An Open Letter about the Black Lives Matter Movement

    It's been over three-and-a-half years since my last post; but, since I needed an outlet, I figured my blog would be the best place. After all, I did name this blog "Autobiography of an Unknown" - and this post will probably be my most raw, real, passionate, and authentic. This is partly because of the current events - but also because I've grown a lot in the last few years. That being said, there may be points with which I contradict myself (from previous posts) or make myself look like a complete hypocrite. I think that comes with growth, evolution, knowledge, and the ability to say, "I changed my mind" or even, "I was wrong." Or, perhaps I'll repeat things I've learned for the 900th time and sound like a broken record. Either way, this what I think and feel and believe at this point in time: June 12, 2020 9:23 p.m. Central Time. 

Dear You, my reader -

    Unless you've been living under a rock since May 25, 2020, you've probably heard the name George Floyd at least once. I'm also assuming you are familiar with some of the events that have happened and protests that have taken place since then. That being said, you probably also have your opinions - or at least some sort of thought - on everything. Now, in the last two-and-a-half weeks (or so), I have lost friends and even extended family members due to a difference of opinion on (or even a difference of opinion on the level of importance of) this particular topic. I know many people have stated through social media that they also are willing to lose friends over this, but for many this is because there is such a high degree of emotion coursing through our veins right now. Yet, for me - it's not emotion-driven and I decided to write this letter to explain why. 

    As a quick aside, I would like to point out that this is by no means directed at any individual person or people. I'm not trying to "call out" those that I have already spoken to or those who have decided not to speak to me about the subject matter. I have been accused of "judging" and "being harsh" to people I have communicated to directly and so I felt the need to find a space to *try* to explain where I'm coming from purely. This is 100% about me (in what I hope is not a 100% selfish manner). This is my perspective and therefore my reality of the situation - and this is why it affects me the way that is does. I'm not "arguing" someone else's point or justification of their opinion. This is me. This is my truth; and, I just hope that maybe - perhaps - it'll turn on a tiny lightbulb for someone who didn't understand it in this way before; but, even if it doesn't, it's cathartic for me to speak my truth. 

    My name is Ashley. I am 34 years old. I am Korean. I am adopted (and, therefore, an immigrant). I was raised by white parents in small town Minnesota. I have a sister and brother. They are also white. I have a large extended family. I am the only person of color. However, I grew up as your average Minnesotan... for the most part. As a child, I never thought of myself as different. I had friends. I played with my sister, my cousins. I loved our pets. (I loved everyone's pets.) I enjoyed school. I went to church. I loved tator tot hotdish, meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and corn on the cob. I lived (and loved) my life. Of course, every once in awhile, a family member would say something like, "Well, not you, Ashley, you're family." but I never really paid much attention to it. Or, I do remember that one time when my cousin told me I could use chopsticks because "it's in your blood".  Or another time when a different cousin told me I was adopted because my real parents just didn't want me... or that time at school when someone made a joke about my face being so flat cause I was hit with a wok. I mean, kids say the darndest things, right? Heck - after watching "Harold and Kumar" my sister and I often joked about how I was a "Twinkie". (Yellow on the outside, white on the inside.) It's funny. It's just fun and games. But, something changed when I was 12 - and it wasn't attached to being Korean at all: I got sick. 

    Now, if you don't know me personally, you're thinking, "Okay... so what?" but this wasn't a cold or the flu or even something more serious like pneumonia. I got really, really sick. Actually, I got really, really tired. A few days of missing school and I was diagnosed with mono. I was told to "rest, hydrate, and let it run its course". The course it ran caused me to sleep 20 hours a day - every day - for about three months. Long story short, it wasn't mono. That initial three month illness eventually put my family and I on a six-year quest to figure out what was wrong. 

    During those six years, so much changed for me - but not in the way you may think. Most people mature between the ages of 12 through 18, but for me a lot of that was stunted. I no longer could hang out with friends. School was a constant stress. I gave up trying to get up early enough to go to church. I still loved our pets, but it wasn't as fun when I couldn't go and run around with them in the yard. I didn't date. I was constantly going to doctor appointments (and would often be told it was just in my head and nothing was wrong with me physically); and, my parents were my main source of social interaction, information, support, and education. It was tough especially because the main difference - the biggest change in my life in those six years - was that I started to feel and believe that I *AM* "different".

