Trying a new format for sharing content.
Monday, June 22, 2020
Monday, June 15, 2020
Do the work: Black Lives Matter
Normally I reserve posts about race to my Wetback American blog but today I need to address something with my fellow mommas. In case you have been under a rock, the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement has again come to the forefront of American consciousness. The exact why can be traced to recent murders of Black men by White men, both police and "regular" citizens. So what does that have to do with Wheatless Mama and/or you? Keep reading.
If you are a regular reader then you know that I, Martha, am married to a Black man, normally called DH. We have 2 beautiful daughters, Gymgirl and BabyLala. If it somehow escaped you, I am Mexican or Latina if you prefer, personally I prefer Mexican. So I am coming to you from a place of motherhood, especially as the mother of biracial girls. I am not here to hurt you. I am here to hopefully remind you of the work we all have to do as mothers or inform you about the work if you were ignoring it. I am going to be political and abrasive but you need to understand it comes from love.
It pains me that in the weeks since the protest began, we still have more Black men being murdered by police officers in what from footage show is excessive use of force and quick escalation. It pains me because this is all on video and people are still denying we have any issues. It pains me because I don't want to see that trauma porn and yet new footage is released daily so no matter which one of my social medias I use I am forced to confront the fact that my husband, father-in-law, brother-in-law, nephew, and all other Black men are in constant danger in a range that I couldn't imagine before. Folx we have work to do!
The work is hard. The work in many ways is nebulous and hard to pinpoint; this is the crux of the issue for many. The work is overwhelming and no one wants to give you a list so you can check off your way to not being racist. I can't give you a list either. I would love to give you a list. I want so badly to help you check your way to being a loyal anti-racist advocate; I want to make this easy on you but there is no easy way.
As you work, you need to become familiar with the stages of grief. You will be grieving. What will you be grieving? Honestly, 2 things: 1 - the death of your own innocence and 2 - the death of the America you thought you knew. This is scary as fuck. I know you don't want to die, not physically, not metaphorically, not in any way shape, or form. I'm telling you this upfront because it feels awful. It feels so bad that you want to stop doing the work. You want to go back to your old ways but I've just shattered that space for you. How can you go back when you know something new? You can't. Now you have to push through.
Remember the stages of grief. You will get sad. You will cry. You will wish you didn't know. You will deny this is real. You'll be pissed at me for asking you to open your eyes. You'll be mad at your eyes for having been blind for so long. You'll curse the day you started the work. You'll swear to do better if you can just stop working and knowing. Then you'll get active and become the advocate this world needs.
Okay so the work? You have to admit you hold racist ideas. You have benefited from racist policies. You have to understand that you are not a horrible person for any of it. Easy? Not even close. Checklist? It doesn't exist. Can you do it? I'm pleading with you to do it. My family's lives depend on it.
I'm saying all of this as a woman who has so much work to do. I have been married to DH for 18 years. I have been with this man since 1996, almost 25 years. I have birthed 2 Blaxican daughters. I work at an HBCU. I grew up in one of the Black areas of my city. I have so much work to do. I actively avoid it. Ya'll I hate the work.
If you are in your early 40s like me you have never seen this kind of awakening and so you have no roadmap. I'm not excusing you, me, from doing the work. I'm telling you I know you want a checklist or at least to be able to rely on your upbringing for how and it does not exist. We grew up in a "melting pot" so we were raised "color-blind." Most of the racism we grew up in was covert. Now it is called microaggressions but when we were growing up, we called it becoming "Good Americans."
Still with me? Okay how are you feeling? You think I'm full of shit right? You feel like I'm judging you or your parents or your mothering? All valid feelings. Hell, maybe I am doing all of those things. I don't know. I'm at a computer crying my eyes out while I write this hoping that maybe it will help one person actually wake up.
How does one start the work? See this is why I can't give you a checklist. We are all in different places. Some of us have lots of Black friends and People of Color (POC) around us so for the most part we think we don't have work. We have work. Others live in such a mono-colored world that again, why even start the work?
I'm going to tell you about my work. It is less scary when you know someone who is working through something so here it goes.
