A Calm Morning (Silent) Vlog

Now is a great time to reflect on how your digital habits have changed since quarantine. Personally, I've developed this new habit of looking at my phone first thing in the morning and it just... never feels good. So, I'm trying to create space in the mornings to be mindful, quiet, and peaceful.

Brixton

I'm frantically trying to jot down details because it still feels hard to write. I wonder whether just writing badly will help me get back into the rhythm of forming coherent sentences.

My notebook has the following bullet points:

• Brixton Market smells moist & like fresh fish(??)
• The floor is green. 
• Most of the shops sell imported fabrics or freshly made food. Good shops for costumes/drag.
• Mural of Lebanese actors with Arabic words peppered on the wall.

It's a place to start.

It feels hard to write because it's hard to be present. I can't figure out why, but I won't wallow in that thought right now. I'm moving on. Gotta start with details. Okay. Connor and I are sitting in the patio of Caroica Brazilian Cuisine, waiting for our Ipanema brunch specials.

I start wondering what Brighton is like. We're going there tomorrow.

"Con leche?" a tender woman asks when bringing out our coffees, anchoring me back to the restaurant.

Details.

I can see a woman cooking dumplings in the restaurant across the path from us. I make a note of her yellow shirt, her meticulous care in unloading the dishwasher while a man carries in boxes of fresh produce. God I want those dumplings later.

My mind wanders again, so I try to focus on the Portuguese music. 

My difficulties in being present are making it hard to do, I'm experiencing, yes, but not doing. Whenever I encounter a moment of stillness, I am thinking about something else. I've stopped thinking about work (finally) but now I'm thinking about what I'll be doing later.

Why is it so hard for me to be still and engage? Am I that out of practice?

I'm a kinesthetic processor (if you've seen me play with my hair during a conversation, that's why), so I walk and reflect and think I know what's going on. My efforts to cope with the frequent sensory overload I felt this year means that I've started tuning out details (sensory overload is when you've consumed so much stimuli that everything starts to feel overwhelming). Processing a new city, new job, new friends, new routines, and a new roommate in a new home left me mentally drained a lot. So I filtered out the details to get through the day without needing to nap every 2 hours.

But noticing and then sharing details is what I enjoy about traveling. How do I re-engage these parts of my brain? How do I switch gears?

Practice, I guess.

I sit in a park and I try to notice, one sense at a time.

I see children and families on their afternoon walks. I see a young girl, maybe seven years old, with a sparkly backpack with a half-kitten, half-mermaid on it. It says "purr-maid in training." She's smiling. And, now, so am I.

London, Again

“If you want to go back for an umbrella I can wait for you, but I don’t want one. I don't want to carry it,” I say, looking out at the rain from the entryway of our apartment building.

“As long as you know you’ll be soaked by the time we get there…” Connor says.

I nod. Connor decides against the umbrella and we start walking towards the light rail, stopping to drop off keys to our apartment so our friends can water our plants while we’re gone.

“What are your goals for the trip?” I ask.

“To be present. To read a lot… to see a lot of good music. What about you?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

I think about this for hours. I know what I want to do but that’s not what I’m thinking about. I’m thinking about how I want to grow.

How do I want to grow?

The lights in the plane mimic the aurora borealis, and as the plane takes off, we’re immediately enveloped into clouds and I can’t see anything. They’re so thick they look like they’re erasing the plane’s wing from existence as we fly. I can’t even see Mt. Rainier.

The last time I traveled on this side of the Atlantic, I was half a decade younger. I wonder how my experiences traveling will feel different now that I’ve been a teacher, now that I’ve moved to several other cities, now that I’m (marginally) older and in a different life stage.

The plane descends over Iceland for our layover, and I see the outlines of a group of whales (not sure what kind) just below the water. And I’m not sure if it’s because I just saw a documentary on the evolutionary journey of whales, or because I just love them, but it brought me to tears.

What are my goals for this trip? In what ways do I want to grow?

I don’t know yet. But my goal is to stay open to the opportunities for growth that are ahead of me. Each time I travel for this long, I come back having changed how I think and how I experience the things around me. Each time, that growth is unplanned, and each time it is inevitable.

Some times I came back with a better, more empathetic lens for consuming and making art.

Some times I came back realizing I'm more resilient and resourceful than I thought possible.

One time I came back wanting to drop out of college and become a math teacher. (I soon realized I didn’t have to drop out to become a math teacher, and did that.)

Each time, I’ve come back having grown closer to those I traveled with. I understand the people I love more deeply and more sincerely because of these shared experiences.

I’m excited to see what that means this time.

Last Days

“Ms. Singh, wait look at this. Look. No! Ms. Singh! Look!”

I laugh and pause mid-staple-removal and watch a student show me the new choreography he learned last week. 

The last days of school—that liminal time after finals and before school officially ends—is always dancing and cleaning and sadness and sweetness. It’s enjoying the warmth that was cultivated over the school year. It’s reflecting on the joy that we shared as a group. It’s always like this, and I couldn’t be more grateful.

