Remembering a deleted social media post

 I'm going to do my best to remember and rewrite the post I wrote about a pivotal moment, the "jumping off" moment of my and The Man's relationship. 

In the spirit of one of my favorite television character's, Sophia Petrillo ... picture it: It's December 2001. Your favorite spicy Sagittarius is turning 23 and decides she would like to have a birthday gathering at the illustrious Holy Cow. Did it deservedly have a 2.7 star rating on Yelp? Indeed. But this birthday girl enjoyed having a good time, and was neither rich or bougie so she fancied the Holy Cow to celebrate with friends. Your girl is still not rich or bougie and grows weary of writing in the third person.

A week before I had attended a friend's birthday celebration at a different San Francisco night club. Being that this was a mutual friend, The Man was also there. We had been introduced a few months before but hadn't seen each other again until that evening. If I'm being completely honest, I found him to be very handsome and a bit intimidating. This was a very good looking fellow. But if my memory serves me correctly, when we ran into each other again I think I already had a drink with the birthday girl and was feeling a bit more courageous. If we go by his memory, he said I loudly and slowly reintroduced myself to him, making him wonder if I thought he was thick in the head. No, I didn't think this, it was just very loud in the club and I was also humble enough to think that he may not have remembered my name. Anyway, I can't remember all that we talked about or even if we spent the majority of time together. But I did remember thinking he was as witty as he was handsome. So I took a chance and invited him to my birthday gathering the following week. He told me he had a prior commitment but that he would try to stop by afterwards. 

I was hopeful but also realistic. It was a Friday and he would have worked all day and then had an event in San Jose. The likelihood of him going to San Francisco and arriving near midnight after a long day and a long work week was slim to none. After a year or so of fruitless crushes and dates, I knew better than to put all my happiness in to him attending. That evening, a small group of us got ready at a friend's house and we headed over to the Holy Cow. Oh, how I loved that seedy club. They played great music, served strong drinks, and there was not an ounce of pretentiousness. I remember more friends joining us, a large group of us dancing and many of taking a break in their outdoor patio area. It was such a fun night.

The Man texted me after 11 PM to let me know he was on his way. I was overjoyed - this good news made a great evening an even better one. Sometime near or after midnight, he arrived and I'm certain he looked so handsome. Beautiful, even. He already knew a few people in the group because they were mutual friends but he was still new to many. And this is important to note because two things happened that still make me laugh. I cannot recall the order but two friends, out of concern, took me aside separately that evening. See, at some point The Man and I went outside and there was only one seat available. He sat down and told me to just sit on his lap. It may sound prudish but that was something I never did. I certainly never sat on a random guy's lap but even men I knew, I was too self-conscious about my weight to do this (another time to write about another issue). But I enjoyed his company and was so happy to see him, I gingerly - and I mean, gingerly - perched myself as close to sitting at the top of his knees so that I was putting as little weight on him as possible. 

The first friend pulled me aside and asked me if I was OK. I think he was genuinely worried this rando-to-him roofied my drink. I could tell that he wondered if I was so impaired that I was now sitting on some stranger's lap. I assured him that I knew The Man, that I had talked to him just last week and actually met him a few months ago. And then I introduced them to each other. It had to be shortly after - because I can't imagine I was comfortable sitting on The Man's lap for a long period time - another friend pulled me off The Man's lap to talk a few feet away, too. I'm certain she said something like, "LD, do you know this mother f*cker?" (How I miss this friend who now lives across the country) Because she is the one who introduced me to the Holy Cow, who I went many, many times with, and knew I never sat on a man's lap so seeing me like this was shocking to her. Surely I was coerced, drugged, or something nefarious. Like my previous friend, I assured her that he was a good guy. After being reassured, I'm pretty sure she said something like, "God damn, he's hot." Fair. 

