It's been almost a week since I've arrived in Taipei, and I've been keeping busy. The glasses appointment went well (much less miscommunication than with the haircutter) and I now have my own Chinese hipster glasses! Jason arrived on Monday and we have been traveilng around Taiwan ever since. We spent Tuesday in Hua Lian, a city on the east coast of Taiwan, and Wednesday at nearby Taroko Gorge, an incredible national park with breathtaking mountains, river, sheer cliffs, tunnels, caves, you name it. Today we are in a hot springs resort in the tiny rural town of Zhiben, another coastal city. We've already enjoyed the hot springs and taken a bike ride around the area, and I'm taking advantage of the internet while Jason is taking his jet lag-induced nap.
Here are some things I've learned about myself and Taiwan so far:
1. My Chinese can improve dramatically if I'm thrown into a complete immersion situation. I still garble up my words, have a translation delay, mess up my tones, use bad grammar, and completely misunderstand people, but I can communicate with hotels and train station managers and taxi drivers and all sorts of people better than I expected. I feel like using it constantly has forced me to be more confident about my language. Before I arrived I was afraid I had forgotten everything I learned from studying abroad in Beijing and from my college Chinese classes, but I've realized that my listening comprehension has improved for good.
2. The Taiwanese people I've encountered so far are really courteous, polite, and helpful. Many of them know upon first interaction that I'm not from Taiwan, but they have not tried to take advantage of me or treated me like I'm wasting their time. Instead, they are patient, accommodating, and very helpful. I've gotten great directions, and taxi drivers who explain the city to me, 7-11 clerks who give me the best tea eggs in the pot, and hotel managers who open a store just so Jason and I can shop there.
3. Family generosity knows no bounds. I have a distant cousin named Yi Qing in Hua Lian who I've never met, but she insisted on treating me and Jason to dinner, and then she took Wednesday off work so she could serve as our personal tour guide to Taroko Gorge. She drove us there, prepared lunch for us (complete with hot tea and coffee and our own mugs), spent 4-5 hours telling us about the gorge and taking us down the trails and to see the major sights, brought us back to the city and treated us to dinner, and then dropped us off at the train station. All of this with no compensation and perhaps no chance for me to ever do the same for her in the United States. I loved getting to know Yi Qing and spending time with her, and am full of gratitude for how she and all of my relatives here in Taipei have created a sense of home for me.
4. It may be 50-60 degrees here and not a snowflake in sight, but it can still feel pretty cold! Most Taiwanese people I see are walking around with puffy down jackets and UGG boots. Taiwan is so hot most of the year that there are no heated buildings, and I have to layer up to sleep through the nights. It feels like Bay Area weather - chilly, humid, wet, and windy. So although I'm glad I'm avoiding the blizzards back in the States, the t-shirt and shorts I brought will have to wait until Thailand.
5. Lunar New Year here is like Christmas, Thanksgiving, and New Year's Eve all rolled into one. It's still about a month away but all the stores are playing New Year's music nonstop (much more upbeat with more cymbals, brass, and gongs than Christmas music, but it just makes it more inescapable) and selling New Year's candy, banners, and random paraphenalia. I think everyone gets 2 full weeks of vacation so that they can go see their families. There are gifts exchanged, and huge banquets, and lots of excitement and fireworks. I almost wish I could be here to experience it, but it's a logistical nightmare and I am grateful that I will be in NJ for Lunar New Year with my maternal grandma and cousins.
6. There's no way I can eat everything here! Sadly, my stomach and appetite has not been cooperating, mostly because of jet lag, but also because I probably overdid it in the first few days and ate too much fried street food. My family here constantly outeats me. In fact, around them I experience what my friends experience around me, which is a mixture of awe/nausea at how much they eat. I have found myself saying, "I'm sorry, I'm full", "What, you're ordering more?" and "But we just ate!" a shameful number of times. It's nice to know that there are others like me when it comes to inhaling food, but I am giving my stomach a break for now so I can catch up with my family next week.
7. Seems like riding a bike is something I only do in Asia nowadays. The last time I rode one before today was in Beijing. Today, since we're in such an isolated place without regular taxi service, Jason and I decided to bike our way into town. We rented 2 bikes for 4 hours for about $3 US dollars, adjusted the rickety things, and coasted down the hills and took in the lush mountain scenery. We shared the road with scooters, cars, and stray dogs and enjoyed the cool weather and the good exercise. I was afraid that I was going to be unsteady since it's been 4 years since I got on a bike, but well, you know how the cliche goes.
Forgive me for the corny simile, but being here in Taiwan has felt like riding a bike. Like there was a way of being and inhabiting this world that I learned when I was here the first time that I thought I had forgoten or lost. But now that I am back, the language, skills, habits, and memories I thought I had forgotten have returned. They were just waiting for me to need them again.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
first things first: Taiwanese haircut
I made it to Taipei! My flight went smoothly, although my 6 AM stopover in Anchorage, Alaska was pretty surreal. (one of the first things I saw when I got off the plane was a huge stuffed stag head staring at me from behind a glass case) I slept about 7 hours on the plane, ate the decent food and didn't get sick, and watched The Social Network.
