The rest of the day

Apr9

One early October morning, I came home from the Game of Thrones symphony concert. I had enjoyed a good time with my good friend and with my daughter. We came home very late past midnight to a family medical emergency. I had to leave the house again and make a second long trip across the bay to the hospital. I sat in the waiting room feeling upset and anxious. Thankfully my loved one was safe and eventually released. We got home close to my workday alarm going off at 4:50 in the morning. I called my boss and apologized profusely about the need to take a personal day. I was getting ready for bed when I received another call. A staff member let me know that one of my students had been killed.

Anthony hadn’t been at our school for very long. However, I knew his family, having worked with one of his siblings in previous years. We didn’t have very many interactions outside of his initial intake meeting. We did meet on the morning of the day he died. He met with me after a teacher expressed concern about attendance. Out of all the students I met with regarding this concern, he was the most respectful. He had an inquisitive look in his eyes and once he relaxed, he was open to our conversation.Not all students relax when talking to school administrators so it struck me. I listened to his account of what happened. He appeared sober and had actually made it to class on time. When our conversation ended, he thanked me and he said “ I hope you have a good rest of your day”. He said it in a sincere tone which felt sweet and young. So many of my students have experienced so much in their lives and may be wise beyond their years; others seem tired from all they have endured and are sometimes unable to enjoy their youth. Anthony struck me as young, despite his life experiences. He had retained a youthful energy. To hear that his young life had ended was shocking.

I called my boss again. I told her what happened and asked what we could do. She told me, “Take care of your family and yourself. I will be there in your place.” I am grateful for how she stepped in for me that day. I will never forget that morning. It was the first time I lost a student as a principal.

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We honored Anthony through our Dia De Los Muertos altar. My leadership students hosted an intimate memorial service with his family. It was a moving gathering as my students had the opportunity to share their thoughts.

Since then, I stopped writing. I had things to say but I needed time to reflect. I continually pondered not only at work but in my life : What is the purpose of the work I do? What is my mission and vision? There were many times this school year I was ready to give up. I know I will continue to have those moments. What keeps me moving forward are those moments when young people reach deep within themselves and reconnect with trust in themselves, in adults, in the world. It is beautiful when that happens and when they are willing to share those moments. After two decades, I am committed to working with adolescents. I can handle their challenges. This, however, was something different, heartrending, something that rendered me speechless.

I needed to sit with this loss, sitting shiva, guardando luto. I always remember the image of Job sitting in the desert, with his friends beside him, sitting in silence. I needed to sit in the desert of this loss. Thankfully I had friends and loved ones on the journey of silence with me. I know that silence can be fruitful. I am grateful for my gifts of writing and reflection and for the gift of loss.

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Job and his friends, Ilya Repin.

All my crosses

Aug25

Approximately five months ago, during Lent, I had a negative reaction to a photo a friend had taken of me during that time. I had been dreading seeing it. Once I did, it struck me in a terrible way, a mixture of anger, disappointment, and indignation. I often say physical appearance shouldn’t matter but it does. How we look reveals a lot about lifestyle and health. Seeing myself made me feel I had really let others and myself down. It is a struggle to take better care of myself. It always is and when times are stressful, it is one of the first priorities to shift downwards.

That night after seeing that photo, I took a mile walk with my dog. I haven’t always felt my age but I do feel older. It can be disheartening to experience these feelings. That night, I prayed on it. The walk helped me feel better. It was an opportunity to focus on breathing and moving.

That struggle with my fitness was in keeping with my Lenten journey and in keeping with my personal life journey. Lent isn’t the only time I assess and reflect on where I am in my life. Reflection isn’t always positive. I don’t always feel that I am growing and evolving. I also ponder why I’m not evolving the way I did two, five or ten years ago. I am my own worst critic and the person with whom I am constantly competing. My main point of comparison is the person that I once was. I achieved a certain goal in my fitness and I was so proud. Then that level of fitness fell away as I failed to maintain that achievement. I allowed work to wear me down. I was derailed by feelings of inadequacy, fear and failure. But I had enough of the excuses. I knew how to help myself. I had to push through that doubt and fear. The morning after my night time walk, I went to boot camp for the first time in several weeks. I felt supported by my coaches. It was good to be back in community and encouraging other people who were struggling. It was a powerful return to routines that nurture me.