We all danced, drank, took breaks on the patio, and the night ended when the lights came on. The Man offered to drive me and one of my friends back to the home of another friend. Of course I said yes. When we arrived at the home, my friend goes on ahead so we can have a bit of privacy. It's at this time that The Man gave me a small box and wished me a happy birthday. We hugged and said good night. I changed into my pajamas and rehash the evening with my friend. We are sharing a bedroom my other friend generously lent us so that we didn't have to back to our parents' houses that evening. I opened his gift in front of her and we were both stunned that it was a gold ring with a tiny diamond. "What does it mean?!" I'm sure we screamed. For goodness sake, my friends and I had all met our fair share of commitment phobics at this point so why on earth would this guy who has had one good conversation with me last week give me a diamond ring for my birthday?!

I had many celebration drinks at this point of the night (morning) and had decided to chalk up the meaining of the ring to him being the Oprah of diamond rings. "You get a ring! And YOU get a ring! And you get a RING!" The Man clearly must like to give rings away like candy. What a strange, strange guy. Lucky for him, I thought, I'm not delusional or else I'd read way too much into it. 

Because I was awkward and didn't know how to communicate properly with men I was interested in, I didn't do or say anything. A few weeks go by and we finally connect. I cannot remember if I finally called or if he did. But I remember teasing him about the ring and how I told him I needed to educate him that while I was OK, he should be careful of who he gives rings to because of what they typically mean. And he told me that when someone gives a gift, the recipient usually calls or writes a note to thank the gift giver. Well, damn. He had me there. He was so quick-witted, and so fun to banter with, that I found him to be interesting and funny. It was a very memorable start to what would be the most important romantic relationship of my life. 

This one was really easy

I'm grateful for being able to spend my latest birthday in one of my most favorite places in the world with some of my most favorite people in the world.

It's not the best photo but it has all of in it with a hazy background of where we are. 

I loved Hawaii the first time I stepped foot on Oahu in 2001. I couldn't believe that I hadn't known how amazing this place was until I was 21 years old. I had childhood neighbors from HI, friends who vacationed in HI, but I was not the least bit interested until I went on a girls' trip with a college friend and absolutely fell in love with a place. I think the only two other places I loved as much were the Philippines (there is something magical about being with family and appreciating your ancestral land) and Washington (Sister loved it and showed me all the places she loved therefore I also loved it).  

I credit Hawaiian culture for helping me love my tanned skin and be more accepting of my body type. As proud as I am of being Filipino, colorism is an issue and so is weight. Growing up, I had wished I had lighter skin and really wished that I was underweight. Even at a size 4, I remember going to the Philippines and my relatives calling me curvy. Dancing hula, being immersed in Hawaiian culture and visiting Hawaii helped me appreciate how beautiful tan skin can be and also how all types of bodies can exist on a beach. To be fair, that's not just a Filipino issue, for the longest time America celebrated skinniness (let's face it, still does) so it felt like everywhere I turned, my type was not considered beauty. And I love that HI refuses to be colonized and bucks that belief in every which way. 

I visited Hawaii every year for several years (some years on Oahu, a few on Maui). The Man and I got married on Oahu, honeymooned on Kauai, and then the visits became less frequent after having two children. I've always wanted to go to the Big Island as it was the only inhabitable Hawaiian island I hadn't visited and we were able to make it happen this year. And it is the very first time I've ever celebrated a birthday in Hawaii. 

It felt pretty special to do this. We also stayed in an AirBnB for the first time in Hawaii and ohmigerd, it has made all the difference. Being in one hotel room with one bathroom has felt extra tight now that Bun is a teenager and Bean is basically the size of one. The Man found a beautiful home high up on the hills with incredible views.

My view as I wrote in my journal

Normally I don't like being so far from the water because I love the ease of stepping out of a hotel room and being minutes from the beach. But the quiet, privacy, and peace we have here, along with the convenience of two bedrooms, 2 1/2 bathrooms (I cannot stress enough how this is a game changer), kitchen, living room ... basically, a whole house to ourselves with beautiful ocean views from most rooms in this house is extraordinary. I feel absolutely blessed. 

