17 Weeks

What a whirlwind.

BC and I have spent a lot of time over the break going through old family photos. Seeing pre-pregnancy photos of my mom has been really eye-opening. When my mom would tell me stories about her life before children, I just copied and pasted my current image of my mom onto a new background: in the Philippines, in a computer chip manufacturing company, hanging out with other copy-and-pasted aunties. When I see her old photos though, I realize my mom was a whole different person than the woman I know. She was thin, stylish, social, a musician, a dancer, a daughter, a student--a young woman!

After looking at photos of my mom, I moved on to photos of my grandma. My dad and I agreed that Lola always looked the same for as long as we could remember--whether she was 30, 60, or 80 years old. We came across her wedding day photos and our jaws dropped. Wouldn't you now it, Lola was once a young woman, too!

Though I am in awe of the women who came before me, I started to feel kind of sad for myself. I feel like soon, I too will have "once been a young woman".

- - -

Something has shifted and I feel like I'm starting to bond with my baby. Each time I wake up in the middle of the night, I touch my belly to check that their OK (not sure what I'm checking for, exactly). I greet my baby when I wake up in the morning. I tell my baby "this is your first time in Hawaii!" and "this is your first time at the beach!". I tell BC to kiss baby good night.  I'm starting to focus less on all the horrible symptoms, and even focus less on planning for the new future, and just focus on what it feels like to hold my baby inside of me.

My brain feels different. Sometime I feel like my brain is turned off, like I'm not thinking of anything at all. Sometime I feel like my brain is feeding me sad thoughts that don't make any rational sense. Sometimes, my brain feels like it's in a meditative state, which is nice. I'll notice the breeze, the sun, the comfiness of the couch, the taste of ice cream, and think of nothing but those senses. If my mind wanders to work, my brain easily says "nah, don't worry about it" and I continue with my meditative thoughts.

I'm trying to stay active even though I feel like a sack of potatoes. I don't feel energetic even if I feel truly horrified by what by body looks like right now. I can't even be bothered to exercise for the sake of endorphins. I just want to rest.

- - -

We've shared the news with my parents, some extended family, and friends. All of a sudden, everyone else is excited to talk about the news, but I'm over talking about it. Anyway, I've become pretty sensitive to what people are saying. "I knew it! I could tell by looking at you." Cool, thanks. Questions about daycare, apartment living versus buying a house, health, work, gender, and what we plan to buy for our child, have all become touchy subjects for me.

- - -

Looking Up

OMG a diagnosis! Wonky thyroid! I'm not imagining things, I'm not dooming myself to negative thoughts, I'm not creating depressive symptoms in myself by not exercising enough/being ungrateful/eating badly/not sleeping...! It's my thyroid's fault, YAY!

- - -

I am so relieved to have received a diagnosis, even though my worst symptoms are behind me (or have taken a pause). With that, an update:

This is now starting to feel real real, in a great way. I'm starting to see baby growing (without the ultrasound). I'm commiserating with other soon-to-be moms. BC and I have picked out names and have started planning for the near future and baby's soon-to-be needs. I'm starting to believe that this is good and this is happening.

I'm currently in Hawaii counting down the days to tell my parents. I'm currently 16 weeks on the nose. We arrived last Wednesday; today is Friday, and we're going to tell them on Sunday! It's become difficult to hide my belly (sometimes... sometimes my tummy seems to deflate). Sunday can't come soon enough. Meanwhile, I'm taking notice of all these last precious moments of my current lifestyle--childfree, carefree, on vacation, with nothing to worry about except work and school. BC, the sibs, and I still come and go as we please--doing what we want, eating what we want, going where we want, whenever we want, for however long we want. These days are numbered.

Luckily, many of my symptoms have faded. I'm not gagging twelve times a day, I'm keeping food down, and I can eat most foods. I still feel like I can smell anything and everything. I still get fatigued. My mood is not as high as it was at times pre-pregnancy, but it's not super low or particularly flat as it was during that bout of depression. My memory feels pretty foggy at times. I have such vivid dreams that I sometimes wake up crying from something horrible that happens in my dreams. I have to pee ALL. THE. TIME. My weight fluctuates +3 lbs in a day. I haven't put on much, if any weight compared to pre-pregnancy (at most, I've equaled my pre-pregnancy peak weight of 123 lbs., at least, I've weighed in at 115 lbs., a weight that I'd had difficultly getting down to pre-pregnancy).

Things to do in the coming months:

• Tell Mom and Dad
• Tell BC's mom and dad 
• Look into Iceland
• Look into Cancun
• Tell my friends
• Tell BC's friends
• Plan BC's bday (and get his gift!)
• Hawaii trip #2
• Start gathering [frugal] baby items
• Get a bridal dress for Tin's wedding
• Plan two baby showers

Amidst that:

• Grade Finals
• Plan Semester 2 - Units, Learning Targets, Materials, Assessments
• Finish annotated biblio
• Register for SFSU Spring 2020
• Centering pregnancy appointments
• Bloodwork
• 2nd thyroid follow-up appointment
• 20-week ultrasound
• Reach coaching
• MWF hip hop classes
• TuThSa yoga
• Su cycling
• Gather data
• Write thesis
• Attend research groups meetings
• Prepare for last weeks of semester (Study Guide, Final)
• GRADUATE
• Tin & Paul's Wedding
• BABY

Summer:

• Baby bonding time!