This round, I began with "Between the World and Me" by Ta-Nehisi Coates. I cried my way through it. I spoke to my husband about Ta-Nehisi's experience and how those related to his own. My DH is also a Howard alum so I knew the landmarks and about the culture. I didn't know about the brutality. You know that's a lie. I knew but I didn't want to know. (This is some of the work. I have to admit I want to be blind to the truth so I blind myself.) I have been in several traffic stops with my husband. I know what he has been trained to do. I know that as a POC I have to act a certain way. Anyway, I cried my way thought DH's affirming of the dangers Ta-Nehisi described. Why did I cry? Because a part of my innocence died. I know my husband is in danger but somehow I had delusional ideas that he had just not experienced anything that bad. Surely, everyone can see his wonderful spirit and that has protected him. Bubble burst, it hasn't. He has "protected" me and my innocence since day one. I want to badly to believe that we are safer than others but it's just not true. I was just being blind.
Once I had worked my way through that grief, I watch John Leguizamo's Latin History for Morons and I entered a new phase of work. I was almost completely ignorant of my own history. My parents are from Mexico and I had bought the American dream without even thinking about the cost for my own people. Then I read "1491" by Charles C. Mann. More crying. More loss of innocence.
Then I started "Stamped from the Beginning" by Ibram X. Kendi and I could take no more. I was too raw. I was too scared. I decided that I knew enough and the things Kendi was saying wasn't of any benefit to me. I work at an HBCU. I'm married to a Black man. I'm so woke.
I was so wrong. What restarted my journey? One of my former students contacted me asking for help. She was trying to get her OB to listen to her. She knew her life was in danger so she was calling for help from anyone that might do something. Again, my sister-in-law almost died after giving birth. My mother-in-law almost died after giving birth. My husband's father's parents both lost their mothers shortly after giving birth. Black women die in childbirth at rates that infuriate me. Because I had lost a White friend in childbirth, my focus had always been on safer birth practice for everyone. I had blinded myself to the reality that my daughters are more likely to die in childbirth than I was when I gave birth to them. Ya'll in most families, each generation has a better chance of surviving childbirth but not mine! My level of education. The healthy lifestyle that we live and model. Living in a 1st world country. None of that adds protection for my daughters! We went backward all because my girls are Black!
Now there are more steps and turns in my journey but this post is long enough, right? I know not all of you have father-in-laws who were in the Black Panthers or husbands who attended HBCUs or children who have to bat people's hands from their hair. That does not mean you are excused from the work. Hell even if you do have those things, you have work to do.
This is going to sound crude and harsh but someone who loves you has to say it so here goes, "Just because you fucked a Black guy/girl/person does not make you not racist!" Trust me, you can have a KKK robe in your closet and fuck Black people. Don't pull the "I love Black dick/pussy" card with me. 25 years I have been on the arm of a big Black man and I have work. 41 years I have been Mexican in a country that hates my kind and I have work. Don't you dare tell me you are woke because you love the Blacks. You are the worst kind of racist, the most dangerous kind, the person that says all the right things until it matters. You are loud standing behind a Black person but around your White friends, you laugh at their jokes about POC or LGBTQIA or those that are differently-abled.
I don't want your "I'm sorry." I don't want your promises to do better. I want you to do work. If you can read Coates, Mann, James Baldwin, Toni Morrison, Angela Davis, and countless other accounts of the Black experience and still think I'm full of shit then okay. I'll accept that I'm the ignorant one. I'll accept that my girls are just like your girls. My husband is just like yours. My life has been full of privileges and I just need to shut the fuck up. I promise to accept all of your criticism and add that to my work. But first, do your work like your family's lives depend on it.
Tuesday, May 26, 2020
30 Days of Music Challenge
So about 40 days ago I noticed several of my facebook friends were playing a posting game: 30 Days of Music. I thought the categories were quite interesting so I decided to play along. We were all using the one below.
If you Google 30-Day Song Challenge, you'll find a ton of templates. Anyways, I wanted to share my list with you.