    For me, the easiest way to process being different was to put labels on it; and, my stunted maturity caused me to hold on to the notion that life was black-and-white much longer than I think I may have otherwise. I was in my bubble of this and that, black and white, right and wrong, male and female, 0 and 1. You know, the binary system. But, obviously, some things aren't one-or-the-other; some things you need to get out the label-maker for, right? So I started to label myself. My name is Ashley. I'm adopted. I'm female. I'm single. Check. Check. Check. Check... Those were easy. I'm Korean... but, I'm also American. So, I'm... Korean-American. Why choose between the two? Check. I'm attracted to men... but... I'm also attracted to women... I guess I'm bisexual. Check! I'm sick... but I don't know with what - and some doctors believe it's all in my head. So, is it physical or mental? I guess I'll just say, "Sick." Check. And, basically, that's how I defined myself. Those labels made up who I am. 

    So, how does this tie into George Floyd, Black Lives Matter, systemic racism, and the protests? Well, I guess I have to give you a little more backstory about me - but bear with me. When I was 18, I found out I had been born with a hole in my heart - and though my open heart surgery didn't fix all of my health issues, it helped a lot. Suddenly, I wasn't "sick" anymore, but I still wasn't "healthy". (And, there's no "sick-ish" label.) Gah! My labeling system was all screwed up now. And then the over-thinking kicked into overdrive: Who am I? How can I define myself without labels? What other labels have changed? Am I really bisexual? I seem more interested in boys than girls lately so maybe I'm heterosexual... or, heteroflexible? What about being Korean-American? My friend, another Korean adoptee, is WAY more interested in Korean things than I am so maybe I'm just American. However, I have encountered some racism, so clearly people see me as Korean... so, maybe I should be more Korean? Do I need these labels to define me or am I just supposed to define my labels? Why did I sleep for those six years instead of figure out who I was going to be as an adult? (Probably because you were so sick doctors were telling your parents to make funeral arrangements...) But, now I don't know who I am! 

    So for a long time I "walked the fence". I didn't label myself one way or the other - I was just sort of waiting to see which way I teetered... and then the 2016 election came around. Though I don't want to make this post too political, let's just say that I *have* been treated differently since then. And, I realized that even though I'm not sure which label I would give myself, sometimes labels were going to be placed upon me by others. One label that seemed to be placed upon me purely because of my appearance and/or the country in which I was born was "second-class". Though I would encounter "ignorant" racism (the racism with good intentions behind it) before 2016, I rarely encountered blatant racism. Since 2016, unfortunately I can no longer say that. I've been asked if I'm "an illegal" more than once or had people say, "Ching-chong-ching" as I walked by (and let's not even get started on how things have changed since COVID). These changes in society, in how people began treating me so unabashedly hateful made me realize that though it was never meant with malicious intent - every time I encountered "ignorant" racism, it was because that person saw me differently. Even as a child, when family would say, "Well, not you Ashley, you're family" - they still noticed I was different than them. I was not the same. I was not equal. And though those people may not have said it or even consciously thought it, it was because they saw me (or people like me) as lesser. And that's when I realized that I had a responsibility to advocate for myself. Honestly? I felt like I finally had a purpose. It was no longer about "who am I?" - it was about "why am I here?". The idea of advocating for myself and the marginalized communities that I am a part of makes me more confident. It finally gives me a bit of clarity as of why I have experienced so many experiences I have had. 

    I have said numerous times to family, friends, my therapist, strangers - it's impossible to find someone who completely understands what it's like to be female, pansexual, Asian, an immigrant, chronically ill, "plus-size", yadda yadda, [add label here] living in South Dakota in 2020. You may understand one facet of my life, but I highly doubt you'll find someone who relates to every facet. (And, I know you're thinking, "Everyone is different. No one is going to understand someone else 100%." and yes, I understand that way of thinking, too - but if you took two heterosexual, white males who grew up in a town of 100 people or less in the Midwest and put them together, they'd understand a heckuva lot more about each other than me and another Asian woman. See what I'm saying?) The one thing I wish I could find is someone who was empathetic enough to take what I tell them about *my* experience at face level. Even my family who has known me my entire life doesn't understand every aspect (mainly the sick/racism aspects). So for me, I don't want to have to explain every single thing - but if someone could empathize and try to see from my perspective, it would make all the difference to *MY* world. 

