just here to vent a little bit.

i'm sad and tired and hopeless but i have a math final and i have to get through it. thanks.

Okay so I was doing real good ignoring my traumas and getting on with life, but it turns out that I didn't really know everything I needed to know in order to figure out how to get my emotional availability back.

My ex asked me a question that at first seemed funny to me. Not funny ha-ha, but funny in the sense that I have of fucking course been the thing he asked:

"Aren't you exhausted...?"

For years, yes. And not tired. Exhausted, as in the gas tank has been empty for years. I had completely run out of love to share. He asked if I'm not exhausted thinking he cheated on me. I was running out of fuel even before I thought that. I was nearing empty when he would look at me and not say he loved me. I felt poor when he left to Vegas without telling me and then I had to find out about it on Facebook when he got tagged by a woman I didn't know. Finding random items at his place also depleted me. And I don't think I was asking for the world. What I most needed was to be told I was loved and to be offered support. Like, little things. Things that would help me feel nurtured and cared for when I was always doing that for others (because who was going to do that for me if the people I took care of couldn't take care of themselves?).

Now that I know what I know, now that I have the insight I wasn't offered all those years ago, I feel like I might let myself love openly again. Like I can tell my friends I love them, let them hug me, hug them, and maybe I will trust love again but not yet. I don't feel like I'm in a rush to meet someone and date and try that shit again. I don't really care about that just yet. I'm mostly just trying to get back to being affectionate and happy. One of my girl friends even noticed it in me, that I'm guarded. I didn't realize how obvious it was and I don't want to be that way all the time.

In my new job as coordinator, a few things have changed in terms of what I do throughout the day, but some things remain as they were when I first did this job while also teaching two classes. For instance, I still sit one-on-one with some students to guide them through some of their bigger writing tasks and assignments. I still visit classes when I can in order to learn about how our English Learners use the strategies for understanding lesson content.

I love teaching, without a doubt, but right now it feels really good to not have to worry about lesson planning and grading. At first it felt weird to have this new position, but I am learning to feel grateful and to trust that I have it because I did a whole hell of a lot to deserve it.

What I do deal with is the occasional realization that some people have a bias they're not aware of, but I sure feel it when I'm working with white women and they seem offended that I can speak with authority. Not all white women do this, but some do. At first, it made me feel uncomfortable, but now that I know a little more and feel more secure about who I am, I either challenge it or ignore it. Whatever they feel is their shit, not mine.

Anyway, I'm chillin'.

Alright I know I've always scoffed at the advice about how to take depression down a few pegs, but as it turns out, I'm benefiting greatly from walking for a variety of reasons.

First off, no, it does not cure depression. It eases it a bit, but it's still there. I do still battle with energy levels and the occasional oversleeping, especially during summer break because I'm not bound to a strict Mon-Fri wake up schedule. However, my body is responding differently because now there is a commitment to prove something to myself. There's a lot at stake here!

#1. Money - Because I signed up for Joggo, I am now bound to this agreement that I will follow the walking program because if I'm paying for it, I gotta use it.

#2. Health - My blood sugar levels were getting really out of control, often climbing toward 400, especially while at work. Now that I'm on summer break, I've been able to better track my blood sugar, take my meds on time, and observe how the workouts impact those numbers.

#3. I kind of just want to get back to what I weighed before the stress eating took over.

More importantly, it feels really good to regain strength and stamina. It's late and I'm going to get up early for the conference I'm attending in the g-damn desert. I'm hoping it's really good and I want to get there early to score the free fruit because momma loves fruit for breakfast and we trynna save money out here.

Bye thanks.

Balls deep into summer break. It's been about three weeks and I've attended three days of education webinars, visited campus once, and went to Universal Studios. I've also improved my blood sugar levels and changed my eating habits. To be more specific, since I'm not currently stressed about work, I am also not stress eating. I've been doing a little bit of exercise but nothing too wild beyond resistance band workouts and some walking. I did, however, sign up for Joggo because I was heavily influenced by the one thousand instagram ads so I figured, fine, I'll try it. Even though, let's be honest, all a person has to do is get off their ass and power walk and increase the distance and time and build endurance and stamina and that can all be done for free. But, I am a fool who likes validation and if an app gives me props for moving, I'm a sucker. I guess I'll let you know if it's worth the $33 for the two months I signed up for.

