After finding out that outside forces could possibly be at the root of my sinus issues, I did a bit of thinking. As someone who had never had a sinus infection in my life, the sudden onset of my first one was a surprise. My boyfriend (at the time) and I had just moved to another apartment. It was the second time that we'd had to move because of issues with neighbors. This time things got very, very ugly; so much so that I was on the verge of getting my own place. When I broached that subject with him, he became as cold as ice. I was torn between preserving my sanity and being with the man that I loved. The man that I loved won out, but things were never really the same between us. After that, I think I bottled up a lot of pain and anger. In many ways we began going through the motions and our relationship probably lasted about a year longer that it should have.
Even after we broke up, the sinus issues persisted. I got at least one sinus infection every winter. This upcoming winter will be my first one since I did my acupuncture treatments, so we'll see how it goes. During my first treatment Beata put one of the needles right in the middle of my chest because of the pain I felt about the relationship. When she palpated that area, there was actually a physical ache. During my quiet time, after she had inserted all of the needles, I let myself feel the pain and sadness that was trapped inside me. I left feeling a bit better.
During that second session, I finally forgave myself for my part in what caused the relationship to go wrong. If I had walked away sooner, maybe I could've saved both of us a lot of pain. But as we all know, what's done is done. In later sessions we were able to focus more on my actual sinuses and the non-medicinal things that I could do to get some relief. One of the most important ones is acupressure. Beata taught me great acupressure techniques that I use whenever I feel sinus congestion or pain. Since I started with her, I haven't taken a single antihistamine or used any nasal spray. I'm good for now, but will probably need a tune-up later.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Wondering What I've Been up To?
I can't believe I haven't written a post since February! Since then I've been working on myself. I think I mentioned in a previous post that I have sinus problems and that an allergist said that my problems were caused by an allergy to my cat. I've refused to believe that since the day that I was told that by the doctor. After multiple sinus infections and horrible dry-mouth from antihistamines, I gave reflexology a try. The relief I felt from reflexology was amazing. When I filled out my intake form for my first visit I mentioned that I had sinus problems, so the reflexologist specifically worked on the area of my foot that corresponds to my sinuses. I saw her every two weeks for a while, but then her health declined and she passed away. Of course I could've gone and gotten reflexology from someone else there, but it's not something I could see myself doing.
Another winter came and I got another sinus infection. Despite the fact that I'm supposedly allergic to my cat, my sinus issues were exacerbated by the cold and also by extreme changes in the temperature. After another round of antibiotics I started taking the antihistamines and using the nasal spray again, but I thought to myself "There's gotta be a better way." As it so happens, one of my friends from the yoga studio that I attend and at which I used to work the front desk told me about the wonders of acupuncture. I must admit that I've always been interested in getting an acupuncture treatment. My friend referred me to her acupuncturist and I emailed her to set up an appointment.
When the day of my appointment rolled around I wasn't really sure what to expect. One thing I will say is that acupuncture is similar to psychotherapy in that it helps you to search for the root cause of your problem. My acupuncturist, Beata, asked me if I could remember when I initially started having problems. Many people who have sinus issues have had them for their whole lives, but mine actually started after things got really bad with my boyfriend (who is now my ex-boyfriend). I'm sure a lot of you have heard that physical ailments can be manifested by emotional or mental problems that we're having.
Anyway, once we pinpointed the beginning of my symptoms, we were able to name the feelings that caused the symptoms. Of course I got the needles and she also taught me some acupressure. In my next post I'll tell about the feelings I had bottled up, and how I let them go.
Another winter came and I got another sinus infection. Despite the fact that I'm supposedly allergic to my cat, my sinus issues were exacerbated by the cold and also by extreme changes in the temperature. After another round of antibiotics I started taking the antihistamines and using the nasal spray again, but I thought to myself "There's gotta be a better way." As it so happens, one of my friends from the yoga studio that I attend and at which I used to work the front desk told me about the wonders of acupuncture. I must admit that I've always been interested in getting an acupuncture treatment. My friend referred me to her acupuncturist and I emailed her to set up an appointment.
When the day of my appointment rolled around I wasn't really sure what to expect. One thing I will say is that acupuncture is similar to psychotherapy in that it helps you to search for the root cause of your problem. My acupuncturist, Beata, asked me if I could remember when I initially started having problems. Many people who have sinus issues have had them for their whole lives, but mine actually started after things got really bad with my boyfriend (who is now my ex-boyfriend). I'm sure a lot of you have heard that physical ailments can be manifested by emotional or mental problems that we're having.
Anyway, once we pinpointed the beginning of my symptoms, we were able to name the feelings that caused the symptoms. Of course I got the needles and she also taught me some acupressure. In my next post I'll tell about the feelings I had bottled up, and how I let them go.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
I'm Not a Fundraiser, but...
I'm usually not much for fundraising because I hate asking people for money. I try to donate to causes whenever I have a bit of extra money, because I'm someone who always wants to help out. My mom always says that often those that have the least give the most. In my case, I think that's true. I often give when I can't really afford to, but I still somehow make it work.
Today, I'm going to take on the role of fundraiser because this particular cause incorporates one of my loves, yoga. The yoga studio that I practice at is participating in the Yoga Reaches Out Yogathon to raise money for Boston Children's Hospital and Children's Tumor Foundation. So far our team has 14 members and each member is assigned the task of raising $250. The yogathon isn't until the end of April, so you have plenty of time to donate. If you would like to help, please use the following link http://yogareachesout.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=1052450&supId=376039213.
Today, I'm going to take on the role of fundraiser because this particular cause incorporates one of my loves, yoga. The yoga studio that I practice at is participating in the Yoga Reaches Out Yogathon to raise money for Boston Children's Hospital and Children's Tumor Foundation. So far our team has 14 members and each member is assigned the task of raising $250. The yogathon isn't until the end of April, so you have plenty of time to donate. If you would like to help, please use the following link http://yogareachesout.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=1052450&supId=376039213.
Friday, January 25, 2013
One Day You Just Get It
Have you ever had a friend tell you about a situation they were in and how they're dealing with it, only to say "If it were me, I would've done..."? Of course you have. We all have. Each of us likes to think that we have all the answers and that what we would do in a situation is the "right" thing. During my training to become a yoga teacher, I learned that everyone's reality is different. The reality that each of us deals with is based on where we were born, what our life experiences have been, and how we perceive the world around us. No two people's reality is exactly the same.
This morning I found out that a friend of mine's daughter is pregnant. One thing I realized while talking to her about it is that more than likely there are people coming at her from all sides telling her what she should and shouldn't do. More than likely they've never been in the situation that she's currently in, yet they feel as if they can be the voice of authority. I've been guilty of this with friends and family members. It's easy to sit back and say "Do this. Do that." when it's not you and it's not affecting your life. While talking to my friend this morning, I suddenly got it. Unless you're magically able to live the other person's life from day to day, you can't tell them exactly what they should do. All you can do is tell them to do what feels right. Intuition is a part of ourselves that often goes ignored because it commonly tells us things that we don't want to hear. When someone tells you to trust your gut, they're referring to your intuition. Instead of telling a person what they should or shouldn't do, tell them to trust their intuition. If they sit still and be quiet they will hear that inner voice that will never steer them wrong. Many times the brain takes over and tells you to do something that doesn't feel right, and then you hear your intuition screaming at you not to go down that path. Turn the brain off, and let your instincts take over.