    I am not black. I am not male. I'm not seen as a threat. If anything, Asians are seen as the "model minority". Statistically, Asians make decent wages because of the type of professions they're in. I grew up with a lot of white privilege and I've also gotten some perks of being an Asian woman. I am aware that I don't have it bad. I am aware that I am not George Floyd, Tamir Rice, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, etc. I have never had an issue with a police officer - personally or professionally. I haven't been followed around a store because the sales person was worried I was going to steal something or had someone shout a racial slur at me; but, I know that racial inequality does exist because I have experienced it. I know that Americans are filled with implicit biases because I was raised here and I have them, too.

    This Revolution gives people of *all* marginalized communities hope. The progress the Black Lives Matter movement has made in the last few weeks has given me so much hope. It is not cops vs. BLM. It is not white vs. black. It is not left vs. right, Republicans vs. Democrats, tRump Supporters vs. people who type it tRump. It is about allowing people with first-hand experience explain their experiences to better this country, our government, and the world. It's about proving that we're all one human race, we're all created equally, and we should all be treated as such. It's about empathy and understanding that some of us will never understand. It's about love. This is why I'm so passionate about the Black Lives Matter Movement and why it's so important to me. I support Black Lives Matter because I know the benefits and the difference it'll make for so many of us. This is about uniting by being honest with ourselves and others. 

Peace, Love, and Kia Kaha -

Ashley

I Wrote My Way Out...

  Well, I wish I could start this post by saying that I'm in a new, wonderful place with life. Unfortunately, my life isn't a movie. The last 2 1/2 months have been really, really tough. I know, I sound like a broken record. Honestly, that's part of the reason I haven't written. Heck, I started another journal about a year ago (before that the only journal I kept was my 9 months in New Zealand) and I realized a few days ago I hadn't even written in that for a month. My journal this past year has been the place I put my thoughts and feelings that I was too afraid or too embarrassed to really share with anyone else; but, the last month or so, I haven't even wanted to write them down. I've been having such a constant downward spiral of thoughts that I haven't even wanted to remember them - in any way, shape, or form.
   After my post in September, I spent all of my energy working on feeling better physically. Actually, in September, I pretty much didn't have any energy to do anything at all. My Fibro flare-up literally sapped me of any and all energy. I was in so much pain that I could barely get myself off the toilet. (See, aren't you wishing I still wrote in the journal instead?) So, my mom finally came up to the Cities to bring me back down to their (Mom and Dad's) house. I've been spending most of my time with them or Lora and Chris (my sister and brother-in-law) since then. I've really only been in the Cities when I have doctor's appointments. So, yes, I haven't been working for almost three full months. I'm sure for some of you, that sounds like the world's best vacation - and though I enjoy spending time with my family, it's been hard. It's been hard being physically exhausted and in pain. It's been hard worrying about financing. It's been hard feeling like a burden. It's been hard trying to cope with my new reality. It's just been hard.
   I was having difficulties feeling like I was losing friends - or, I guess, just the idea that my friend's lives didn't end just because my life was stuck in neutral. It's definitely a challenge to be chronically ill and try to keep "normal" relationships. So often I have family members, friends, even my therapist say, "Well, maybe you should try a support group for chronically ill people - some even have dating sites", etc. However, I don't want to make being "sick" my "normal". Perhaps it's naive, but I still think of being sick the same way someone with the flu does - it's something I'll get past and then I want to go back to living my normal life... but then, I realize my "normal life" has always been controlled by my physical health. So, I guess I want to have my OPTIMAL life... not MY normal life. Still, as I get older, I'm finally understanding how hard it is for people to understand chronic illness if they've never been seriously ill. Heck, I have a couple of friends with chronic illness and even they will sometimes have a hard time understanding my situation and I theirs. One thing that seems to be a common thread in relationships where both are chronically ill, health is brought up a lot. Pretty much always - and I don't want that for my life. I'm not saying that I don't love my friends who are chronically ill, it's just that I don't want all of my friends and my complete life existence to be comparing symptoms, medications, online research, and doctor visits. I already deal with my health enough. I don't want it to be the main topic with my friends; but, then when you're unable to do ANYTHING for three months... it's hard for it not to be. Obviously I have some amazing friends who've checked in to see how I am, asked for me to hang out, etc. but I've been sitting around unable to do anything so pretty soon one starts to feel abandoned. It was also hard that I started having my flare-up at one of my closest friend's Going Away Party and then I "broke-up" with the closest thing I've had to a relationship within a couple of weeks.
  So, to continue beating a dead horse, my health - mental, physical, and emotional - was in a pretty bad place for September and most of October. Finally in October, I realized the Zoloft was working on my mental/emotional health. I was still having a hard time, but I was able to process it a little better. The only downfall? It didn't do anything for my physical health. So, mid-October I switched from Zoloft to Savella per my rheumatologist. Savella has recently been FDA approved for treatment of Fibro, whereas Zoloft has not; but, since they both act in a similar way, my doctor advised to end the Zoloft when I started the Savella. Near the end of October, I felt mentally a lot clearer and suddenly had a little bit more energy. I was still in severe pain, but I wasn't sleeping as much, I was able to push myself to make food one day, things that were a very big deal for me. As those improvements started, I started to look to the future again. I think of it sort of as a "flu symptom". You know, when you're sick with the flu you always think to yourself, "When I feel better I'm going to go to the gym" or "When I'm not this sick, I'm going to stop eating those cheeseburgers." whatever it may be. Any time that I'm able to see even the tiniest light at the end of the tunnel, I tend to re-evaluate my life. So, near the end of October I started thinking of an organization I would like to start and was very, very optimistic about it. As I'm not sure if I'm going to do it, I'm not going to give details as I'm not sure what I would need to start said organization, but essentially it would be for people who are chronically ill - but not a "support group". It was just something to distract me - something to focus my pent-up mental energy on. (I mean, by now, I was going completely stir-crazy being locked inside my own body.)
   All of that came to a screeching halt only a few days later...

