic.
• Volunteer. 
• Want to learn more about COVID-19? Despite the misinformation, there's a ton of good information too. This presentation by Dr. Michael Lin is really good. GenomeWeb is a good resource for learning about what industry is up to. And then there are all the publications, which I've been working my way through. Learn something useful and spread that information broadly.
• Support local by buying gift cards.

And finally, as hard as all of this is, please keep distancing. Resist the urge to be around others. It's hard, I know. I know because I feel it too. But the things in life worth doing are often hard and the data is starting to come in (remember I mentioned a 2-3 week delay) showing that we're flattening that curve. So keep it up. Because for each day that passes, the chances for this virus spreading like wildfire decreases, allowing our medical system to manage while reducing mortality rates. Flattening the curve matters.

In the meantime, Grey and I can both promise you we'll continue to work hard. Though we aren't directly on the front lines, so many we know and care about are. And that alone is enough reason to continue the push to get to the other side. Help us by doing your part to push too.

Tasting privileges

Two years ago, I had my very first night away from Maddy and Teddy. The trip is for an interview in the Bay Area with a small biotech company, which meant I had to fly solo with two 4-year-olds across the country before continuing on to my final destination. Flying first to Seattle, I spent the day helping Maddy and Teddy settle in with my aunt and uncle before packing a small carry on and disappearing at nap time. Upon arriving in the Bay Area, I would navigate the airport and then the city with my small bag before checking into my hotel and nose-diving into a King size bed. The whole time, I marveled at how amazingly wonderful it was to not only be on my own but doing so with the peace-of-mind that both kids were in excellent hands being safe, sound and well cared for. A luxury Grey and I don't normally have.

Since Maddy and Teddy arrived, I haven't spent more than 48 hours away from them. Part of this has been due to my different positions for work not requiring extensive travel, but another end is that up until very recently traveling without the kids hasn't been something we could do. Unlike others, we didn't have access to family who was close-by or anyone we trusted to leave Maddy and Teddy with. All of this has lead to an interesting "otherness" when around those who talk having family close-by or can afford live-in child care.

All of this has been on my brain this week as I both prepare to leave for a week-long meeting in Southern California and have been in negotiations with Moon about her and Lucas taking Maddy and Teddy for a few days. It wasn't that long ago that neither of these things were options, which leaves me in strange territory of juggling my anxiety over leaving my kids while also being acutely aware of what a privilege it is that this is suddenly an option.

Privilege is an odd thing, given that many are unaware of until their situation changes. Coming from the camp of the have-nots, it's always been interesting to transition into the world of having something and learning how to navigate it. Grey and I still get odd looks when I talk about our weekly "dates" to the grocery store or doing some errand sans Maddy and Teddy, yet these are times I still look forward to both to spend time with my partner but also to do so without having to wrangle two energetic children.

But what is also fascinating is hearing the arguments for those who try to justify their privileges. While in Boston, arguments for deserving were common, particularly when faced by others who had lost these same privileges. My former landlord was a great resource for this as she would bemoan the toils of having inherited 3 properties, all of which were requiring maintenance due to decades of neglect. But there were other examples too, all of which were cringe-inducing to the average observer, with arguments ranging from superior intelligence to superior lineage.

One hard reality I've faced starting in 2010 was that life is far from fair. There are those who can never seem to get out of their situation, forever doomed by misfortune, and there are others who have an infinite amount of safety nets. Living the reality that class and social ranking is very much alive today can be depressing, especially when it doesn't take much to level the playing field.

But equally interesting is a new realization I've been experiencing, which is that privilege can also be a toxic thing if in excessive amounts. In order to develop resilience, one must encounter hardship or challenge. Privilege in excess can stifle growth, leaving someone in a mentally and emotionally immature state.

And where it's particularly a shock is when that access changes. When someone who assumed something that was limited as normal and suddenly has to face the reality of the safety nets are retracted. I cannot begin to tell you the stories I have from students who weren't prepared, the mistakes they made that were ultimately more costly to them because of their lack of resilience and how painful it was to watch as they grappled with these challenges without the required toolkit.