I have also created a Spotify list if you want listen instead of read: Spotify List Here
Day 1: A song you like with a color in the title
Raspberry Beret - Prince
Day 2: A song you like with a number in the title
8675390 (Jenny) - Tommy Tutone
Day 3: A song that reminds you of summertime
Summer Girls - LFO
Day 4: A song that reminds you of someone you’d rather forget
Naughty Boy - Galaxy Express
Day 5: A song that needs to be played loudly
Mr. Brightside - The Killers
Day 6: A song that makes you want to dance
Suavemente - Elvis Crespo
Day 7: A song to drive to
Get Out the Map - The Indigo Girls
Day 8: A song about drugs or alcohol
Semi-Charmed Life - Third Eye Blind
Day 9: A song that makes you happy
Juggernaut - The Shiz
Day 10: A song that makes you sad
Amor Eterno - Rocio Durcal
Day 11: A song you never get tired of
Read My Mind - The Killers
Day 12: A song from your pre-teen years
Pelo Suleto - Gloria Trevi
Day 13: A song you like from the 70s
Layla - Derek and The Dominoes
Day 14: A song you’d love to be played at your wedding
Esa Mujer - Pepe Aguilar
Day 15: A song you like that’s a cover by another artist
Fotos y Recuerdos - Selena
Day 16: A song that’s a classic favorite
God Only Knows - The Beach Boys
Day 17: A song you’d sing as a duet in karaoke
Got Your Money - Old Dirty Bastard
Day 18: A song from the year you were born
Reunited - Peaches and Herb
Day 19: A song that makes you think about life
O Let Your Light Shine Bright - The Lilie Lewis Project
Day 20: A song that has many meanings to you
Not Ready to Make Nice - The Dixie Chicks
Day 21: A song you like with a person’s name in the title
Bernadette - The Four Tops
Day 22: A song that moves you forward
Juice - Lizzo
Day 23: A song you think everyone should listen to
Bones - The Killers
Day 24: A song by a band you wish was still together
No Controles - Flans
Day 25: A song you like by a dead artist
Back To Black - Amy Winehouse
Day 26: A song that makes you want to fall in love
Hanging by a Moment - Lifehouse
Day 27: A song that breaks your heart
Prometi Olivarte - Pepe Aguilar
Day 28: A song by an artist whose voice you love
Crossfire - Brandon Flowers
Day 29: A song you remember from your childhood
Let's Hear It for the Boy - Deniece Williams
Day 30: A song that reminds you of yourself.
Monday, May 18, 2020
Quarantine Reflections
When we started this whole quarantine business back on March 16 or so, I had every intention of keeping a diary/blog a day thing and then reality set in pretty quick and here we are my first post since early February. So what exactly happened to all of my plans? Well honestly, I was going to write to celebrate my first half-marathon back on Feb 22nd and it was a whole different experience from my other races but here we are May 18th and no post on the half-marry.
I am one of those people that needs to feel inspired to write. Even with a great topic, I need will, idea, time, and space to be in a magic blend to actually write anything so here we are May 18th, 2020 and I have the magical blend. I've been working from home since March 20th. I am not a stay at home mom. I've been navigating the waters of working full-time from home while dealing with a 3-year-old that is thrilled I am home all the time so we can hang. It has not been easy and yet I know I am in a privileged position. I am working. I still received a steady paycheck and have help from my parents and husband so that when I have meetings during the day/night whenever, I can find space to turn on Zoom and work.
Okay so I do want to mark what has happened. I need to write down some reflections/diary entries so that much like my pregnancy with my oldest, I can go back and remember. As a hard-core introvert, I have no actually struggled much with the being away from people but I am struggling with the being with people all the time. I miss my commute. I miss the time to think, to write, to reflect. There are 6 of us here all the time. It is hard to think. So what have I been doing? I've been running/walking/working out in my backyard. I get up, dress out, and move. I have basically cut a track in our backyard. 40 loops is a mile. I'm working on cutting a slightly bigger loop. Last week, I actually got a 10-mile run done, so like 400 or so loops! Good thing I change direction every half mile or so.
There has been a blessing in all of this. I have been able to spend time with Baby Lala. I have been working long and hard since before she was born. I was still bleeding when I went back to work. I've been career focused or focused on getting my dad through cancer treatment and often times both. I was selfish and took up running in order to survive the stress. That didn't leave much time for being the mommy of a baby/toddler/preschooler. Now I'm with her 24/7. It is hard to balance everything so honestly I don't. I'm either in mom-mode or in work-mode. I move unbalanced and someday unhinged between these two worlds. I have loved watching Lala mature and grow. She has been teaching herself to read. She is so strong-willed and strong physically. She is a force to be reckoned with. In short she is amazing and everything I would like to think I could have been if I had been born 2nd instead of 1st.
