I Feel Tricked.

To my friends and family from my past and present,

I write this to you in honesty and transparency. I feel duped.

Let’s go back a few years (say, 10). One Sunday, I was sitting in the back of a church at 13 years old and learned of a woman dentist who went all over the world in order to bring people in need of dental work free care. At that moment, I dreamed of myself, 15 years from then, as a doctor. I love science and barf, blood, and fluids never made me cringe. I am a problem solver, a die-hard scientist, and a decision maker. I have dreamed ever since of wearing a white coat, calling bold, difficult decisions, and taking on the world’s health problems all in one life span. In an attempt to get to my dream, I borrowed some serious money for my undergrad. I was told if I did well I would get into medical school.

Spoiler: I didn’t do that well. I did “fine”. I blame no one but myself for this. I was too young and stupid to truly realize and put into practice that this was the stepping-stone to my future. Put me in line with the rest of the 4.0 earning, volunteering, Kaplan educated, MCAT killing students and I am a flop. I don’t have a 4.0, or even close, I haven’t volunteered enough for them, my Kaplan class stressed me out and cost me way too much money, and the MCAT killed a small piece of my soul instead of how I envisioned murdering it. I can’t stop working full time because every month I stare at a large sum of money I owe someone.   

I feel duped by my own view of myself. I wouldn’t let myself look at any other options other than 4-year universities because of my pride. I feel duped by my college who told me that everyone got financial aid and there would be ways to make it work. I feel duped by society, who told me I needed to go to college to be satisfied with my future self.

I have had periods of time that I blame the system. My education costs are my own to take on and at times feel insurmountable. “It isn’t fair that others have their education paid for,” I say to myself. It isn’t fair that our generation is starting our lives in so much debt, both as a nation and personally. that it makes me want to vomit. The cost of living keeps rising and we can’t keep our heads above water financially, so we borrow. We borrow for school, for cars, for housing, for stuff. We borrow because we’re told it will help us reach our dreams.

I tell you this because of a realization I have had in the past year. Dreams are just dreams. Dreams are for dreamers, and dreamers are always disappointed with the present. 

If you want to get somewhere, stop dreaming of it. Go get it. Set feasible goals instead of having your head in the clouds. What steps can you take right now to get where you want to go?

The pressures our generation is facing are different than any before, they are beasts. The world is crueler, more broke, more cynical, and harsher than years prior and shows no sign of slowing its pace towards becoming these things. We must adapt. We must face these pressures head on. We must go to battle. I believe that I can make it, that we can make it, but we absolutely must do something different. The idea that hard, consistent work will get you to a satisfying life is gone.

To go to battle, we need an army. This army cannot be made of dreamers, but instead it must be made of realists. We must change the direction of where we are headed financially and emotionally.

An artist you all should listen to, Luke Christopher, sang:

Can you hear us calling out for peace?

See the light is almost shining through

In a world where everyone is free

And everyone can be just who they wanna be

'Cause we ain't scared to fight until we're free See the light is almost shining through

In a world where everyone is free

And everyone can be just who they wanna be

'Cause we ain't scared to fight until we're free

I want to be free. I want you to be free. I want us all to be free. Something must change.

Change is not obsolete.

Yesterday I felt like a mess. People giggle at that when they play their coy, “Oh darn, hehe, I’m such a disaster!” Said the cutest girl in the movies. I do not mean a cute mess; I mean I slept three hours, worked in the emergency room for nine, I am in a wedding party in two days, and moving in three and haven’t packed anything - type of mess. This is not cute. This is frantic. Oh, I forgot, I start my senior year of college in five days. On a day like this, everything feels like cause for a riot. Some good examples include: Someone cut me off and I want to ram my new car into them to teach them a lesson on being inconsiderate. Andrew said he has to go to something for soccer when we were supposed to have dinner, he really should just quit the soccer team because I hate training camp. I went shopping and could not find a computer case, all of life sucks and of course this is indicative of the the school year sucking as well. The examples on how nutty I felt yesterday could take over the entire blog, but one more example and you will start to doubt thoroughly my sanity. 