At the end of my first year teaching, we cleaned and made drawings and danced to Beyonce’s recently released self-titled album.

Today it’s Shawn Mendez. It’s Khalid. It’s BTS. It’s sliding around on rolling chairs.

It’s milk tea and mango crepe cakes, just like last year in San Francisco. It’s freestyling to a ukulele while watching your language because Ms. Singh doesn’t like cussing. It’s sweet letters and reassurances that we’ll stay in touch. It’s Vans Old Skool instead of Nike Roshe One.

I wasn’t sure what my relationships with students would feel like this year, because the strategies I use for relationship building are embedded in being a classroom teacher. This year I don’t have a classroom. And, at the same time, I have hundreds of classrooms.

I knew it meant I had to be visible, I had to sign up to advise clubs, I had to do what I know I know how to do well. And it worked. This year feels the same in all the important ways.

This year is also hard in unexpected ways.

Shifting enrollment in the district meant that teachers were displaced (i.e. transferred to schools with increasing enrollment, to balance class sizes and make sure no classroom was needlessly burdened) and my school took a particularly large hit. Over 15 teachers were displaced, including two-fifths of my role. I was able to get a full-time position in the same role at a school I know will be a great fit, and for that I’m grateful.

But right now, I’m grateful for our cover band that is performing hits from the Disney channel original film: High School Musical 2, Sharpay's Revenge. Gotta go, my solo for “Bet on It” is starting soon.

Fearless

“Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.”

Marie Curie 

I've chosen to make a lot of changes in my life--I just moved to Seattle, moved in with my love, am taking on new challenges in a new job, and allowing myself the space and time to make lifestyle changes that were hard to do before. Everything is different, and I understand it's objectively good because all these changes are intentional, but it's also terrifying because... well... everything is different.

We're socialized to pathologize negative emotions, and it's a thing I have worked hard to unlearn. It's worth unlearning. It has made a huge difference in the quality of my life, and continues to do so the better I become at it. But it's easier for me to say it's okay to feel scared, sad, frustrated, etc. and much harder to mean it.

For me, meaning it means not denying my emotions their space to unfold and flow out of me. It also means being non-judgmental towards myself as I feel things, and I've had difficulty with this over the past few weeks. On July 30th, Connor and I drove the last 200 miles of our 1000+ mile road trip, got the keys to our apartment, did our walkthrough and inspection, unloaded all our boxes from the van to our second-floor apartment, then immediately drove to IKEA to pick up a list of things I had made before we moved to give us a relatively comfortable start, and tried to go to Home Depot, but it closed by the time we were done.

At the end of the day, I felt like a complete failure.

Some of the things we needed from IKEA were out of stock at that store. We didn’t make it to Home Depot on time. I felt like I was being irresponsible, like I should have planned better, I should have checked to make sure these things were in stock, should have unloaded faster, saved time.

It was ridiculous, because we had already done so much. It was like my first year of teaching--planning everything as much as possible and feeling like I’m not doing enough because I’m only looking at the 2 things that didn’t get done instead of the 100 that did.

Change is challenging. My changes are all choices. And, perhaps because they are intentional, these changes beget pressure. I wanted to make changes, so I did. Now I have to continue to put in the work and follow through with my promises to myself. I must nurture the parts of me that have felt neglected over the past years. I must heal the parts of me that are doubting that I deserve the things I desire.

It doesn't look pretty right now, and it doesn't have to, and I don't know that it ever will. The hard work required to make changes to your life doesn't take away from the value of those changes, nor does it devalue your journey.

I'm realizing more and more that I need to be transparent about how messy this process actually is--to normalize it and take the pressure off myself, to show the steps that are easier to hide, and to share in the little achievements along the way.

Cheers to that. More to come.

How Keeping a Time Diary Changed my Relationship with Stress

I’ve been reflecting lately about how much time I actually use to decompress from things in a day. I'm talking, specifically, about the amount of time I spend processing and recovering from cognitive overload before I can actively engage with things again.

It feels like too much, but I want to make sure, because I've been wrong about this stuff before.

I used to complain about not having enough leisure time when I started teaching. Let me add some context: a 21-year-old, unmarried, childless woman who is able to support herself comfortably with one job complained about not having enough leisure time. I said this while I was at restaurants with friends. I said this while I was on vacation. "But Grishma, you're experiencing leisure right now!" my friends would say, and I would say, "it's not enough." Because I didn’t feel rested, ever, so I assumed I needed more time for leisure (surprise! It was actually depression. Also, learning how to teach well is really hard.)

As I started and continued on my journey of recovering from depression, that nagging feeling of not having enough time stayed with me. When you've spent a long time complaining about something or believing that things that are out of your control are holding you down, it's hard to take stock to see if those feelings are still rooted in day-to-day experiences or a residue of what you're releasing from past experiences.