    To be completely honest, I have never been very political. I don't really care about a lot of the "little" issues and, yes, I pretty much just listen to my mother (a Lutheran minister) and my sister (a Legal Aid attorney) for opinions on the big issues.  I mean, I like to think that I'm not completely brain-washed and have opinions on a lot of things because of my own, personal experiences; but, I guess I can't guarantee that because we've always agreed on all of the "big" issues. My family is pretty liberal. Actually, that may be an understatement. My family is very liberal. I, even if my family was not, feel like I pretty much have to be liberal. I say that because I am an Asian, immigrant, bisexual, chronically ill female. In many of the "big" issues - I personally feel like I would be a pretty big hypocrite if I was conservative. That's just my opinion, however.
   Anyway, nearing the 2016 Presidential election, I was the ignorant liberal who thought that there was no way Donald Trump would be elected. Still, even before the election, I did start to notice more and more blatant prejudice because of all the election news coverage. Now, remember, I've also been unable to pretty much do anything for almost two full months at this time and so I started to "engage" in "discussions" on social media (read: Facebook). I tried to not piss anyone off, but I did start to ask questions. And, admittedly, they weren't necessarily rhetorical questions - but someone wasn't going to change my mind by answering them, if you know what I mean. Perhaps I was being "snarky" and "accusatory" - but, in all honesty, it gave me something to do. That was until Halloween.
    At my place of work (yes, even though I haven't been able to work, I am still employed. That is one saving grace and sometimes part of the reason I feel like I'm unable to leave the company. I don't want to leave because it's a bad company, but it's not the right job for me. However, I feel stuck because of my tenure, the benefits, and my health.) we're able to dress up for Halloween. As it is a job where we work with the public, the costumes do have to be approved. I wasn't there, obviously, but there were many pics and posts from my friends/coworkers on social media (again, read: Facebook). I was really jealous because I love dressing up and seeing the kids (they come into the store to trick-or-treat) and seeing all of my friends/coworkers in their costumes, too. I will admit that I was very surprised when one of my coworkers posted on his FB page that he was a "Gangster" for Halloween. We work in a mall, so I didn't really feel it was appropriate. Plus, he is black, so honestly, I felt like that was sort of risky for him (He's from Africa and has a relatively thick accent). (NOTE: Yes, I am aware this can be taken as racist and prejudiced. I am very much aware of my own implicit bias to the idea and I apologize for it. At the same time, I'm willing to admit this was a thought that went through my head.) Other than thinking it wasn't appropriate and risky, I really didn't pay too much attention to it until later on that day when I saw another post where he (aforementioned coworker) and two other of my coworkers were in the back room taking a picture together. With the picture, the "gangster" wrote a small paragraph about the photo. He stated that the pic was showing our (the store's) "cultural diversity and acceptance". He stated how it was showing the "white boy" (his words, not mine) dressed as an African, the African (him) dressed as an African American, and the African American dressed as a Hispanic. Since I won't be sharing the picture, basically it was a white male in a traditional African shirt, the aforementioned colleague in his "gangster" costume, and an African American colleague with a bandana on her head and a plaid button up shirt with only the top button buttoned. My initial reaction when I saw this post was to just shake my head, think of how ignorant it was, and move on... but then something else happened. Over the course of the next three days - over five other coworkers shared the post to show their "cultural diversity and acceptance". Now, as I mentioned before, I had a lot of time on my hands and had finally decided I was willing to engage - even on the controversial topics. So, I wrote a post on my personal Facebook profile - didn't use the picture, didn't use any names - basically stating how it's sad to see this sort of prejudice and racism being passed as "cultural acceptance". In my opinion, it's not. It was stereotyping and blatant racism. I was aware this would probably stir up some hard feelings, but I wasn't prepared for the responses it received. As one of my friend described them, the responses were "spazztastic". Basically I was told I was instigating racism by saying it was racist, I was throwing shade to our entire store, and just hating on my coworkers. As one person put it, "people who actually show up for work". So, it became personal very quickly and six people "unfriended" me and four of the blocked me completely. It was definitely a wake-up call.