Fall 2020 - Spring 2020 (and for next 10 years..???):

• Teach 2-3 classes, 3 days per week

2020 - baby born

2021 - baby is 1 y.o. (June), (Sept) get preg

2022 - baby is 2 y.o., baby born

2023 - baby is 3 y.o., baby is 1 y.o.

2024 - baby is 4 y.o., baby is 2 y.o. (June), (Sept) get preg

2025 - baby is 5 y.o. (start Kinder), baby is 3 y.o., baby born

2026 - baby is 6 y.o. (start 1st), baby is 4 y.o., baby is 1 y.o.

2027 - baby is 7 y.o. (start 2nd), baby is 5 y.o. (start Kinder), baby is 2 y.o.

2028 - baby is 8 y.o. (start 3rd), baby is 6 y.o. (start 1st), baby is 3 y.o.

2029 - baby is 9 y.o. (start 4th), baby is 7 y.o. (start 2nd), baby is 4 y.o.

2030 - baby is 10 y.o. (start 5th), baby is 8 y.o. (start 3rd), baby is 5 y.o. (start kinder)

One Day:

• Live abroad with the kids (Japan? Iceland? Philippines? Europe?)
• Get my PhD (5-7 years of my life)
• Become a professor
• Live in HI
• Live near family

Just Pretend / Be Better

I stumbled across a video clip today of a young boy jamming out on an ukulele, singing his heart out. I was transported back to every time that my heart leapt, stopped, wept at the curious combination of sweet notes and soulful vocal cords.

In my wanderings, I decided to dive into a rabbit hole of my old journal entries and blog posts. I'm not ashamed to say that I admire the person that I used to be. I won't ever be that person again, but maybe I can learn something from her.

If I'm not going to be the best person that I can be for me, I resolve to be for my child.

13+5 Weeks

OK, I'm now 13 weeks and 5 days into pregnancy.

I'm relieved to have shaken off that depression. I literally woke up one day, and it was gone. I could hardly believe it when I opened my eyes. I didn't feel happy per se, but I just felt regular tired, regular nauseous, and even regular not-bouncy-happy-not-empty-or-sobby, just-kinda-neutral. 

Sharing the news with the close few has been tearful and exciting, though still nerve-racking. A couple days after stepping out of my fog and seeing my second ultrasound, I felt my toes just start to touch down onto reality. It doesn't necessarily feel like 'THIS IS HAPPENING!' yet. It feels more reasonable to hope for the best but expect the worst. With it being BC's and my 8th anniversary and with it being such a special celebration, I started to feel little glimmers of hope. Enough so that I wanted to tell N. Her joy and her tears made me feel like maybe something good truly is on the way. Fast forward a couple of weeks to the big announcement with the sibs--their immediate joy made me almost envious of their optimism. Now, two more souls are in on the secret. I feel like I'm spreading a lie that I myself am starting to believe. It's not a lie, according to the doctor appointments. It just... doesn't feel real yet.

13 week ultrasound. Baby looks like a human: head, stomach, arms, legs--the whole nine. This time, I felt--not ecstasy, exactly, more like wtf, is this a pre-recorded video playing on the monitor, howwwwwwww... which, to be fair, is a huge leap from my apathy during the first ultrasound. 

My loss of appetite, nausea, and disgust at all foods spicy, fatty, flavorful, textured, or colorful has in and of itself been a downer. At times, my aversions will break and my old self will peek through. Then, I'm able to say "almost yum; I'm sure that pre-pregnant me would have loved this." This is an upgrade from going days of eating nothing but plain, sugarless oatmeal, bananas, and plain bread.

Mental health-wise, my spirit has been through the wash at high speed for the past few years. When attempting to prepare for this child has, the sun has at times peeked through; I've been able to say, "ok; I can see how pre-jaded me would have been blindly, naïvely, unabashedly, vocally, excited about a baby on the way." 

Present me feels wary... and tired. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Not ambitious, not trying to get ahead of myself. Whereas all things once felt possible, I feel less in control of my destiny and more cautious of what the world has in store for us. 

That's all for now.

CR

First Perinatal Depression Appointment

It's been about three weeks since I started feeling low. Saturday and Sunday, I felt like I was maybe on the upswing. I even ventured out of the house for non-mandatory activities.

And then I got the news that hit me like a punch in the gut. CR, a former student of mine, committed suicide.

No, no, no... of all the kids... no, not that any kid deserves anything like this more than another kid, but not CR. He's the sweetest kid around. Kind, smart, helpful, and just a pleasure to serve.

I feel low again. I don't know how to process CR's death.