This morning I found out that a friend of mine's daughter is pregnant. One thing I realized while talking to her about it is that more than likely there are people coming at her from all sides telling her what she should and shouldn't do. More than likely they've never been in the situation that she's currently in, yet they feel as if they can be the voice of authority. I've been guilty of this with friends and family members. It's easy to sit back and say "Do this. Do that." when it's not you and it's not affecting your life. While talking to my friend this morning, I suddenly got it. Unless you're magically able to live the other person's life from day to day, you can't tell them exactly what they should do. All you can do is tell them to do what feels right. Intuition is a part of ourselves that often goes ignored because it commonly tells us things that we don't want to hear. When someone tells you to trust your gut, they're referring to your intuition. Instead of telling a person what they should or shouldn't do, tell them to trust their intuition. If they sit still and be quiet they will hear that inner voice that will never steer them wrong. Many times the brain takes over and tells you to do something that doesn't feel right, and then you hear your intuition screaming at you not to go down that path. Turn the brain off, and let your instincts take over.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Happy Birthday to Me :-)
Today is the first day in God knows how many years that I've worked on my birthday. Last year my birthday was during the weekend, and anytime that it's not, I take the day off. Alas, I could not do so this year since the office manager is on her yearly trip, and I have to cover for her. Despite my birthday being on a Monday and my having to work, it's been a great day so far :-). I think the birthday gods are smiling down on me because this has been a very mellow work day. I've been shown lots of love today, which I really appreciate. I've realized that as time goes by, I get better with age ;-).
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| 37, but don't look a day over 25, hahaha!!! |
I'd like to thank everyone who takes the time to read my thoughts on the world around me. I know that what I have to say is not particularly profound, but I always try to speak from my heart.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
It's Nothing
A friend of mine who lives close by has been having a very tough time for quite a while. Also, because of various health problems it can be hard for her to get around. Like me, she has no family here in the Boston area, but unlike, me, both of her parents passed away. As of late, she hasn't been feeling well, so I make it a point to check in on her to see how she's doing.
Yesterday was a pretty bad day for her, so I offered to pick up something for her to eat after I was done with work. Initially, she said yes, but then she started to feel worse, and said that I could come by another time. I knew that she needed to eat, so I told her I'd be in the neighborhood, so I could just stop by and drop off the food. She agreed, and so that's what I did.
I planned to just hand off the stuff and leave, but she said she was feeling a bit better and invited me in. While we were chatting I assured her that it wasn't a big deal for me to stop by. I only live a subway stop away. She said she doesn't know enough people with that attitude, but to me, that's just common courtesy. Like I told her, I grew up in the country, where I had to drive to see my friends. Taking the subway one stop is nothing. Also, even if I had to drive to see her, if she needed me, I'd go.
It's pretty sad that a simple act of kindness has become such a rarity in today's society. To me it makes perfect sense to visit a friend who's unwell, and to bring them whatever they might need. I know that in many regards I'm an anomaly, but this is ridiculous!
Yesterday was a pretty bad day for her, so I offered to pick up something for her to eat after I was done with work. Initially, she said yes, but then she started to feel worse, and said that I could come by another time. I knew that she needed to eat, so I told her I'd be in the neighborhood, so I could just stop by and drop off the food. She agreed, and so that's what I did.
I planned to just hand off the stuff and leave, but she said she was feeling a bit better and invited me in. While we were chatting I assured her that it wasn't a big deal for me to stop by. I only live a subway stop away. She said she doesn't know enough people with that attitude, but to me, that's just common courtesy. Like I told her, I grew up in the country, where I had to drive to see my friends. Taking the subway one stop is nothing. Also, even if I had to drive to see her, if she needed me, I'd go.
It's pretty sad that a simple act of kindness has become such a rarity in today's society. To me it makes perfect sense to visit a friend who's unwell, and to bring them whatever they might need. I know that in many regards I'm an anomaly, but this is ridiculous!
Monday, August 13, 2012
Do You Love Yourself?
Lately I've been encountering people who, for some reason or other, have low self-esteem. Many of them are absolutely wonderful, but they can only see their flaws. Newsflash: We all have flaws. None of us is perfect. Plus perfection is actually rather boring. Looking at myself objectively, I think my belly is too flabby and that my thighs are too fat, but those are just two minor parts of a whole person. When you look at those things in conjunction with the rest of me, I'm not half bad ;-).
A friend of mine has someone in her life that she cares about, but he treats her badly. He's selfish and rude. She did him a huge favor, and when I say huge, I mean life-altering. In return he can't even be bothered to treat her with decency. Her life would be exponentially better if she cut ties with him, but she won't. I asked her if she loved him more than she loves herself. Without hesitation she said "Yes". She believes that his life is worth so much more than hers. When are people going to understand that every human life is valuable? I have a major problem with these assholes that go around killing innocent people because they're pissed off about something or depressed. If you're messed up, don't be trying to take other people with you. Although I feel every human life is important, if someone wants to die, that's on them, not me. It's not necessary or fair to take innocent people's lives.
Although it took me a while to come around to this way of thinking, I do love myself. My love for myself has less to do with how I look and more to do with how I feel. Right now I have a really good life, a part of which I spend letting other people know just how special I think they are. The things I say to them aren't empty flattery because I feel there's no point in lying to people in that way. If I see something about you that I like or that I think is noteworthy, I'm going to tell you. Most of the time I get the response "You're so nice". Yes, I'm a nice person, but I'm not saying it to be nice. I am being completely and totally honest. If there's good in you (which there is in most of us) I will be able to see it. Some of you try to hide it underneath a gruff exterior, but I can see right through it :-).
For those of you that are having a hard time loving yourself, remember this. It's a cliche, but cliches exist because they're based in truth. Until you love yourself, it's not possible for you to truly love someone else. It's not possible to let another person see who you truly are unless you love yourself. My ex-boyfriend said that I never let him in. There's truth to that statement. Because I wasn't comfortable with myself, I wasn't comfortable letting him see all of me. That's just one of a myriad of reasons why things didn't work out between us.
A friend of mine has someone in her life that she cares about, but he treats her badly. He's selfish and rude. She did him a huge favor, and when I say huge, I mean life-altering. In return he can't even be bothered to treat her with decency. Her life would be exponentially better if she cut ties with him, but she won't. I asked her if she loved him more than she loves herself. Without hesitation she said "Yes". She believes that his life is worth so much more than hers. When are people going to understand that every human life is valuable? I have a major problem with these assholes that go around killing innocent people because they're pissed off about something or depressed. If you're messed up, don't be trying to take other people with you. Although I feel every human life is important, if someone wants to die, that's on them, not me. It's not necessary or fair to take innocent people's lives.
Although it took me a while to come around to this way of thinking, I do love myself. My love for myself has less to do with how I look and more to do with how I feel. Right now I have a really good life, a part of which I spend letting other people know just how special I think they are. The things I say to them aren't empty flattery because I feel there's no point in lying to people in that way. If I see something about you that I like or that I think is noteworthy, I'm going to tell you. Most of the time I get the response "You're so nice". Yes, I'm a nice person, but I'm not saying it to be nice. I am being completely and totally honest. If there's good in you (which there is in most of us) I will be able to see it. Some of you try to hide it underneath a gruff exterior, but I can see right through it :-).