    A few days after that, I got into another heated discussion when a cousin's ex-wife posted that Somalians should never be able to vote or become citizens. In both situations I worked very (VERY) hard to keep my composure and to not "sink to their level". I gave my reasons very calmly and tried to write eloquent, educated responses. Still, I was told I was "snarky", "accusatory", "obnoxious", "a bully", "a hater", "looking for everyone's pity", and, yes, I was actually accused of being "really the only racist". Very unlike me, I let it slide off my back and moved on. I figured that once the election was over, the posts would end anyway. Yes, people would complain about the outcome for awhile, but then life would go on...
  Then, November 8th happened. I couldn't believe it. I'm still in shock - and I've been on a downward spiral of grief, depression, and defeat ever since. I had written a long Facebook post before the election (and before all of the above drama) about why I could never vote for Donald Trump. For me, it wasn't even a question. In my mind there was no way their were enough people in this country who wanted to set back our progress so many, many years. I knew people were upset about the government, I knew prejudiced and racist and misogynistic people still existed... I just didn't realize how many. I underestimated the hate. I underestimated the ignorance. I underestimated the privilege.
   A few posts ago, I wrote about hitting Rock Bottom earlier this year. My depression had gotten out of hand. Even in my last post, I wrote that I wasn't sure I wanted to keep living the rest of my life this way. Pretty much in both posts I had lost all fight. I had run out of gas. I had been beaten by "the game". I was giving in. I quit. I didn't want to take on "the man" anymore. Basically, I didn't want to live life... since the election, however, I find that I have fight. I don't just have fight, I have a lot of fight. However, with my health, my finances, my current situation - I'm at a loss of how I can make a difference. Sometimes it feels like I'm a truck stuck on an icy road - before, I assumed I was completely out of gas. Now I realize I have a ton of gas, but even as I step on the gas - I'm just spinning my wheels and not going anywhere. So, what do I do? Do I keep stepping on the gas until I actually do run out? Or do I just sit and wait here until it runs out by itself. I guess I only have one other option - to get out and find another way... but, I'm not sure how to do that. I would love to be able to volunteer my time, but since I'm hoping to get back to work soon, I can't risk running out my physical energy. I would love to donate to a cause - any cause, but I'm in such a financial bind, I recently considered starting a GoFundMe page just to pay my bills (instead I borrowed money from family, who really didn't have it to lend). So, I've been trying to become an advocate. I've been trying to educate. I've been trying to be a better person for the people around me, the people who may not have a voice, the people who may not be able to say what they want to say... but, it's not even been a month yet and I'm so tired. I'm so tired of not only the ignorance, but the unwillingness to learn and the sheer hate.
  I guess my boiling point came last night when I realized that my cousin had deleted me on Facebook. The cousin who's ex-wife had the racist post. I approached him to ask him why he had deleted me. At first he tried to lie and say it was for something else, but we both know why he did it and I told him that. In that moment (and when I read the hateful messages he keeps sending me since) I realized that the bottom line was that my cousin chose his racist ex-wife over his Korean cousin. He's known me my entire life. He's aware of my race, the fact that I'm an immigrant, etc. and yet he agrees that people who aren't born here should never be able to be citizens or to vote. His last message to me was "Fuck you. Boo hoo. Grow up. I don't care what you think."
   So, that brings me back to the organization I thought of starting. How could I ever think someone who hasn't been ill could understand or empathize with someone who's always been ill if we can't even understand or empathize white privilege, racism, prejudice, or our own implicit bias? I hope I find answers to some of life's questions soon... until then, I will fight the fight in the only way I can see possible right now. I will write.