For so long, I felt like there was never enough time to do fun things, and if something were different, I'd finally start to enjoy my life. At the time, I thought being a teacher was incompatible with feeling rested and energized. While reading Overwhelmed, by Brigid Shulte, I realized that my biggest excuse no longer applied. I was working as a program director at an elementary school that year, and didn't have to work outside of my normal work hours like I did when I was a teacher. But this frenzied feeling still latched onto me. I decided to follow Schulte's first step as she began grappling with similar feelings, and kept a time diary for a week. After a week, when I was looking through a week's worth of data, I had the realization that I actually have a lot more free time than I realize, and the fear of not having enough was not only factually incorrect, but also taking away from actually making the most of that leisure time. I started going to watch Warriors games on weeknights at sports bars, I started going on walks, I started being more intentional about making time with people. I'm a teacher again, and these feelings are back, but I have enough leisure time. I know I have enough. 

What I'm feeling now is difficulty in making the most of that leisure time, just like I did in 2015. I feel like a lot of my free time is spent decompressing from stress, instead of actively engaging in things that will energize me and fuel my growth as a human being.

I don’t expect to ever live a life where decompression is entirely unnecessary, but I want to work towards needing that less and being more proactive in preventing the build up of cognitive overload and stress that I need to release.

But first I need to take an inventory of when I'm actually experiencing it.

Here's a template I've made, feel free to download and use for yourself!

Why We Can't Have Nice Things (Like Affirming Your Identity)

It's Tuesday, and "Julie" is crying. When I ask her what happened, she says that "Kate" is being mean to her in Spanish. I ask her if Kate knows how she feels. She shrugs and goes to tell Kate that she's sad. The two second graders come back hand-in-hand and tell me Kate has apologized for forgetting about The English Rule.

The English Rule, I learn, is exactly what it sounds like--you can only speak in English during recess. Some adult at some point in their lives (someone on recess duty, I'm guessing) decided that the way to stop kids from teasing each other in languages they don't understand is to stop them from using them entirely. Hearing that reminded me of the time I worked at ASU, when a manager decided that the way to avoid people leaving food wrappers at our front desk was to ban food altogether. This kind of behavior management is, I'm learning, ridiculously common. People arguing because of toys? No, let's not teach them how to share or respect each other's property, let's just ban toys from school. People arguing during lunch? No, let's not teach kids how to resolve conflicts, let's eat silently. Let's ignore these opportunities to teach kids really important social skills and ban things instead.

This is not the kind of educator I want to be.

Kate and I had a conversation about why it's not nice to tease people at all, let alone in another language.

"But Julie is my friend, I was just joking!"

"What's the difference between a joke and teasing?" (We had already talked about this last week.)

"Laughing with someone and laughing at someone..." (She remembered!)

"Can someone laugh with you if they don't know what you're saying?"

"No..."

She told me she hadn't thought about it that way before. She apologized to Julie again, not for breaking The English Rule, but for doing something hurtful. Before they left, I told both of them that they shouldn't think it's bad to speak other languages at school, and that it's cool that they know Spanish and Mongolian, respectively. I then learned how to say "Hola, me llamo es Grishma/Sain baina uu, minii ner Grishma baina" and taught them how to say "Namaste, mera naam Julie/Kate hai."

Taking "the thing" away when "the thing" causes conflict feels wrong. But it feels especially wrong when "the thing" is someone's culture. I don't want any child thinking their culture is inappropriate at school. You, your family, your background, your food, your holidays, your opinions, your personality--they're all needed at school. So speak in Spanish all you want, Kate. Just don't tease people.

Year-End Resolution Recap: Part 3

In 2015, instead of setting resolutions in January and trying to keep up with all of them and then angrily abandoning all of them when it became hard, I chose one per month. Overall, it was an awesome experience, and much easier to maintain when I was only focusing on one thing at a time.

Read Part 1 Here || Read Part 2 Here

This was the month I finally found a place to live. September was extremely difficult because I was really exhausted and discouraged. I had lived in San Francisco for two months, emailed a bajillion people and interviewed with a handful to find a home, was still learning how to budget in a city where I had to pay six fucking dollars for a dozen eggs, still learning how to do my new job, and was away from almost my entire support system.

I was tired all the time, and I regretted moving to San Francisco. I woke up and felt dread every single day. I wanted to move back to Phoenix, or move away to any other easier place to live. Every time I looked at my suitcases, it felt so easy to just go online, buy a ticket, take those still-packed suitcases and dip out. But I made a commitment to a school, and I know how hard it is on schools when people leave mid-year. I had to decide whether I'm actually going to try to make a life here (for at least a year) or leave.

So, I unpacked.



In an effort to try to like San Francisco, I decided to vlog every day. I knew I'd grow to like it if I did things that weren't worry about living here, and vlogging seemed like a good way to still feel connected to those I love.