I always have the capacity to change. I don’t always have the will. It becomes a vicious cycle because then I want to hide and not push myself; this wasn’t the first time I’ve fallen away from being healthy. For example, my prayer life continues to be an area of growth. I used to waste mornings on social media though I knew it kept me from daily prayer. This choice to bypass discipline frustrates me. I have to consciously work on my willingness to be transformed.

Discipline is the answer. Since that time, I have consistently worked out 5 to 6 days a week by lifting weights in our home gym, taking samba, hip hop, and kickboxing classes, and working out at my training gym. I have been praying the Liturgy of the Hours and the rosary daily. There are days when I’m not feeling motivated or forgiving or close to God or even close to myself. But I keep pushing. I am taking up my cross. It is not easy nor will it ever be. At times, it can be painful and inspire tears or anger. But I committed to taking up all my crosses during Lent. All these months later, I’m still moving forward through and past those struggles. When I look at myself in photos, I’m trying to be more compassionate and loving to that ever evolving mujer.

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Thank you LIzzo for inspiring this costume!

Pilgrim ponderings

Feb6

view from a boat on the Sea of Galilee

It has been over a month since I returned from my first pilgrimage. Though I’m back into the hectic pace at work and gearing up for another Carnaval season, I like to reflect on my experience often. Our trip was like none I have ever experienced.

St. Michael letting it be known.

I knew I was going to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land for some time. However, I kept news of it under wraps because I had personal and spiritual reasons for making the trip. As I have chronicled in recent years, I have had to deal with certain situations and individuals who brought toxic negativity into my life.While the context was professional, it greatly affected me personally. Dealing with those people, and one person in particular, made me confront destructive negative behavior daily. It challenged me mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically. Fear and anxiety can paralyze. I often felt physically unable to speak or to defend myself in the face of this type of energy. I got through these years of challenge through faith, love, commitment to putting my students first. During this time, I made a commitment to show my gratitude by making a pilgrimage. I had the opportunity to spend this past Christmas in Israel and the West Bank.

Wade in the water…

The places we visited were familiar to me through my faith life. I have sung about them in the mornings during the Liturgy of the Hours. I have read about them as a lector and taught about them as a catechist. To have them made real and tangible still leaves me speechless. There were so many moments during the trip when I became tearful and quietly cried. I thought tears would come in certain moments but they did not. Tears came when they came.

It was hard to come home. Being on pilgrimage helped make me more mindful. I realized how compartmentalized, hectic and scheduled my life is. In so many ways, my life here at home is limited day to day. While on pilgrimage, I had many opportunities to relish every sight, sound, and taste. I was reminded that every experience is a true gift. It was liberating, reassuring, empowering, and inspiring.

My pilgrimage was magical, surreal, and beautiful. I saw the Mediterranean sea, walked by the Jordan River, sailed on the sea of Galilee, and saw all of Jerusalem from Mount Zion. It put things into perspective to set aside time to get back in touch with what is valuable. It gave me strength. It changed me. It won’t be a trip I will soon forget. I can always call it to mind whenever needed. For that I am grateful.

Tee reads Living My Life Like It’s Golden. Yes!

Voice

Oct6

How do I explain to my daughter how and why perpetrators of sexual assault and harassment are put forward as leaders? How do I explain the continued objectification and abuse of women? I don’t have simple answers. But I can write and reflect. I began this piece over a year ago. Given what’s happening in our country right now, it’s fitting to revisit.

I began writing personal essays while in college. My column, Mujer Hollering, became my way of expressing my views on various issues on campus and in my life through a personal lens. I wrote about issues of gender, ethnicity and culture. I was committed to being a woman with a voice and reflecting on how we are treated and perceived. It was challenging at first. When you are conditioned by family, culture and society to be a woman in a specific way, having a voice of challenge and opposition is controversial and misunderstood. But I didn’t let that stop me.

Last summer, Luvvie Ajayi shared the following story on Facebook. A dancer with a social media presence was approached online by one of her followers. He sent her pictures of himself and asked her about his physical attractiveness. When she didn’t respond because she was traveling, he became angry. He tried to video chat with her multiple times. When she still did not reply, he began to send her messages. Lots of messages. He took back his initial compliments of her beauty. He called her fat, ugly, and boring. He questioned her credibility as a dancer since she allegedly had a “bulging belly.” This was a one-sided conversation; the woman was not on her phone or her computer when this transpired. When the dancer finally saw the exchange, she posted it to social media. The man was horrified. He told her he was humiliated because he was being questioned by family and friends. He claimed strangers were harassing him. He told her he feared the story going viral. As one of the thousands who shared this post, we ensured it did. Like they sang in Chicago, he had it coming. Don’t start none, won’t be none.