The title of this post is from a song off the "The Hamilton Mixtape" coming out December 2nd. It's a small joy in this complicated life. Check it out!


  

Final Answers and Last Looks...

Well, as per my usual, it's been far too long since I've written - and I'm writing because I'm in need of an outlet for my thoughts. Therefore, if you decide to read the rest of this post - be prepared.

Final Answers:
     Believe it or not, even after my last post, I have spent the last few months denying that I'm depressed. Actually, let me rephrase that. I haven't been denying it, I've just been very reluctant to look into anti-depressants as the answer. Though I understand that depression, like many mental illnesses, are actual diseases that need to be cared for properly, I have found that many physicians tend to assume that mental illness is the cause as opposed to a symptom. As I have many physical ailments, I dislike going on anti-depressants because too often my physician will recommend upping the dose of the medication as opposed to looking for the actual cause for my physical issues. So, I've been trying to act more positively than I felt. Some days I did okay, most days I failed miserably. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I started having really bad joint pain and swelling again - and so began the new search for answers. Luckily, being that I spent most of last year looking for answers, the answer came relatively quickly this time. According to my rheumatologist, my symptoms have been around long enough and are consistent with a Fibromyalgia diagnosis.
    Now, being that I've been told by doctors that they thought perhaps it was Fibro before, one would think this would come as a relief to me. Even I felt relieved when I first received the diagnosis, but after a couple of days it really started to sink in. I suddenly (maybe suddenly isn't the right word) realized that this is my life. The idea of having a non-curable, chronic illness finally hit home. I'm 30 years old and this is something I will have to deal and live with the rest of my life. Granted, during flare-ups it'll be worse, but overall I should probably be able to live a pretty normal life. Also, considering I've been living with it already - it shouldn't be a huge deal, right? I guess maybe deep down I kept hoping it would be something else and that we'd eventually find a cure - like when we found the hole in my heart...

Last Looks:
   ... speaking of deep down feelings... Have you ever seen the movie "Elizabethtown"? In the movie's opening monologue - and a theme throughout the film - is "last looks". Drew, the main character, starts "collecting" them. I know this seems like it's coming out of right field - but I'm going somewhere with it, I promise.
   Anyway, "Elizabethtown" is one of my favorite movies and every once in awhile, I wonder if I've collected a "last look". For example, the last time I saw "Nathan". (If you're wondering who "Nathan" is, please feel free to reference previous posts.) The last time I saw him, I remember as he was leaving that I thought perhaps it was the last time I'd see him. Tonight, I found out I was right. It took since April for me to realize it and deep down I think I always knew it but, just like with my depression, I was resistant and chose to believe that if I just changed the way I think, I could change the end result... both times I was proven wrong.
  