Doctor said that I could be suffering from a hormonal imbalance, or from unresolved worries, or from unacknowledged environmental stressors. I've chosen to hop back on the talk therapy train. Maybe there are coping mechanisms for depression that are different from coping mechanisms for anxiety. Maybe what I'm experiencing is an off-shoot of anxiety, and that I have buried fears that are hindering me from feel peace, hope, or optimism, like my subconscious is trying to be extra cautious in case danger lies ahead.

When I was feeling anxious, I felt dread, fatigue, restlessness. Depression feels like grief, insomnia, tiredness, nothing, sadness, and emptiness.

I feel lonely, like I'm in hole and don't know how to get myself out. I feel like I need help, but I don't know where to turn.

First Prenatal Appointment

I had my first prenatal appointment today. I saw the baby.

This also marks three weeks of feeling like this. Horrible. Terrible. Miserable. Grief-stricken.

I feel bad even saying it because by all accounts, we are lucky to have gotten pregnant so quickly and for everyone to be in good health. We are in a fantastic time in our lives to be welcoming such a long awaited change.

Yet I feel like shit. I feel like someone died and I'm left trying to cope. I go to bed wide awake. I wake up tired. I am not motivated to do anything. I let all of my responsibilities fall by the way side because I cannot bring myself to care. Whereas everything used to put me on edge, I now find myself not worrying about any consequences. My mind is blank. My energy is low. I have no drive.

I felt blank when the doctor showed us the ultrasound. The only difference that I feel now is that I now have zero doubt that I am pregnant. I wondered before if I just happened to have all the symptoms of pregnancy without an actual pregnancy. But now, I, BC, and my doctor have all seen the baby.

My mind won't think to the future. My mind will barely think past one minute from now. I know that I need to get work done for tomorrow. I know that I need to get ready for tonight. I know that my former self would start making lists and planning and dreaming. But my brain feels broken. The "think ahead" section of my brain feels switched off.

At best, I feel flat. I felt no anticipation going into this appointment, except to finally tell a doctor that I've been feeling depressed. I felt nothing when seeing the ultrasound. I felt nothing in the car afterwards.

I finally cried when telling my doctor that I've felt like this for three weeks now. I say 'finally' because I wouldn't describe how I am feeling as sadness. I just feel emptiness. It feels like the emotional version of physical exhaustion. I told her that I have no motivation to do anything. I told her that I don't even know what to tell her because my thoughts feel empty. I don't have any worried thoughts. The only thoughts I have lately is, "I should probably eat... oh well," and "what was I supposed to do today? ...oh well."

After she and I wrapped up our conversation, we moved on to the ultrasound part of the appointment. I switched off the tears easily, like a faucet. Then, I pretended to feel happy when I saw the ultrasound. I came up with questions to ask so as not to appear totally checked out. "That's crazy," I heard myself react. But I felt like I was passively watching a commercial break interrupt a show I was watching, or like I was pretending to watch a flight attendant explain the safety features of a Boeing 747. My mind was blank and my heart felt elsewhere.

Three weeks now, of feeling like this.

Tracking

9/30 - First day of missed period
10/1 - Second day of missed period
10/2 - Third day of missed period
10/3 - Feeling depressed. Feeling empty. Crying. Wondering if I'm pregnant. Thinking I probably am. Not wanting to check quite yet. After all, if a pregnancy test would tell the truth next week, so why take it now? Sitting in an empty apartment. Not knowing what to do with myself. Feeling deep, deep emptiness. Needing to get up and do something, not wanting to do anything. Letting the minutes pass. Letting the hours pass. Time to pack. Time to go. Fine, I'll take the test.

Positive.

Sob.

Cry.

Sob.

Pull myself together.

Scramble to find a blank card and empty gift bag. Sneak out the house.

Meet Brian. Tell him I have a gift for him. Record. React, somewhat. Drive to the airport. Leave.

At the airport. Thoughts of 'don't get my hopes up' quickly fade away. I start calculating, planning, writing down dates. I'm probably five weeks along. Due date might be June 5th. First trimester might be around Thanksgiving. Third trimester might be around Spring Break. When to reveal to family? How? And friends? What will we do about work and child care next year?

10/4 - Tired. Four hours of sleep. Breakfast with Kuya Z. I have a secret. Work day at home. Try to stay focused. Mostly just feel depressed. Work out. Feel better. But still feel depressed. Go out for dinner with Alby. Now, distracted. Better.

10/5 - Tired. Tossing and turning all night. Breakfast with Kuya Z, Alby, Tin, and Paul.  I have a big, big secret. Try to stay distracted. Deflect the conversation away from me. Ask lots of questions. Listen intently. Joke. Say good bye. Secret kept. Fast forward. Cory's first birthday. Childhood friends. I have a big, big, big, secret. Conversation centers around who is having kids and when. "April, do you want kids? When?" Shrug. "We'll see." Fast forward. Reunited with BC. We have a secret.

10/6 - Tired, but awake again. I've seen 3 A.M. three nights in a row. Food festival with Edo and Nikki. Stay distracted. Don't spill the beans. Depression starting to fade. Optimism settling in. Alertness kicking in. I'm exhausted, but feel like I've had six cups of coffee.