And there is time with GymGirl. She is so grown up. She is all of 10 but is going on 20 entirely too fast. She is an artist, digital. She creates. She still has a laugh that lights up my world. When she and Lala get going, I swear it is what angels in heaven must sound like.
Yes, I'm ready to be back in my office. Yes, I miss the days of being a hard-driving focused and ambitious career woman. But for right now, I'm reminding myself to take the time to enjoy the total lack of balance in my life. My girls will never be this little again. Time march forward so quickly. Normally I would have heard about Lala's adventures in potty training instead of being hands-on. I would only have a couple of hours each day with my girls instead of spending only a few hours a day on work (well 8 hours but in chunks so it doesn't feel as heavy).
It is funny, right before covid turned everything upside down, my husband had made the move to full-time podcasting so after almost a year of not seeing each other, we were finally back together everyday. It was awkward at first. It was like starting over again, learning to share the space again. Quarantine has actually allowed us the time and space to get intimate again, not physically [well also physically] but intellectually. It has been nice.
What have I lost in this time? Well I did have a fellow colleague pass away due to covid. I have missed working with my students. I cried on what would have been their graduation day. I miss running with my badass run partner. I miss going to coffee with the 2 people who bother to give me time.
Will I be different after this? I hope so. Hopefully more aware and appreciative of those around me. You even know when life is going to turn upside down so you better look around, take a deep breath, and understand this moment will never be here again. I'm making these the best moments of my life. I pray you are well. Maybe magic will happen again soon and I'll write more about my adventures in developing my covid routine! Maybe not? We'll see.
I am one of those people that needs to feel inspired to write. Even with a great topic, I need will, idea, time, and space to be in a magic blend to actually write anything so here we are May 18th, 2020 and I have the magical blend. I've been working from home since March 20th. I am not a stay at home mom. I've been navigating the waters of working full-time from home while dealing with a 3-year-old that is thrilled I am home all the time so we can hang. It has not been easy and yet I know I am in a privileged position. I am working. I still received a steady paycheck and have help from my parents and husband so that when I have meetings during the day/night whenever, I can find space to turn on Zoom and work.
Okay so I do want to mark what has happened. I need to write down some reflections/diary entries so that much like my pregnancy with my oldest, I can go back and remember. As a hard-core introvert, I have no actually struggled much with the being away from people but I am struggling with the being with people all the time. I miss my commute. I miss the time to think, to write, to reflect. There are 6 of us here all the time. It is hard to think. So what have I been doing? I've been running/walking/working out in my backyard. I get up, dress out, and move. I have basically cut a track in our backyard. 40 loops is a mile. I'm working on cutting a slightly bigger loop. Last week, I actually got a 10-mile run done, so like 400 or so loops! Good thing I change direction every half mile or so.
There has been a blessing in all of this. I have been able to spend time with Baby Lala. I have been working long and hard since before she was born. I was still bleeding when I went back to work. I've been career focused or focused on getting my dad through cancer treatment and often times both. I was selfish and took up running in order to survive the stress. That didn't leave much time for being the mommy of a baby/toddler/preschooler. Now I'm with her 24/7. It is hard to balance everything so honestly I don't. I'm either in mom-mode or in work-mode. I move unbalanced and someday unhinged between these two worlds. I have loved watching Lala mature and grow. She has been teaching herself to read. She is so strong-willed and strong physically. She is a force to be reckoned with. In short she is amazing and everything I would like to think I could have been if I had been born 2nd instead of 1st.
And there is time with GymGirl. She is so grown up. She is all of 10 but is going on 20 entirely too fast. She is an artist, digital. She creates. She still has a laugh that lights up my world. When she and Lala get going, I swear it is what angels in heaven must sound like.
Yes, I'm ready to be back in my office. Yes, I miss the days of being a hard-driving focused and ambitious career woman. But for right now, I'm reminding myself to take the time to enjoy the total lack of balance in my life. My girls will never be this little again. Time march forward so quickly. Normally I would have heard about Lala's adventures in potty training instead of being hands-on. I would only have a couple of hours each day with my girls instead of spending only a few hours a day on work (well 8 hours but in chunks so it doesn't feel as heavy).