I got upset with the guy who calls me from Kaiser to follow up about my diabetes because I was explaining to him why it was so hard to keep up with my meds and meals and he kept interrupting and then told me to double my meds. If he would have listened, he would have heard me tell him that my blood sugar gets incredibly low on the current dose because while at work, I am not able to grab a snack while I'm teaching. If he would have listened, he would have heard me say that I can track my meds and meals better while on summer vacation in order to determine whether I actually need to increase the dose. If I had listened to him, I probably would have ended up in the hospital. I currently take one metformin and one glipizide twice a day. He was telling me to double the glipizide. If I were to do that, my blood sugar would drop well below 60 and I'm pretty sure that's not fucking safe.

It's wild to think that you have to be a bitch just to make sure you are taking care of yourself. I am going to see if I can have someone else do these phone checkups because this guy doesn't listen. It's frustrating to try to explain where I am in this quest to improve my health when I can't finish a sentence without him interrupting. Not fucking okay!

No wonder so many women get misdiagnosed and suffer other forms of malpractice. Fuck outta here. I gotta take care of ME.

Alright so this semester, I completed 3 components for National Board Certification in 2 1/2 months. It was nuts, but I got it done. And Tuesday, I have my computer-based exam for Component 1. I told myself to spend today and tomorrow afternoon studying, but my brain does not want to do that anymore. I want to just stare at the wall and think about nothing.

I had some really extreme highs and lows with my blood sugar yesterday, so I think that really wore me out because I have been taking 3 hour sleeps in the afternoons. Then, during the work week, I don't sleep more than four hours even if I come home super tired.

We are about two weeks away from shutting down for the school year, but I am not ready to put myself in that mindset. Last year, I had that luxury, but this year, I have quite a bit of work that I care about accomplishing and I will be spending some time this summer attending conferences and workshops. There are some that require lengthy applications for scholarships, so I did that and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I qualify for those subsidies.

I did some other stuff too. I was nominated for a leadership cadre at work so I had to write up a couple of documents like a personal statement and responses to some questions. I was selected into round 2 and then did two interviews on Thursday. Hmm. This is kind of a lot.

I did have a lovely little mental/emotional breakdown that kept me home for a few days and it really sucked. It felt like there were tears behind my eyes just dying to come out, but I couldn't cry. I couldn't make myself fully cry and I just felt even more frustrated.

I guess I feel better now but some days I do feel a bit unlike my stronger self. I am also thinking through some situations at work regarding a colleague who often displays sexist and inept behavior. I have observed for years how he has managed to keep his job with a whole lot of support from the people on his team and even from me. What frustrated me to the point that I could no longer tolerate the shit was when he took up about an hour and a half of my time for something he didn't even end up using and could have been accomplished in 10-15 minutes (it had been, he just sat in my office the rest of the time asking the same questions over and over). No gracias. I'm over that shit and there's a shit load of work to do for our students and inefficiency is not tolerated in my house (office).

Finally put my passport to use.

I hadn't been to Mexico in 20 years, so this spring break trip was important to me. It was so important to me that I decided to spend it INJURED so as to prevent me from fully enjoying my hotel near the zona centro jesus christ. I had just gotten off the plane and was excited that I didn't check in any bags and therefore didn't have to fuss with waiting for luggage. I was stepping off the escalator when my right foot twisted over. I felt two distinct pops and knew my ligaments were fucked. I ended up falling on my left side due to the weight of my carry-on bag. It fucking hurt. These really nice ladies behind me helped me carry my big bag on their rolling luggage and they escorted me to the exit where my mom and two cousins were waiting.

I was only there for six days, so it really sucked that I couldn't walk as much as I wanted to. Even sitting in cars was painful for me. But I figured, fuck it, I'll put up with some pain so I can venture out a bit. Though most of our time was spent at my aunt's house, I did have some chill afternoons at the hotel and in the plaza. I got around very slowly with the help of a cane and was able to hobble over to coffee shops. I did a few loops through this big tented area where a bunch of vendors set up tables with some cute stuff. I think the pain kept me sober, preventing me from squandering pesos on earrings and other random items that would make me feel marginally Mexican.

I think my best purchase was the tejuino with nieve de limon.

I hadn't seen some my cousins in over twenty years because the last time I visited was to see my aunt who was dying of cancer. It was a brief visit and I returned to L.A. before my mom and brother because I was in the middle of midterms in college. Twenty years can sure do a lot to people. One of my cousins introduced me to his second wife. Another one talked about how he's gotten accustomed to single life after being with someone for like, seventeen years.

I would like to visit again and maybe see if I'm brave enough to travel with the pups. I see people do it often with teeny dogs and big dogs, but I have no idea what that trip would be like if I took both of my dogs. The little one could def fit in a little pet carrier under the seat in front of me. But Dolly? She's a little bigger and more fussy. My dogs are not at all trained for air travel. Still, I would want to rent a house for a few weeks and take them with us. I am not against giving them a little hemp treat to ease their nerves, but Tesla won't eat those. I guess it's baby benadryl for that one.