My aunt and cousin woke up early to come pick me up at the airport at 7 AM local time. We took a bus to the the Taipei train station and then a cab to their apartment. The bus ride took about an hour because of traffic, and in the gray early morning light I could still see the lush green mountains. It was in the taxi, with the cabbie chatting away in a mix of Taiwanese and Mandarin, that it really hit me. I'm here! I made it! I'm back in Taipei, with all the scooters, traffic, palm trees, narrow alleys, the tiled sidewalks filled with plastic stools and food stands, crowds and the markets and traditional Chinese characters everywhere. This is the first time I've returned to a city in Asia, and it felt like a homecoming. Memories from my first trip to Taiwan that I haven't thought about in years came flooding back. Even the sewer smell made me nolstagic.Walking up to my uncle's apartment, where I stayed for so long the first time I was here, was a surreal and amazing moment.
I spent my first day here sleeping, eating, and soaking in the thrill of being here. Seeing my uncle again, who reminds me so much of my dad, was wonderful. As the 5 of us (my uncle, aunt, and their two adult children) sat around in the living room, watching TV and chatting, I felt like I had been absorbed into their family. Even though my 3rd grade Chinese definitely limits my interaction, and I haven't seen everyone for 5 years, it still felt natural. Like I belonged. I am so grateful for their love, warmth, and generosity.
I'm also grateful that there's internet access in their apartment! :) So I will use this blog as a more traditional travel diary during my trip now that I know I can update fairly regularly. And here's my first silly anectdote!
Today I had an adventure at the hair salon. I wanted to get my hair cut before I left the U.S. but wasn't able to make it happen. So my aunt took me to a local hair salon. I've gotten my hair cut in Asia before but it always manages to throw me off. I wish one of my Chinese language classes covered haircutting vocab because I never really know what's going on. This salon was fancy, with flat screen TVs embedded in the mirror for you to watch and hot tea to drink while you're waiting. Also, I got a shoulder, arm, hand, and head massage while I was getting my hair washed. The young woman who was giving me the massage and washing my hair was unfailingly polite, checking in with me every minute or so about how I was doing. Unfortunately, she also talked in a very quiet, high-pitched, breathy voice that made it really hard for me to understand her. Our conversations went a little like this:
"Do you want to [incomprehensible]?"
"What?"
"Do you want a [slightly rephrased but still incomprehensible]"
"Um, I'm sorry, I don't understand."
(I think she actually stamps her foot in frustration at this point) "I said [???]."
(wishing my aunt was next to me so she could translate) "Uh okay."
At this point I'm about to tell her that I'm not from around here and don't know what she's saying, but then she abruptly leaves. I sit there with lather in my hair for about 30 seconds until another hairdresser has to say to me slowly and loudly, "Rinse. Go to the back for a rinse."
Luckily, by the time I show up in the back looking sheepish, someone has explained to my patient but confused hairwasher that I'm an American. I'm relieved, because up to this point I think she probably thought I was either really slow or trying to be difficult. This comes up a lot when I'm in Asia - I'm too tall to really be from around here, but I also look ethnically Chinese and have a passable command of the language, and no one believes that Asians can really be Americans. (To them, Americans are white. End of story.) So the locals usually treat me like I'm a lapsed Chinese - that I may have strayed abroad for a bit but have now come home so my inherent knowledge of Chinese language, customs, and etiquette will take over for me. When I continue to stumble through everyday interactions, people sometimes get frustrated or treat me like I'm an idiot, until I emphasize again then I was born and raised in America (which still sometimes doesn't let me off the hook). My hairwasher seemed intrigued that I was from America and wanted to talk to me about it. She asked if I understood Chinese, and I said I could understand most of what's said to me as long as peope spoke slowly. She said "oh okay, I'll speak more slowly."
She then turned on the water full blast and proceeded to speak to me more slowly, but at the same whisper-quiet volume of before. Which resulted in a lot more of me asking "what?" and nodding okay when she didn't ask me a yes or no question. A particularly ridiculous exchange went like this:
"Did I rinse [something something]?"
"Yes, yes."
"Where?"
"What? (what do you mean, where?)"
"[something something] rinse your hair."
"Yes, please rinse my hair. (didn't you just do this?)"
"No, is there any part I haven't rinsed?"
"Oh. No, no, everything's fine."
Nothing like conversations like that that make me feel like I wasted 4 years of college-level Chinese language instruction.
Luckily, my haircutter was much louder and clearer and with my aunt's help I was able to get my point across. I got a nice haircut in the classic Asian mullet fashion, with feathered layers and all. The whole thing, including a hairwash and massage for my aunt, ended up costing less than $30 US. Sweet.
Tomorrow, I plan on getting some new glasses. I have no grasp of any Chinese vocab one uses when visiting an optometrist or picking glasses, so I'm looking forward to more adventures in miscommunication. :)
My aunt and cousin woke up early to come pick me up at the airport at 7 AM local time. We took a bus to the the Taipei train station and then a cab to their apartment. The bus ride took about an hour because of traffic, and in the gray early morning light I could still see the lush green mountains. It was in the taxi, with the cabbie chatting away in a mix of Taiwanese and Mandarin, that it really hit me. I'm here! I made it! I'm back in Taipei, with all the scooters, traffic, palm trees, narrow alleys, the tiled sidewalks filled with plastic stools and food stands, crowds and the markets and traditional Chinese characters everywhere. This is the first time I've returned to a city in Asia, and it felt like a homecoming. Memories from my first trip to Taiwan that I haven't thought about in years came flooding back. Even the sewer smell made me nolstagic.Walking up to my uncle's apartment, where I stayed for so long the first time I was here, was a surreal and amazing moment.
I spent my first day here sleeping, eating, and soaking in the thrill of being here. Seeing my uncle again, who reminds me so much of my dad, was wonderful. As the 5 of us (my uncle, aunt, and their two adult children) sat around in the living room, watching TV and chatting, I felt like I had been absorbed into their family. Even though my 3rd grade Chinese definitely limits my interaction, and I haven't seen everyone for 5 years, it still felt natural. Like I belonged. I am so grateful for their love, warmth, and generosity.