It is funny, right before covid turned everything upside down, my husband had made the move to full-time podcasting so after almost a year of not seeing each other, we were finally back together everyday. It was awkward at first. It was like starting over again, learning to share the space again. Quarantine has actually allowed us the time and space to get intimate again, not physically [well also physically] but intellectually. It has been nice.
What have I lost in this time? Well I did have a fellow colleague pass away due to covid. I have missed working with my students. I cried on what would have been their graduation day. I miss running with my badass run partner. I miss going to coffee with the 2 people who bother to give me time.
Will I be different after this? I hope so. Hopefully more aware and appreciative of those around me. You even know when life is going to turn upside down so you better look around, take a deep breath, and understand this moment will never be here again. I'm making these the best moments of my life. I pray you are well. Maybe magic will happen again soon and I'll write more about my adventures in developing my covid routine! Maybe not? We'll see.
Monday, February 3, 2020
100% Authentic - The ultimate mash-up #MariachiEntertainmentSystem
On Friday (1/31) one of my Facebook friends shared this video:
A cover of Take On Me done by Mariachi Entertainment System. I played it for everyone. I reposted it. I tweeted about it. I love it.
As I was singing at the top of my lungs along with Baby Lala and DH, I was thinking what exactly is it about this that I love so much?
We are about 8 days out from the news of Kobe Bryant's death. It felt sad. While I was never a massive Kobe fan, I'm simply not a fan of the NBA, the news that one of his children passed with him hit me hard. I could not help but to feel or image the pain of his widow. Not only losing your husband but losing your child; how do you survive? So sad; then Friday, this ray of happiness hit by FB feed.
Still, that isn't the only thing about it that I love. Yes you can see Mariachi Entertainment System (MES) is having fun and in general, the song is fun but it is the mash-up of cultures that warms my soul. Growing up in a very Mexican house in the deep East Texas woods, I felt like I didn't belong to either side. This song is the blending of my sides.
MES didn't change it into something unrecognizable. They just did it in their personal style. So often people make covers that sound exactly like the original (so what's the point?) or they try to create a whole new beast unrecognizable to people who loved the original. This is 100% authentic to everything.
Being the mom to 2 Blaxican girls, we try to tell them to be authentic to themselves. GymGirl and Baby Lala are both Black and Mexican not half of anything but 100% themselves and this song feels like the embodiment of that idea. I can't make the world see the girls as whole in both Black and Mexican; the world sees them as half or will once the girls tell people they are both.
A cover of Take On Me done by Mariachi Entertainment System. I played it for everyone. I reposted it. I tweeted about it. I love it.
As I was singing at the top of my lungs along with Baby Lala and DH, I was thinking what exactly is it about this that I love so much?
We are about 8 days out from the news of Kobe Bryant's death. It felt sad. While I was never a massive Kobe fan, I'm simply not a fan of the NBA, the news that one of his children passed with him hit me hard. I could not help but to feel or image the pain of his widow. Not only losing your husband but losing your child; how do you survive? So sad; then Friday, this ray of happiness hit by FB feed.
Still, that isn't the only thing about it that I love. Yes you can see Mariachi Entertainment System (MES) is having fun and in general, the song is fun but it is the mash-up of cultures that warms my soul. Growing up in a very Mexican house in the deep East Texas woods, I felt like I didn't belong to either side. This song is the blending of my sides.
MES didn't change it into something unrecognizable. They just did it in their personal style. So often people make covers that sound exactly like the original (so what's the point?) or they try to create a whole new beast unrecognizable to people who loved the original. This is 100% authentic to everything.
Being the mom to 2 Blaxican girls, we try to tell them to be authentic to themselves. GymGirl and Baby Lala are both Black and Mexican not half of anything but 100% themselves and this song feels like the embodiment of that idea. I can't make the world see the girls as whole in both Black and Mexican; the world sees them as half or will once the girls tell people they are both.
Wednesday, December 18, 2019
Pneumonia Recovery Sux: The surrender
I have been feeling really good. The weather has been strange but warm enough for me to run. I got 3 miles on the trails last Sunday (12/15) and then realized I'm 35 miles from 500 miles for the year. That meant 2 miles a day until the end of the year, right? What's 2 miles a day when I just finished 3.