One major source of frustration and increasing anxiety for me is the state of my home. I keep the kitchen as tidy as possible. I need the counters clear for when I do food prep and cooking. I want the dishes all put away so there is room to wash more dishes and lay them in the dish rack. Everything has a place.

But when I don't go into the kitchen during the week, my mom piles things up on the counters. Now, most of them are clean but they aren't put away. Then she has this tendency to always leave dish towels over surfaces. The food prep area I use is always crowded with whatever she leaves on it. I would prefer for her not to cook anything anymore if it means the kitchen will stay clean. She's also not a very good cook anymore because she can't remain standing at the stove, therefore she makes things that end up soupy.

This has been very hard for me, emotionally, because it is going to impact a big choice that I need to make. I received an offer for a position that would allow me to spend more time at home and I would remain working with my current organization. However, it wouldn't contribute to my retirement fund. The other offer is to remain at my school site as full time coordinator. I figure that if I accept my principal's offer to stay, I can make up for not being home as often by ordering food to be delivered so my mom doesn't have to cook. But I can't help but want to take the other job and be able to work from home at least once or twice a week. They want me to start in April, but I do not want to leave my current group of students before the end of the school year. If they are willing to wait, then maybe I'll accept their offer.

I dunno. It's a lot to think about. I avoided it all day yesterday but today I'm going to read and research so I can make an informed decision.

I think I am too old for Tumblr.

However, I don't want to continue screaming into the void and I feel kinda good when there's some feedback here. Thank you if you hit any buttons that let me know you read me.

We've been on winter break since the 17th and since then, I've slept a million hours. My routine is back to what nature intended, which means I stay up all night watching horror movies and fall asleep around 5am and only wake up to pee or drink water. I defied this pattern today by getting out of bed at 9am, freshening up, and doing some light cleaning about the house. One of the problems with staying home this long is that I confront the issues I can usually ignore during work weeks. For example, the dilemma of my mother's inability to keep things neat. I'm learning that she has to have things where she can see them so she doesn't forget they are there, but this means that I can never have the counters neat for more than two days. This frustrates me because I like to cook and I need the counter space for food prep. Too often, the space is occupied by dish towels, bread bags, and other things that should be put away. My anxiety flares when I try to walk to say, the laundry room, but I stub my toes on whatever is blocking the path. Or, I knock my face into something she's got hanging from the cabinet knobs, like tote bags full of plastic bags.

In an effort to clear up space, I grab trash bags and start filling them with things that are in the way. If I see container lids with no partners, they get tossed out. If I see anything that looks like it hasn't been used in more than 1-2 years, it goes. This has gotten easier for me now that I'm not as nostalgic for things like old high school letters from friends or nearly-empty bottles of perfume. If I can't give away a bag of clothes, I will resort to just sending it to the dumpster.

The point is, I want less things in my house. There's too much shit here and if there were ever an emergency that caused us to have to move, we'd be fucked in getting out of here quickly because THERE IS SO MUCH STUFF HERE.

Well I'm not gay and I'm not straight. I don't know what made me change but I do remember that I would feel so uncomfortable when my last boyfriend would hold my hand or get close to me. I totally had feelings for him and I did love hanging out with him, but I felt like if I couldn't provide physical love as part of the exchange, then maybe I didn't have the same value as a woman who could. That's just what I think because he never said anything mean to me.

We broke up summer of 2021 sometime before (or after?) my trip to New Orleans. But to be honest, I think I had broken up way before that because I had a very sudden emotional response to being a girlfriend and I remember it happened on Christmas. I'm pretty shitty with timing.

In any case, I haven't dated anyone and I haven't been interested in looking for dates. I told my best friend that I might be asexual and she said, "Maybe you just haven't met the right guy."

K.

So here I am telling my blog readers that I might be asexual because I'm not really sure how to tell certain people I see in person most of the week. And am I going to be this for a long time? Another year? I dunno. But I do feel great about not having to keep up with something I was never really good at. I feel free.