I'm also grateful that there's internet access in their apartment! :) So I will use this blog as a more traditional travel diary during my trip now that I know I can update fairly regularly. And here's my first silly anectdote!
Today I had an adventure at the hair salon. I wanted to get my hair cut before I left the U.S. but wasn't able to make it happen. So my aunt took me to a local hair salon. I've gotten my hair cut in Asia before but it always manages to throw me off. I wish one of my Chinese language classes covered haircutting vocab because I never really know what's going on. This salon was fancy, with flat screen TVs embedded in the mirror for you to watch and hot tea to drink while you're waiting. Also, I got a shoulder, arm, hand, and head massage while I was getting my hair washed. The young woman who was giving me the massage and washing my hair was unfailingly polite, checking in with me every minute or so about how I was doing. Unfortunately, she also talked in a very quiet, high-pitched, breathy voice that made it really hard for me to understand her. Our conversations went a little like this:
"Do you want to [incomprehensible]?"
"What?"
"Do you want a [slightly rephrased but still incomprehensible]"
"Um, I'm sorry, I don't understand."
(I think she actually stamps her foot in frustration at this point) "I said [???]."
(wishing my aunt was next to me so she could translate) "Uh okay."
At this point I'm about to tell her that I'm not from around here and don't know what she's saying, but then she abruptly leaves. I sit there with lather in my hair for about 30 seconds until another hairdresser has to say to me slowly and loudly, "Rinse. Go to the back for a rinse."
Luckily, by the time I show up in the back looking sheepish, someone has explained to my patient but confused hairwasher that I'm an American. I'm relieved, because up to this point I think she probably thought I was either really slow or trying to be difficult. This comes up a lot when I'm in Asia - I'm too tall to really be from around here, but I also look ethnically Chinese and have a passable command of the language, and no one believes that Asians can really be Americans. (To them, Americans are white. End of story.) So the locals usually treat me like I'm a lapsed Chinese - that I may have strayed abroad for a bit but have now come home so my inherent knowledge of Chinese language, customs, and etiquette will take over for me. When I continue to stumble through everyday interactions, people sometimes get frustrated or treat me like I'm an idiot, until I emphasize again then I was born and raised in America (which still sometimes doesn't let me off the hook). My hairwasher seemed intrigued that I was from America and wanted to talk to me about it. She asked if I understood Chinese, and I said I could understand most of what's said to me as long as peope spoke slowly. She said "oh okay, I'll speak more slowly."
She then turned on the water full blast and proceeded to speak to me more slowly, but at the same whisper-quiet volume of before. Which resulted in a lot more of me asking "what?" and nodding okay when she didn't ask me a yes or no question. A particularly ridiculous exchange went like this:
"Did I rinse [something something]?"
"Yes, yes."
"Where?"
"What? (what do you mean, where?)"
"[something something] rinse your hair."
"Yes, please rinse my hair. (didn't you just do this?)"
"No, is there any part I haven't rinsed?"
"Oh. No, no, everything's fine."
Nothing like conversations like that that make me feel like I wasted 4 years of college-level Chinese language instruction.
Luckily, my haircutter was much louder and clearer and with my aunt's help I was able to get my point across. I got a nice haircut in the classic Asian mullet fashion, with feathered layers and all. The whole thing, including a hairwash and massage for my aunt, ended up costing less than $30 US. Sweet.
Tomorrow, I plan on getting some new glasses. I have no grasp of any Chinese vocab one uses when visiting an optometrist or picking glasses, so I'm looking forward to more adventures in miscommunication. :)
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
on my way
In about six hours I will board my plane for a 20 hour flight to Taipei.
I have spent the last week in NJ with my extended family and enjoying their boisterous company. We celebrated the new year together, ate dim sum and hot pot, went to karaoke, played board games (I highly recommend Settlers of Catan), watched movies and TV and anime, shopped, and spent countless hours around the kitchen table just hanging out and joking around. I saw my oldest aunt's new apartment and had afternoon tea with her and my cousins. I saw what 2 feet of snow looks like in Edison, NJ. I got to play with my baby cousin who toddled around with a stuffed pineapple and chased the dog. In short, I had a wonderful vacation and felt like I really got to relax and be present with my family instead of stressing about my trip.
Life here has a pace and rhythm of its own, and all decisions are made for me. Though sometimes it's frustrating to not have control over my days, I've enjoyed not having to feel responsible or busy. I've liked sleeping in, having company around, and hearing my grandma's voice mixed with the sound of her cooking.
I think this feeling of comfort, of being taken care of, of being part of a family will carry through when I go to Taiwan. I am visiting my dad's relatives there (everyone in NJ is connected to my mom and her family). My aunt will pick me up from the airport and I will be staying in their apartment for the first few nights I'm there. I know I will be comfortable, safe, and looked after, which eases my anxiety and uncertainty about my trip.
There is a part of me that still has a hard time believing that this is really about to happen, that in a few short hours I will get on a plane to Asia. My trip is my gift to myself, my break, but also my escape. It was a way to convince myself to leave my job. Traveling abroad was a decent way of explaining my departure from an organization that I have poured all of myself into for the last 2 years. It was a tidy thing to say when people asked me what I was going to do next, a way of avoiding saying, "I have no idea." My trip was always something to work towards, to look forward to, and I never thought through what it would mean to actually live it.