10/7 - Work. Try to discreetly call the doctor. First time spilling the beans. First time hearing "congratulations!". Exhausted. Starting to feel excited and happy and optimistic. So tired. Fell asleep while watching a show.

10/8 - Work. Cramps. Fatigue. Moodiness. Fortitude. Talk to Gia on the phone. Lots to catch up on; lots to keep me distracted. Lots to divert and steer the conversation with. So tired. Work from 7:30 A.M., to sitting in traffic, to sitting in class at SFSU, to sitting in traffic, to getting home at 8:30 P.M. Rosiness fading. Fell asleep sitting up with my phone in my hand.

10/9 - Depression coming back. Lots to do. Work at AIA, work at home, drive to SFSU, meet with Evie, meet with Judy, check in with Ash, sit in traffic... collapse on the couch. Force myself to get off the couch to make myself a snack. Tired. Empty. Unmotivated.

Thank You

Hi Dr. ---, 

I just want to thank you for all of your help this past year and a half. I was holding off on sending this email because I wanted to wait and see if if I had indeed gotten any better since we first met. 

Well, since we last met, I started my new part-time role at work and have picked up hours on the side working for myself (consulting, tutoring, curriculum writing, and mentoring new teachers). In some sense, I have fewer stressors in my life now than I did when I first came to you.

I've also had some hard times. My friend's mother was violently killed. Around the same time, a student of mine's stepbrother was killed. These tragedies really shook me. I felt myself starting to revert back to fears that I had discussed with you and had worked through in my worry group. Besides that, annoyances at work came up, as I suppose they always will, which shook my confidence in myself briefly. 

When those setbacks happened, I thought about reaching out to you for help. But first, I thought about the tools and resources that I had more immediately available to me that would help me feel like I had my feet on solid ground again. I replayed some of conversations that you and I had in our sessions over again in my head. I talked out what I was feeling to my partner and a friend as I would have done with you. In the end, whereas I initially felt like I wanted to turn to you to ask look for confirmation that my worries would pass and that I would find my way on the other side of hardship, ultimately, I was able to call back on what you had already taught me and find that confirmation that "this too, will pass... I will figure this out!" in myself and in my support network.

So, I guess I'm writing to you now not because things feel like they will be smooth sailing from now and forever more, but because I want to thank you for helping me learn how to manage tough times as they come. I hope that your door remains open in for me in case I need to talk again in the future, but until then, I am proud of myself for being able to handle things better on my own.

Thank you for your patience and compassion, Dr.---. You are a really good therapist.

Kindly,
A

Life Lesson Learned after 30

This is a tradition that I've kept up on my birthday for the past few years (26th, 27th, 28th, 29th, 30th). I hope you find something useful in the following list: if not something to agree with, then at least something of some small entertainment value.

Lessons learned in my 31st year of life:

1. How to let go of worry

I’ve spent the past year and a half receiving mental health therapy (eternally grateful that I have health insurance). Part of that therapy included a class about excessive worrying. One of my most important takeaways from therapy is that our thoughts are not reality. When a worrying thought suddenly appears in my mind, I don't have to wrestle with it. I can let it go like a balloon.

This past year, I also learned about panic disorder, how to manage panic attacks, how to grapple with negative emotions, and how freaking wonderful therapy is. I'm a true believer that everyone can benefit from therapy (provided that the therapist is a good fit). I've also accepted that I'm not sick, broken, or overly-whatever: I'm just a normal human being with normal thoughts, emotions, and problems.

2. Trust yourself

If you feel stressed, respond do that feeling rather than think that there's something wrong with you for feeling that way. When you're at a crossroads and need to make a decision, know that your decision is based on your years of experience on this planet as well as on the guidance of wise elders who have guided you. When you feel nervous about doing something new for the first time, trust that you are prepared enough for this moment and that you will make it to the other side--one way or another.

3. Talk to your friends and family about mental health

Not everyone is ready to hear what you have to say. Some will misunderstand you, others will have their own preconceived notions about mental health, and your friends and family might worry about you more than you want them to--but try talking to them about mental health anyway. Doing so helped me feel less scared about the fact that I needed professional help, opened others up to the possibility of getting help themselves, and revealed to me that some of my loved ones were already on their own journeys of receiving help. Telling my friends and family about going to therapy once felt shameful, like I was admitting to them that I had failed in some way or that there was something "less than" about me. Now, saying that I have a therapy appointment feels as breezy as saying I have a dentist appointment. I can tell I still catch some people off guard when I bring it up. If they have questions for me about therapy, I'm now an open book. Therapy has become normal for me, and I hope it will become normalized for more people as well.

4. Pursue your interests for the sake of your own enjoyment.
For as long as I can remember, everything I did felt like it had to be something worth mentioning in my resume--otherwise, it wasn't worth doing at all. Though I love reading, too often I'd find myself choosing books that came from some cannon that I thought was supposed to make me more of an intellectual, or worldly, or at least in the loop with people whom it seemed I should be in the loop with.

Recently, a friend told me, "do what you love; let the rest follow."