I see that my kids prefer having the beach more accessible and restaurants and shops being in walking distance. But they see the positives in what we are experiencing (having their own bedroom and a massive bathroom is a gigantic plus) and are happily along for the ride. Well, Bun is having to do a lot of homework for independent study and has requested we not take a vacation during school. The Man & I wanted to give it a go because travel and room/board is so expensive when schools are on break but won't be doing it again because we feel bad for the kiddos.

With all the health and housing issues my mom is going through (that would be many posts and has been many therapy sessions) and my role at work somewhat in question (boo to funding issues), I was having a hard time looking forward to this trip even though I had really been wanting to go. But things going as they were leading up to this trip were very stressful. And it felt like one of the worst times to possibly go. But then my mom's housing situation was solved, her health was somewhat steady, and it seemed that my job was hanging in the balance a bit less. 

And now we're here. And it's beautiful. And I'm one year older, in relatively good health, with my absolutely lovely family. Life feels good right now. 

Gratitude, continued

 After my last entry, I wrote in my paper journal an entry about my daughter. Then I skipped a day. But I'm back! And here to thank ... my junior high best friend, T. I've known her since I was 11 years old and she was 12. We weren't best friends back then. More like frenemies. We called each other friends but sometimes weren't very good friends to each other at all. We stayed friends throughout junior high and up through high school. And then we found ourselves being best friends our senior year. 

We stayed close after graduation and then she got married while I went to university. We still stayed close though she moved to Washington and then Colorado. As life would have it, we drifted apart. Then she moved back to California and we drifted our way back to each other again. But our kids were different ages so we stayed in contact but not very closely. And then, in 2013 (I remember because I started a job in Oakland and we met up just down the street from it), we decided we would try to do weekly hikes. And we've been meeting up ever since. Those hikes occurred while I was great with pregnancy (I remember because I thought there were times where I would have to tell her to just leave me behind), family deaths, other tragedies and hardships in our lives and everything in between. Hikes became knitting sessions, then pole fitness classes, and always coffee dates in between. We have talked about trivial things, important things, heart breaking things. She has attended my dad's funeral, listened to me sob about my sister, be frustrated about my mom's declining health and everything in between. We've gone to a women's spiritual retreat, more pole fitness classes, and many other things. 

T is a soul sister. She sees the positive in life and will hold my hand while we bemoan the negatives. I am grateful for this friendship that has gotten bigger when I needed it to and hopefully it's done the same for her. 

Gratitude over Anxiety

 That's what I'm going for. I was talking to my therapist yesterday about all the anxiety I have from the uncertainty of work and care for my mom. I won't into details but who wouldn't be worried when it comes to their livelihood and the care of an elderly parent with a host of serious medical issues? I feel on edge, not quite drowning but certainly overwhelmed. It affects my sleep and perhaps it's easier to call it anxiety than depression. I don't know. 

So we talked for a bit about this constant dread because it was affecting how I felt about life and not celebrating or enjoying the good moments. Because it felt that impending doom was around the corner. Dark and dramatic, perhaps, but we're still dealing with grief remember? She suggested focusing on gratitude, worrying that it might seem trivial or condescending when she said it but I assured her that I was on board. That I had done it before but, for whatever reason, I strayed away from it and wrote down all my worries. And that's probably why I didn't look forward to journaling and avoided it for days. Then weeks. Then months. 

What am I grateful for today? I will highlight my son, The Bean. A friend offered to help pack up my mom's room at her old facility when I found it was abruptly closing. This is a dear friend who is typically reliable. Well, she had to cancel last minute for a not-so-great reason (though I value her telling me the truth) and I had already told staff that I would be coming so would have felt bad for cancelling. They had to be mildly inconvenienced to let me in so I felt obligated to follow through. I was already feeling a sort of way with having to do this chore, feeling guilty that I hadn't seen my mom in a few days and now feeling put out that a friend cancelled. I asked Bean if he would come with me. I could tell he was not excited, as he had chores to do specifically on Wednesday and he was also hungry. But he looked at how disappointed I was in being cancelled on and with almost no hesitation (it was probably a second or two), Bean said he would help me. I told him thanks, eat a snack while I picked up his sister, and be ready to go in 10 minutes. 