Monday (12/16), I got up and headed to the gym with the intention of cross-training and completing a warm-up mile. Did I really only intend to run 1 mile when I knew I needed 2? Probably not but I didn't wear my compression socks so in theory, I was setting myself up for 1 mile. Once I got up on the running track, I set my Nike app to 2 miles. I reasoned that after my leg numbness on the trails the day before I needed to see what my legs would do on the indoor track. I completed my 2 miles and my legs were going to sleep. So it is an issue with terrain or shoes, just my legs acting up again. However, my lungs felt great. No shortness of breath, no lung pain. I was doing well. I just knew I was over this whole pneumonia thing.
Yesterday was Gymgirl's 10th birthday. I was so excited to get home to spend some time with my girl. As I was driving home I started to feel funny. A tingle in my chest, kinda in the middle. It was scary. I tried to reason my way through it. Maybe I'm having a panic attack from the emotion of being the mom of a 10-year-old but I didn't feel panic-y. I was joyful and excited. So if you know Texas highways, this feeling started around Carthage so I'm about 90 minutes from home. Once I hit Mt. Enterprise, I decided to use my rescue inhaler. The feeling is growing, now instead of space the size of my hand, it is down the middle of my torso. Now I'm about 60 minutes from home. Halfway between Mt. Enterprise and Nacogdoches, I get lightheaded. I was to the point of praying to get to Nac because there really wasn't a safe place to pull over. I begin conscious breathing, deep breaths because I had really and truly become aware of a lack of air in my body.
I couldn't decide what to do. Do I stop? Do I call my husband? Can the ER really do anything for me? Do I just need to give the inhaler time? By the time I hit Nac, I was pretty sure I needed to go straight to the ER but with about 30 minutes to go until I was home, I just kept going. My airway started to open a little bit as I hit the Nac loop and my lightheadedness was also going away. I was finally feeling better after I crossed the Angelina River bridge. It was so strange to go from feeling great to feeling awful to decent in a span of 2 hours.
The weather keeps changing in extremes this season. Sunday it was 80. This morning, Wednesday, it was 30 when I left the house. It is about 11am and I've hit the rescue inhaler twice today. So you know what, I give. Pneumonia recovery really sux and it is a fucking ultra instead of a 5k. So I surrender. I will not make 500 miles this year. I'll get it next year.
Dear Pneumonia, You are really making my holiday season awful. I want to run free and take advantage of the few beautiful days we get in the winter but you make me pay for each and every one. Since you have decided that you are my ride or die for the moment, I need you to hear me. I have goals to reach this next year so after I give you an amazing New Year's, you and I are over. You hear me? We are so over.
Maybe we can be friends and see each other for coffee on really rainy gross days but let us not make that a habit. We both know this is a toxic relationship. We need to break up so that we can grow. It is totally you but honestly, I'm a selfish bitch. I want the freedom to run and you want to stay in bed all day. It has been so real but not real fun. I won't miss you.
Bye forever, Ultra-Marathoner in Training
Monday (12/16), I got up and headed to the gym with the intention of cross-training and completing a warm-up mile. Did I really only intend to run 1 mile when I knew I needed 2? Probably not but I didn't wear my compression socks so in theory, I was setting myself up for 1 mile. Once I got up on the running track, I set my Nike app to 2 miles. I reasoned that after my leg numbness on the trails the day before I needed to see what my legs would do on the indoor track. I completed my 2 miles and my legs were going to sleep. So it is an issue with terrain or shoes, just my legs acting up again. However, my lungs felt great. No shortness of breath, no lung pain. I was doing well. I just knew I was over this whole pneumonia thing.
Yesterday was Gymgirl's 10th birthday. I was so excited to get home to spend some time with my girl. As I was driving home I started to feel funny. A tingle in my chest, kinda in the middle. It was scary. I tried to reason my way through it. Maybe I'm having a panic attack from the emotion of being the mom of a 10-year-old but I didn't feel panic-y. I was joyful and excited. So if you know Texas highways, this feeling started around Carthage so I'm about 90 minutes from home. Once I hit Mt. Enterprise, I decided to use my rescue inhaler. The feeling is growing, now instead of space the size of my hand, it is down the middle of my torso. Now I'm about 60 minutes from home. Halfway between Mt. Enterprise and Nacogdoches, I get lightheaded. I was to the point of praying to get to Nac because there really wasn't a safe place to pull over. I begin conscious breathing, deep breaths because I had really and truly become aware of a lack of air in my body.