LA to L.A. 2022 ended on 7/18/2022

I'm home in L.A. and it's been three days and I am still very much in a disconnected mood. I don't mean this in a bad way. I mean that I'm not going to think about work until I am on the clock on August 1st. Otherwise, I don't give a shit. (I do care a lot but it has its time and space and that is not right now)

That brutal heat and humidity sure helps me appreciate the dry heat of California. However, I didn't mind sitting around in the New Orleans summer weather while mosquitos made a feast of my arms and legs. When I planned the trip, I had in mind to make it a sort of writing retreat. I knew that I wanted to do a ton of reading and writing and I think that I managed to achieve at least the writing part. I don't think my scribbles are anything particularly worth publishing, and they are mostly journals on legal pads, but whatever. I submitted three new poems to a literary magazine and I am mentally prepared to handle any rejections. I consider it as me continuing to practice writing poetry and the process of submitting it for publication. I'm so used to self-publishing so this is a very different thing.

Also, I do not think I am a great writer. I just think I enjoy communicating with people through the things I write.

I will now live my best dumb bitch life by drinking this overpriced iced coffee.

Rolling out earlier than planned

Dear New Orleans,

I don't know why I love you so much, but I do. Even when you're mean with your brutal sunlight and 90 degree humid weather, I still care about you.

I was going to stay with you until the end of the month, but I am homesick for my doggies. I have to see them soon so I can give them some well-deserved cuddles and take them on walks.

Thanks for another beautiful visit and for some delicious iced coffees and chargrilled oysters. Next time I see you, I'll try to be on the other side of the French Quarter.

xoxo

Sorry to Inconvenience U

My anxiety currently manifests as this:

When I make plans for myself, I dread them. For example, tonight I want to go to a book signing and even though I have already figured out which buses to take and what time to leave, I am anxious about it because I'm nervous about things that I know aren't real and don't make sense such as:

Thinking I'm inconveniencing the bus driver because they have to stop so I can get on the bus.

Thinking I'm inconveniencing the bus driver because I can never get my RTA app to work on the scanner so I have to show them my phone.

Thinking I'm inconveniencing the bus driver when I pull the cord to request my stop.

Thinking I'm taking up space that someone else deserves when I take a seat at a book reading.

Worrying that I'm going to knock something over or bump someone while I am browsing books.

None of this makes sense but this is how my anxiety takes up space in my head. Eventually I let autopilot take over and I make logical moves like walking to the bus stop on time, having my pass ready on my phone, sitting the fuck down, and just getting to where I need to be. The problem is that if I don't switch back to manual, I don't become fully immersed in life experiences.

Last night I made myself face my self-inflicted boredom and sat to write. I felt a little homesick (I really miss my dogs) but I have been reminding myself that I purposely planned this lengthy trip so that I could focus on reading and writing. I sat for a couple of hours with serial killer documentaries as background noise and wrote about what I know, but this time through a new lens.

In the past, when I used to write about relationships, I only had the lens of a heterosexual woman who always felt insufficient. I figured that if the men I dated were looking for other women, it was because I was not good enough. Boy did that fucking destroy the shit out of me. But last night, I finally put into words a re-evaluation of those relationships with this new lens I have of my identity. What I have come to learn is that so much of my past suffering was due to the fact that I could not live up to the expectation of how to be a woman. If I was expected to be small and cute, it was always going to be an impossibility. If I needed to wear sundresses and flip flops, that wasn't going to happen either. If I needed to behave like a quiet, respectful young lady, that, for sure, would never fucking happen.

Because I did not know how to be myself (I didn't know who I was yet), I could also not really share my whole self with anyone. It didn't matter if we had physical intimacy because a big part of me would always be missing.

I once had a panic attack when my last long-term boyfriend was touching me. It was a helplessness that had been building since before we got to his place. I didn't want to be touched. It felt fucking awful, like he was being too rough and grabby and it pushed me over the edge. Fortunately, he understood right away what was happening and was patient and kind. That feeling came again when I was seeing someone two years ago and he would try to hold my hand but was so fidgety that it made me uneasy. When he would kiss me, I let it happen long enough to feel like I did my part but then I was glad to be untouched again.

I have thought about this a lot and maybe that last guy won't understand this, but I really cared about him and I loved being with him doing dumb shit (going to CVS to look for stupid shit to buy, late night snacks, driving around), but I did not want to feel obligated into a physical relationship. All of it was performative and that is not his fault.

What's worse about all this is that I am seeing how that physical contact is such a huge form of currency for so many men. If they are not my friends, then they are evaluating me based on whether I can be slept with and that is so fucking aggravating because their attitude takes a turn. They don't fully listen to what I say, and if they do, they check out after a few minutes. My real friends don't do this, but the few men who are seeking me out as a potential person to date, they do this.

So anyway, I'm going to battle a bit of homesickness and keep pushing myself to continue writing and reflecting on shit like this.

I should turn off the daily balance alerts for my bank account because I don’t need to be attacked on a daily basis.