Why does my boyfriend put up with me?

Every time I have started a blog since my last post, in November, I begin with an explanation as to why I have written eight posts in those months and none were what I wanted to post. The last one was only a few weeks ago, teaching a lesson on how much more important it is to be balanced than to have extra money. I say I will edit it in the morning, but the morning gets commandeered by something else and the post never goes up. Today, I started in the morning, that should do the trick. Also, I dreamt about writing so I think that was a subconscious hint that complacency has been disturbed. I have always written through times of change, whether it was journaling as a kid through childish break-ups or blogging through the death of a family member.  Writing forces me to sort out my thoughts. My lack of writing correlates with my lack of introspection. 

As I mentioned earlier, mostly joking, school does start in five days. I’m supposed to be a bridesmaid, a packer, a mover, a roommate, a waitress, a scribe, a girlfriend, a friend, a senior in college, and a student all in the next five days. 

I have been dealt a strange set of cards for my senior year of college. In June, I thought I was going to need to change my entire schedule for financial reasons and graduate in a semester rather than a year. Later in June, my financial problem was resolved and I changed my schedule back again. Unnecessary trouble is my middle name. Throughout all of this summer, I have been on the waiting list to be approved to live in housing that my school doesn’t own. While all of my friends have been approved, I have not. My friends paired off and found houses and are looking forward to living with each other and decorating the house they will make life long memories in. In the meantime, I am moving back into the shitty apartment complex I lived in last year that the school owns, with strangers, and paying triple what it’s worth. Extortion. 

With the classes I did not expect, roommates I have never met, and the prospect of graduating college at the forefront of my thoughts it is safe to say I have a fair amount to mull over. 

After almost a year in the emergency room, I decided it was time to stop commuting an hour round trip for $9.00 an hour and stay close to school. I sent in my notice a month in advance. As I have said every school year since I was old enough to realize I am an underachiever, I need straight A’s and I need to remove my distractions. Yesterday, I got an email that I have the opportunity to transfer to the emergency room close to school. After being at peace with leaving the hospital for a while now, I have yet another decision to make in a few days. Deep down, I know I do not have the time to work in the ER during school. Another part of me is simply drawn to it, giving me energy to stay up for 30 hours just to see another code come in. 

In the midst of all these decisions and change, I was drowning in self pity all day. I was fearful for the upcoming year when I don’t know where I’m headed after college. I was dreading moving again when I have so much going on otherwise. I was frustrated with so many things that were out of my control. For nights I have fought with the sandman. I have not been able to rest knowing that there are a wild number of things coming at me that are out of my desperate control. Culminating my exhausting day yesterday, I finally slept eleven hours undisturbed and woke up feeling like a warrior. I opened my eyes, kicked the sheets off me, and gave a battle cry to the day. I also listened to Katy Perry’s new song “Roar” and that may have had an effect on my mood. For someone who claimed to enjoy the benefits of adventures and change, I realized I had become too comfortable again. 

My dreams of writing must have been encouraging because I woke up this morning ready to deal with my anxieties of the upcoming year, face this crazy week, to own my last year of college, and ready to go with these memory-making opportunities life has thrown at me. 

Be encouraged in change. No matter the stretching turmoil, whether it be what you had anticipated for months or simply the definition of a curve-ball, be encouraged. The benefits on your soul in change, forcing you to address your identity as a whole when out of your comfort zone, are vital to knowing and respecting yourself. 

If you’re like me, you need to be reminded of this even if a week ago you had mastered the change-embracing attitude. So be encouraged, friends, that being uncomfortable is always beneficial. 

Peeing on iPhones

Downtown Seattle on Thanksgiving 

There is something about being in Seattle that makes me want to write again. The gray gloom, caffeine overload, and hipsters make me feel like I need to do some introspection. In this six-month gap I have taken from writing, some of what may be the most monumental moments of my life have occurred. Instead of sparking a writing bug like change used to, these things have felt so natural that I didn’t even think to slow down and process them. In these crazy months, I began to work in a hospital, was reminded of why I ever in a million years became Biochemistry major, and fell in love. I have tried to write, but nothing seems to bring justice to the whirlwind of happiness and rollercoaster of emotions that I have been on for the last six months. This will be the seventh piece I have started in six months intending to post, but by the end, whatever I have written about isn’t quite the explanation I needed or hoped it would be.