I haven’t forgotten this story because the familiar narrative struck a nerve. I could relate to the dancer’s sense of bewilderment when she discovered this garbage on her social media page. This is the sort of nonsense we can be subjected to when we reject unwanted advances. God forbid we’re not compliant in the harassment. Harassment is not romance. There is nothing romantic about being commanded to tell someone how good-looking he is. If a woman is not meek, then she is a b****. I’ve known many women who have been physically threatened or even physically attacked because they said no. Women have the human right to safety, to our own space, and to enjoy ourselves without anyone imposing on us. Let us be! Yet the reaction is often anger. I don’t want my daughter subjected to this rage. I’m going to continue to teach her to be a strong woman who can confront these situations and people. Parents of sons, raise them to honor women.

Mujer Hollering is still here. I’m going to continue to raise my voice for my sisters and for our daughters. So speak out however you can, in intimate social circles, on social media, or at the polls. Women will not be silenced.

Rest and relief

Sep1

Dedicated to Michael Goncalves and the loved ones we have lost to suicide

Early in June, I had a day at work that left me drained, overwhelmed, and maybe even frightened at how low I felt. I really felt the need to go back into therapy. That difficult moment did eventually pass. I spent decades working on strategies to self-regulate, to care for myself, and to deal with some of the challenges that I face. I call upon that learning, training, and experience whenever I feel weak. I am grateful to be able to do so for myself.

This past June we lost fashion icon Kate Spade and celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain to suicide. This week I lost a former student to suicide. Those deaths made me reflect on my own journey with depression and mental illness. I have been open about my own struggles with anxiety and depression. I don’t talk about them as much in recent years because they’re not as central to my current experience. There may be times in the future when I face grief, loss, and other challenges of middle age. My mental health has been foremost in my mind for the greater part of my adult life. It took me years to achieve that level of self-awareness.

The mental transformation that I have undergone took years. There are times like that summer afternoon when I will feel as if all my progress has evaporated in moments. Suddenly my negative self-talk and negative self-image will resurface. I may be healthy now but that doesn’t mean my negative self-image still isn’t there. I spent years loathing myself. That part of me still shows up now and then, those thoughts, those ways of seeing and perceiving the world. They don’t go away because of therapy or, for so many people, because of medication. Those negative thoughts and beliefs are some of the ways my mind responds to challenges.

I am thankful for all the work I put in for my mental health. I have known my therapist for half my life. There were times when I saw her once a week. I also took part in support group for three years. I completed intensive work in various behavioral therapies.. That work was necessary and continues to be instrumental in my life today. I would not have made it through in my profession and in my personal life. I couldn’t be a parent today.

As we grapple with suicide, we are more open to discussing mental health. It’s important that we recognize we are not professionals. We can’t take the place of professional help. Some may think having good friends and a loving partner may be all the support needed. That could be. However, I know I needed my entire circle of family and friends supporting my journey, a great therapist, and my entire medical team involved. I am religious so my spiritual life and practices also changed and deepened. Working on my mental health included work in all areas of my life. It was a process. I learned that I needed routine, discipline, and physical movement. Becoming mentally well took a monumental effort. I needed patience and faith that what I was learning would work. I had to have faith life was going to get better.

It hurt my heart when I learned of Anthony Bourdain’s death. I never met the man but I have read his books and he was fun to watch on TV. We used to joke we would have our own show, Latino couple traveling with toddler. It was easy for us to look at Bourdain and say that he was living the dream. I was devastated when I learned my former student had died. I think about how he was always smiling, how sweet and happy he seemed. I won’t ever truly know anyone’s story or pain. We each have a journey and unfortunately some end in tragedy. Even though I don’t know what these men experienced, I remember my own struggles. I remember how sad, angry, frustrated, low, and miserable I felt. I remember wanting relief. I won’t ever forget. Those memories keep life in perspective.

I wish those we’ve lost to suicide rest. I wish everyone grappling with mental illness relief. If you have been blessed with a truly healthy self-image and mind, be grateful. For some of us, it’s a daily effort to be well. I hope to keep my eyes, ears, and heart open to others.