I still have no idea what I'm doing, but am opening my heart to whatever the experience will bring me. I'm grateful that I have family waiting for me to arrive, that I'm a much more seasoned traveler now than when I went to Asia for the first time when I was 15, that I will have my own space and a degree of autonomy, that I have the time, resources, and ability to go on an adventure of my own making. I'm excited and nervous, but so glad that this is how I get to start my new year. Beneath the "AAAHHH what the hell am I doing?!" feeling is the part of me that is thrilled by the chance to take a plunge.
I will try to update this blog when I can while I'm in Asia. Thanks for your love and support. I would not be going on this adventure without all of you who encouraged me to live my desires and just go for it. So, that's enough processing. Now it's just time to do this thing. :) See you on the flip side!
I have spent the last week in NJ with my extended family and enjoying their boisterous company. We celebrated the new year together, ate dim sum and hot pot, went to karaoke, played board games (I highly recommend Settlers of Catan), watched movies and TV and anime, shopped, and spent countless hours around the kitchen table just hanging out and joking around. I saw my oldest aunt's new apartment and had afternoon tea with her and my cousins. I saw what 2 feet of snow looks like in Edison, NJ. I got to play with my baby cousin who toddled around with a stuffed pineapple and chased the dog. In short, I had a wonderful vacation and felt like I really got to relax and be present with my family instead of stressing about my trip.
Life here has a pace and rhythm of its own, and all decisions are made for me. Though sometimes it's frustrating to not have control over my days, I've enjoyed not having to feel responsible or busy. I've liked sleeping in, having company around, and hearing my grandma's voice mixed with the sound of her cooking.
I think this feeling of comfort, of being taken care of, of being part of a family will carry through when I go to Taiwan. I am visiting my dad's relatives there (everyone in NJ is connected to my mom and her family). My aunt will pick me up from the airport and I will be staying in their apartment for the first few nights I'm there. I know I will be comfortable, safe, and looked after, which eases my anxiety and uncertainty about my trip.
There is a part of me that still has a hard time believing that this is really about to happen, that in a few short hours I will get on a plane to Asia. My trip is my gift to myself, my break, but also my escape. It was a way to convince myself to leave my job. Traveling abroad was a decent way of explaining my departure from an organization that I have poured all of myself into for the last 2 years. It was a tidy thing to say when people asked me what I was going to do next, a way of avoiding saying, "I have no idea." My trip was always something to work towards, to look forward to, and I never thought through what it would mean to actually live it.
I still have no idea what I'm doing, but am opening my heart to whatever the experience will bring me. I'm grateful that I have family waiting for me to arrive, that I'm a much more seasoned traveler now than when I went to Asia for the first time when I was 15, that I will have my own space and a degree of autonomy, that I have the time, resources, and ability to go on an adventure of my own making. I'm excited and nervous, but so glad that this is how I get to start my new year. Beneath the "AAAHHH what the hell am I doing?!" feeling is the part of me that is thrilled by the chance to take a plunge.
I will try to update this blog when I can while I'm in Asia. Thanks for your love and support. I would not be going on this adventure without all of you who encouraged me to live my desires and just go for it. So, that's enough processing. Now it's just time to do this thing. :) See you on the flip side!
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
a letter to myself
Recently my coach challenged me to write a blog post from the point of view of my higher self telling the self-that-walks-around-in-daily-life what I should keep in mind before I start my journey. (My "higher self" is the most compassionate, loving, authentic version of myself. For those of you familiar with the His Dark Materials trilogy, I think of my higher self as my daemon).
So here we go:
Dearest Iimay,
It is okay to not know for sure where this journey will lead you, and to live your way to the answers. I know part of the reason why you are going is because you remember your uncle and aunts and cousins in Taiwan, their unconditional love and care for you, and the home they made for you. They are a shelter, but they do not know you for all that you are. Remember that though their love will be genuine and nourishing, it will not fill the holes in you created by the family you were born into. Enjoy your relatives for who they are; do not wish them to be anything else.
Remember that it's okay to not have everything planned or under control. You have done all you can to prepare, and you will forget and lose things, pay more than you wanted, miss buses and trains, and run late, and the things you hoped would be incredible will let you down. But that's okay. Travel and adventure is not about smooth logistics; you are not responsible for ensuring someone else's good time. This is your time to be spontaneous, figure it out as you go along, and be open to whatever happens. Let go.
Trust your friend. This a journey of a lifetime, and you have the great fortune of spending it with someone who loves you dearly. He will take care of you, keep you company, get you into mishaps and wild adventures, get you out of trouble, listen, laugh, and share with you. When you are tired, hot, cranky, or hungry, remember that you are not alone, that whatever happens, the most important thing is that you are experiencing it together.
Be mindful of your feelings. If you are sad, do not push it away because you're "supposed to" be feeling something else. Your journey will be thrilling, wonderful, happy, and fulfilling, but also frustrating, lonely, scary, and exhausting. Let yourself experience your whole range of emotions; there is no wrong way to feel.
It's okay to miss your friends, partner, and family back home, but do not spend your short time away wishing you could be back. I know you are afraid that things will change without you, that if you are not as present as you have been in your close relationships that people will go away. But those who love you are not going anywhere. They are keeping you in their thoughts and wishing you well. They want you to have a full of an experience as possible, and you cannot do that unless you are present. Do not dwell in worry and anxiety about their well-being or in feelings of guilt about how you aren't contacting them enough. They will be there for you when you return, no matter what.