On this year's summer trip, I realize that that's what travel has become for me: something I love to do with no purpose other than to feel joy. My trips aren't leading up to anything. I'm not learning something on which I'll be tested on later. It's not professional development. I'm not even soul-searching with the hopes of arriving at some self actualized destination. I just do it and feel happy about it.

Between endless work hours, my Master's program, doctors visits, Kaiser classes, weekend chores, and feeble attempts to keep a physical fitness regimen, everything in life felt urgent and compulsory. Even sleep itself became less of something to do to relax and more of an investment for an energized day tomorrow.

Everything about travel, on the other hand, feels freeing. When I travel, I feel my mind opening up, ready to drink up whatever a new land has to offer. Many have asked me why I don't somehow capitalize on my experience: why doing I start a travel blog or vlog? help others organize their trips for a fee? write a book on my experiences? Right now, I don't want to do any of that. I don't want to feel like my experiences abroad need to amount to something. I want to travel for no reason.

What do yo do for no reason, other than to experience joy?

5. Take up your fair amount of space, unapologetically.

One of the massively disappointing realizations I've come to recently is that many grown ups in the world are just out there talking the talk and honestly have no idea what they are talking about, let alone know what they are doing. And yet, these people continue to raise their hand and speak up because they genuinely feel that they have something important to say.

Now, that being said, other people are smart, thought-provoking, inspiring, evocative, talented, and wise. Some of these people speak up, too.

I can't guarantee that I'll always be in the latter category, but I'm learning to see myself as equal to everyone around me, not less than. I won't go so far as to manspreading like the stinky, hairy dude that sat next to me on a long haul bus in Poland, but I'll stop shrinking myself in hopes of going unnoticed. I'll ask questions if I'm genuinely lost, even if my question makes me look dumb. I'll state my opinion when it feels important, but also be open to having my opinion be changed after hearing other sides. I'll ask for what I need if I truly need it and let go of any shame or guilt for being a regular human being who needs what she needs.

6. Channel your confidence from your areas of strength to your areas of (perceived) weakness.
My therapist put me through a thought experiment:

Him: "What do you mean you're going to travel by yourself? But what if you get lost?"
Me: *Confused* "Then I'll use my phone. Or look at a map." (duh)
Him: "But what if you don't have a map? What if you can't ask for directions because you don't understand the language?"
Me: "Then I'll go back to the hostel and figure it out there."
Him: "But what if you can't get back to the hostel?"
Me: "...then I'll go to the police station." (This has really happened, lol).
Him: "But what if... what if... Ok, I'm being facetious, but maybe you get what I'm getting at here."
Me: "Not really."
Him: "You feel confident about traveling because you know that whatever happens, you'll be able to figure it out. You don't know that you're going to have a perfect trip, free of problems, but you know that if a problem arises, you'll handle it. That's how you need to approach [insert other things that I've fretted about with him here]"

We all have arenas in our life that we are marginally confident about. We all have other arenas in which we feel like a total dunce. I know that I get caught up with worry when it comes to being a good teacher. Ultimately, all I can do is go out there and do my best--and then deal with crises as they arise, one at a time.

7. Laugh at yourself.
I am legit tired of taking myself so seriously. Like I mentioned in lesson #4, I'm tired of resume-building and trying to be somebody. I respect myself, but I also don't mind being dumbest (ok, "least informed") person in the room anymore. I'm tired of trying to prove myself. I am who I am right now. I'll be better one day.

8. Economize things, but not everything, otherwise you end up squandering the most important thing: time.

Sometimes you just gotta make a decision, commit, and move on.

9. Sadness and disappointment are inevitable parts of your life; your impatience at those feelings doesn’t have to be.
Sadness is real. We don't get to pick what we get sad over. Shame is real. Sometimes we feel shame over what we feel sad about.

I've gotten better at noticing when I feel joy: I pause, bask in it, breathe it in, and preserve it for later. Sadness demands to be felt, too. It's hard to fight off sadness and shame. Some people may be able to suppress negative feelings to deal with later, or never, but I'm not one of those people. I haven't learned how to erase negative feelings, but I am learning to live with them when they come and to know that I'll come out the other side eventually.

10. When things aren’t working, give it some time to get better and mull over your situation with a trusted confidant. Then, if it still isn’t working, leave. A situation that works for someone else doesn’t have to work for you. Don’t envy the colleague who has stayed year after year after year when they have clearly been unhappy despite their decade-plus of tenure. Fit is more important than longevity.

I have a feeling that some of my lessons learned this year are similar, if not identical to lessons learned in previous years. That's how learning goes. Sometimes you gotta see the same material again and again and from different angles before it starts to settle in. I may even forget some of these nuggets again, but with practice, some of these new ideas will become more ingrained in me.

- - -

Reflections

Happy birthday, self.

I’m getting to the age where I’d found it tacky for “older people” to make a big deal about their birthday. I’d notice elders seem to sort of forget that their birthday was coming, or not break stride as their birthday passes, or have to do arithmetic, asking “what year are we in?” in order to figure out how old they are, as though no one had been so crude as to ask them their age in the past several years.

