That Time a [Former] Teacher Blocked Me

I remember the moment very vividly. I was sitting cross legged on a pull out bed, and I was on vacation with my mom.  (Who, by the way, woke me up every day at 8am to watch animal videos she found on Facebook). Anyway, I was scrolling through my Facebook feed when I saw it.  Someone had tagged a former teacher of mine in a post, and I realized I couldn't click the name.

I remembered a few months ago searching for this teacher on Facebook, and being unable to find her.  I was sad, but assumed she must have deleted her Facebook account.  I may have even messaged another former teacher to tell that first teacher I said hello, or possibly even sent an email to her school email account. I'm not really sure, I can't remember that detail now.

Never, in my wildest dreams did I imagine that she--someone I thought of as a mentor to me during high school--had blocked me. But, sitting in that hotel room, I knew that's what happened. I tried to search again, to be sure, and nothing. I logged in from another account, and was able to see her--that's when I knew for sure, without a doubt, she had blocked me. That information hit me like a ton of bricks. 

I distinctly remember my mom asking me what was wrong, and I tried not to cry as I told her "Mrs. _____ blocked me on Facebook." My mom didn't remember her, but she could tell I was upset, "Don't let it bother you." She told me, no doubt knowing that was futile--everything bothers me.  I searched through this old teacher's profile for the last post I remembered seeing, and then tried to correlate it with something controversial I had posted on my Facebook around that time. I really could find nothing, and I started to cry.

Now, it didn't ruin our vacation or anything even close to that, but it bugged me for awhile.  It's no secret that I am a very sensitive person, and so having someone block me on Facebook might sting no matter what.  But, this person was a mentor, someone I really looked up to in high school, someone who wrote me a letter of recommendation for college, someone I named in a blog post about good teachers, so it felt even worse--felt even more personal. Never mind that 8 or 9 years had passed since I was even in high school, and I had become a much different person than I was back then (this teacher probably had, too).

But it still bothered me. I couldn't fathom what I had done to make her block me--and, you know? I still can't.  Sometimes I still see her tagged, and I think 'I wonder what I did?' But then, something else comes to mind: I don't care.  I really genuinely do not care anymore what I did, or even that she blocked me in the first place.  Which is actually kind of a revelation.

You see, my whole life I have been a people-pleaser. As far back as I can remember, I remember being (and enjoying being) the teacher's pet.  I was kind to teachers, I looked up to them, and just like [most] everyone else, I wanted them to like me (and often wanted them to like me the best).  Now, whether they did or did not like me the best isn't really the point (and, I really don't know/care now whether they did or not). But, truth be told, I was a good student--and I loved school, so teachers held a special spot in my mind--they were on a pedestal.  In high school I used to debate with family members telling them that teachers should make way more money than they make (I still believe they should).  At several points, I even wanted to be a teacher.  So, even 8 or 9 years later, being blocked by a teacher I really liked in high school genuinely bothered me.

But it also taught me a couple of lessons-- we are not who we were 8 or 9 years ago.  None of us are.  And knowing why I was blocked doesn't really matter in the long run.  Who I was then is a part of who I am now, but I don't have to let it rule--I don't have to be that same girl who seeks approval from her teachers (past, present, or future. Or even from her peers--but maybe that's a different blog). And it's okay if these people don't approve of me, even if they did at one time.  People are allowed to change.

Social media is really great sometimes.  It allows you to keep in touch with people you wouldn't have otherwise, and some days I am thankful for it (other days, I swear I'll delete it).  And if the day ever comes where I do hit that little delete button, I'll probably be relieved, and yet thankful for the lessons it taught me.

Had that teacher not blocked me, I might never have learned that it's okay if I leave the past in the past.  She and I were close (ish) a very long time ago, and she was a pretty good teacher most of the time, but that time has come and gone--and that's okay.  I'm different now, and truth be told, I like who I am now a hell of a lot better than I like who I was then--and if that teacher, for whatever reason, decided the opposite was true? Oh well.  I haven't lost anything except another reason to cling on to the past.

And, as sad as I was for a few days, the truth of the matter is this:

How I feel about the blocking now (and, indeed, all blockings)

So, thank you, Teacher, wherever you are--for the past, and for the present. For the lesson it taught, I am happy to not know you now.

Social Media Infiltration

I've been getting annoyed with myself lately.  Every time I have a moment of spare time, I find myself picking up my phone.  I find myself absent-mindedly scrolling through Facebook, refreshing the feed, and scrolling some more.  After that, I check Instagram, then maybe Twitter, then maybe Timehop to see what my activity on social media was this year, then back to Facebook again.  