Don't put pressure on yourself to accomplish things, to tear through your itinerary like a to-do list, to measure your trip by tours and temples and sites. Your trip is not a problem to be solved. Let yourself say no, change plans, change your mind, miss seeing the "must-sees." Let yourself sleep in, rest, and take it slow.
Listen to yourself. Keep up your practice. Breathe. Stay in your body. Be at peace with uncertainty. Remember the clear, calm, and vivid sky between clouds of anxiety and doubt. Eat everything, take risks, be silly and kind and loving.
Everything will be all right.
I love you.
So here we go:
Dearest Iimay,
It is okay to not know for sure where this journey will lead you, and to live your way to the answers. I know part of the reason why you are going is because you remember your uncle and aunts and cousins in Taiwan, their unconditional love and care for you, and the home they made for you. They are a shelter, but they do not know you for all that you are. Remember that though their love will be genuine and nourishing, it will not fill the holes in you created by the family you were born into. Enjoy your relatives for who they are; do not wish them to be anything else.
Remember that it's okay to not have everything planned or under control. You have done all you can to prepare, and you will forget and lose things, pay more than you wanted, miss buses and trains, and run late, and the things you hoped would be incredible will let you down. But that's okay. Travel and adventure is not about smooth logistics; you are not responsible for ensuring someone else's good time. This is your time to be spontaneous, figure it out as you go along, and be open to whatever happens. Let go.
Trust your friend. This a journey of a lifetime, and you have the great fortune of spending it with someone who loves you dearly. He will take care of you, keep you company, get you into mishaps and wild adventures, get you out of trouble, listen, laugh, and share with you. When you are tired, hot, cranky, or hungry, remember that you are not alone, that whatever happens, the most important thing is that you are experiencing it together.
Be mindful of your feelings. If you are sad, do not push it away because you're "supposed to" be feeling something else. Your journey will be thrilling, wonderful, happy, and fulfilling, but also frustrating, lonely, scary, and exhausting. Let yourself experience your whole range of emotions; there is no wrong way to feel.
It's okay to miss your friends, partner, and family back home, but do not spend your short time away wishing you could be back. I know you are afraid that things will change without you, that if you are not as present as you have been in your close relationships that people will go away. But those who love you are not going anywhere. They are keeping you in their thoughts and wishing you well. They want you to have a full of an experience as possible, and you cannot do that unless you are present. Do not dwell in worry and anxiety about their well-being or in feelings of guilt about how you aren't contacting them enough. They will be there for you when you return, no matter what.
Don't put pressure on yourself to accomplish things, to tear through your itinerary like a to-do list, to measure your trip by tours and temples and sites. Your trip is not a problem to be solved. Let yourself say no, change plans, change your mind, miss seeing the "must-sees." Let yourself sleep in, rest, and take it slow.
Listen to yourself. Keep up your practice. Breathe. Stay in your body. Be at peace with uncertainty. Remember the clear, calm, and vivid sky between clouds of anxiety and doubt. Eat everything, take risks, be silly and kind and loving.
Everything will be all right.
I love you.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
a radical conversation with my mom
Yesterday my mom and I went to run errands/go shopping, which we have been doing every day since I arrived in NC on Monday. Though I was reluctant and grudging because I wanted to have a quiet morning on my own terms, my mom is a force of nature and before I knew it I found myself braving the Xmas crowd at Trader Joe's.
We stopped at a local NY bagel and deli place before heading over to Harris Teeter, and I was happily digging into my bagel with bacon, egg, and cheese when my mom decided to suddenly talk to me about my sexuality. Mom doesn't tend to preface her thoughts or questions; most of the time she is operating in entirely her own semi-manic world and jumps from subject to subject, zigzagging and doubling back wildly. Her narrative arcs never go in a straight line, but I'm used to it.
Mom mentioned that my dad was doing better about me coming out. I came out to him about a week before Thanksgiving, and although he was stunned, he was also supportive and said my happiness was the most important thing. But I knew had also been struggling. I asked my mom if she had talked to him recently, and this unleashed a very long and intense conversation that I was not anticipating having in the middle of a small and crowded deli, but ended up being vitally important to practicing self-love and being my authentic self.
Since I don't really remember the exact flow of the conversation (and even if I did, it still wouldn't make sense because of what I said about my mom earlier), I'd like to distill it to the following points:
-Much of my struggle with my feelings of worthlessness come from childhood and my family dynamics. Though I love and respect my parents deeply, and know that they love me deeply in return, they have never been good about talking about feelings, doing emotion work, or giving praise. They follow the Chinese cultural code of "if I didn't say you screwed up, then you're doing fine." So most of the feedback I got from my parents growing up came in the form of criticism. Though I have gotten older and cope better with this now, there's still one thing about me that has been relentlessly critiqued and I have not been able to escape:
-My clothes. They have never been "right" and therefore I never felt like my body, or myself was "right" in their minds. Always too short, too small, too long, too tight, too sloppy, wrinkled, or messy. I've had many ugly fights with my parents about my clothes throughout my life, especially after my adolescence when I stopped wearing traditionally feminine clothes. I started dressing in a more masculine fashion because the clothes felt more comfortable, fit better, fit the "lesbian image" better, and because I thought the more conservative masculine cuts would mean I'd finally stopped being critiqued by my parents. Clothing has become so contentious and anxiety-inducing for me that I pick a specific wardrobe for when I go to my parents' home so that I can avoid confrontation about it. Inevitably they still find fault with something.