For those of you that are having a hard time loving yourself, remember this. It's a cliche, but cliches exist because they're based in truth. Until you love yourself, it's not possible for you to truly love someone else. It's not possible to let another person see who you truly are unless you love yourself. My ex-boyfriend said that I never let him in. There's truth to that statement. Because I wasn't comfortable with myself, I wasn't comfortable letting him see all of me. That's just one of a myriad of reasons why things didn't work out between us.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Good Music and Good Friends
You all know from the URL of this blog that I have an immense love for Gavin DeGraw. His music has changed my life. As a live performer he is beyond compare. I got the opportunity to see him twice last week in two different settings. The first one was a fairly large crowd and made me feel kind of like I was at a sporting event. It wasn't a stadium or anything like that, but it had a very impersonal feel. I'm used to seeing Gavin in much closer quarters. I found that performance to be a bit lackluster, not the least of which was because of the sound engineering. I also felt like his set was very generic, which felt right in line with the direction that I see his career going in. Luckily, I didn't pay money for that particular show. One of my friends won free tickets and asked if I'd like to go with her. I also got to meet up with some other friends, so the night wasn't a total loss.
To be perfectly honest, I was dreading going to the show the following night, especially since it was in Hyannis (Cape Cod) and I had to drive to get there. Had it not been for the fact that a friend was depending on me for a ride, I wouldve stayed home. All I can say is thank God I didn't stay home! The second show was in a more intimate setting and Gavin was able to connect with his audience. That's what was missing from the show the night before. I bet all he could see is light and just the faces in the front row. Not so, at this smaller venue, which has a rotating stage. Every seat in the house was a good one. I had an excellent view of him and was able to take a few pics. Unfortunately, I forgot to put my memory card back in my camera from the last time I downloaded pics onto my computer, so I couldn't take very many. Regardless, Gavin electrified the crowd, so much so that the tent we were under was like a sauna! I was covered in sweat by the time his set was over. Words can't describe how happy I was to see the "old Gavin" performing on that stage. I know the more intimate shows don't bring in as much money as shows in larger venues, but Gavin does his best shows when he can really interact with the crowd, which is hard to do when you can't even SEE them.
In the future, if he keeps playing such impersonal venues, I will pick and choose the shows that I go to, looking for the ones with more atmosphere. I almost gave up on him, not as a musician, but as a performer. When you know and have seen what someone can do, it's heartbreaking to see them stray away from that formula. Yeah, we all want money (some of us more than others), but as far as I know, he owns the licensing rights to his songs, so he'll make money until the day he dies, purely off royalties. His work to build a grassroots following paid off in that his fanbase is a very loyal one. I got to hang with some of those awesome loyal fans at both shows. What we have in common, besides our love of good music, is that we look out for each other. We're a community that would've never gotten together were it not for Gavin's music. With the release of this new album, there's been a push by Gavin's "people" to get him new fans, without even bothering to try to retain the old ones. All I can say is that they're making a huge mistake. To quote one of my favorite Gavin songs, "Time will tell. It always does."
To be perfectly honest, I was dreading going to the show the following night, especially since it was in Hyannis (Cape Cod) and I had to drive to get there. Had it not been for the fact that a friend was depending on me for a ride, I wouldve stayed home. All I can say is thank God I didn't stay home! The second show was in a more intimate setting and Gavin was able to connect with his audience. That's what was missing from the show the night before. I bet all he could see is light and just the faces in the front row. Not so, at this smaller venue, which has a rotating stage. Every seat in the house was a good one. I had an excellent view of him and was able to take a few pics. Unfortunately, I forgot to put my memory card back in my camera from the last time I downloaded pics onto my computer, so I couldn't take very many. Regardless, Gavin electrified the crowd, so much so that the tent we were under was like a sauna! I was covered in sweat by the time his set was over. Words can't describe how happy I was to see the "old Gavin" performing on that stage. I know the more intimate shows don't bring in as much money as shows in larger venues, but Gavin does his best shows when he can really interact with the crowd, which is hard to do when you can't even SEE them.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Two Years
Two years ago today my ex-boyfriend broke up with me. At the time I was devastated, and after this blog post I will no longer be posting specifically about that particular break-up. I might occasionally mention it in passing because you never know what life may bring.
Although I was blindsided by the timing, the end of my relationship with my ex was a long time coming. In many ways, it may have been over as soon as it began. When you're in a relationship with someone that you feel you can't tell your friends and family the whole truth about, that relationship is doomed. For almost five years I lied by ommission to my mother, the most important person in my life. I also rationalized the lies that I told myself. If "loving" someone makes you go against your morals and the beliefs that you hold dear, walk away before you're in too deep. Although my intuition was constantly telling me to detach from the situation, I stayed out of sheer stubbornness. Plus, I'm someone that will never give up on you if I feel like I can help you.
If you only take one thing away from this post, let it be this. No matter how much you love someone, that love means absolutely nothing if they don't love themselves. A person has to feel worthy of love and treat themselves with loving kindness before they can receive love. My ex was practically alone in this world. Due to his upbringing, he and his mother were more like acquaintances than family. I have a tendency to want to embrace those who have lost their way, and in many ways he and I were kindred spirits. He knew what it was like to grow up poor, and he had seen the ugly side of life. I realized, too late, our common struggles weren't enough to keep us together. Whereas I embraced my past and evolved, he did not. I think a part of him is somewhat ashamed of where he came from so he acts almost as if that's no longer a part of who he is. Those of you who frequent this blog know about my humble beginnings and how I've let them be an impetus for me to try and have a better life than I might've otherwise had.
Two years removed from, what at the time seemed to be, one the most devastating events in my life, I continue to understand why things turned out the way that they were supposed to. The passage of time helps me to see that he and I were both meant for something different.
Although I was blindsided by the timing, the end of my relationship with my ex was a long time coming. In many ways, it may have been over as soon as it began. When you're in a relationship with someone that you feel you can't tell your friends and family the whole truth about, that relationship is doomed. For almost five years I lied by ommission to my mother, the most important person in my life. I also rationalized the lies that I told myself. If "loving" someone makes you go against your morals and the beliefs that you hold dear, walk away before you're in too deep. Although my intuition was constantly telling me to detach from the situation, I stayed out of sheer stubbornness. Plus, I'm someone that will never give up on you if I feel like I can help you.
If you only take one thing away from this post, let it be this. No matter how much you love someone, that love means absolutely nothing if they don't love themselves. A person has to feel worthy of love and treat themselves with loving kindness before they can receive love. My ex was practically alone in this world. Due to his upbringing, he and his mother were more like acquaintances than family. I have a tendency to want to embrace those who have lost their way, and in many ways he and I were kindred spirits. He knew what it was like to grow up poor, and he had seen the ugly side of life. I realized, too late, our common struggles weren't enough to keep us together. Whereas I embraced my past and evolved, he did not. I think a part of him is somewhat ashamed of where he came from so he acts almost as if that's no longer a part of who he is. Those of you who frequent this blog know about my humble beginnings and how I've let them be an impetus for me to try and have a better life than I might've otherwise had.