And you know what? It really helped. I wasn't going to make vlogs of me worrying, so it forced me to actually find the positive things about my day-to-day life. It added up. I really like living here now, thanks to doing this.

Vlogging is also much more of a time commitment than I was ready for. I made it to October 16th and fell behind and then decided it was too late and deleted all my unused footage because I was mad that I wasn't able to keep up with it. So I didn't really meet my goal of doing it every day. But a half a month was enough for what I set out to do.

You can watch a playlist of my vlogs here:

My inability to respond to people in a timely manner has been a habit for my entire life. I literally cannot think of a time I didn't have any unread texts or emails, and the more I thought "I really need to respond to this person" the less likely I was able to do it. It sucks. It sucks for me and it sucks for the people trying to reach out to me.

It also gets in the way of me being able to do my job well. In October, I did something super vulnerable and reached out to my supervisor asking for help on answering emails on time. And so she helped me. We came up with systems that work for me, ones that are in many ways counterintuitive to everything I was taught about organization systems. 

But organization is a thing you learn, not something you're born with. And I was able to get my work inbox to zero and keep it that way since then.

I love food, but I can't feed myself on a schedule. I thought it was one of those "i'm barely an adult and my body will magically, at some arbitrary point in the future, crave foods at certain times and then i'll probably eat regularly" things but... it's not. Eating properly (i.e. healthily) is a skill that you learn and practice, not some innate radar that magically activates at some point in your life.

I don't really know much about healthy eating habits (other than "try to eat vegetables, and eat often enough so you don't pass out") so I didn't know where to start with this one. Eating breakfast every day seems like a good idea though, so that's what I set out to do.

I sucked at it. I think I had breakfast like 4 times this month. I realized that if I want to eat regularly, I have to actually plan for it and maybe go to the grocery store once in a while.

--

At the beginning of the year, I recorded this video with a bunch of goals and resolutions I'd set for myself. Looking back, I think I actually accomplished most of them. It's been a good year.

Year-End Resolution Recap: Part 2

In 2015, instead of setting resolutions in January and trying to keep up with all of them and then angrily abandoning all of them when it became hard, I chose one per month. Overall, it was an awesome experience, and much easier to maintain when I was only focusing on one thing at a time.

You can read Part 1 here!

Did I Do it?
Hell yeah. You can read about it here or watch below



What I Learned:

I can do anything.

I set out to downsize everything I have into two suitcases because I was planning to move to San Francisco. I didn't want to take everything with me because I had no idea where I'd be living, or how long it would take me to find a place to live (I was planning on staying at a hostel until I found a place of my own.) Plus, most importantly, I wanted to see if I could.

On a hoarding scale of 1 to 10 where 1 is "I live out of my truck" and 10 is "there's a truck underneath that pile of stuff" I'm at about a 6 (used to be about an 8 two years ago). I'd like to be at most a 4. What a great opportunity to push myself, right?

But I also spent so long making my studio in Phoenix into a comfortable, cozy space. I genuinely loved my apartment and the things in it. It brought me lots of joy.

So I gave most of what I cherished to people I love. My beautiful sparkling lights are with someone I love. My giant wall-sized whiteboard is with someone I love. My couch, the comfiest couch in the world, is with someone I love. My bookshelf/desk, the cleverest furniture combo, is with someone I love. My dishes, my candles, my boxes of tea, my books, everything that made my lovely apartment a cozy place is with someone I love. And it made it easier to say goodbye to it, and to them.

And I did it. I could do it.

This was a period of time where I was working 13 hours days. Reading feels like an actual break, so I thought this would be a good time to set a reading goal.

When I set this goal, I knew it was very ambitious, since it usually takes me about a month to finish a book. But I figured it would convince me to choose reading over spending time on a computer, so I upped the ante.

Turns out, I really didn't spend that long on the computer (because I was working 13 hours a day.) I also didn't read 4 books like I planned. I had time for 2. They were great, I'd recommend both--

    

I posted this on my instagram at the end of july:

And got some great ideas from people (especially erica)

Did I Do It?
Not even a little bit. I tried. I tried different prompts and I tried lots of times, but I did not draw a single thing that month because I spent that whole time staring at a blank piece of paper and hating myself a little more each time I couldn't draw anything.

What I Learned
Drawing isn't hard because I can't think of what to draw. Drawing is hard because I'm scared of drawing something ugly. While I didn't meet my resolution this month, that realization was important. It actually helped me sort out where those feelings were coming from, which helped me draw stuff three months later:

Year-End Resolution Recap: Part 1

In 2015, instead of setting resolutions in January and trying to keep up with all of them and then angrily abandoning all of them when it became hard, I chose one per month. Overall, it was an awesome experience, and much easier to maintain when I was only focusing on one thing at a time.

Here's  a recap:

Did I Do It?
Yes. It was terrifying, but yes.

Can I Still Do It?
Well, I can drive red miatas on completely flat surfaces with no other cars around. So, yes.