My boy is 11 years old and very much the baby of the family. Look, I was the baby of the family so I know the role well. Unlike me at his age, though, he has more chores and more expectations put upon him in terms of helping around the house. So we drive to my mom's former facility, dark and cold outside, and without any complaints he packs as efficiently and neatly as he can. And by golly, he did a solid job. It wasn't like having another adult with me but it was far better than me doing it by myself. He was such a sport about it and I was the one to call it quits for us rather than him asking if we could stop. I had promised him McDonalds on the way home (a rare treat) and gave him the $10 we found in one of my mom's jacket pockets. 

I'm grateful to have a son who chose to help his mama out even though he was tired from school, hungry, and had a schedule his brain had already committed to (like my daughter and me, we like to know and stick to a schedule, especially when it comes to chores. Hi, I'm the tree, meet my apple.) My kids are their own personalities even though my husband and I see flickers of us in them. And Bean is someone who is the baby of the family, doesn't like to be inconvenienced, and won't necessarily be a martyr - again, also the baby of the family and totally get it. And yet ... he is very loving and giving, particularly when he thinks someone needs help and he can do it. I don't think I give him enough credit for this. So today I am very grateful for my baby boy.

They say you should journal every day

 ... and I have the best intentions to do just that but when I think about putting my pen to paper (journal), I'd rather go on a social media app, a pop culture website or just about anything else. So I'm wondering if unearthing my blog will inspire me to write a bit more. It's certainly faster to get my thoughts out this way.

So, I have been wanting to switch careers but stay in the nonprofit sector FOR YEARS. I just wasn't sure what it looked like. I wasn't interested in being an executive director or CEO but I also did not want to stay in fundraising, I was burnt out. I planned on seriously searching for a new job a month after I graduated. I started putting feelers out, asking for informational interviews with former colleagues, former supervisors, and my greater professional network. I thought about teaching, though I intentionally did not pursue a PhD because I didn't want to teach and research. But I figured why not see. But I continued to only be approached for fundraising positions. 

Then my Sister had her catastrophic stroke. And I could hardly function personally or professionally lives. And then my mom's physical and cognitive health was declining. Again, I felt like I was underwater. I dreaded waking up because I knew it was going to be another day of obstacles. I wasn't suicidal but I surely wasn't joyful. I had been invited to take part in a Women of Color Leadership Fellowship and instead of networking or working out a career plan, I was pouring out my soul and feeling like I was unprofessional because I couldn't stop crying. But it felt like I was dealing with something with my mom just about every day. Whether it was her falling, or forgetting her purse, or not making it to her doctors' appointments. I felt like I was responsible for so much. 

So I stayed. I stayed at the job that felt secure even though it was severely flawed. There was security with being with the devil you knew. I mean, it wasn't awful and it surely wasn't the worst place I had worked at, I just knew that it wasn't challenging me in a good way and I certainly wasn't using the education I obtained. It was a decent enough environment, I was fairly compensated, and the flexibility of a hybrid schedule was probably my most favorite aspect of the job. 

I won't go into details but this job eventually became insecure. The stress of not making the organization's fundraising goals got to leadership and there were poor decisions being made. And even though I should have been "safe", I wasn't and I quickly learned my job was unjustly on the line. I updated my resume and actively applied like it was my second job (it was.) This search was a long five month process, and many interviews, often times with the same organization, they just had a lengthy, multi-interview application process! It came down to two jobs I liked most. One was in fundraising but with a world renown institution and promised to view fundraising in a completely different light than any other organization I'd been part of. And the other was a Chief of Staff role with a small local church doing audacious things in the community. Almost two years after I graduated, I was in a career changing role.