Two years removed from, what at the time seemed to be, one the most devastating events in my life, I continue to understand why things turned out the way that they were supposed to. The passage of time helps me to see that he and I were both meant for something different.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
It's Official
Last night was my last yoga teacher training class. I'm officially a registered yoga teacher. I can't believe I made it. Prior to the beginning of the program I wasn't even going to do the training. A deposit of $600 was required at registration which was in December of last year. I knew I wouldn't have that money by the deadline so I thought I'd wait until I saved the money before I did the training. Thought maybe I'd catch it next year. I mentioned to a friend that I wanted to do the training but didn't have the money. She told me to email the yoga studio owner (who would be doing the training) and let her know that I was interested. I knew that I'd have that $600 by the beginning of the training, but not before. I contacted Krista (the studio owner) and let her know my situation. She said that I could give her a check for $600 to hold my spot in the program, but that she wouldn't cash it until January.
By the time the yoga teacher training program started, I had all of my money and I was ready to roll. The rest of the money for the program was paid in installments. Every month I gave Krista a check. How I managed to carve out that payment every month from my finances is truly beyond me. Before teacher training I never would've thought I could've handled another monthly expense, but the universe provided for me. Along the way I've changed physically, mentally, and spiritually. I've made some wonderful friends, and I've acquired a skill that I can use to help people for the rest of my life.
I will be forever grateful to my friend who convinced me to go for it. I just knew there was no way I'd ever have the money to do it, but she gave me the best piece of advice ever. She said "Just jump. The money will be there when you need it." She was right. My faith in what's meant to be has always been strong, but the money aspect of things sometimes shakes my faith a bit. In my heart I've always known that I'm going to make it, but this phase in my life has taught me about what's really important. First and foremost we need to take care of ourselves. Also, we aren't what we wear or what we own. Stripping away all of the extraneous shit that we impose on ourselves will bring us closer to the divine, which resides in each and every one of us.
By the time the yoga teacher training program started, I had all of my money and I was ready to roll. The rest of the money for the program was paid in installments. Every month I gave Krista a check. How I managed to carve out that payment every month from my finances is truly beyond me. Before teacher training I never would've thought I could've handled another monthly expense, but the universe provided for me. Along the way I've changed physically, mentally, and spiritually. I've made some wonderful friends, and I've acquired a skill that I can use to help people for the rest of my life.
I will be forever grateful to my friend who convinced me to go for it. I just knew there was no way I'd ever have the money to do it, but she gave me the best piece of advice ever. She said "Just jump. The money will be there when you need it." She was right. My faith in what's meant to be has always been strong, but the money aspect of things sometimes shakes my faith a bit. In my heart I've always known that I'm going to make it, but this phase in my life has taught me about what's really important. First and foremost we need to take care of ourselves. Also, we aren't what we wear or what we own. Stripping away all of the extraneous shit that we impose on ourselves will bring us closer to the divine, which resides in each and every one of us.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
My Life-Continued
It seems like writing yesterday's blog post broke the ice for me to start updating this blog again. When I last talked about my life story, we were in the apartment I was sharing with a college friend after I graduated. My privacy had been well and truly violated, which I totally was not digging. One thing I forgot to tell you is that when I spoke to her about my not being happy with boundaries being overstepped, she said that where she's from that type of behavior is okay. I was thinking "Really? I'm from rural Georgia, and although we aren't the most couth people, even that doesn't fly with us."
After all of that went down I knew that I couldn't trust her, and went about my business for the rest of the summer. I found out that she was planning to move back home for a bit and then move to Las Vegas with her sister, so once our lease was up, she was out. On the day that she actually moved I didn't know she was leaving until I got home from work that afternoon. There was a note on my bed telling me that she was gone and that I owed her money for my part of the utilities. She included her parents' address so that I could send the money. I fully intended to send the money until I went into her old room and saw the note that she left for the freeloader girl. In the note she went on and on about what a great friend freeloader girl had been to her and how maybe she could visit her once she moved to Vegas with her sister. Wtf?! I was the one who got her out of a jam when she needed someone to take over half of the lease. I'm the one whose stuff her family and friends commandeered why I wasn't there. All I got was "You owe me money. Send it to this address." While this other girl who did nothing but mess up dishes without washing them, as well as not taking a turn cleaning the bathroom gets "You have been such a good friend to me." After reading that I knew there was no damn way she was ever getting the money that I owed her for utilities. When it comes right down to it, I got screwed in that deal. Looking back on it I just hate the fact that I didn't have the guts to speak up for myself. Of course with time comes maturity and hopefully, the ability to take action when someone is treating you unfairly. I just know that were I in the same situation today there's no way that I would stand for what went down. Live and learn.
After all of that went down I knew that I couldn't trust her, and went about my business for the rest of the summer. I found out that she was planning to move back home for a bit and then move to Las Vegas with her sister, so once our lease was up, she was out. On the day that she actually moved I didn't know she was leaving until I got home from work that afternoon. There was a note on my bed telling me that she was gone and that I owed her money for my part of the utilities. She included her parents' address so that I could send the money. I fully intended to send the money until I went into her old room and saw the note that she left for the freeloader girl. In the note she went on and on about what a great friend freeloader girl had been to her and how maybe she could visit her once she moved to Vegas with her sister. Wtf?! I was the one who got her out of a jam when she needed someone to take over half of the lease. I'm the one whose stuff her family and friends commandeered why I wasn't there. All I got was "You owe me money. Send it to this address." While this other girl who did nothing but mess up dishes without washing them, as well as not taking a turn cleaning the bathroom gets "You have been such a good friend to me." After reading that I knew there was no damn way she was ever getting the money that I owed her for utilities. When it comes right down to it, I got screwed in that deal. Looking back on it I just hate the fact that I didn't have the guts to speak up for myself. Of course with time comes maturity and hopefully, the ability to take action when someone is treating you unfairly. I just know that were I in the same situation today there's no way that I would stand for what went down. Live and learn.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Been Away Far Too Long
Hi, everyone. Did you miss me? I know it's been a long time since we last saw each other and there's definitely still more of my life story to tell. I've been very busy with my yoga teacher training and in three weeks I'll be all done. There's a big push to get some practice teaching done, so I've been trying to line up some private sessions with friends and colleagues. I also plan to set up another blog that will be centered around yoga. This journey is just beginning for me and I am looking forward to sharing with you all of the things that I learn along the way.
Monday, April 30, 2012
You Really Never Know Someone...
...until you live with them. It's such a cliche, but so true. Although the story I'm about to tell you happened almost 14 years ago, the retelling of it makes me feel like I'm right back there in the summer of 1998. In July of that year my younger brother was graduating from basic training as a Marine, so I took a trip down South to go with my family to his graduation. Before leaving the apartment for my trip, I closed my bedroom door. Off I went to enjoy some family time, secure in the belief that everything would be the way that I left it when I got home.
Boy, was I wrong! First of all, on the cab ride home I was thinking about the fact that I had strawberry Pop-Tarts, and I was looking forward to having one. Get home, go in the kitchen, no Pop-Tarts. Ask my roommate if she's seen my Pop-Tarts and her response was "My mom must've eaten them." I'm thinking "Your mom?" Apparently her parents were in town while I was gone, and they stayed in the apartment, rather than booking a room in a hotel. Supposedly they slept in her room, while she and her clubbing buddy slept in mine. Strike one: My Pop-Tarts are gone.