What I Learned:
The hardest thing was figuring out how to get into first gear. Letting the clutch off and pressing on the gas together was... hard. The more I stalled, the harder it got, and the more I psyched myself out. I felt like Korra when she was going through that rotating panel maze.

My solution was literally the same as hers. Breathe into it. I literally said "be the leaf" every time I got into first gear. And hey, it worked.

Did I Do It?
Yes. It was awesome. I talk about this resolution here, but keep reading if you just want the gist of it.

What I Learned:
I didn't even bother making a resolution to exercise more this year because I hate it, but exercising allows me to explore parts of the world I wouldn't get to otherwise. I want to challenge myself and do tougher hikes. Taller peaks = better views!

Oh, this was a big one. I learned that so many of you relate to this feeling, of being messy but not really knowing how to not be messy without hating yourself. I felt so much better after sharing this habit that makes me feel super crappy about myself, and hopeful that I was actually able to see a lot of progress by the end of the month. This was one of the best ones I did all year. You can read about my mid-month progress here, or watch my end-of-month reflection below! 

Since March, I was able to maintain this habit through the end of the summer, but it all stopped when I moved to San Francisco. Oops. Guess I know my January resolution for 2016?

Did I Do It?
Sort of. It was hard because I had to plan ahead to buy the ingredients (it required more work than just rolling out of bed and going for it, you know?) so I did it 3 times. Still felt great!

What I Learned:
This resolution wasn't really about becoming a better baker. The idea behind this resolution was that I would bake things for other people. This was a resolution about practicing gratitude. I wanted to make snacks for some people that I love because I didn't feel very good at expressing gratitude through gestures.

Here are two of the recipes I used:

1. The Best M&M Cookies

2. Carrot Cake Squares  (with cream cheese frosting ribboned in)

"Wrong" Feelings

I remember once when I was maybe 13, I was crying in my bathroom, and my mom told me to stop faking it. My literal cry for help, attention, comfort, whatever it was at the time, was met with rejection, and it felt awful. It was very isolating.

Even today, at 24 years old, I felt a similar thing. I was talking about how some of the ways white people do Indian things feels inauthentic to me, and why I think that hurts Indian people in the U.S., and felt like Mr. was trying to, in his way, tell me to shut up. It was isolating.

My mother and Mr. aren't bad people. They can be very supportive a lot of the time. But what makes these moments different? Why do they dismiss my feelings and ideas instead of comforting me? Or, at the least, listening to what I have to say?

Something about those conversations prevents these people--these good people with good intentions--from listening without being defensive. For my mother all those years ago, maybe it was a fear that I did not love her, or that my tears were evidence of something far greater and more serious and reflected some fundamental truth about her ability as a parent. For Mr. I think it's a fear that my disagreeableness reflects on his own character, or that I'm making an otherwise "pleasant" conversation less so than if I said nothing.

In those moments, I have to remind myself that what I'm feeling is not wrong. And I hope you remember the same. During those moments where you're being told (explicitly or subtly) that what you're feeling is wrong, I hope you remember that your feelings are real, legitimate, and even if it's difficult for good people with good intentions to understand you in the way you're trying to be understood, you're not wrong for feeling what you are in that moment.

In fact, they are.

This quote by Louis C.K. comes to mind--

"When a person tells you that you hurt them, you don’t get to decide that you didn’t."

- Louis C.K.

New Girl

Here's a scenario--It's the first day of school. There's a kindergartener crawling on the floor and screaming while the rest of the class is trying to read a book. The teacher has tried reasoning with the child but he's not listening. The teacher insists that the boy follows directions, but he is not. I, as the "principal of afterschool" am called because things are becoming chaotic. I'm happy to help, and remove the boy from the class so the rest can focus. I take the boy by his hand and find an empty conference room in the front office. He is quiet.

I have two goals:
1. Figure out what's keeping the kid from listening to his teacher.
2. Figure out how to get him to listen to his teacher.

I've done this before, lots of times, albeit not for someone this young.

We sit down.

And the school counselor walks in. She is nervous that the boy is being punished. She wants to help.

She asks, "do you have a relationship with him?"

"It's the first day of school."

"I think it would be a good idea to ask him how he's feeling before writing him up, I think he might be--" and I tune out. She wants to model the conversation for me. I wait for her to finish.

Anyway.

The boy sits down. He looks sad. I ask him how his first day at school was. He didn't like it. He misses his mom. I remind him how brave he's being for being without her all day. I ask him to pull out his homework. He stares at the page. I ask him whether he thinks his homework is really hard. He nods. We look at a math problem and I ask him to read the directions. He reads them.

I ask him, "so what is it asking you to do?"

"I don't know."

"This first part here, let's read that again."

"Count the dots in the box."

"And what does that mean?"

"Just like 1, 2, 3, 4."

"Good! Now what's this?"

"and circle the greater value."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know."