And well, here I am at that time in my life when I should not expect any pomp and circumstance for just another day of the year. And so it was.

My surprising disappointment at this celebration that I was supposedly not expecting was super duper annoying, man. Like, I just wanted to play it cool that my birthday went by largely unnoticed. For someone turning 31, my traitorous emotions were acting my shoes size, not my age.

In the days leading up to my birthday, a tiny voice—not mine, I swear— from the fartherst reaches of my mind asked, “what surprise will my birthday bring? I mean, sure,  no big surprises, of course, but maybe something itty bitty?”

Click, clack, click. The days leading up to my day clacked by like a roller coaster approaching its summit. My stomach knotted at the thought of leaving 30 behind,  but fluttered with anticipation for what was to come.

And the morning came.

And the roller coaster, rather than peaking and dropping, pulled up to the platform. 

 - - -

That was a long and dramatic way of saying that I felt forgotten on my birthday. A part of me was expecting to hear from close friends even though of course, I know nothing should ever be expected. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it stung. It took a couple of days to shake it off. In the end, I like to think that I picked myself up and turned it around. Birthdays aren't a big deal for everyone, I always make it a point to greet loved ones on their birthday, even making sure to remind mutual friends to greet the celebrant. I pick up the phone and give them a call to make sure they know that I'm thinking of them and to ask them what they're doing to celebrate.

I was in a complicated situation--I was abroad, I had a different phone number on me that no one else had, and my actual birthday was spent apart from loved ones. What did I expect? I like to think that I received some birthday messages via text that never made it to me, even after putting my old SIM card back in. I also tell myself that had I been in town with loved ones that they would have done something to help me feel loved on my special day.

In the end, I went all out for my own birthday. They say "always date your spouse" as a way to never let your relationship with them go stale. But how about "date yourself"? On the night of my birthday, I got dolled up and hit the town in Warsaw. Even after a full day of exploring, I took a shower, put on a dress and a full face of make up, and made reservations for one at a nice restaurant. The online reservation form had a line where you could tell them if you were coming to dine for a special occasion, so I figured I'd tell them.

When I arrived, I was greeted with a birthday aperitif. I felt special already! I then ordered an appetizer of rabbit, a main of duck with corn bread, a wine pairing, a dessert made of chocolate and pineapple and basil and wafers and pure magic, and a Polish coffee (third drink of the night). My server then surprised me with a final glass of sparkling wine. I wined and dined for a solid three hours with no one but the company of me, myself, and I. I'm used to eating alone during my travels, but I've never had a full evening of gourmet dish after gourmet dish at a romantic restaurant, where multiples servers wait on me hand and foot to the sweet melodies of an Italian opera. Happy birthday, self.

Anyway, that's enough about turning 31. Here are these past two years (because I skipped this bit in last year's birthday post), in landmarks:

In my 30th year:

• NYC & Baltimore
• Start Master's program at SFSU
• San Diego three times
• New Mexico
• El Paso
• Move to Oakland Chinatown
• Host Edward and Kevin
• Host the Angeles family for Christmas in Oakland
• Start therapy
• Get an abstract accepted to an international conference in Seoul
• Vegas
• Seattle
• Chicago
• Norway
• Sweden
• Say goodbye after four years of teaching at AIA
• Hawaii
• Scotland
• Wales
• England
• Northern Ireland (solo trip)
• Ireland (solo trip)

In my 31st year:

• Start teaching at HNHS
• NYC & Baltimore
• San Diego four times
• LA
• Mt. Rainier 
• Grass Valley
• Asilomar
• Chile
• Argentina
• Host Edward, Kevin, Ate Kate, Tin and Paul
• Philippines
• Meet up with Noey twice
• Vegas
• Orange County
• Hawaii
• the Netherlands
• Belgium
• Luxembourg
• Germany
• Poland (solo trip)
• Czech
• Hungary
• Croatia

Getting Better: Smarter, Not Happier

I'm getting better.

Feelings are alarm signals. Emotions try to tell us something. It's up to us to listen to our feelings and respond.

Let's say I wake up one morning, tense, cranky, pessimistic, and just generally feeling sorry for myself. Then, I have two options:

• Dwell on these feelings and thoughts, chase each negative thought down the rabbit hole, get caught in a spiral all the way down, or
• Identify what I'm feeling--in this case, stress--and then focus my attention elsewhere

The productive thing to do is identify my feeling. Then, it would be wise of me to ask myself why I am feeling that way.

Perhaps my stress is high because it is sending a warning signal that "there is important work to be done!" OK, then I have a few options for my response:

• "I'm so stressed, I'm going to go do something that relieves my stress"
• "I will work harder to make sure that I get all of this done, even if it means sacrificing meals, free time, or other obligations"
• "I'll just get done what I can get done within x amount of time (because I need to move on to do other things). I'll do what needs to get done first, first. I'll do what needs to get done second, second. If there's anything I fall behind on, I'll deal with those consequences when I get there."