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*National Depression Screening Day is October 11. Learn more at Stop a Suicide Today

Vacation mode

Jul20

For many years, I was afraid to not be busy. I associated little activity or staying at home with being depressed or letting anxiety overwhelm me. I still worry about falling prey to negative emotions, thoughts or behaviors. But they’re not the scary monsters they once were. Now I can have a low-key day or several without self-diagnosing a period of depression. This summer vacation has been a good balance of busy and calm. Certain routines have been put on hold like my 5 a.m. wake up time, daily praying of the Liturgy of the Hours, and making time to write on a regular basis. For a long time, my daily schedule and those regular routines felt like a protection from feelings of sadness and worthlessness. I’ve gotten away from that magical thinking. I know those are normal feelings that I will experience. I know I will be able to work through them.

Free time is a luxury I don’t often enjoy. My days strike a balance between being a mom, being a school principal, dance, writing, reading, exercise, socializing, and parish service. In the last few weeks, I have revisited my defunct vegetable garden and am working to revive the soil. (Que bonito, verdad? Un simbolo de mi desarrollo) I have purged our house of numerous unwanted items. (Another analogy. I am rolling my AP English teacher eyes.) I’ve actually ironed clothing.(Can somebody tell me how they avoid ironing? I do not like wrinkles but I detest ironing.) Miracle of miracles, I have even slept in more than once. I have been up and gone back to bed and slept for two more hours. A few times, I have judged myself as being unproductive but I haven’t allowed this opinion to get me down for too long. Para que? I’ve been my own pinata too many times in my life to want to keep doing it. Done. Nope, not today. Tomorrow’s not looking good either. I can enjoy my time however I want.

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I head back to work Monday. I look forward to making my schedule less hectic. Maybe I’ll even figure out how to sleep in on work days.

Mom fails

May13

Mom dilemma #3721: Your child does not turn in a major project. What do you do? Do you email the teacher for an extension? Do you reprimand your child verbally? Do you take away their privileges? Do you blame yourself for your poor time management and cluttered environment? All of the above? Sometimes I feel like I have this parenting thing down. Other days I realize I don’t have any idea what I’m doing and I’m operating from intuition and hope.

I used to think that it was Mondays, specifically Monday mornings, where I had my major parent fails. Nope, puede ser any day. During the work week, I deal with parents who ask me for advice about their adolescents. I’ve worked in high schools or 22 years. I have been a mother for 10(I include pregnancy). I have more experience and more damn sense being a high school administrator and teacher than I do being a mom.

I wonder how much damage I have done. Will she fail academically? Will she end up depressed or anxious? Will she abuse drugs or sex? Will she hate me someday? Does she hate me now? I make the mistakes I advise parents to avoid. I say things which hurt my daughter’s feelings. These mom fails make us all feel terrible.

Parenting never gets any easier. But the love for my child gets deeper and more complicated. My little person is growing up into an individual with a mind of her own, a will I don’t want to break and a heart I don’t want to disappoint. I pray to be a better parent daily. I wish to be a good mom. I wish M could understand all the different things that go through my mind, all the fears and doubts. I wish it were simple but it never was and won’t be. I can only hope that the love I feel always guides me.

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Feathery thing

Apr11

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“Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul…” Emily Dickinson

I am blessed that I consistently receive reminders of why I work in schools. Motivating young people is what I love the most about my work. I love school(I always have.) I love literature(I always have.) The best part of my job is giving young people hope.

During Lent, I realized one of my students is an aspiring author. I thought it was important to let the student know that the principal is an author too. The student was in need of motivation. To see a face light up? Que bonito! It was wonderful. When I saw the student again later in the day, I encouraged continued self-expression and to consider creating a blog. I talked about my favorite bloggers turned bestsellers, Luvvie Ajayi and Ta-Nehisi Coates. The student didn’t know who they were and was impressed by their successes. It was important for me to stop being the stuffy principal and share something about myself. I also offered to be available to discuss writing.

I’m working closely with a group of students who are disengaged and disconnected from school. Their attendance is poor. They are not in good standing but they all want to work part-time. I know that the rules about good standing. I’m a rule follower and a rule enforcer. I’m a principal. Rules are important. A few of my staff members are much more black and white about this issue;a few have even voiced criticism of my willingness to be flexible. But I want to get these kids back in school. Internal motivation is the ideal. I will promote extrinsic rewards if it’s going to motivate kids to come back to school. I cannot withhold encouragement and hope. I could have easily said,“ you guys cut too much school“ and sent them away. My non-negotiables are fighting, defiance, and drug abuse. If a student promises to return to school if I help him or her find a job, how can I say no? What kind of teacher and leader shuts the door on students?