Little things

 I think about my Sister every day. There are also small (and, of course, big) things that really make me wish I could pick up the phone and text or call her. Though we lived in different states and would go up to a week without talking, we were close. We lived big and full lives independent of one another but we told each other just about everything. We knew of each other friends and coworkers, we knew about small annoyances and big challenges. 

It was a small thing that made me think of her yesterday. For the last decade or so, Demondoll has fretted about her hair thinning. I told her I didn't see what she saw but she was certain her scalp was showing more. I'm the one with thicker hair and she was the one with more hair. So we both had our insecurities about volume. The other night, I tried Paul Mitchell's Lemon Sage Thickening Spray and Garnier Fructis Mega Full Thickening Lotion together. And yesterday I had so much volume. I thought to myself, "Oh I wish I could tell her about this. She would love it." And I would have made her try this combination the next time she visited. Normally, my day-old hair would be flatter because I produce a lot of oil. And yet my hair still had volume from this combo and she would have wanted to give it a try even more.

It's silly and insignificant. But we cared about this kind of thing and I wish I could send her these products so they could make her happy and more confident. I wish we she was still here so we could talk about small things. Heaven knows there are big things happening right now that I wish we could discuss. But these small things - they mattered, too. Little sisterly, best friend things you talk about with your sister and best friend.

For the most part, I've loved being the baby of the family

 Being the baby of the family meant that family members doted on you. In their eyes, you're still the baby. While it can be annoying not to be seen as a teenager or young adult, it was nice. I had a good relationship with my parents, especially after becoming a parent myself, and with my siblings. My sister always said they were dirt-poor when she was growing up so I also appreciate that my folks were more established when I came around. I can honestly say I never needed anything. My needs were certainly provided for and most of my wants, too. 

What no one tells you as the baby of the family is that you will most likely be burying everyone. It makes sense but no one talks about it. And while it is dark to think about my parents' passing, I knew that would eventually happen. My parents were always the oldest parents in my class or friend group and that was because I was an "oopsie-daisy-we-can-still-get-pregnant" baby. And my sister is/was 13 years older than me so, to her chagrin, sometimes people mistook her for my mom (we both looked young for our ages so I get why she was put off - she would have been a very very young parent. 

I thought I would have 30+ years with my sister. If I can be completely honest, I naively never thought about my sister passing away. I took it for granted that we would be growing old together. That eventually, our busy schedules would sync up by being less busy and we would visit each other more, maybe even take trips together. I also always thought I'd have her to lean on when things got hard with our folks. And when our dad passed away and our mom just became more like herself (stubborn, hard-headed, but much less independent), I thought we would commiserate, brainstorm and problem-solve. Because this gets more challenging, particularly emotionally.

But I am by myself. And I am overwhelmed. And I am still grieving.

I have a mom who refuses to believe she is too frail to travel but has been hospitalized after both times she has traveled internationally. I have had to pick up the pieces and deal with the consequences of her poor decision-making. People wonder why I can't just put my foot down with her but if you actually knew who she was, you'd know that she was a force. And, for most of her life, it has served her well - her grit and determination. And she's always been the practical one in the family, the one in charge of finances and made the household go 'round. But she's in her 80s, experienced and is experiencing a host of health issues, and lost her husband and her daughter within the past 5 years.

I try to remember this when I'm overwhelmed but it's very hard. Because it's just us three (my brother has high support needs so he's not part of any decisions or expected to help) and I'm also grieving. And I work full-time, am married and have two kids. So my mom's needs affect them too. Though my sister lived two states away, it was a relief to know I had someone if there was an emergency and certainly helpful when needing to vent. Plus she contributed as much as she could like being in charge of our mom's transportation and coordinating that complicated ordeal, week after week.

I'm trying to feel hopeful but I am restless and anxious. And overwhelmed. And grieving.