At the NY bagel store, my mom decided to nitpick me about an outfit that I thought was perfectly fine, and all the years of frustration, sadness, and anger about my parents' attitudes towards my clothes boiled out. I told them that no one had ever asked me to changed the way I dress, none of my bosses, professors, teachers, or trusted friends, and that I thought the way I dressed was perfectly fine. I told her it was her own bias and not actual reality that made her think there was something wrong with me. I told her that I had never seen her or my dad police my brothers' clothes in the same way that they had always policed mine. That her criticizing my clothes was infantalizing. That I didn't know what she wanted for me and it wasn't fair for her to keep telling me what was wrong without clearly saying what she wanted or expected.
By this point I had teared up and was visibly upset, and my mom looked at me, taken aback. She said, "Oh. I see. You just want to accept you the way you are."
She has never said anything like this before, and I was both stunned and thrilled. "Yes!" I said. "And I'm pretty awesome!"
She laughed and said she knew I was, but that was not the end of the conversation.
-The second thing she revealed was that when she was talking to my dad soon after my coming out, he actually teared up because he was so upset. I have only seen my dad cry once in my life. My mom actually started tearing up when she started talking about it, which made me realize just how raw the moment must have been for her too. She said that he was upset about how I am his daughter and his little girl, but how did I turn out looking and being so much like him? Why am I like one of his sons? And that's when it really sunk in that for my parents being gay or lesbian = wanting to be the "opposite gender". What is hardest for them to accept isn't that I am attracted to women or am in a relationship with a woman, but that I have a masculine gender presentation, that I am not a "traditional" woman or daughter.
-Eventually, she connected her preconceptions and beliefs about gender to her feelings around my clothes. She admitted that she did not nag my brothers about the way they dress and has always been more critical of me. Mom realized that this whole time it wasn't that the clothes I was wearing were actually sloppy, poor quality, or ill-fitting, but that I was wearing clothes that she didn't think her daughter should wear, that I dressed more like a man. And it wasn't that the clothes weren't fitting, it was that I wasn't fitting her gendered expectations. She even talked about how if I were her son she'd think I was very handsome and good-looking.
-Another thing I told her was to let go of her worries that my sexual orientation is a cause of suffering, pain, and hurt in my life. I told her that it has been a positive part of my identity, that I have a community, friends, and partner because of it, and that it has never prevented me from getting work or living the life I imagined. In fact my life has been enriched by my queer identity.
We ended the conversation in a good place, thanking each other for being honest. She said that she is relieved that she didn't have to worry about me so much anymore. I told her to not worry about things that don't reflect reality (hmm, seems like this is a family habit)
Thinking about our conversation now, there is so much to process, but also so much to be grateful for:
-Being able to speak honestly with my mother and together get to the truth behind matters. I now know for sure that it's not that my parents don't like the way I look or think that I'm tasteless, but that they have been adjusting to me and my way of being in the world. And sometimes that is hard, but at least now we are talking about the same thing and know it is about gender.
-That I am able to hold onto a strong and positive sense of self in the face of someone who has the ability to pierce it and make me feel small (however unintentional it may be). I was able to draw hard boundaries in terms of what I will not accept from my mom in how she treats me, and told her firmly that I was not going to change the way I dress and move in the world.
-That I could get her to realize that all I want is for her to accept me the way I am, and that the way I am is more than enough.
These affirmations are mixed in with the sadness of the realization that my father sees me being like him as a problem, but I know too that he is making his own journey. He is grieving the daughter he imagined but never had. His most respectful and filial child, the one most invested in having a strong relationship with him and his wife, is not one of his sons. I think that time, conversations with my mom, and adjusting to the complicated but full and vivid reality of who I am will help him find peace.
This conversation showed me that I know who I am and that speaking from a place of wholeness and truth is an act of kindness and self-love. And it feels pretty damn good!
We stopped at a local NY bagel and deli place before heading over to Harris Teeter, and I was happily digging into my bagel with bacon, egg, and cheese when my mom decided to suddenly talk to me about my sexuality. Mom doesn't tend to preface her thoughts or questions; most of the time she is operating in entirely her own semi-manic world and jumps from subject to subject, zigzagging and doubling back wildly. Her narrative arcs never go in a straight line, but I'm used to it.
Mom mentioned that my dad was doing better about me coming out. I came out to him about a week before Thanksgiving, and although he was stunned, he was also supportive and said my happiness was the most important thing. But I knew had also been struggling. I asked my mom if she had talked to him recently, and this unleashed a very long and intense conversation that I was not anticipating having in the middle of a small and crowded deli, but ended up being vitally important to practicing self-love and being my authentic self.
Since I don't really remember the exact flow of the conversation (and even if I did, it still wouldn't make sense because of what I said about my mom earlier), I'd like to distill it to the following points:
-Much of my struggle with my feelings of worthlessness come from childhood and my family dynamics. Though I love and respect my parents deeply, and know that they love me deeply in return, they have never been good about talking about feelings, doing emotion work, or giving praise. They follow the Chinese cultural code of "if I didn't say you screwed up, then you're doing fine." So most of the feedback I got from my parents growing up came in the form of criticism. Though I have gotten older and cope better with this now, there's still one thing about me that has been relentlessly critiqued and I have not been able to escape:
-My clothes. They have never been "right" and therefore I never felt like my body, or myself was "right" in their minds. Always too short, too small, too long, too tight, too sloppy, wrinkled, or messy. I've had many ugly fights with my parents about my clothes throughout my life, especially after my adolescence when I stopped wearing traditionally feminine clothes. I started dressing in a more masculine fashion because the clothes felt more comfortable, fit better, fit the "lesbian image" better, and because I thought the more conservative masculine cuts would mean I'd finally stopped being critiqued by my parents. Clothing has become so contentious and anxiety-inducing for me that I pick a specific wardrobe for when I go to my parents' home so that I can avoid confrontation about it. Inevitably they still find fault with something.