I couldn't decide what to do. Do I stop? Do I call my husband? Can the ER really do anything for me? Do I just need to give the inhaler time? By the time I hit Nac, I was pretty sure I needed to go straight to the ER but with about 30 minutes to go until I was home, I just kept going. My airway started to open a little bit as I hit the Nac loop and my lightheadedness was also going away. I was finally feeling better after I crossed the Angelina River bridge. It was so strange to go from feeling great to feeling awful to decent in a span of 2 hours.
The weather keeps changing in extremes this season. Sunday it was 80. This morning, Wednesday, it was 30 when I left the house. It is about 11am and I've hit the rescue inhaler twice today. So you know what, I give. Pneumonia recovery really sux and it is a fucking ultra instead of a 5k. So I surrender. I will not make 500 miles this year. I'll get it next year.
Dear Pneumonia, You are really making my holiday season awful. I want to run free and take advantage of the few beautiful days we get in the winter but you make me pay for each and every one. Since you have decided that you are my ride or die for the moment, I need you to hear me. I have goals to reach this next year so after I give you an amazing New Year's, you and I are over. You hear me? We are so over.
Maybe we can be friends and see each other for coffee on really rainy gross days but let us not make that a habit. We both know this is a toxic relationship. We need to break up so that we can grow. It is totally you but honestly, I'm a selfish bitch. I want the freedom to run and you want to stay in bed all day. It has been so real but not real fun. I won't miss you.
Bye forever, Ultra-Marathoner in Training
Tuesday, November 26, 2019
Places vs Spaces
A few years back during my doctoral studies, we read a book titled, "Significance of Place" by Kincheloe and Pinar. The basic jest is that where in the world we grow up, the place plays a role in how we are raised.
Going into popular culture, there is a scene in "Music and Lyrics" were Drew Barrymore's character is writing music lyrics and she is debating the use of the word corners instead of spaces. She wanted to give boundaries. She wanted a better visual.
Okay so now to the point, I have been either sick, dealing with sickness, or working for the last 6 weeks. It was like I ran Tejas at the end of September, jetted off to Indy for a conference, and then disappeared into my house. So last Saturday, I decided to officially leave my introverted space and rejoin the world. I went out for coffee and then skating. Trust me, I should have done one or the other, not both. Recovery from pneumonia sucks but then you just read that post so you know that part already.
But back to the point, to start off my day of self-care, I posted a picture of my coffee and scone at Java Jacks with the caption, "I am officially leaving my hiding space so hit me up." I almost used the word place but switched to space. Why? The more I reflexed on my word choice, I found myself thinking about "Music and Lyrics" and "Significance of Place." A place is a fixed space. My hiding place would be my house or my office. It has an address and I can guide you there; however, a space is more nebulous. It could have an address but not necessarily.
As an introvert, I am very good about hiding myself in a crowd. I can turn inward into my own mind and look like I'm part of the crowd but really I'm far away. I'm in my hiding space. I have a few friends that understand my need for my hiding space. They don't get offended when I suddenly grab my phone and space out for a minute. There are just times, I am overwhelmed with input and just need to hide. There are times that a minute will do. There are times that I won't communicate personally with anyone for weeks at a time outside of posting on social media.
To post that I am leaving my hiding space means that I am open to seeing people and to be seen by people. I am in a headspace for difficult conversations. Let me tell you, September was full of tough conversations and I was pretty glad to be forced into hiding. I thought I had plans with a friend that suddenly just went MIA. Honestly, I was looking forward to that conversation but when he just disappeared I spun into a shame spiral that I had been circling and managed to avoid until I couldn't escape the internal dialog of "See, everyone hates you. X is avoiding you. And you just had that fight with A and S also seems to be avoiding you. Your good doesn't outweigh your bad. You don't deserve friends."