I go into my bedroom to unpack my stuff and notice that there are keys on my bed. Here we go again. Back to my roommate's room to ask her about the keys. Her response was "Oh those must be Paul's keys. We watched a movie in your room the other night, and he must've left them there." What? They watched a movie in my room? Strike two: My roommate and some dude were rolling around on my bed.
Putting stuff away in my closet I noticed that my bathrobe wasn't hanging inside on the door. Why do I have to keep asking this girl about my shit? Off I go to her room yet again. Ask her if she's seen my bathrobe. She asks what color it is, and when I tell her, she informs me that her mother slept in it while she was there. Apparently she thought it belonged to freeloader girl. You remember freeloader girl from my previous post, right? The million dollar question is: How would her mom even know about the existence of that robe unless she was in my room while she was visiting? That pretty much tells me that this chick's parents slept in my bed. Strike three: Some woman I don't even know is sleeping in my robe.
After that, I really had very little to do with this girl because I was raised to respect other people's property and to not touch something that isn't mine without permission. Where I'm from, a closed bedroom door when someone isn't home means "Do Not Enter". Invasion of privacy, anyone?
Unfortunately, at this point in my life I wasn't assertive enough to voice my disgust at all that had transpired while I was gone.
Boy, was I wrong! First of all, on the cab ride home I was thinking about the fact that I had strawberry Pop-Tarts, and I was looking forward to having one. Get home, go in the kitchen, no Pop-Tarts. Ask my roommate if she's seen my Pop-Tarts and her response was "My mom must've eaten them." I'm thinking "Your mom?" Apparently her parents were in town while I was gone, and they stayed in the apartment, rather than booking a room in a hotel. Supposedly they slept in her room, while she and her clubbing buddy slept in mine. Strike one: My Pop-Tarts are gone.
I go into my bedroom to unpack my stuff and notice that there are keys on my bed. Here we go again. Back to my roommate's room to ask her about the keys. Her response was "Oh those must be Paul's keys. We watched a movie in your room the other night, and he must've left them there." What? They watched a movie in my room? Strike two: My roommate and some dude were rolling around on my bed.
Putting stuff away in my closet I noticed that my bathrobe wasn't hanging inside on the door. Why do I have to keep asking this girl about my shit? Off I go to her room yet again. Ask her if she's seen my bathrobe. She asks what color it is, and when I tell her, she informs me that her mother slept in it while she was there. Apparently she thought it belonged to freeloader girl. You remember freeloader girl from my previous post, right? The million dollar question is: How would her mom even know about the existence of that robe unless she was in my room while she was visiting? That pretty much tells me that this chick's parents slept in my bed. Strike three: Some woman I don't even know is sleeping in my robe.
After that, I really had very little to do with this girl because I was raised to respect other people's property and to not touch something that isn't mine without permission. Where I'm from, a closed bedroom door when someone isn't home means "Do Not Enter". Invasion of privacy, anyone?
Unfortunately, at this point in my life I wasn't assertive enough to voice my disgust at all that had transpired while I was gone.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
School's Out Forever
For any of you that have ever been in therapy, you know that it takes a long time to change deeply ingrained behaviors. It's easy to fall back into the patterns that you've been following for your whole life. As I mentioned before, I'm an emotional eater. Weight gain is a sure sign that I'm upset or depressed about something. The time that I spent in therapy had helped me to cope with things without feeling the need to overeat because I had a place where I could go to let all of those feelings out. By the the time I graduated from college I had lost weight and was feeling good about myself.
Right after graduation I decided to share an apartment with a friend of mine that was in the same degree program as I was. Her roommate had broken the lease and she needed someone to live there until the lease was up. Because I wanted to continue living in Boston, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. But then as the saying goes, you never know someone until you live with them. In the beginning things started out well, but then I found out that she was letting a friend of hers crash there and share her bedroom. I know what you're thinking. If her friend is living there, why couldn't her friend help with the rent? That's a valid question. Because it was her place that I was moving into, I didn't feel like I could ask that question. Looking back, I think how much easier it would've been if we each had paid a third of the rent. I guess the other girl figured that as long as she didn't pay rent she wasn't responsible for any of the housework. She was a great one for using the dishes and then not washing them. It made for a great existence for the three months that I was there.
Right after graduation I decided to share an apartment with a friend of mine that was in the same degree program as I was. Her roommate had broken the lease and she needed someone to live there until the lease was up. Because I wanted to continue living in Boston, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. But then as the saying goes, you never know someone until you live with them. In the beginning things started out well, but then I found out that she was letting a friend of hers crash there and share her bedroom. I know what you're thinking. If her friend is living there, why couldn't her friend help with the rent? That's a valid question. Because it was her place that I was moving into, I didn't feel like I could ask that question. Looking back, I think how much easier it would've been if we each had paid a third of the rent. I guess the other girl figured that as long as she didn't pay rent she wasn't responsible for any of the housework. She was a great one for using the dishes and then not washing them. It made for a great existence for the three months that I was there.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Where Do I Go from Here
Speaking with a counselor at Berklee's counseling center was definitely necessary in order for me to work through my grief. This was the first time that someone I was close to had died. There had been deaths of relatives, but those happened when I was very, very young. Plus this was the death of someone with whom I was in love. I was in counseling for the rest of the school year, then I went back to Georgia for the summer. In some ways it was easier being home than it was being in Boston. I was around my family, which was nice. My mom and I are very close, so it was great to get to see her every day for three months.
Once the summer was over, things were kind of tough. Pretty much everywhere around the campus of Berklee was filled with memories of Mr. Nice Guy. I would come to a street corner and be reminded of the day that he gave me the last bite of his biscotti. To this day that's a memory that makes me smile. He was such a sweet person.
Although I was coming to terms with my grief, October was a hard month for me. The time around my birthday was hard, too, because he died a little less than a month after my 21st birthday. For a long time I would fall into a depression during the autumn months and it would last through the winter into spring. Sometimes it even stretched into summer. Sometimes it didn't end for a year or two. During my senior year of college I continued to see the counselor, but he had gone into private practice, so I had to pay to see him. I ended up in tears during at least 80% of our sessions, if not more. It was something that I needed at that time in my life because it helped me work through much more than the grief I was feeling.
Once the summer was over, things were kind of tough. Pretty much everywhere around the campus of Berklee was filled with memories of Mr. Nice Guy. I would come to a street corner and be reminded of the day that he gave me the last bite of his biscotti. To this day that's a memory that makes me smile. He was such a sweet person.
Although I was coming to terms with my grief, October was a hard month for me. The time around my birthday was hard, too, because he died a little less than a month after my 21st birthday. For a long time I would fall into a depression during the autumn months and it would last through the winter into spring. Sometimes it even stretched into summer. Sometimes it didn't end for a year or two. During my senior year of college I continued to see the counselor, but he had gone into private practice, so I had to pay to see him. I ended up in tears during at least 80% of our sessions, if not more. It was something that I needed at that time in my life because it helped me work through much more than the grief I was feeling.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
I've Got a Mirror and Eyes to See It
An email from a friend inspired me to elaborate on a remark I made about some white people not feeling comfortable around black people. When I was in elementary school one of my friends was having a sleepover. She didn't invite me because her mom said she "didn't want me to feel uncomfortable being the only black person there." She may have meant well, or she may have been projecting her feelings onto me. God only knows for sure. For the first seven years of my educational life, I was the only black person in the room for at least six hours a day. Why on earth should that bother me? We all speak English. We all eat with utensils held in our hands. We all wear clothes. We all wear shoes. I'm sure you see my point.