   So, now, here I sit, questioning whether it's worth hoping. Questioning if God, Destiny, and Fate exist. I know, probably not worth questioning all of that because of a guy and an answer I already knew - but how much does a person go through before giving up? I'm sure it's probably different for every person, but I'm starting to wonder if I'm finally at the end of the rope. My support system (thankfully, I do have one of those) keeps telling me that I'm stronger than this "bump in the road", but I keep feeling weaker and weaker. I don't know if I'm strong enough to handle the rest of my life anymore...

"So many people are looking at me to be strong and to fight, but I'm just surviving." --- Sweet Silver Lining lyrics by Kate Voegele

Rock Bottom

    So, I'm sure everyone at one point in time has felt like they hit "rock bottom" - and some of you have probably felt like Rachel on "FRIENDS". ("Yesterday I thought I hit rock bottom; but, now it's rock bottom, fifty feet of crap, and then me.") Life is funny like that. It can kick us when we're down, bring us back to reality when we're up, and sometimes Life can make us feel like it has won and we have lost. I'm sure "rock bottom" looks different to everyone - and, admittedly, I have had many times where I thought I hit my "rock bottom". However, I can feel confident in saying that Tuesday, July 5th, 2016. I truly saw me at my worst. I watched me hit my "rock bottom".
    I say "I saw" and "I watched" because that day truly felt like an out of body experience; but, perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. The 4th of July was awesome. The night before I had driven down to my sister's house after work - and then spent the day out on the patio: eating, drinking, and being merry with my family. We even had s'mores and "Grandma Vi Dessert" (which is Violet Liqueur and Prosecco, lovingly named for our Grandma). Then, after the fireworks that night I drove back to the Cities. Now, I'm not going to lie, I always have a hard time leaving my family to come back to the Cities. I'm quite close to my family. I always have been and I hope I always will be. So, it's hard to not be physically close to them.
    I've also been watching Glee of Netflix. I'm not necessarily proud of that, but I remember a lot of my friends really enjoyed it when it was on TV. Being that I'm a little media obsessed, (movies, music, celebs, etc.) I was aware that Cory Monteith passed away during the filming of the show and before going to my sister's for the 4th, I knew I was getting close to the episode they filmed for him. So, perhaps the two things together - missing my family and thinking about the loss these actors and characters on the show would be facing soon - probably put me in a bit of a weakened place.
    On the 5th, I guess one could say I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Yes, I had gotten plenty of sleep, (which has been sort of rare lately - so maybe I can somewhat blame lack of sleep) I had a great drive home the night before, I felt ready for the day... yet, something wasn't right. By the time I got to work, I almost felt like I was watching myself more than actually living it. As work progressed, I became more frustrated. Frustrated with work and my colleagues; frustrated with friends and even my family; but, mostly, frustrated with myself. Around 5:30 p.m., I remember being so upset I went into our backroom and tried texting a couple of friends. The weird part, however, was that I felt almost as if I was watching it. I didn't feel like myself. I felt as if I was watching someone else living this life. It was such a weird mixture of feelings. As I watched, I felt angry that this girl wasn't connecting with the friends she so desperately needed; I felt annoyed watching this girl be so irritated with her work but not doing anything about it; I felt frustrated that I knew it was me but yet somehow couldn't make the connection; but, more than anything, I felt sorry. I felt sorry that all of this was happening and just wanted to end this girl's sad, pathetic existence.
    Yes, for the first time in a long time, I actually thought of ending it. Just, ending it all. As I watched from this other perspective, I watched someone who wasn't strong enough to deal with the situations that she faced. This girl that I was watching kept pushing people away, kept settling with the idea that life had to be like this, and had no motivation to better her self or her world. I remembered coming home from work and being unable to choke down the food I bought for myself, I decided to take a bath. I sat in the bath for over an hour - just feeling absolutely numb. I didn't even feel like I was living. I was barely existing. Then, a thought from one of my favorite TV shows popped into my head, "I'm not here."
    That line was said by a character named Jimmy Edwards on an episode of One Tree Hill. That line was said right before Jimmy Edwards turns a gun to his chest, pulls the trigger, and kills himself. As that thought went through my head, I jumped out of the tub and reached out to a friend that I knew would be awake. Even though he was someone I had been pushing away earlier in the day, I somehow knew he would be there for me; and, he was. He's one of those people who always says exactly what you need to hear. Perhaps that type of friend doesn't make the most solid foundation, but it was exactly what I needed that night. The next morning I woke up determined and ready to face the world as me; but, I realized as I watched myself the day earlier that I didn't know who I was. I didn't have an identity or any adjectives to define myself. So, my first order of business was to define myself...