After choosing my response, my stress may dissipate. Or my stress my linger. If my stress lingers, I have a new series of choices:

• "I'm still stressed. I'm going to go to something that relieves my stress"
• "I'm going to put my stress aside and keep working"

Sometimes my stress leads to panic attacks. Then, I have one choice:

• Have the panic attack; move on.

- - -

I'm getting better. I'm getting better mentally and I'm getting better at taking care of myself when life gets challenging.

Whereas I used to get stressed and feel trapped at the bottom of a pit, I now have tools to help get myself out of that pit every time I fall back in. 

When I started therapy, I was hopeful that I would go and get cured of anxiety, sadness, and panic attacks. I didn't know if panic disorder was a lifelong sentence, a genetic defect, a curable disease, or something else. I wondered if "other" people who didn't "need" to go to therapy were anxiety-free or better had a higher stress threshold than me. I felt like I was kind of failing at being a functional human and I was hopeful that therapy would fix me.

Therapy has made worlds of a difference, but not in how I expected.

- - -

I started therapy after one panic attack too many. I've had panic attacks in a variety of situations, though I never really understood what was happening to my body, my thoughts, or my emotions with each panic attack. Luckily, one day, a panic attack occurred when I was with someone who had the foresight to recommend that I call Kaiser to tell them about my symptoms and see if I could receive some kind of support.

I called the advice nurse, who made an appointment for me to have a phone consultation. The person I spoke with for the phone consultation was extremely warm, understanding, and friendly. At the end of that phone consultation, she made a doctor's appointment for me. 

When I showed up to my appointment, I was unpleasantly surprised to find out that I was referred to Psychiatry. That was scary for me. I thought that they were going to send me to a counselor or a psychologist or some kind of specialist of, well, thoughts and personal problems. Instead they sent me to a psychiatrist, a specialist of mental disorders who can write prescriptions for illnesses... 

This has to be a mistake, I thought.

When I met with my doctor, he asked me to tell him about what brought me to call Kaiser and to just generally tell him about what I had going on in my life. He asked about how many times I've had panic attacks, how frequently I've had them, about what was stressing me out, and a bit about my history of stress. Then, he told me that I have panic disorder. Than, I had a panic attack.

I felt distraught. I wondered if I was misdiagnosed, if I'd always had panic disorder, if panic disorder goes away, or if I was doomed to live this way forever. I told some friends and family, but I mostly hid it because I was ashamed. I wondered if I was had panic attacks because I sucked at handling stress. I felt "less than" everyone else, but I didn't want others to see me as less than them.

After my first session, I went to therapy every two weeks for cognitive behavioral therapy. We talked about things that were stressing me out; he acted as an unbiased observer in my life by hearing out my side of an issue that was stressing me out and then offering other perspectives of the situation. He helped me see what my vulnerabilities are (perfectionism, an inferiority complex, fear of panic attacks) and how my vulnerabilities lead to stress when I'm forced to expose and confront these vulnerabilities. He educated me on what panic attacks are and what panic disorder is. When he spotted a pattern of thinking in me that was detrimental to my improvement (for example, if I don't do x, people will think I'm bad at y), he suggest alternatives ways of thinking (even if if I don't do x, I can still be a good y; if I can't do x, it might not be my fault, and I could still be a good y).

At one point, he suggested that I started attending panic disorder group sessions. I refused. I was judgmental of my diagnosis and was still suspicious of whether or not I was diagnosed correctly. I have had students with generalized anxiety disorder and who've had panic attacks, and I see how they are not able to leave their house or function in public. That's not me, I insisted. He responded, "look, it's not like the people in group therapy are like, a bunch of crazies in straight jackets, rocking back and forth in a padded room--they're people just like you, with jobs, and families, and just dealing with the same symptoms as you're dealing with." 

I agreed to sign up with the caveat that I could drop before it started or even after one session if I decided that it wasn't for me.

A month or so later, when the class started and everyone went around introducing themselves, I freaked out. I shouldn't be here, I thought. This isn't me. First of all, I didn't identify with the demographic of the room--everyone was White. For some reason, this made me question my belonging in this group. Each person talked about their experience with panic attacks--when it would happen, why it would happen, things they were avoiding in order to not experience panic attacks--and I just felt uncomfortable. For whatever reason, I did not identify with that group of people and I did not think that the process would be helpful to me.

I did continue therapy with my doctor. Every two weeks, we talked about whatever happened to be plaguing me that week, or followed up on whatever was bothering me before. Each time that I returned, he helped me see how many of my stressors related back to one of my vulnerabilities. Each time that I left, I had a new way of approaching a stressful situation.

I eventually did start group therapy for panic attacks again. I was just sick of having panic attacks; I had to face the music and get the help that I needed. I learned that panic attacks are separate from anxiety, though anxiety can lead to an attack; my therapist was helping me with my anxiety, but I needed to learn and get treatment for panic attacks itself.