This wouldn't be so bad if I only did it once a day--if I only picked up my phone at the end of the day to see what went on, and then put it down.  But, I don't.  I grab my phone repeatedly throughout the day, night, and it's the first thing I do when I get up in the morning. If I'm watching Hulu, and there's an ad break? Check Facebook.  Boring part of a show I'm watching on Netflix? Facebook.  Waiting in line at Chipotle? Check Facebook.  Waiting in line anywhere? Check Facebook. And the funny thing? I'm not even really sure what I'm checking for! Ah, Social Media (read my other post on social media here).

In college, social media like Facebook and MySpace (I loved MySpace, and was one of the last holdouts on the MySpace front), was super fun! I would sit down at my computer (I had a desktop back then) after class or after dinner at the commons, and check to see what was going on. Maybe I'd post a few bulletins, do a couple of surveys, and then I'd relax on my bed--read, do homework, go out with friends to Target or for frozen yogurt.  It was fun back then to be connected via social media.

But, that all changed when you could start carrying social media around in your pocket--at least, I think that's when it all changed for most people.  Sure, some people were addicted to the internet back in the day--but how many people could just NOT log out of the "Bored" chatroom on AOL? Probably not many. Social media was a fun thing you did to pass maybe a few minutes a day--sometimes an hour on the weekend. But, now? It's turned into this ravenous monster that apparently just won't stop eating things--eating time with friends, family, pets. I see car commercials that have features where you can check Facebook while you're driving. And it's insane--and if I had that car, I would probably use it. (Let's keep it real, I'm not on a high horse here about social media, I use it too much, which is what sparked this post--but at least I realize it).

Awhile ago, a video was going around about how Social Media takes from our lives, and it urged people to put the phone down. I saw tons of people sharing this on my newsfeed, and I just had to laugh at the irony. Thousands of people watched a video on how we should STOP posting on social media constantly and live our lives, and the FIRST THING these people who watched the video did was what? Go on a hike, bike ride, walk, run? No. Posted to social media. So, I was a bit of a troll in that regard when that video came out. And I still am--the people I saw post that are the people that I see updating social media the most. Maybe it really spoke to them, I'm not sure.

The fact of the matter remains: I have become increasingly disgusted with myself over my use of social media. It's to the point where, if I'm eating dinner with Tom, and he gets up to use the restroom, I pull out my phone. Heaven forbid I just sit there enjoying the ambiance/experience of life. 

I always say that I feel really lucky to have grown up when I did--the internet was a thing, but it wasn't THE thing. I went outside and played (when I wasn't in my room reading, of course), and when the internet came around, I played on that too--AIMing with people, going into chat-rooms, but logging off at the end of the day. And I still feel that way--I still feel lucky that I grew up that way, but I feel mad at myself that I can't sit in a restaurant by myself for a few minutes. And I think to myself (as I'm doing it): what would I do if I didn't have a phone? Like back in the day, when we didn't have them (at least, not to the extent that we do now)? Sure, maybe I would have been a little bored for a few minutes--but I would also have been engaged in the world around me instead of scrolling like a mindless idiot looking at things that just don't matter.

I remember when I was little, a friend and I went to Disneyland--we were waiting in line for Space Mountain (my mom was waiting on a bench at the end), and all through the line we were playing patty-cake games (not sure if that's the correct term)--but you know "Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack... All dressed in black, black, black..." THE WHOLE TIME. Different songs, but literally the entire time. And it was a long wait. And we annoyed everyone around us. In fact, we were so annoying that these two older teenage girls got mad at us and we were convinced they wanted to beat us up after the ride, so we ran through the exit to my mom on the bench. They probably wouldn't have beaten us up, but still. Not really the point, I guess.  

The point is that when I go to Disneyland now, and I'm waiting in line, I'm scrolling on my phone. And I see kids my age scrolling on their phones, or playing with their iPads, and it kind of makes me sad--like how we can't just be together anymore without this *thing* between us. If I were standing behind 2 little girls who sang songs throughout the entire wait of a line for a ride, I'd want to smack them by the end, I'm sure--but, I'd also secretly be happy. Because I can't help but think that's how it should be--that's how we should be.

Social media is a game changer, that's for sure--but it isn't THE game. It's just A game. It should be a very small part of our lives, but it's increasingly becoming the largest part of our lives. At least, I know this is true for me. And I don't want it to be.

I don't know why I need to take a picture of everything (Pics or it didn't happen! I guess?), but I pull my phone out a lot for pictures. Brunch! Traffic! Disneyland! It becomes more about getting pictures to document that it happened than actually enjoying the experience. So, when Tom and I had the opportunity to go to 2 concerts a couple of weeks ago, I made a conscious effort to be on my phone minimally. I could see people in the front holding their phones up the entire time, videoing the experience. To watch later? To post on the internet? Not really sure. But, I was determined to not be like them. I took a few pictures, a few selfies with Tom, and one small video per concert. For Mumford & Sons, the chorus of the song that made me adore them.  For Incubus, the chorus of the song that Tom listened to over and over again. And that was it. For the rest, I put my phone away, and had the experience.  Tom and I were also pretty good at this on our Honeymoon--a few pictures to say "we were here!" but not a picture of every single thing we did.