My whole life that's been my take on things. Most of the time I go about my business, doing my own thing, while others do theirs. Occasionally I'll experience a situation that slaps me "black to reality". It's not that I forget that I'm black. As the title clearly states, it's hard for me not to know. It's that I forget that it still matters to other people that I'm black. There has been more than one incidence of my getting on the subway, sitting down across from an older white person, and watching as that person gets up and goes to another seat. I can tell by the look of disgust on the person's face that they're moving because I sat down. It would be a different story if I sat right beside them when there are so many seats to choose from, but I'm sitting across from them. How sad is it that a person has such an issue with me being in their line of sight, that they feel the need to get up?
You may think it's just older people who are like this, but I had an ugly incident with a younger person take place when I was waiting to cross the street one night. At that particular intersection, I know the cycle of the traffic lights and knew that the light would be red for a few minutes while traffic from the opposite direction got the green light, in order to allow the people on that side to make a left turn. As I was starting to cross the street, the light on my side turned green, so I went back to the curb. As I was standing there, a car drove by and there was a white teenaged boy hanging out the window. He threw something at me as he shouted "Fucking nigger!" Because he doesn't understand the laws of physics, whatever he threw missed me completely. Why such anger? I wasn't holding up traffic. As soon as that light turned green I scurried out of the way. I must admit that encounter shook me up a bit. I hadn't felt pure hatred like that directed toward me by a stranger in a very long time. Regardless, I still refuse to go through the world in a defensive posture.
My whole life that's been my take on things. Most of the time I go about my business, doing my own thing, while others do theirs. Occasionally I'll experience a situation that slaps me "black to reality". It's not that I forget that I'm black. As the title clearly states, it's hard for me not to know. It's that I forget that it still matters to other people that I'm black. There has been more than one incidence of my getting on the subway, sitting down across from an older white person, and watching as that person gets up and goes to another seat. I can tell by the look of disgust on the person's face that they're moving because I sat down. It would be a different story if I sat right beside them when there are so many seats to choose from, but I'm sitting across from them. How sad is it that a person has such an issue with me being in their line of sight, that they feel the need to get up?
You may think it's just older people who are like this, but I had an ugly incident with a younger person take place when I was waiting to cross the street one night. At that particular intersection, I know the cycle of the traffic lights and knew that the light would be red for a few minutes while traffic from the opposite direction got the green light, in order to allow the people on that side to make a left turn. As I was starting to cross the street, the light on my side turned green, so I went back to the curb. As I was standing there, a car drove by and there was a white teenaged boy hanging out the window. He threw something at me as he shouted "Fucking nigger!" Because he doesn't understand the laws of physics, whatever he threw missed me completely. Why such anger? I wasn't holding up traffic. As soon as that light turned green I scurried out of the way. I must admit that encounter shook me up a bit. I hadn't felt pure hatred like that directed toward me by a stranger in a very long time. Regardless, I still refuse to go through the world in a defensive posture.
Friday, March 9, 2012
I'd Never Been So Low
The words you regret most in life are the ones that remain unsaid. The untimely death of Mr. Nice Guy threw me into a tailspin. For the first couple of weeks, not a day went by that I didn't cry. To know that I would never see that smiling face or feel his arms around me again was almost more than I could take. All I wanted to do was sleep. When I wasn't in class, which I was now known to skip, depending on the class, I was sleeping. Food and sleep were my escape from the pain. Whenever I had to interact with anyone in class, I felt like I was standing outside myself. The world was a movie, and I was a mere observer. I felt very isolated. To a certain degree I shut down. My friend who always pointed out my accent didn't understand the amount of pain I was feeling. She kept trying to get me to go out and do things with her and her boyfriend, but I was grieving. Because I didn't know how to vocalize my pain I froze her out.
My schoolwork had started to suffer, and one of my professors said something to me about it. I told her what was going on with me, and she suggested that I visit Berklee's counseling center to talk to a counselor. At this point I want to stop and tell you that for pretty much my whole life I've felt like I needed to be in therapy. You know my background. Though I was never abused, actually, what my paternal grandmother did to us could be considered verbal abuse, as well as emotional abuse. Regardless, I've always felt different, not only because I was a little black girl in a mostly white environment, but also because of the way my parents (more specifically, my mom) raised me. A lot of black children are raised to be angry and to hate white people. As soon as they step out into the world, they assume a defensive posture. I wasn't raised to hate white people, and there was very little anger in my household toward whites. Sometimes my dad exhibited it because of some of the prejudice he endured while growing up, but for my mom it was different. Her views and her tolerance are what shaped me as a person.
That being said, I grew into a kind, sensitive, loving, shy woman with a strong sense of morality. That doesn't play very well when you start going to school with more black kids and they think that in order to be black you have to be loud and obnoxious. I didn't really fit in with most of them, and although I was very comfortable around white people, they weren't necessarily all comfortable around me. Another thing that contributed to my feeling out of place is the fact that before I left for college my mom recommended that I stifle the sarcastic side of my personality so as not to alienate people in my new surroundings. I know she meant well, but for a really long time I wasn't sure who I was supposed to be. Yes, sometimes my sarcasm could be hurtful, but it fell more under the category of not suffering fools gladly.
Back to seeing the counselor. I made an appointment with a counselor at Berklee's counseling center. Although I naturally thought if I was ever in counseling/therapy it would be with a woman, my counselor ended up being a man who wasn't that much older than me. He was also very attractive, but once I started talking about my pain, his attractiveness was an afterthought.
My schoolwork had started to suffer, and one of my professors said something to me about it. I told her what was going on with me, and she suggested that I visit Berklee's counseling center to talk to a counselor. At this point I want to stop and tell you that for pretty much my whole life I've felt like I needed to be in therapy. You know my background. Though I was never abused, actually, what my paternal grandmother did to us could be considered verbal abuse, as well as emotional abuse. Regardless, I've always felt different, not only because I was a little black girl in a mostly white environment, but also because of the way my parents (more specifically, my mom) raised me. A lot of black children are raised to be angry and to hate white people. As soon as they step out into the world, they assume a defensive posture. I wasn't raised to hate white people, and there was very little anger in my household toward whites. Sometimes my dad exhibited it because of some of the prejudice he endured while growing up, but for my mom it was different. Her views and her tolerance are what shaped me as a person.
That being said, I grew into a kind, sensitive, loving, shy woman with a strong sense of morality. That doesn't play very well when you start going to school with more black kids and they think that in order to be black you have to be loud and obnoxious. I didn't really fit in with most of them, and although I was very comfortable around white people, they weren't necessarily all comfortable around me. Another thing that contributed to my feeling out of place is the fact that before I left for college my mom recommended that I stifle the sarcastic side of my personality so as not to alienate people in my new surroundings. I know she meant well, but for a really long time I wasn't sure who I was supposed to be. Yes, sometimes my sarcasm could be hurtful, but it fell more under the category of not suffering fools gladly.