Often I get caught in a downward spiral of getting my ass kicked by school, consistently counting the dwindling dollars in my bank account, and pretending like I’m not racking up more student loan debt than any human should. I drown in notes before every exam, pretending to be a good student studying, when really I’m wondering what the hell I’m writing in a reaction a million times only to feel unprepared for an exam. I make a few hundred dollars, and within days I need an oil change, gas, food, or something for my apartment and just like that its gone, and by gone I mean I get regular from emails from BofA telling me my balance fell below $10. On top of wondering if I’ll have enough money for gas or something or another, the dollars I might need for gas is nothing compared to the thousands and thousands I am adding onto my student loans that will “get paid someday”.

Lesson #1: Despite all of these seemingly stressful things, there is so much more to be thankful for than to grumble about. I have the opportunity to go to school, despite my funding being short sometimes. I always seem to have what I need, even though I don’t always have the little things I want (like clothes, a new car, fun things for my apartment, or sushi). This is easier said than done when everyone at your school drives cars that are worth 30 times yours. I wish that was an exaggeration. It’s easy to compare what you have, but if you have your needs met, the rest isn’t worth one bit of increased cortisol levels.

While cramming for the first of the four exams I had last week, I was sitting in a professor’s office trying to wrap my mind around some stupid step of gluconeogenesis, when I remembered why this ever fascinated me at all. Between all of the intimidating sounding science classes I was trying to plow through in these past three years, I forgot how I ended up a Biochemistry major over everything else—it fascinates me. In fact beyond fascinates me; it keeps me up at night because I wonder how these things are working. All of this science is at the tip of our fingers, and I chose to study it. I had gotten so caught up in memorizing the next biochemical pathway or organic chemistry reaction, trying to get to medical school, taking the necessary steps to even get into medical school, and eventually being a doctor, that I forgot I even loved science at all.

Lesson #2: The sciences are my passion, and I almost let that slip through my fingers trying to study them. Forgetting my passion when I'm in too deep to turn around would have made the rest of my life pretty miserable. 

If I were reading this I would be wondering two things: why I decided to call this post “Peeing on iPhones”, have yet to mention why on earth I called it that, and casually threw down the sincere, life-altering words, that I fell in love. We’ll start with why I peed on my iPhone. After hiking last week, in the middle of studying for three exams simultaneously, I put my phone in the back of my pants (super high up, pretty much on my hip, don’t get any ideas). When I drove home, I had to use the restroom extremely bad, like about to have my bladder explode all over my car. I frantically ran into my apartment, dropping everything on the floor, making my first stop the bathroom. I pulled my pants down, sat down, and plop went my phone before I could catch it. I know I’m not the only one this happens to, if its an emergency, once you start going there is no stopping the flow. I peed right on my faithful iPhone 4 and there was nothing I could do about it. For those that know the way things work out for me, this is not surprising. I wouldn't just drop my phone in the toilet like people do every day, I also would pee on it. Life must always go one step further for me. 

Lesson #3: If you pee on your phone a month before Christmas, you will most likely get a new phone before Christmas comes.

I left falling in love for last because despite being reminded of my passions, remembering to be thankful around Thanksgiving, and peeing on my phone, this is the biggest thing to happen to me since I swore off boys. My somewhat tumultuous relationship past has led me to the most peaceful man I’ve ever come across. I always prided myself in not having a ton of emotions, never shedding tears and claiming to be a woman nonetheless. Truthfully, I never had anything, or any man, I loved enough to make me feel like a woman. I never shed tears because nothing around me was tear jerking. Instead of continuing to pride myself in being the world’s first unemotional woman, I see just how powerfully a love that sweeps you off your feet will change your perspective.  The world looks sweeter, and sometimes worth happily crying over.

Lesson #4: I always said I was unemotional, but really I was closed off on purpose. The most powerful and influential of women are not unemotional, but instead are full of a passion that is with no doubt intimidating.