At the NY bagel store, my mom decided to nitpick me about an outfit that I thought was perfectly fine, and all the years of frustration, sadness, and anger about my parents' attitudes towards my clothes boiled out. I told them that no one had ever asked me to changed the way I dress, none of my bosses, professors, teachers, or trusted friends, and that I thought the way I dressed was perfectly fine. I told her it was her own bias and not actual reality that made her think there was something wrong with me. I told her that I had never seen her or my dad police my brothers' clothes in the same way that they had always policed mine. That her criticizing my clothes was infantalizing. That I didn't know what she wanted for me and it wasn't fair for her to keep telling me what was wrong without clearly saying what she wanted or expected.
By this point I had teared up and was visibly upset, and my mom looked at me, taken aback. She said, "Oh. I see. You just want to accept you the way you are."
She has never said anything like this before, and I was both stunned and thrilled. "Yes!" I said. "And I'm pretty awesome!"
She laughed and said she knew I was, but that was not the end of the conversation.
-The second thing she revealed was that when she was talking to my dad soon after my coming out, he actually teared up because he was so upset. I have only seen my dad cry once in my life. My mom actually started tearing up when she started talking about it, which made me realize just how raw the moment must have been for her too. She said that he was upset about how I am his daughter and his little girl, but how did I turn out looking and being so much like him? Why am I like one of his sons? And that's when it really sunk in that for my parents being gay or lesbian = wanting to be the "opposite gender". What is hardest for them to accept isn't that I am attracted to women or am in a relationship with a woman, but that I have a masculine gender presentation, that I am not a "traditional" woman or daughter.
-Eventually, she connected her preconceptions and beliefs about gender to her feelings around my clothes. She admitted that she did not nag my brothers about the way they dress and has always been more critical of me. Mom realized that this whole time it wasn't that the clothes I was wearing were actually sloppy, poor quality, or ill-fitting, but that I was wearing clothes that she didn't think her daughter should wear, that I dressed more like a man. And it wasn't that the clothes weren't fitting, it was that I wasn't fitting her gendered expectations. She even talked about how if I were her son she'd think I was very handsome and good-looking.
-Another thing I told her was to let go of her worries that my sexual orientation is a cause of suffering, pain, and hurt in my life. I told her that it has been a positive part of my identity, that I have a community, friends, and partner because of it, and that it has never prevented me from getting work or living the life I imagined. In fact my life has been enriched by my queer identity.
We ended the conversation in a good place, thanking each other for being honest. She said that she is relieved that she didn't have to worry about me so much anymore. I told her to not worry about things that don't reflect reality (hmm, seems like this is a family habit)
Thinking about our conversation now, there is so much to process, but also so much to be grateful for:
-Being able to speak honestly with my mother and together get to the truth behind matters. I now know for sure that it's not that my parents don't like the way I look or think that I'm tasteless, but that they have been adjusting to me and my way of being in the world. And sometimes that is hard, but at least now we are talking about the same thing and know it is about gender.
-That I am able to hold onto a strong and positive sense of self in the face of someone who has the ability to pierce it and make me feel small (however unintentional it may be). I was able to draw hard boundaries in terms of what I will not accept from my mom in how she treats me, and told her firmly that I was not going to change the way I dress and move in the world.
-That I could get her to realize that all I want is for her to accept me the way I am, and that the way I am is more than enough.
These affirmations are mixed in with the sadness of the realization that my father sees me being like him as a problem, but I know too that he is making his own journey. He is grieving the daughter he imagined but never had. His most respectful and filial child, the one most invested in having a strong relationship with him and his wife, is not one of his sons. I think that time, conversations with my mom, and adjusting to the complicated but full and vivid reality of who I am will help him find peace.
This conversation showed me that I know who I am and that speaking from a place of wholeness and truth is an act of kindness and self-love. And it feels pretty damn good!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
somewhere I have never traveled/gladly beyond
So it looks like I'm blogging again, after an 8-year hiatus. That's right, I kept a Xanga as a teenager. It was full of the daily ridiculous angst of being in high school, and only a few select people who love me unconditionally and can help me laugh at myself instead of making me feel mortified have access to the link.
Why am I back after all these years? And why do I need a blog, when I'm a prolific Facebook user? This is my space to really reflect on what my travel means, and why I'm taking, as an acquaintance so aptly put it, a "radical sabbatical." She herself is a radical baker, having quit her day job to pursue baking full time for her social justice-y clients. I was hesitant about using "radical sabbatical" for the name of my blog, not wanting to be pretentious. After all, having enough class privilege to quit my job to travel to Asia with no other job lined up doesn't seem very radical. In fact, sometimes it just seems bougie and self-indulgent. I wonder who am I to complain about being burnt out and working too much when I had a desk job and management responsibilities by the age of 22. I am able-bodied and healthy and have a college degree and my parents are wealthy, dammit! Like the song says,
"And here we are in the center of the first world/
It's laid out before us, who are we to break down?"
("You, Me, and the Bourgeoisie" by The Submarines)
I could use this post to talk about capitalism, and class privilege, and the way the working world divides all of us from ourselves and our families and communities, and how everyone should have enough resources to be able to leave their job out of self-determination, but the world of analysis is one I'm very familiar with, and one that I'd like to leave for now. I acknowledge that all of the things I just mentioned are true, but there is something that feels like I'm justifying myself/making excuses/apologizing when I go down the "here is how my radical sabbatical fits into larger systems of oppression" route. Like I am trying to prove that I am a down lefty person, not just another entitled young person going through a quarter-life crisis. Like I am trying to convince people that I deserve this.