Back to seeing the counselor. I made an appointment with a counselor at Berklee's counseling center. Although I naturally thought if I was ever in counseling/therapy it would be with a woman, my counselor ended up being a man who wasn't that much older than me. He was also very attractive, but once I started talking about my pain, his attractiveness was an afterthought.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
More About Me
My girl Cathy Keisha tagged me in a post on her blog in an effort to learn more about me. I'm already baring my soul on this blog. What more does she want? She's so demanding, that one!
Without further ado, here are the things that I must reveal about myself:
Describe yourself in seven words:
Sensitive
Ambitious
Loving
Daring
Stubborn
Independent
Trustworthy
What keeps you up at night?
Thoughts of how I'm going to transition from my current occupation to being a yoga teacher, Weight Watchers leader, and possibly a therapist. I also wonder if I'll make enough money doing those things to keep myself afloat.
Who would you like to be?
The very best version of myself.
What are you wearing right now?
Work clothes. A magenta cardigan, white camisole, gray slacks, and black boots.
What scares you?
The prospect that my niece could grow up to be exactly like her mother. This is a woman with major issues, that I'm started to see become a part of my niece's life.
The best and worst of blogging:
The best is when I post something that resonates with someone, and they truly understand where I'm coming from. The worst is trying to come up with things to write about.
Last website you visited:
My girl CK's to read these questions.
One thing you'd change about yourself:
I would've saved money for college when I was a kid.
Slankets or no?
The concept is a solid one, but I don't know if I could walk around like that, even just in my apartment.
Tell us about the cat/person that tagged you:
CK and I met through Twitter. She's a sista like me, so we bonded immediately. Her disposition is also similar to my kitty Topaz's so how can I not love her?
Next up I need to tag other bloggers that I'd like to learn more about.
Carole: This is Admiral Hestorb's and Katie Bella's mom. I've learned a bit about her, but it would be nice to know more.
Max: Although Max is the kitty whose name is featured on this blog, his sibs Bugsy and Knuckles live with HH and cause havoc as Max watches them from OTRB.
Confucius Cat: CC and I have been out of touch lately and it would be nice to know what's on his mind.
Mattie: Here's my little sweet tater. He loves everyone and everyone loves him. Let's see how he describes himself. Bet he'll use the word "smexy" ;-).
Without further ado, here are the things that I must reveal about myself:
Describe yourself in seven words:
Sensitive
Ambitious
Loving
Daring
Stubborn
Independent
Trustworthy
What keeps you up at night?
Thoughts of how I'm going to transition from my current occupation to being a yoga teacher, Weight Watchers leader, and possibly a therapist. I also wonder if I'll make enough money doing those things to keep myself afloat.
Who would you like to be?
The very best version of myself.
What are you wearing right now?
Work clothes. A magenta cardigan, white camisole, gray slacks, and black boots.
What scares you?
The prospect that my niece could grow up to be exactly like her mother. This is a woman with major issues, that I'm started to see become a part of my niece's life.
The best and worst of blogging:
The best is when I post something that resonates with someone, and they truly understand where I'm coming from. The worst is trying to come up with things to write about.
Last website you visited:
My girl CK's to read these questions.
One thing you'd change about yourself:
I would've saved money for college when I was a kid.
Slankets or no?
The concept is a solid one, but I don't know if I could walk around like that, even just in my apartment.
Tell us about the cat/person that tagged you:
CK and I met through Twitter. She's a sista like me, so we bonded immediately. Her disposition is also similar to my kitty Topaz's so how can I not love her?
Next up I need to tag other bloggers that I'd like to learn more about.
Carole: This is Admiral Hestorb's and Katie Bella's mom. I've learned a bit about her, but it would be nice to know more.
Max: Although Max is the kitty whose name is featured on this blog, his sibs Bugsy and Knuckles live with HH and cause havoc as Max watches them from OTRB.
Confucius Cat: CC and I have been out of touch lately and it would be nice to know what's on his mind.
Mattie: Here's my little sweet tater. He loves everyone and everyone loves him. Let's see how he describes himself. Bet he'll use the word "smexy" ;-).
Friday, March 2, 2012
I Thought I Knew Pain Before...
Sophomore year without Mr. Nice Guy was kind of like a settling in period for me. A lot of time was spent getting to know my way around Boston. I felt like I was finally finding my place. Just before the beginning of junior year I was walking around Boston enjoying the warm weather, when who should I see on the street corner, but Mr. Nice Guy! He came up to me and gave me a big hug and then apologized for being sweaty from riding his bike. Do you think I cared that he was sweaty? Of course not! We did the usual chitchat thing, and he told me that he was kind of sad that his old roommate that he moved off-campus with left school. At the time his next words didn't really register that much. He said, "Now that I'm living with a cop it should be easier for me to stay sober." I thought his sobriety was firmly in hand, so I didn't think twice about his words.
After that day I saw him all the time. One day I was headed back to the dorms after class and was waiting to cross the street. As I'm standing there, he comes walking up to me from the other direction. We hug, and chat for a few minutes. He's eating biscotti and gets down to the last bite. He offers it to me, but I don't want to take it because it's the last bite. He's like "Come on. It's the last bite." So I take it and we part ways. I remember having a warm feeling inside because he gave me the last bite of his biscotti. Cheesy, I know, but I'm a romantic at heart. Another time I ran into him a day or two before my 21st birthday. I told him that me and some friends were going out to celebrate and invited him along, but he had other plans. He was like "I'll have to buy you a beer sometime." Of course I don't drink and I let him know that. With a hug we parted at the corner, and I spent the rest of the day all dreamy-eyed from having seen him again.
Because we kept running into each other so frequently I just knew this was a sign. My love for him had been rekindled so I decided it was time to lay it all on the line. I found out his student mailbox number and decided to send him a note. Basically the note said I missed hanging out with him and that maybe we could get together. I gave him my number and told him to call me. So I dropped it off at the student mailroom and then I waited. A few days go by, no phone call. A week goes by, no phone call. I finally actually see him in the mailroom one day while I'm checking my mail. We hug and I ask him if he got my note. He said yes, but that he lost it along with $200 that he had in his pocket. He told me he'd definitely like to hang out and asked for my number. He also gave me his. That weekend I called him, but his roommate answered the phone and said he wasn't there. I left a message for him to call me, and the waiting began again. A few days later I was on the phone telling my mom about how I had called him and he hadn't called me back when call waiting beeped in. Lo and behold it was Mr. Nice Guy returning my phone call. Apparently he had been in the studio doing some recording (he was a drummer), and found the message that I had called on a note on the refrigerator. He said that he had recorded some really good stuff, and that I should come over sometime and listen to it. In my mind I was thinking "Yes!". I was thinking that maybe we'd finally be alone together so that I could confess my feelings to him. He said he'd let me know when I could come over.
That next week I saw him outside a convenience store across from my dorm. I was walking with the friend of mine who used to always point out my accent and she didn't like him. He didn't really like her either, but that's beside the point. I remember he was eating a small bag of Baked Lay's and he offered us both some. He was always really kind like that. We all chatted for a bit and then she and I left. Little did I know that was the last time I'd ever see him.