This is as not-sappy as I could make it. I hate clichés, so eventually I’ll write more about falling in love with this awesome man, but I need some time to do that in a more original way than “If I wrote all the things I loved about him down, they would never end”.  Although it may or may not be true, I feel like I'm belittling my intelligence with other people's words. 

Man, I Feel Like a Woman.

SaturdayBlogDay?? Just kidding. I will still be writing on Thursdays but settling back in to life here in Ventura has been more than consuming and I haven’t quite had a chance to sit back and think. Since last Tuesday when my aunt passed my life has been far from normal and I’ve never craved normal so much. Celicia made it back to California, I am so proud. I think my luck must be turning around, at least according to my boyfriend it is. I drove my 1990 Celica another 1200 miles after just making that drive a month ago and bought my first surfboard for a steal. However up until last night, in the midst of the excitement of moving in with my friend Kylie for the summer, trying to find a better job than nannying, and simply figuring out where the grocery store is closest to my house, I haven’t had a second to process the past month of my life.

In just one month I have gone from a dorm room in Santa Barbara, to home in Seattle and a restaurant job there, a funeral for a close relative, and back to California. The amount that has unfolded since school ended a month ago is huge, and last night I realized just how stressful that was. While it was all piling on one day after another, I did not really feel the stress of being so far from my boyfriend, working 12 hour days at the restaurant, being present for the sudden death of a my aunt, and putting my foot down on leaving while my parents so firmly disapproved. Now that I have unloaded all of my stuff again from Celicia (that’s my cars name, read previous posts;) ), I feel like I have finally settled in again. I feel like I am home. I left so much in boxes at my parents’ house while I slept in my sisters bed with her, and went back to a restaurant that stayed there all the time while I was gone and growing and changing for months at a time. I knew I was in transition so I didn’t settle back in, but a month of transition is harder than I thought it would be on my soul.

In this past month I have cried probably more than I have cried cumulatively in the past three years. I cried when I left Santa Barbara, I cried when I told my parents I was leaving Seattle, I cried a ton when my aunt passed away, and a few little times in between when my heart ached for home and the ocean. For those that know me well, this is incredibly unusual for me. I almost never cry, and usually hate doing it. I have prided myself for years in having less emotion than your average man.

In January I was talking with the girls I lived with at the time, all of whom I miss very much, and I realized I had worked hard at being emotionally unavailable. I should also give some credit to Annabelle who has had so many conversations with me about this. Whether it was to men, my family, or others coming into my life, I held people at arms length. I realized while I sat there that it was a combination of not wanting to look like I didn’t have control, and letting people close is a release of control, and that would require a vulnerability I did not like. In letting anyone close, they have the control to handle that as they please. This, as we all have seen at one point or another, leaves one vulnerable to this other person’s actions and emotions. It is however human nature to want to let people in, we crave the love and acceptance of other people. I had worked hard at not letting people in, and I was sick of it.

My heart felt cold. I worked at keeping people far away and I was ready to let people in. I consciously decided to let people in to my heart, at the risk of being emotionally harmed and possibly looking stupid. I have taken a chance that not many people have to take in their lives; for most it comes a little more naturally to end up vulnerable. Since January not much has changed in the grand scheme of life, I still have the same goals, attend the same school, and drive the same car, except for deciding to let people close and let myself feel for the first time in years.

I am a woman and I will have emotions, squishing them when I do rarely feel them does not mean I am strong but instead it means I am cold. I am scared of the goals I have; what if I am not smart enough, quick enough, or hard-working enough to be a doctor. In this pursuit of a career I have put my family under a new financial burden, run myself to the ground studying and learning to work hard, and somehow in the midst of this paid a strange attention this idea of the woman I want to become. Women are hard-wired to be relatively more emotional and this must be advantageous evolutionarily or it wouldn’t have been carried on all these years.

I will worry for myself and for those around me, I will be nervous about what is to come to an extent, I will be scared, I will love, and I will let others love me. A strong woman is not a woman that does not cry, a strong woman is one that is driven. The women I admire are not the ones that have never had anything to cry about, but instead the ones I admire are the ones that have been shattered and risen to the challenge.