"what does 'greater' mean?"

He shrugs.

"Greater means bigger, so what are you supposed to do here?"

"Circle the bigger one."

"Good!"

It took him 10 minutes to finish the the page.

We talked about what he can do the next time he feels like his work is too hard. We talk about why it's important to listen to his teacher. We walk back to class. He's fine for the rest of the day.

I can't recall when the counselor left the room. But I can't shake off how patronizing it felt to listen to someone try and teach me something I already know. It didn't feel annoying; it felt disrespectful. You really think I'm so incompetent that I'm going to bring in a 5-year-old and yell at him to scare him?

And she's not the only one. During a coaching conversation about being firm with expectations with students, I said something like, "when you're counting down 3, 2, 1, don't say "one and a half" or "one and three quarters" because that's showing them you didn't really mean what you said. If a student isn't lined up silently by the end of it, just give a check and move on."

The previous manager follows behind me and adds, "relationships are the foundation to classroom management."

Since I've started my new job, I've been open to giving everyone my time and listening to what they have to say, because I thought that it'd give me ideas on how to be better. But the only person who has given me anything useful is my boss. Everyone else is trying to give me ed 101 lessons, and it feels really patronizing. It makes me feel like those people don't actually believe that I'm competent, and it makes me question myself instead.

Because I am afraid. I'm afraid that this program will turn into daycare. I'm afraid that I won't be able to realize the vision and goals I've set for my staff and the program. I'm afraid I won't do a good job.

Over the past 2 weeks, I've heard everything from "be more stern because you're not inherently intimidating" to "be less mean because you want them to like you." I don't tell them I want kids to do things because they see value in it, not to get my approval. Yes, relationships are important, but they should not be the only thing holding a class together.

Everyone is rushing to help because they don't know me. They don't know that I've managed classes with 45 people at a time. They don't know that I've helped kids who couldn't multiply in August solve quadratics by May. They don't know that I've coached teachers before, that I have a masters in education, that I can tell them two hundred or so stories of incredible kids who've done awesome things.

They don't know that it wasn't some stroke of luck, and that I worked my ass off. I learned and unlearned and relearned constantly--still am--to become better at what I do.

I canceled my "brain dump" meetings next week. Unless you have an efficient organization system I don't know about, I don't need to see you. (Because I need to spend that time finding efficient organization systems.)

As hard as it is, I have to be okay with other people underestimating me.

Because here's something else they don't know about me--

I love proving people wrong.

May Resolution Recap: Summiting the Highest Peak in Arizona

I would never use the word "athletic" to describe myself. I don't work out. I don't play sports. Not me.

But I do like nature a lot. And, like I mentioned in my February RR, exercise is a means to an end for me--a way to experience nature.

I haven't been exercising regularly, but I have been practicing harder and harder hikes so that I can push myself. And what's the hardest one nearby? Mt. Humphreys. It's 12,633 feet tall--the tallest peak in Arizona

What Made it Difficult

Snow. I was prepared for high altitudes, I was prepared with enough food and water, but I was NOT prepared for this much snow. Watch my vlog below to see what I mean:

What I Learned

I can do anything. 

Now What?

Maybe this.

Building Tiny Habits: A Tidy Apartment

I'm really digging doing a resolution a month. I spent more time in nature in February than the last six months combined, and even though I'm no longer making it a goal to hike every week, I still went on a short morning hike on Saturday. This is awesome. Focusing on one thing at a time means I actually make progress.

This month, I've challenged myself to clean for 20 minutes each day.

I didn't arbitrarily choose 20 minutes, I got the idea from UFYH (a blog for messy people trying to be clean, not clean people trying to be cleaner.) They are proponents of 20/10 challenges, where you break down large, daunting tasks into 20/10s: 20 minutes of work time followed by a 10-minute break. 

I know what you're thinking--is 20 minutes really enough to clean every day?

Not at first. But I'll tell you more about that when I do the end-of-month recap. 

Today I want to talk about that pile of clutter you've tucked away in the corner. Mine happened to be on a shelf hidden behind a chair. And after 20 minutes of cleaning, here's what happened:

It doesn't look like much.

Sometimes, before-and-afters can look like those "Spot the Difference" puzzles in Sunday comics, and that's okay. Because when you walk past what used to be a cluttered mess and is no longer a second, outside junk drawer, it feels so damn good.

It takes a long time to find a place for those odds and ends you've been neglecting. 20 minutes, actually.

February Resolution Recap

This month, I challenged myself to hike once every week. One of my new years resolutions is to spend more time in nature, and because the weather in Arizona is fantastic right now, I figured I'd be least likely to make excuses.

I hiked every Saturday:

Week 1: Barks Canyon Loop in the Superstition Mountains
Week 2: Papago Park
Week 3: Lake Pleasant
Week 4: Papago Park (again)


What Made it Difficult
I picked February because I knew the words "it's too hot!" wouldn't leave my mouth. The urges I did have to fight were: this early?? uuugh or I could stay in bed.... my to-do list is too big! so much to do! no time for a hike!