Part of what I do is give hope. That is at the core of the work that I do. I give these young people opportunities following the example of my own stellar teachers and administrators. I wasn’t born a principal or a teacher. Shoot I wasn’t even born an English speaker. It’s my turn now to be not only an adult or authority figure but a human being who wants young people to be successful . In the words of the inspiring Harvey Milk, “you have to give them hope.”

On service

Apr8

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What do you want of me Lord? Where do You want me to serve You?

Where can I sing Your praises? I am Your song. “Servant Song” by Jess Viray

Last Holy Thursday I wrote a reflection on being a servant. I pondered Jesus’ willingness to do challenging tasks such as washing his apostles’ feet, curing lepers, and hanging out with society’s outcasts. He explained how all of these tasks or actions were in line with his vision and mission. My mission and vision are about empowering others to become the very best version of themselves either through academic or personal growth. I am not always willing to do the difficult tasks such as forgiving myself and others, empowering myself, or taking time to truly serve.

I resist mercy. One of the audiobooks I enjoyed during Lent was Anne Lamott’s Hallelujah Anyway: Rediscovering Mercy. I have enjoyed rediscovering Ms. Lamott. She is hilarious. I enjoy her honesty, wit and self-awareness. She has me cackling at times. I especially like how often she owns her pettiness and schadenfreude. I’m right there with her. These aspects of my personality are hilarious but they continue to stop my path towards holiness. So long as I am willing to catch a case for taking off on one of my enemies or even someone who merely annoyed me, I am not living out who I truly am. This is why I continue to pray for the strength to forgive myself for my flaws and to forgive others more readily.

For many decades, I resisted doing things for myself. Like most people, I usually sacrifice self-care due to work or family. I have gotten better over the years about self-care and self-development. But it often takes an illness or an injury to get me to slow down and truly listen to myself. Like most leaders, I am my own worst critic. It is very challenging to not see failures as personal. Being good to myself continues to be a process.

I miss having opportunities to serve. In the past few years, I joined colleagues and students to serve at Glide Memorial dining room during Advent and Lent. While I consistently volunteer for organizations that are personally important to me like Girls Inc, I also need to serve the homeless. I need to make service an integral part of what I do again. I need to make the time.

I am working towards being a servant in all aspects. Being a servant is not self-serving. It requires humility, dedication, patience, and strength.

Morning meditation

Apr5

20180405_105215 “Morning has broken like the first morning…”

During Lent, I had a goal of getting back into praying the Liturgy of the Hours. I had not done so in about a year until Good Friday. I finally prayed morning prayer. I prayed it every morning for years. Most of the time, it was therapeutic. Sometimes it was sustaining. A few times reciting the prayers kept me afloat. I cherish what it did in my life. Because it is an old friend, I can resume as if I had never stopped. But because time has passed, I see it with new eyes and a deeper understanding.

The morning prayer is set up the same way every day I follow the shorter Christian prayer which consists of morning prayer, evening prayer, and night prayer. It opens with the invitatory psalm, usually Psalm 22 but there are others.You recite an antiphon that changes depending on the day. This is followed by two psalms and a canticle from an Old Testament prophet, again with antiphons that are fitting to the season or the feast. There is a short reading, sometimes from one of the prophets or a letter of Paul. Then you recite the Canticle of Zechariah with an antiphon, prayers of intercession, the Our Father, and a concluding prayer and a blessing . Some of these prayers I knew by heart; I’m sure with more recitation I could I could do it by memory

The Canticle of Zechariah has always been one of my favorites. It comes from the Gospel of Luke which is my favorite gospel. It is a song of joy following the birth of John the Baptist and recalling the history of salvation. The lines that consistently strike are the ones that say, “ he promised that he would save us from our enemies from the hands of all who hate us.” Sometimes those words make me cry. That is what happened in my life. I have been burdened by people full of self-loathing and hatred of others. I have had to fight back against their toxic poison. I prayed for deliverance. I prayed for their conversion. But mostly I prayed for God to prevail and to keep me safe. He did. He always has. I am forever grateful.

Morning prayer may only take about 15 minutes but it is a wonderful time of serenity and silence. When I recite these prayers, I enjoy peace and stillness. I definitely need more of that in my life instead of the usual piles of folded laundry or checked work emails that I tackle weekday mornings. So far during the Easter season, I have been praying the Liturgy of the Hours daily. Those moments of quiet reflection are much needed and appreciated.

Mujer Evolving

musings on the personal, political, pop cultural, and maternal

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