The funny thing is, no one has needed any convincing. Not my parents, my partner, my friends, my (former) boss, co-workers, and board members, my colleagues, not even the radical baker I have only met once before. They all smiled and said congratulations and were genuinely happy for me. Everyone has been kind and supportive. As usual, the only person who really needs convincing is myself.
Here is where the "sabbatical" part becomes more resonant to me. I have spent a lot of time meditating recently, as a healing practice and spiritual practice. I am a newborn when it comes to meditation, all blinking sensation and wonder. Not so much discipline right now, but that's okay. I also have a coach who has used meditation during our sessions to help me connect with right now, to keep coming back, coming home to my body and to the present moment. Both practices have revealed two essential truths about myself:
1) I struggle with the thought pattern/obsessive thinking about how unworthy, flawed, not good enough, undeserving, unlovable I am.
2) I am capable of deep, transformative, healing love.
Apply Number 2 to Number 1 and the problem's solved! Enlightenment attained! In all seriousness, something that I was reminded of today in sangha (meditation group) is that there is no problem: life is not a problem to be solved, it is a mystery to be lived. The practice is about improving the quality of our noticing, not getting better at fixing things. I am not a problem to be solved or a project to improve. The suffering of feeling worthless and the joy of unconditional love can exist simultaneously. They both live inside of me. Sometimes I am able to fill my own cup and it is powerful and healing. Sometimes there is only doubt and self-hatred. But I am starting to learn how to let go of these thoughts by showing myself compassion and kindness.
Ah, the land of self-love! That is the place I have not yet traveled yet. I hope that my physical travels are the first step, that among the adventure and excitement and (ah!) stress I also listen to myself, breathe, and come back, come back, come back.
"When we have gone in and looked around for a long while, just breathing and finally taking it in - then we will be able to speak in our own voice and to stay in the present moment. And that moment is home." (Anne Lamott)
I am leaving and returning, and always coming home.
Why am I back after all these years? And why do I need a blog, when I'm a prolific Facebook user? This is my space to really reflect on what my travel means, and why I'm taking, as an acquaintance so aptly put it, a "radical sabbatical." She herself is a radical baker, having quit her day job to pursue baking full time for her social justice-y clients. I was hesitant about using "radical sabbatical" for the name of my blog, not wanting to be pretentious. After all, having enough class privilege to quit my job to travel to Asia with no other job lined up doesn't seem very radical. In fact, sometimes it just seems bougie and self-indulgent. I wonder who am I to complain about being burnt out and working too much when I had a desk job and management responsibilities by the age of 22. I am able-bodied and healthy and have a college degree and my parents are wealthy, dammit! Like the song says,
"And here we are in the center of the first world/
It's laid out before us, who are we to break down?"
("You, Me, and the Bourgeoisie" by The Submarines)
I could use this post to talk about capitalism, and class privilege, and the way the working world divides all of us from ourselves and our families and communities, and how everyone should have enough resources to be able to leave their job out of self-determination, but the world of analysis is one I'm very familiar with, and one that I'd like to leave for now. I acknowledge that all of the things I just mentioned are true, but there is something that feels like I'm justifying myself/making excuses/apologizing when I go down the "here is how my radical sabbatical fits into larger systems of oppression" route. Like I am trying to prove that I am a down lefty person, not just another entitled young person going through a quarter-life crisis. Like I am trying to convince people that I deserve this.
The funny thing is, no one has needed any convincing. Not my parents, my partner, my friends, my (former) boss, co-workers, and board members, my colleagues, not even the radical baker I have only met once before. They all smiled and said congratulations and were genuinely happy for me. Everyone has been kind and supportive. As usual, the only person who really needs convincing is myself.
Here is where the "sabbatical" part becomes more resonant to me. I have spent a lot of time meditating recently, as a healing practice and spiritual practice. I am a newborn when it comes to meditation, all blinking sensation and wonder. Not so much discipline right now, but that's okay. I also have a coach who has used meditation during our sessions to help me connect with right now, to keep coming back, coming home to my body and to the present moment. Both practices have revealed two essential truths about myself:
1) I struggle with the thought pattern/obsessive thinking about how unworthy, flawed, not good enough, undeserving, unlovable I am.
2) I am capable of deep, transformative, healing love.
Apply Number 2 to Number 1 and the problem's solved! Enlightenment attained! In all seriousness, something that I was reminded of today in sangha (meditation group) is that there is no problem: life is not a problem to be solved, it is a mystery to be lived. The practice is about improving the quality of our noticing, not getting better at fixing things. I am not a problem to be solved or a project to improve. The suffering of feeling worthless and the joy of unconditional love can exist simultaneously. They both live inside of me. Sometimes I am able to fill my own cup and it is powerful and healing. Sometimes there is only doubt and self-hatred. But I am starting to learn how to let go of these thoughts by showing myself compassion and kindness.
Ah, the land of self-love! That is the place I have not yet traveled yet. I hope that my physical travels are the first step, that among the adventure and excitement and (ah!) stress I also listen to myself, breathe, and come back, come back, come back.
"When we have gone in and looked around for a long while, just breathing and finally taking it in - then we will be able to speak in our own voice and to stay in the present moment. And that moment is home." (Anne Lamott)
I am leaving and returning, and always coming home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)