These women I look up to also love like crazy. These strong women love their families and they love what they pursue. One does not look at a strong woman, one that alters the presence of a room when she walks in, and say, “Wow, she’s so strong, she must never cry, ever”. But instead, the hard work she has put in is written all over her face and it is so intimidating.

So man, I feel like a woman, and I’ll take the emotions that come along with that. Life can bring it on, because I haven’t been beaten too bad yet and I don’t plan on it. 

Life, Death, Beginnings, Ends and Something in The Middle

Surprise ThursdayBlogDay! As my last post said, I am driving back down to California today. Although today is Thursday, I started writing this post on Tuesday when life got a little crazier than it already was. I started writing with the intent of mulling through my thoughts daily as I process the sudden death of my dad’s 42-year-old sister this morning. Not only am I witnessing the worst heartbreak I have ever seen, watching three generations mourn together, but also rolling with the punches, as this was the week I planned to head back down to California.

(Tuesday May 29) The Weirdest Day Ever

“I should have never bugged her about tattoos, I told her they would wrinkle when she got old. She never got old now. She should have gotten all the tattoos she wanted,” said my mom on the topic of Auntie Dawn’s death. My family has found we share a strange comfort in raw humor on the topic of death. She also said while cleaning, “You know, this is why you want to keep your house clean. You never know when you might die and the whole world comes over. If I die, please vacuum, maybe it will help you process things. You would know your next move in life, vacuum”. I’m expecting these may offend some and humor others. My apologies for the offense and thank my mother if you share a guilty, cynical laugh.

Today was supposed to be my last day of work, and my second to last full day in Washington for the summer. I had a dentist appointment at 8am in which I tried to figure out what the Asian hygienist was saying to me in my half-asleep state and also a chiropractor appointment. From the dentist I headed to the chiropractor for one of my last alignments before Thursday, leaving day. I called my dad as I drove by the school he teaches at, offering to swing by because I was early for my chiropractor appointment. Since he was in a meeting I headed to the chiropractor and happened to get in 15 minutes early for my 9:30 appointment.

“Chels, I’m at Auntie Dawn’s house. She’s not breathing”. The surge of panic with those words is an emotion I have yet to feel at an age that I could understand that it meant dead. My instant thought was along the lines of, no breath=dead. I asked my dad if anyone had called 911, praying that my dad’s panicked voice was not because he found her not breathing, but instead was called by the paramedics about her not breathing. He said the paramedics were in the process of CPR, in fact that was all he said. Contemplating my next words more than ever, especially with his lack of words, I asked if that meant he wanted me to come there. He said no more than a simple yes and the line went dead.

I called into work on my way, bursting into tears sputtering, “I can’t come in today, I think my aunt just died. Actually, I’m not sure. She might be dead, she might not be. But I’m going there, and I can’t come in”. I know my poor coworker understood why I was in such a panic, and told me not to worry and to deal with my family emergency. My next phone call was to my boyfriend, leaving him a panicked message that I’m sure was not fun to get out of class to, and I’m also sure made no sense what so ever. When I parked a block from my aunt’s, there were aid cars, paramedics, fire trucks, fire fighters, and policemen. The air smelled like chaos and the front lawn looked like fear.

I found my dad on the front porch talking with the head of the paramedic team, and watched my strong father burst into tears for only the second time in my life. “She’s not responding to the medication, nothing is working, we have to stop the CPR. I’m sorry for your loss sir, I understand this is hard”. They gave it their all and she’s gone. The phrase time stood still is more than appropriate. All I wished for was a way to somehow ease the pain my sobbing father felt in the seconds that his sister passed. 

I watched my grandma try to grasp the death of her child, her only daughter, I watched my dad try to grasp the death of his sister, and I watched her kids try to grasp the death of their mother.  All of these are the most emotional pain I have ever seen unfold on faces, especially on faces of loved ones. Physical pain is easier to deal with, especially as a woman. To watch this pain in the midst of a crisis tore my heart into pieces. If the pain were physical I could help, however no amount of hugs, back rubs, or tear wiping could even aid this pain in any form. English should have a different word for this kind of pain because it is nothing like physical pain.

