Isn’t that the idea behind every New Year’s resolution? To shed off one’s old skin and put on a new face, a new body (as long as you meet your diet and exercise goals, of course), new habits, because the only thing that can get you the future life you dream of is change?
And yet, all I can think of now is the past.
Blame the movie EIGHTH GRADE (2018), which I cringed, cried, and laughed over.
Blame every visit to my childhood home, with its boxes of memories laid out for me to decide which to keep and which to throw away.
Blame the upcoming full moon in Leo, the total lunar eclipse.
Blame my recent birthday. I turned 29, so forget the New Year—how about a new decade? Maybe I’m already starting to decompress the past ten years i...
Today I sat in my car, listened to this song, and choked back tears.
“Clipped wings, I was a broken thing
Had a voice, had a voice but I could not sing
You would wind me down
I struggled on the ground, oh
So lost, the line had been crossed
Had a voice, had a voice but I could not talk
You held me down
I struggle to fly now, oh”
I was in an abusive relationship for three years. I lost myself in a way that is unfathomable to me now. I did things that I can’t comprehend doing now. I allowed things to happen to me that I would never stand for now. Forget the guy. The lack of self-respect, self-trust, and self-love I had is breathtakingly sad.
“But there's a scream inside that we all try to hide
We hold on so tight, we cannot deny
Eats us alive, oh...
This essay is in response to feedback I received on my last blog post (the post can be found here). It was an essay on my experience of finding it difficult to speak up (an experience I generalized as being shared by most women) and on my persistent fear that what I have to say isn’t valid.
A male friend shared that, while he appreciated and got behind most of the post, one paragraph in particular offended him. Here it is in full:
“Meanwhile, men will just say anything, whatever comes to them, and expect to be heard. No matter how relevant or insightful their thoughts are—or how dumb and uninformed—no matter if their opinion is not backed up by anything, or is even proven to be false, men will share that opinion as easy as you please. They kno...
I don’t know when it started exactly, but at some point it became hard for me to speak up. I mainly noticed this in the classroom. I felt so nervous to speak up in class. The majority of thoughts and reactions I had to a classroom discussion went unvoiced. They were too opinion-based, I thought. Not factual enough. They could be argued with, disagreed with. I needed more research, more knowledge, more experience to back up the thoughts and feelings I had about the subject.
On the rare occasions that I did decide to offer up an insight or reflection in class, I had to go through some intense mental acrobatics before my hand would raise and my mouth open. For several minutes beforehand, I would pay minimal attention to the discussion as I rehea...
A few weeks ago, I enjoyed a drink with a table of women at a night-out event for my MFA program. As our peers mingled around us, as the sun set over L.A., as promises of late-night karaoke were made, our conversation turned to our unpleasant experiences with men. We had many of them. One by one, we shared of situations where a man went too far, where we felt uncomfortable, uncertain, or unsafe. The common thread of our stories was that we couldn’t say “no.” We couldn’t stop it from happening. We didn’t know what to do.
This is over drinks, right? So we’re laughing, playing it cool; we don’t want to ruin the jolly atmosphere. But as we were talking, I was struck by this idea that it would somehow be worse to be considered rude than to be stuc...