And that's how I want to live my life--a few pictures to look back on later, but focusing on enjoying the experience instead of documenting it. I want to make memories, not social media updates/posts.*

*Sentiment does not apply to the line for my DMV appointment on Friday.

It has not escaped me that this post is being advanced through and hosted on Social Media, but oh well. Nobody does chain letters anymore, and there's less of a hand cramp involved.  Well, I suppose there are newfangled chain letters: Like this post if you agree, share if you agree, comment if you agree--go outside and live your life without your phone if you agree. That's where I'll be. 

My Weight Loss Journey is Over

Losing weight for a wedding is easy.  Losing weight is never easy. 

This isn't my first blog post on weight (read the other one here). Who knows, maybe it'll end up being my last.  That'd sure be great. Weight is something I've struggled with since high school.  My weight would go up and down (usually based on how much soccer I was playing at the time).

To recap, I lost a ton of weight in college, and managed to keep it off throughout grad school.  But, then I hit 26 and my metabolism decided to lay down and die.  And I started dating a guy, and we ate out a lot, I suppose.  But, I'd kind of always done that.  I was essentially addicted to fast food for a very long time-- starting in probably middle school.

It was pretty much all I ate--even through grad school.  Even when I moved to LA and lived on my own-- it is so easy (no cooking, no dishes), and honestly it's pretty delicious.  But, study after study has shown that it's terrible for you.  It seemed I didn't care.  And then...I got engaged.  

And I set about the business of losing weight.  Which certainly wasn't easy.  In fact, it was pretty hard.  It wasn't until January that I really started getting serious about my weight loss. I joined weight watchers (which made me feel like an old woman), and that really helped! I lost like 15 pounds, and then hit a plateua for like a month where I wasn't losing anything.  So, I switched to low carb-- and I ended up losing a grand total of 23lbs.  I was 2lbs shy of my goal, but I would take it!

It was funny how easy small things were-- even walking around Disneyland in the heat minus 10lbs made things easier, which I found kind of fascinating.  Seeing myself every day, I didn't really think I had lost that much weight/it made that much of a difference.  But, then I showed an old picture of myself to a coworker (that was taken about a year ago, actually), and she was shocked at how much weight I'd lost.  Then, Tom found a picture of us going through the venue, and it became extremely clear how much weight I had actually lost. It was pretty apparent!  It's absolutely not necessary for women to lose weight for their wedding days, and I don't want it to seem like that's what I'm suggesting.  But it was imperative for ME to lose weight for my wedding day--and I'm so glad that I did. It enabled me to be confident in my gown on the wedding day, and I didn't even really spend that much time thinking about my arms. If you read one of my posts last month, you know how unusual that actually is.

Then the wedding came and went, and I munched down on burgers and fries that day, along with a few bites of some pretty delicious cupcakes. It tasted fantastic! After months of depriving myself, I was so happy to bite into that burger.  Then, on my honeymoon, I ate whatever I wanted as well-- in fact, one day all we ate were buffets!  We were treated to a buffet breakfast at our hotel each morning (thanks Costco Travel!), and we took full advantage of that.  

Long story short: I've been eating pretty much whatever I want for about 3 weeks now, and I am absolutely shocked to learn something...

I am absolutely ready to go back to eating healthy stuff.  I never thought I'd be in that place! I never thought I would crave NOT FAST FOOD.  And yet, here I am.  Planning a trip to the store to make sure I STOP eating fast food because... well, I just don't want it every day. Fast food, I think, is fine in moderation--it's okay to eat the occasional McDonald's or Taco Bell. But I have finally outgrown the desire/craving to have it every single day. It's actually funny how, when you stop eating it and start eating healthy, you essentially stop craving it.  I'm sure I'll always treat myself now and again (hello, weekends!), but I don't want to go back to the life of eating it every single day--even if I could still do it and remain skinny/fit.  It's time to look to the future for other things, and prepare myself. I can't eat like a teenager anymore--and I spent way more time eating like that than I should have to begin with.

That being said, I haven't stepped on the scale since the day of the wedding--and I'm not going to.  Not for a few weeks, anyway.  It's not about the scale, and I know if I step on that little device it will become about the scale.  I don't want that.  At the end of the day (and at the end of a life), it's simply not the number on that scale that matters.  I'm glad I lost the weight for my wedding, but I'm also tired of stepping on it with dread, and giving it the power to ruin my day, weekend, week, or month.  Nothing (and no one) should have that power over you.

My weight loss journey was rough--it took a long time to lose those 23lbs, and I don't want them back on.  But, my weight loss journey ends here.  It's time to start a new journey, instead. It's no longer a journey about weight--it's now a health/happiness journey.  Which, I think, is better.  And more sustainable.