This time, I did identify with the panic disorder group. Every group member was a person of color and someone I identified with in some way (a Cal student, an alum of an Oakland high school, a parent of a high school student, an educator, an immigrant...). Meeting people with whom I identified helped me feel like a normal person with a normal ailment that other normal people have. In our group sessions, we learned everything there is to know about panic attacks, like how they are not dangerous or deadly, how they are as normal if not annoying of a bodily function as an allergic reaction, a cramp, or a sneeze. We learned how to use exposure therapy to help us decrease the frequency of panic attacks and try to catch them before they begin. Exposure therapy is pretty much exactly what you think it is: if you have a phobia of spiders, exposure therapy demands that you stick your hand in a spider tank; if you have panic disorder, exposure therapy demands that you simulate the symptoms of a panic attack for extended periods of time on daily basis until your body stops reading these signals as something to panic about.

Panic group has been very helpful for me. I've had significantly fewer panic attacks in the past 6 months because 1) I'm not wrapped up in fear that a panic attack is just around the corner anymore because I am no longer afraid of having a panic attack (ironically, the fear of having a panic attack can be so scary that the stress of having one can attack) and 2) I can sense when one is coming and know how to catch it and soothe myself before it becomes a full blown attack. Even if I do get panic attacks, I now know how to recover from it quickly and move on; a huge improvement from before, when I would have a panic attack and call out sick from work.

- - -

My therapist and I agreed that the actual panic attacks had become less of a problem in my life. However, I still had a lot to talk about in my sessions regarding other things I was worried about. I told him about my stresses at work, my worries of losing loved ones, the stress of living in an urban environment, the shock and grief of losing so many loved ones in the span of only a few years... we talked through a lot of my worries, but I still felt like I wasn't doing a great job of managing the every worries of life that everybody else on this world experiences. I noticed that often, I would wake up in the morning with my first thoughts being about something I was worried about. Rather than focusing on the present, worried thoughts would spin out of control while I ate, drove, showered, or laid down to go to bed at night. There was never one major problem that my therapist was helping me through--it was all of my problems, one after the other, as they would come up.

He referred me to another group. This time, for worry. I'm half way through the six-week program. I'm learning how to identify my lived values and my aspirational values, and how to let my values drive my actions, rather than allowing my worried thoughts and anxious feelings drive my actions. I've learned that passing thoughts are only that: passing thoughts. I can have irrational and fearful thoughts; the practice is not in wrestling with or dwelling on these thoughts, but rather in setting those thoughts aside or letting them pass by, and focusing on my task at hand. I still have much to learn.

- - -

I am really and truly getting better.

Haunted Dreams

Every now and then, I have a haunted dream. One I can’t shake. One I want to return to, escape back into, slip away and fall back into, so that I can resolve something and feel more fully what I felt so completely in my sleep. By morning, an unsettled feeling follows me like a ghost. I try to hang on to wisps of a world that feels so real that the only convincing explanation for it’s vividness is that I peeked into a portal of another dimension—an alternate reality.

For now, I’ll send out a smoke signal: I’m here. Let’s talk. I hope you’re well. Take care.

I had a kind of revelation today. I'm trying to nail it down.

What if I just start accepting myself? What if I stop blaming myself for having a hard time and just believe that I am who I am supposed to be? What if it's OK to have hard days and to take breaks? What if the work is outsized to be done to perfection, so then I just do what I can and move on?

What if I am perfect the way I am? What if Got has equipped me with everything that I need to thrive and grow in life? What if I am a success story? What if I just started having fun and started being proud of myself?

What if the goal is not to not break down? What if it was OK to break down every once in a while? What if I found out that everyone breaks down every once in a while? What if my circumstances need to change, not me? What if it wasn't my fault? What if instead of being too sensitive, I knew that I was just sensitive enough? What if instead of being too impatient, I knew that my patience was just enough and that everything else is what got my patience spent?

What if I'm not too delicate? What if I'm not too depressed or anxious? What if I were right, just the way I am? What if I weren't overreacting, and just reacting in the way that is uniquely me?

They prayed over me today. They prayed that I would know and hear that God has given me the confidence that I need to succeed and excel in my life. They showered me in praises that I needed and filled me with love and healing protection.

Today was just another hiccup. I will always, always, always have hiccups. But with each, I get stronger, wiser, and more capable. I love who I am. I love me. That's why I need to prioritize me. I come before school, work, and anything else that I'm running back and forth from. Unfortunately I don't always get to schedule myself in and my "self" come crashing through the door demanding attention before all else. Sorry work, school, all else--I guess you'll just have to wait.

I'm getting better, I think. Better at surviving. Better at floating along. Better at persisting, at bouncing back, at catching myself before I fall down endless pits.

I'm trying to prove something to myself. I'm starting to talk a bigger game. I'm learning to call the shots. I'm learning to sniff out the B.S. I'm starting to self-indulge, explore my tastes, and do things for the sake of granting myself a stolen moment of happiness.

Sometimes I just cry and cry. But now, I know how to kick it into high gear--take a break, meditate, hydrate, release steam, name the emotion, accept the emotion, accept myself. These moments happen and will probably continue to happen. What's important is that I'm getter better at knowing how to self soothe.