But I made myself go. On days that I couldn't go off for a full day's hike, I took a couple of hours to go to Papago Park instead.


What I Learned
I don't like exercising for the sake of it, but I learned that it's important for me to exercise so that I can explore parts of the world I wouldn't get to otherwise. I didn't even bother making a resolution to exercise more this year because I've never enjoyed the process of it, but I have a clearer goal now--exercising allows me to do more of what I want.

Now What?
I love the feeling of being in a desolate, natural space. I love plants, I love the breeze, I love the silence. I love how friendly everyone is (no really... look at this email!)

Everyone is always so happy to be in nature. There's such positive vibes flowing around, and I want to immerse myself in them. I want to challenge myself and do tougher hikes. Taller peaks = better views. Who knows, maybe I'll make it to the top of Mt. Humphreys this year!

2014: The Year I Found my Voice

I have grown more in this year than any other time in my life. This could have been the worst year of my life, and I think in April I would have said that it was. But with solid support and some really difficult, no-nonsense introspection (and months of therapy), I'm happy to say that, right now, I'm pretty damn proud of myself.

Because this is the year I...

I grew up in a nervous family. Any sniffly nose or sore limb was treated like I had the plague. Hypochondria became a habit.

This year, I learned to stop freaking out when I sneeze. I learned to accept my low pain tolerance, rather than beat myself up over "feeling weak" all the time. I learned to stop feeling guilty if I want to lay in bed and eat snacks all day. I learned that relaxing isn't a symptom of failure. Even bears hibernate.

But one of the biggest kinds of hypochondria I had to get over was when I felt sad or tired. While recovering from depression, I was really worried that I'd ignore its symptoms again. I learned that it's not good if you feel sad every day, but not every sad day is depression. It's not good to feel tired every day, but you might just be tired because you've been on your feet for 6 hours, paying attention to 30-something people at once. I've stopped downright ignoring my body when I feel sad or tired, but I've also stopped obsessing about it. Some days are happy, some days are not. And that's fine. Because obsessing about whether "this day is the best it could be right now" is a recipe for disaster.

This year, and for many years before it, I don't think I would have said I had low self esteem. I didn't have the typical symptoms. I don't really wear makeup or do my hair, so I don't obsess about it. I don't fuss about my weight or clothes either.

But I did have low self esteem. It just looked different in me.

I was particularly susceptible to "Keeping Up with the Jones" syndrome. I've lived it all my life. Any life decision I made--even though I was never explicitly taught this--had to impress others. I'd always relied on people liking me. I was rarely self conscious about my physical appearance, but almost always self conscious about my abilities. I spent too much energy caring about what people thought, too much time hesitating.  

Remember Robert Frost's poem The Road Not Taken? Imagine if the poem ended, instead, with, "I took the one less traveled by, and everyone gasped the whole time."

Ridiculous.

How self absorbed to think that everyone is watching (and judging) your every move? And how terrible to think that scrutiny is going to do anything even if it exists?

When I became a teacher, I was forced to bare myself in front of 200-something people every day--whether I felt up to it or not. There weren't "big presentations" you prepared for weeks. You had a big presentation five times every single day. And the possibility of something going wrong (i.e. being less than absolutely impeccable) made me so anxious so often, that I felt like the victim of a sappy movie.

If I had gotten a desk job out of college, or anything that didn't require me to see the same people almost every day for a year--no do-overs--I don't think I ever would have confronted this about myself. Or, hell, done something about it. I would have gone along my life taking things a bit too personally and being a little offended all the time.

This year, I learned that confidence doesn't mean walking into a room believing everyone will love you. It seems that way, it's what I was taught, but it's not true. Confidence is walking into a room and knowing that, even if everyone doesn't love you, you'll be fine.

I've spent a great deal of my life trying to be agreeable, for the reasons I explained above.

I've sat through an excruciating hour of a creepy old man calling me "a delectable specimen" five times. A full hour with a man who, after learning I was a math teacher, asked me to "give him a call" once I really figure out what I want to do with my life. I didn't tell him off when he responded to "from India" with "dot India?" I sat completely still while he hugged me from behind. I didn't want to cause a scene. I cared about being agreeable more than being respected.

This year, because I cared less and less about being agreeable, I also became more vocal. I participated in conversations about heavy, sticky topics--education reform, poverty etc.--with confidence. I'm (now) okay with commenting on people's unintentionally-racist analysis of what's going on in Ferguson, instead of staying silent (i.e. neutral, i.e. liked by everyone.) I'm okay with believing that I'm right. With taking bets. With taking risks.

I've chosen authenticity. 

Authenticity is being okay with telling people you don't want to drink tonight. It's being okay with telling people you don't cook, that your fridge is empty and your freezer is filled with frozen Trader Joe's food. It's actually TELLING people these things. It's sharing your feelings, your hardships, your successes.