That next week during my usual travels around campus I kept expecting to see him, but I never did. The night of October 20, 1996 into the morning of October 21, 1996 was awful for me. During the night I kept having the recurring nightmare that someone had slit the throats of the cast of the show "Friends". I could see the bright red blood from the slashes on their throats and their heads were lolling back. I'd wake up from it, but everytime I fell asleep I would see that same image again. The next morning I felt awful, like a cloak of misery had been draped around me. I didn't want to get out of bed. It was so bad that I skipped my first class that day, which was at 9:00 in the morning. When I did get out of bed I looked out the window to the church across the street. I saw a statue of an angel there, but all I could think of was how awful I felt. It was such a gloomy day outside, which matched the feelings inside me. Finally I decided to go to my afternoon class. At the end of class I saw my roommate standing outside the door. When I walked up to her and asked her what was up, I couldn't believe the words that came out of her mouth. She said, "Mr. Nice Guy is dead." My immediate response was "You're lying!" She said no and went on to tell me that there was a sign in the Production and Engineering Department (since that was his major) announcing it.
We walked to the department so that I could see the sign for myself. There it was in black and white. That's when my world came crashing down around me. My roommate and accent girl both had to go to class, so I went back to my room. With tears streaming down my face, I immediately called my mom. When she answered the phone the first words out of my mouth were "He's dead!" Of course she had no clue who I was talking about. Through my sobs I explained to her what I had found out. Word was he had been hit by a car while riding his bike. Later accent girl told me she heard he had OD'd. It didn't matter to me how he died. All I knew was that the man I loved had died before I had the chance to express my feelings to him. After I hung up with my mom all I could do was cry. I sat on the floor of my dormroom and bawled like a baby. I cried so hard that I literally made myself sick. At one point I had to go to the bathroom and throw up. The next day there was a memorial service for him at school. My roommate and I went, but all I could do is sit there as my tears flowed. How was it possible that my first real love had been taken from me?
After that day I saw him all the time. One day I was headed back to the dorms after class and was waiting to cross the street. As I'm standing there, he comes walking up to me from the other direction. We hug, and chat for a few minutes. He's eating biscotti and gets down to the last bite. He offers it to me, but I don't want to take it because it's the last bite. He's like "Come on. It's the last bite." So I take it and we part ways. I remember having a warm feeling inside because he gave me the last bite of his biscotti. Cheesy, I know, but I'm a romantic at heart. Another time I ran into him a day or two before my 21st birthday. I told him that me and some friends were going out to celebrate and invited him along, but he had other plans. He was like "I'll have to buy you a beer sometime." Of course I don't drink and I let him know that. With a hug we parted at the corner, and I spent the rest of the day all dreamy-eyed from having seen him again.
Because we kept running into each other so frequently I just knew this was a sign. My love for him had been rekindled so I decided it was time to lay it all on the line. I found out his student mailbox number and decided to send him a note. Basically the note said I missed hanging out with him and that maybe we could get together. I gave him my number and told him to call me. So I dropped it off at the student mailroom and then I waited. A few days go by, no phone call. A week goes by, no phone call. I finally actually see him in the mailroom one day while I'm checking my mail. We hug and I ask him if he got my note. He said yes, but that he lost it along with $200 that he had in his pocket. He told me he'd definitely like to hang out and asked for my number. He also gave me his. That weekend I called him, but his roommate answered the phone and said he wasn't there. I left a message for him to call me, and the waiting began again. A few days later I was on the phone telling my mom about how I had called him and he hadn't called me back when call waiting beeped in. Lo and behold it was Mr. Nice Guy returning my phone call. Apparently he had been in the studio doing some recording (he was a drummer), and found the message that I had called on a note on the refrigerator. He said that he had recorded some really good stuff, and that I should come over sometime and listen to it. In my mind I was thinking "Yes!". I was thinking that maybe we'd finally be alone together so that I could confess my feelings to him. He said he'd let me know when I could come over.
That next week I saw him outside a convenience store across from my dorm. I was walking with the friend of mine who used to always point out my accent and she didn't like him. He didn't really like her either, but that's beside the point. I remember he was eating a small bag of Baked Lay's and he offered us both some. He was always really kind like that. We all chatted for a bit and then she and I left. Little did I know that was the last time I'd ever see him.
That next week during my usual travels around campus I kept expecting to see him, but I never did. The night of October 20, 1996 into the morning of October 21, 1996 was awful for me. During the night I kept having the recurring nightmare that someone had slit the throats of the cast of the show "Friends". I could see the bright red blood from the slashes on their throats and their heads were lolling back. I'd wake up from it, but everytime I fell asleep I would see that same image again. The next morning I felt awful, like a cloak of misery had been draped around me. I didn't want to get out of bed. It was so bad that I skipped my first class that day, which was at 9:00 in the morning. When I did get out of bed I looked out the window to the church across the street. I saw a statue of an angel there, but all I could think of was how awful I felt. It was such a gloomy day outside, which matched the feelings inside me. Finally I decided to go to my afternoon class. At the end of class I saw my roommate standing outside the door. When I walked up to her and asked her what was up, I couldn't believe the words that came out of her mouth. She said, "Mr. Nice Guy is dead." My immediate response was "You're lying!" She said no and went on to tell me that there was a sign in the Production and Engineering Department (since that was his major) announcing it.
We walked to the department so that I could see the sign for myself. There it was in black and white. That's when my world came crashing down around me. My roommate and accent girl both had to go to class, so I went back to my room. With tears streaming down my face, I immediately called my mom. When she answered the phone the first words out of my mouth were "He's dead!" Of course she had no clue who I was talking about. Through my sobs I explained to her what I had found out. Word was he had been hit by a car while riding his bike. Later accent girl told me she heard he had OD'd. It didn't matter to me how he died. All I knew was that the man I loved had died before I had the chance to express my feelings to him. After I hung up with my mom all I could do was cry. I sat on the floor of my dormroom and bawled like a baby. I cried so hard that I literally made myself sick. At one point I had to go to the bathroom and throw up. The next day there was a memorial service for him at school. My roommate and I went, but all I could do is sit there as my tears flowed. How was it possible that my first real love had been taken from me?
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Yoga Teacher Training
As many of you know, I'm in the process of training to become a yoga teacher. As a part of that training I attend a class every Tuesday night, for three hours, where I learn to break down the poses and teach them to people. I also learn aspects of the philosophy of yoga. The truths of yoga philosophy are deep, yet simple. A lot of people assume that if you're a yoga practitioner, you must be Buddhist or Hindu. Yoga isn't affiliated with any particular religion but encompasses the basic tenets of all religions. I have no real religious leanings. My parents are Southern Baptists, but I never had any interest in tethering myself to a specific religion. I do believe that there is a higher being or a higher state of being. I refer to it as God because that's the easiest thing to do. Yoga philosophy describes God as the divine, whether that be a holy spirit, a figurehead, or the sense of the divine that we all carry within ourselves. Joy, compassion, perseverance, and gratitude are all encouraged in the yogic philosophy. There is no one path to the divine. There are many divergent paths, and it's up to you to choose the one that works for you. In that observation, I see a message of tolerance. We all come from very different places, but for the most part we want the same things.
To make up for the lack of excitement in my last blog post, I'll leave you with a picture from my yoga teacher training class. In the picture I'm in downward dog, and my classmate Elizabeth is giving me an assist to push my hips further up and back.
To make up for the lack of excitement in my last blog post, I'll leave you with a picture from my yoga teacher training class. In the picture I'm in downward dog, and my classmate Elizabeth is giving me an assist to push my hips further up and back.
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