As I prepare for my first solo work trip, there are so many things I'm grateful for. I'm grateful for having the babysitter we have, who can help Grey with kid and cat care. I'm grateful that family is in driving distance. I'm grateful that we finally have the structure in place to do this. And I'm realizing that I need to start trusting the structure; learning to ask for help instead of assuming it doesn't exist.

But I'm also sad that what I get isn't something that's more universal. Everyone has their share of hardships and burdens and I'm not naive at assuming the grass is greener on the other side, but it's the knowledge the positive impact so many would have simple from more equal access to many things in our world that are limited (childcare, healthcare, educational opportunities for advancement to name a few) is something that's hard to live with. That the privilege I've been tasting, though sweet, isn't something that should be restricted.

Coming full circle

Monday night marked the beginning of a new adventure. All initiated with one text. It had been a normal day, with me simply wanting to get the family settled so I could spend a night reading, but following seeing the message on my phone, everything shifted and I was trying to figure out how best to proceed; my mind racing as I was trying to make sense of what I was reading.

You see, the text was an apology from my sister. My younger sister whom I haven't spoken to in almost 9 years.

****************

My sister and I have always had a complicated relationship. While I was the oldest, she was the baby of the family and the one my mom visibly favored. I could wax and wane about favoritism and all the damage it can do to siblings, but needless to say things were complicated and hard. I loved my brother and sister and yet didn't know how to bond with them as I had a similar relationship with my mother.

Things only got harder as we got older, with my sister and I running in very different circles: she was the pretty, popular social butterfly while I was the fat but smart one who was hell-bent on getting away. Further on this was learning that my sister was sexually assaulted as a child by a neighbor boy, with her not remembering the assault until she was older. Thus there were years of dealing with someone who was angry and hostile, lashing out the most fiercely at the ones who were trying to support her.

The list is long. There's my wedding, where my sister threw a massive temper tantrum and I literally was wondering who would step in as my maid of honor. There were the trips home where we were supposed to spend time together that we instead spent with her leaving me in a crowd of strangers. There were the fights and the lashing out. All of it horrible, but I didn't know any other way.

Then infertility hit. And things started to become unbearable. The pain filled my body and soul in ways that few around me could understand. The day my sister told me she was pregnant due to failed birth control, right before I traveled home for my grandfather's funeral, my heart felt like it was ripped out of my chest. Though others told me that her pregnancy didn't mean that there would be less love, I immediately could see how much of an outsider I was and how any hope of support I had was about to evaporate.

Two months later, when I asked my sister to promise to not make another scene at my Ph.D. defense, she responded by accusing me of trying to harm her unborn child. At that moment, I knew that though I loved her, I couldn't continue having her in my life. And as the rest of my familial ties were cut, with my mother attempting to force me to temporarily adopt my cousin's son, I would find myself truly alone and cut off from all I knew.

It's the loneliest I've ever been in my life.

For 9 years, through infertility, the arrival of Maddy and Teddy, two cross country moves and redefining my career path, I've not ever tried to reestablish ties. My sister did reach out in 2015 after Grey and I initiated contact with my parents and my family learning about Maddy and Teddy's existence. But her message then was worded the same as past interactions, with her lamenting that Maddy and Teddy would never have the opportunity to know her (and me having the gut reaction of "hell no").

For 9 years, I've focused on moving forward, defining who I am not on my past but on how I chose to be in the world and how I was defining myself.

For 9 years, outside the occasional visit from my brother, I've been homeless; rootless. So many passed judgement because I did the most unholy of unholy things and cut contact with those who shared my blood.

This recent text from my sister was wholly different.