And don't get me wrong, I'm not an "I don't care what any of you think" type of person. I don't think I ever will be. But the difference now is that I don't think about it 5 minutes later. Positive or negative.

As long as I'm living my life with honesty and kindness, I'll be fine.

Your Fave is Problematic: Meghan Trainor

If you like "All About that Bass" because it's catchy, fun to sing or dance to, or because you like Meghan Trainor's voice, cool. Your taste in music is your taste. You do you. This post isn't for you.

But if you like the song because it's body-positive, we should talk.

I know "All About that Bass" sounds like an empowering, love-yourself song. But the context within which you should love yourself, according to Trainor, is entirely based on how attractive men find you. And that is not empowering, because you're still giving someone else the power to affect your self-esteem. This song isn't about loving yourself for you who are, it's about being okay with being heavy because, hey, men will still want you.

Compare these verses:

Yeah, my mama she told me don't worry about your size She says, "Boys like a little more booty to hold at night." You know I won't be no stick figure silicone Barbie doll So if that's what you're into then go ahead and move along (All About that Bass, Megan Trainor)

My mama told me when I was young We are all born superstars She rolled my hair and put my lipstick on In the glass of her boudoir "There's nothing wrong with loving who you are" She said, "'Cause he made you perfect, babe" "So hold your head up girl and you'll go far, Listen to me when I say" (Born this Way, Lady Gaga)

This song isn't empowering anybody, it's just making objectification more inclusive ("I'm bringing booty back, go ahead and tell them skinny bitches that.") And if you thought this song was trying to be feminist, keep in mind that Trainor doesn't consider herself a feminist.

Compare these verses:

Yeah, it's pretty clear, I ain't no size two But I can shake it, shake it Like I'm supposed to do 'Cause I got that boom boom that all the boys chase And all the right junk in all the right places (All About that Bass, Megan Trainor)

I wake up looking this good And I wouldn't change it if I could And you can say what you want I'm the shit I'm the shit, I'm the shit, I'm the shit I want everyone to feel like this, tonight (Flawless (Remix), Beyonce ft. Nicki Minaj)

Beyonce's perfection has nothing to do with whether men find her attractive. She doesn't even mention weight. It's vague on purpose, I feel, because there are so many things women feel insecure about that have nothing to do with their weight. Flawless is about not letting your self esteem be affected by your size, skin color, height, accent, how often you do your nails, whether you wear makeup etc. No matter who you are, and how you are, you are flawless.

That's body positive.

Don't forget--confidence has nothing to do with believing that everyone will love you. Confidence is knowing you'll be okay even if they don't.

How to Treat a Stomach Flu

I'm livin' the dream, guys.

I'm going to spare you the nitty gritty details of how my digestive system feels right now, but let me just say that stomach pain is the worst because my usual coping strategy--snacks--is useless right now. I have no appetite. Boo.

Thankfully, I didn't have to go to the doctor (driving to and sitting in an office while clenching my stomach sounds like absolute misery) and I had our school nurse help me during lunch. A stomach flu could be a lot of other things, she says, and it's important to know whether you have a viral infection or just ate one too many enchiladas last night.

Do I Have a Stomach Flu?

Here are the symptoms:

• Abdominal cramps
• Stomach pain
• Nausea/dizziness 
• Vomiting/diarrhea

I Have a Stomach Flu. Now What?

1. Rest. 

This is obvious, I know, but also really hard to actually do. Laying in bed when I'm not asleep is really hard. I get restless and start feeling anxious that I'm not using my time well (I should do the dishes. I should respond to emails. etc. etc.) 

In times like this, what helps me is making my bed into a nest. Sort of. Everything I need is within arms reach, and it makes it easier to just roll around and enjoy bed rest. 

Lots of pillows, cozy socks, tea, water, an apple-scented candle, and Friends.

2. Pedialyte

I got a couple of bottles of pedialyte to make sure that I don't get dehydrated, and can I just say that I'm horrified by how sugary this stuff tastes? According to my friend Coby, it tastes like melted otter pops. And I agree. You're not supposed to dilute them, so I chug a cup down every few hours (or every time I uh go to the bathroom) and wash it down with water. 

3. Bland Food

You want to stick to toast, rice, potatoes, and bread. The plainer, the better, so that it doesn't upset your stomach. Small amounts of greek yogurt are okay--I added a drizzle of honey on top of mine and it didn't upset my stomach. Stay away from caffeine, spices, and... anything delicious, basically.

A Few More Tips...

• Clean your toilet when you're starting to get over it. The stomach flu is a virus, so you don't want to spread it to anyone else who uses your bathroom.
• You're contagious for up to two weeks after you show no more symptoms of the stomach flu, so be sure to frequently wash your hands!

Alright, my croissants are all cooked in the oven. Time to go lay in bed again.