Once I jump into the spiral I just seemed to keep being buried again and again. I finally made some plans to leave the house and then sickness hit the house. Then as I was recovering I entered the hardest weeks of the semester. I had no energy for anything. The struggle is real and dangerous. I feel like I don't deserve love or friends so then I avoid everyone which of course only reinforces the feeling that I don't deserve love or friends since no one wants to see me but no one wants to see me because I am refusing to be seen. And the spiral of shame sucks me in deeper but add to that the illness and work and you begin to have a situation were professional help might be called for. At this point, I have learned to stop the dialog for an in-depth analysis. Is it true that X is avoiding me? Probably but maybe he is busy. Did you lose A? Probably but if she can't have an honest conversation do you really want her? Is S avoiding you or am I just hiding so that she can't find me? Then I list the people that love me. Then Baby Lala demands hugs and kisses and I can see that I was just exhausted. I couldn't see the truth because I was just exhausted. Now that I've had a chance to rest and see the completion of some projects, I can be seen again.
I can't exactly say I can breathe again, fucking pneumonia, but I can see the end of the tunnel and I feel bright again. I'm no longer a cloud of darkness and therefore I am fit to be around people. Maybe my bad doesn't outweigh my good but that's cool. I'll hang out with my fellow badass bitches and we'll fill with space with love, laughter, and light.
Going into popular culture, there is a scene in "Music and Lyrics" were Drew Barrymore's character is writing music lyrics and she is debating the use of the word corners instead of spaces. She wanted to give boundaries. She wanted a better visual.
Okay so now to the point, I have been either sick, dealing with sickness, or working for the last 6 weeks. It was like I ran Tejas at the end of September, jetted off to Indy for a conference, and then disappeared into my house. So last Saturday, I decided to officially leave my introverted space and rejoin the world. I went out for coffee and then skating. Trust me, I should have done one or the other, not both. Recovery from pneumonia sucks but then you just read that post so you know that part already.
But back to the point, to start off my day of self-care, I posted a picture of my coffee and scone at Java Jacks with the caption, "I am officially leaving my hiding space so hit me up." I almost used the word place but switched to space. Why? The more I reflexed on my word choice, I found myself thinking about "Music and Lyrics" and "Significance of Place." A place is a fixed space. My hiding place would be my house or my office. It has an address and I can guide you there; however, a space is more nebulous. It could have an address but not necessarily.
As an introvert, I am very good about hiding myself in a crowd. I can turn inward into my own mind and look like I'm part of the crowd but really I'm far away. I'm in my hiding space. I have a few friends that understand my need for my hiding space. They don't get offended when I suddenly grab my phone and space out for a minute. There are just times, I am overwhelmed with input and just need to hide. There are times that a minute will do. There are times that I won't communicate personally with anyone for weeks at a time outside of posting on social media.
To post that I am leaving my hiding space means that I am open to seeing people and to be seen by people. I am in a headspace for difficult conversations. Let me tell you, September was full of tough conversations and I was pretty glad to be forced into hiding. I thought I had plans with a friend that suddenly just went MIA. Honestly, I was looking forward to that conversation but when he just disappeared I spun into a shame spiral that I had been circling and managed to avoid until I couldn't escape the internal dialog of "See, everyone hates you. X is avoiding you. And you just had that fight with A and S also seems to be avoiding you. Your good doesn't outweigh your bad. You don't deserve friends."
Once I jump into the spiral I just seemed to keep being buried again and again. I finally made some plans to leave the house and then sickness hit the house. Then as I was recovering I entered the hardest weeks of the semester. I had no energy for anything. The struggle is real and dangerous. I feel like I don't deserve love or friends so then I avoid everyone which of course only reinforces the feeling that I don't deserve love or friends since no one wants to see me but no one wants to see me because I am refusing to be seen. And the spiral of shame sucks me in deeper but add to that the illness and work and you begin to have a situation were professional help might be called for. At this point, I have learned to stop the dialog for an in-depth analysis. Is it true that X is avoiding me? Probably but maybe he is busy. Did you lose A? Probably but if she can't have an honest conversation do you really want her? Is S avoiding you or am I just hiding so that she can't find me? Then I list the people that love me. Then Baby Lala demands hugs and kisses and I can see that I was just exhausted. I couldn't see the truth because I was just exhausted. Now that I've had a chance to rest and see the completion of some projects, I can be seen again.
I can't exactly say I can breathe again, fucking pneumonia, but I can see the end of the tunnel and I feel bright again. I'm no longer a cloud of darkness and therefore I am fit to be around people. Maybe my bad doesn't outweigh my good but that's cool. I'll hang out with my fellow badass bitches and we'll fill with space with love, laughter, and light.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)