Life, Death, Violence, and the Loss of Normalcy

With the sentencing for one of the parties involved in the murder of a dear friend of my mom's happening this Friday, I thought this would be an appropriate blog post for today.

I've touched on this before in previous entries, but this has been a really rough few years for me and for my family.  In fact, it has been 5 years since I've gotten through a year without losing someone that I love.

2009 - My dog of 16 years, Sable died rather suddenly.
2010 - My aunt Sherry died of breast cancer.
2011 - Theron Brison was murdered.
2012 - My dog Maxwell had to be put to sleep due to a brain tumor.
2013 - My Grandy passed away pancreatic cancer.

Yes, dogs are people, too.  For anyone else who has experienced the loss of a beloved pet, the loss hurts, and it definitely counts.

Anyway, recently, my mom was told that [after certain events] she can now get back to normal.

But, this left me thinking-- after we experience severe loss, after we experience traumatic loss, are we ever truly 'normal' again?  When I think of who I was 6 years ago, I know that I am a drastically different person now than I was then.  Of course, some of this is definitely due to the fact that as human beings our sense of self is constantly in flux.  (at least, for most of us it is).  But, I think that the difference also has something to do with the fact that I have experienced trauma by losing animals and people that are very important to me.

Is my laugh a little duller?  Is it a little shorter?  Does it come less frequently?  I can't be sure, but I do know that these people (for this purpose dogs are people, too) took a piece of my heart with them to their final resting places, wherever they may be.

And so, I will not ever be that self again-- I don't think I will never be 'normal.'  I can never be that carefree girl again who hasn't experienced severe and traumatic loss.

Particularly, I think, violence changes you when you are touched in some aspect by it.  You go from thinking the world is a relatively safe place where violence happens on the periphery to people you don't know or the friend of a friend's brother or something like that.  As long as it doesn't directly touch our lives, whether we recognize it or not, we have some sort of a sense of safety.

It isn't until violence comes to you, until it visits your home and intrudes upon where you live that you realize that this safety is false.  It isn't until this happens that you even realize you have by and large had the belief that you and your loved ones are safe.  You become a little more scared, a little more worried, you look over your shoulder a little more, you triple check your locks, and you realize in a panic that the locks you do have probably wouldn't stop someone from getting in, and make a mental note to google alarm systems for apartments or different types of locks.

Do you ever come back from that?  Do people ever become 'normal' again after that?  I tend to think that for most people answer is no.

And this is hard for people to understand.  Grief that is not your own is often hard for people to understand.

When my aunt was sick, I had a teammate on my women's soccer team who emailed me and basically said something along the lines of 'I'm tired of reading your emo and suicidal Facebook posts, your life is not that bad.'  First of all, I've never made a suicidal Facebook post in my life, but that's actually beside the point.

The point is this: who was this woman to say that to me?  To look into my life from the periphery (we had only seen each other occasionally outside of the soccer field) and tell me how it is?  The answer?  No one.  

No one has the right to look into my life, to look into my grief and tell me I don't have the right to be feeling it--that I should get over it, that I should return to normal.

Would this woman have welcomed the same sentiment from me if it were her niece dying at 46 of metastasized breast cancer that had fought its way into her brain?  Probably not.  And more than that, I wouldn't have ever said it.  

After concluding that this woman in her 40s had either dealt with a lot of death or very little death, I wrote back some of the same sentiments, as cordially as I could manage, and then I (of course) deleted her from Facebook.  Nowadays, we have the power to do that--to delete those that hurt us or offend us from our worlds with the click of the button.  Or, a lot of times we have that power, at least.

But, there are people in our real lives that we cannot delete with a mute button or by 'unfriending,' and we have to deal with their perverted sense of our own reality of which they usually know very little.  They don't recognize that no one wants to hear platitudes of 'she's in a better place,' or 'you can get back to normal now,' and that is no one's fault--no one's burden--but their own.

We grieve, we cry, we lash out, we scream, we do anything we can to make it through the day with the burden of loss upon us--and some of us are lucky.  Some of us DO get back to normal after a few weeks, months, years.  But, some of us don't.  And a lack of normalcy doesn't mean inferiority-- it means that life's events have created a brokenness inside of us that will likely never be repaired.

Life, death, violence, or some amalgamation of all three have created within us a severe loss of normalcy that we will never recover.  

And it is not anyone's job to fix us-- it is not even our own jobs to fix ourselves.  We have to sit in silence with our loss, with who these losses have made us day in and day out, and the bottom line is this: You can love us for the way we are now, with the understanding that we will never latch on to 'normal' as a life preserver the way you do--that we will never call 'normal' our home again, or you can let us be.

But you can't talk, hug, or even help us back into normal.  And you shouldn't want to.