I am currenly seeing a very good theapist. We have been discussing Mom and Dad. I am finally understanding why you have made the choices you have made to distance yourself from them. I'm sorry I didn't see this earlier. I'm also sorry for the things I did to you. All these years later, I have a very different perspective I know apologizing doesn't make it better. I just wanted to let you know. I won't message you again.

With that text came the first glimmers of hope for rebuilding and forming bridges. As I responded and probed, asking questions and allowing her to talk, I knew Grey was seeing what I was from the other room on the iPad and quietly taking it all in.

There's a long road ahead and I'm not naive that any of this will be easy. As I told my sister, hurts can be healed, but rebuilding trust is something that takes time. In addition, there's so much more at stake as I think not only about Maddy, Teddy, and Grey, but also about my sister's family. None of it can be grown overnight. All that said, another gift infertility gave me is the ability to walk forward into the unknown despite being terrified of the potential of hurt. To take chances because though the pain of failing is very real, worse is never even have tried at all.

Because the hope is that after everything, my sister and I are ready to come full circle. Resetting the foundation so that the sins of our ancestors can die with us.

Part of the problem

In January 2017, right after we learned the company Grey worked for was being sold and he would be unemployed for a second time, we joined friends on a trip to the science museum. The day was generally a good one, with the kids playing together and exploring all the exhibits (with near-misses in exhibits that should be marked "adults only"). Sitting down to lunch, we began to chat while navigating feeding three small children. It was then when the topic of Grey facing unemployment again we were asked: "So, where are you going on vacation?"

To this day, I'm still shocked by this question. It was both callous and apathetic given what Grey and I were facing with juggling supporting our family while managing a mountain of debt. But what hurts the most was that it illustrated how the couple sitting across from us was completely clueless that this wouldn't be an option for the average person. At that moment, the cracks in a friendship we had tried were revealed as being deep ravines and though Grey and I asked for space from them, trying to figure out a way to repair the hurt, the truth is we never found a way to bridge this gap.

This past week was a reminder of this one personal gap and how it's actually more widespread. Starting with a set of articles form the Chronicles of Higher Education about Higher Education's unfulfilled promise to lessen socioeconomic divides, I went down the rabbit hole reading about the barriers in mobility, having discussions within my professional network about how political moves have specifically been aimed at deepening this divide, and also revisiting past articles, such this one in the Atlantic about the Birth of the New American Aristocracy about how every aspect of our society and how the current structure is set up to promote only a select few - that the rhetoric we've all been fed about hard-work and equal opportunity is actually completely false as we've actually created a social structure that is poised to collapse on itself.

Adding to all of this was me witnessing all of this again first hand as I was summoned for jury duty. Riding the BART off-peak hours is a great way to witness what happens when people don't any hope that their lives can get better. From open drug use to witnessing begging and experiencing threats simply for riding the train, it's a bit traumatic. On top of this, I found myself having to revisit past trauma triggered by the juror selection questionnaire where I was asked whether I had ever been a victim of a violent crime, whether I had ever experienced threats to my person while on mass transit, whether I had ever been sued, and if any of this would inhibit my ability to be impartial as I listened to evidence about this case. The next day, in front of 80 strangers, I would be asked all these questions again and ultimately be excused from serving as I answered all these questions while visibly shaking.

As I've been working on recovering from this latest panic attack (and dealing with the shame from having to disclose all I did), I've been thinking a lot about the roles each of us has in the world and what happens to those who challenge others views of their place in the world. The truth is that though all of us are doing the best we can, most won't venture outside the comfort of the narrative they've been given. A big part of this is a primal response, given that questioning support networks and social roles can be extremely dangerous towards continuing to be accepted, but another part that so few want to admit is there comfort behind not challenging the narrative. The idea that we work hard for what we have is far more appealing than learning that those in positions of privilege really could never have failed and those supporting them are there solely because they were placed to be able to check off those boxes.

In short, it's been a rough week. And I frankly don't know what is going to come from all of it. But I do know that I'm tired of doing nothing and seeing things deteriorate. It's a matter of how to start pulling all the pieces together.