Death does bring fresh perspective, and I won’t bore you with life is short and fragile cliché sayings. For now my house is a spinning mess of tears, hypothetical causes of sudden death, and rollercoasters of emotions. I am so thankful I have the chance to be home for this, for my brother and sister, for my dad, and for my mom. If I had to hear this from California, to hear the ache over the phone instead of at the very least being present to hug, this would be so much worse.  

The idea that life ends is so difficult to grasp, so unreal. When I looked at her body, empty, soul-less, it looked like her face, but not her. There is so much more to life than a physical being, so much more to a person than his or her heart beat. I am so thankful for every day of breathing, so thankful for the support I get to witness surround and overwhelm my extended and immediate family.

(Wednesday May 30) Love is All You Need

I thought today I would have the most to write, the most to process. Being the day after the biggest family crisis since the car accident that caused the death of my now late aunt’s husband 7 years ago, I assumed today would be more mellow, and I would be doing the most thinking. Doing the most thinking usually means doing the most writing.

Instead, all of my thinking is on love. The things people do for love are crazy and incredible; love carries such a power over decisions and life, and I wonder about why humanity is so driven by love. The biologist in me thinks there must be some evolutionary benefit for this scramble of hormones that carries the power to lift up, and the power to destroy.  

In the middle of heartbreak beyond belief, so many people have stood up to aid my family members. Meals are being brought to my grandma, who is going to take over care for my cousins, and flowers are being delivered every few hours. It warms my heart to see the emotional support that my dad is receiving from coworkers, friends, and even distant relatives. These people love my dad, and are here for his every need as he grieves for his sister.

Love is all over the place. My home is dripping with the evidences of love as family members come in to begin the difficult process of grieving over a relative, a loved one no one expected to lose any time soon. Neighbors, members of the church my aunt went to, and members of the church my parents attend, have offered to do everything from cooking for the funeral to cleaning my aunt’s house so that my grandma and cousins can start a life there without my aunt present physically. These are such blessings, such expressions of love.

I am leaving for California on Monday now, staying through the weekend to attend the funeral, see my mom off to Haiti for a work trip with the non-profit organization she writes for, and hopefully help ease the confusion I know my dad is feeling. With tomorrow being the day I was supposed to leave, I am still so grateful that I was not already gone for this crisis. I am so excited to get back to the sunshine and my boyfriend, but these are the moments that define a family.  

(Thursday May 31) Thankful Resolve

If I could have left earlier, and not been around for all of this to unfold, my heart would be even more broken than it already is for my family members. To see a glimmer of joy in my grandpa’s eyes when he gets to sit with at least some of his grandkids after so much death around him is beyond worth delaying my trip back to California. As much as I am dying to get back to the sun, dying to see my boyfriend, and dying to see my friends, I couldn’t imagine being gone for this weekend. The goodbye that will be said at the memorial service this weekend I am hopeful will help with the closure everyone in the family needs from a sudden death.

I thought I would have tons to process by today, and that by now I would be full of words of wisdom from all the thinking I’ve done. Instead, I’m baffled by how fast life is over. One can work so hard, providing for a family, striving to be the best in a profession, making money, and within seconds one organ stops working and the rest shut down. Just like that, “life” is done. All that you worked for is useless in one perspective. They say live life to the fullest because you never know when it’s done, and that is so true, but what could make a life full of worth if you disappear unexpectedly? Is it the amount of people you blessed with love? Is it the amount of money you made? Did you sacrifice enough? Did you heal enough? How does one measure the worth of a life?

I thought I would have more to say, that I would have processed more by today but in reality my sadness for my family members has just increased. My heart breaks more every day for my grandpa and the loss he has suffered in the past few months. The heartbreak of a parent losing a child is an occurrence I will never have words to describe. Eventually I’m sure I will have wisdom from all of this mess of pain, but for now, I am solely thankful for the presence of family members—maybe that’s my wisdom.