    Well, it's been a few days and though I've been determined to not hit my "rock bottom" again... I have come to realize that choosing an identity isn't that easy. As ridiculous as it may seem, even at 30, I'm realizing that I get 100% control on defining who I am. I may not get to choose how you see me, but I get to choose how I see myself. So, who am I? I don't know. The only thing I know right now - I'm a work in progress. I am a beautiful work in progress. I'm not perfect, but then again, I'm not aiming for perfection. There are things I know that I am: I'm funny. I'm smart. I'm creative. I'm talented. I'm loved. I'm insecure. I'm vulnerable. I'm an outgoing introvert. But, mostly, after this week - I know that I am strong. I am strong enough to face whatever may come my way. I am strong enough to hit "rock bottom" and to claw my way back up that long, steep hill. I am that strong. So, I may not know who I am, but I do know that I have plenty of time to figure it out.

An Open Letter...

   Well, either I'm schizophrenic or I'm growing up. I definitely hope (and would like to believe) it's the latter. Today I was writing in my journal after having another hard week and had some realizations. I then decided I would like to blog about it in case anyone else has felt this way before - and just happened to read the last paragraph on my last blog post. Man, so much can change in a couple of weeks (hence why I do sometimes wonder the schizophrenia thing...) I'm not naive enough to believe that everything has suddenly changed and it'll be all rainbows and butterflies from here on out, but I do think I did have a small breakthrough on a few things. And, as I think more thoroughly about it, I realize those things are all interconnected - so perhaps it was a big breakthrough on a big thing.
    In my last post, I was down because of a guy. I had once again put myself in a place where I wasn't happy and was blaming someone else for it - or at least my actions towards someone else. (I like to think at 30 I finally know that no one is in control of my happiness except for me.) I had pushed him away because... well, honestly I don't know why. Perhaps I made reasons in my last post, but "reasons" could easily be replaced by "excuses". Honestly, I pushed him away because of many reasons; I was scared, I was hurt, I was scared of being more hurt, I didn't know how to handle to situation, etc. and so forth. I'd like to say that this post comes because I swallowed my pride and he forgave me and everything worked out and so I'm in a good place now; but, that's not reality. Actually, I'm glad I can't say that - because it goes back to the fairy tales. Life isn't a fairy tale. Fairy tales teach us lessons, which is great; but, they also give a false idea of how the lesson is taught. (That's how I see it anyway.) This story, my story, definitely isn't the fairy tale - but ultimately the lessons are there.
    "Nathan" and I did start talking again after my last post. I went all girl on him and did the whole: "please forgive me. I'm sorry I'm crazy..." and, surprisingly, he forgave me. Or, at least, he seemed to forgive me. We even hung out when he came to town earlier this week... and then, in true Ashley fashion, I freaked out. Again. I had finally hit rock bottom with everything. Not just with this guy, with everything. (This may come as a surprise cause, quite frankly, I've been through a lot harder stuff than the current stuff - but, truly, it felt like rock bottom.) I decided to give social media a little bit of a break - and since I don't really do anything on Instagram or Twitter, that basically meant I deactivated my Facebook account and logged out of Snapchat. Admittedly, I logged back into Snapchat the next day - but I've been off of Facebook now about three days and it has made a huge difference. However, between "Nathan" not talking to me again and no more Facebook, I had time to truly reflect on this rock bottom place for me - and this is when the light bulb turned on.
    I've always been one of those girls who sit there and say, "I'm so glad I don't need a guy to define me." or "I'm so glad I've never needed a man to make me feel wanted." but then I met "Nathan" and I screwed up with him. A lot. And we've fought and stopped talking and started talking again and stopped talking again numerous times. And during those off times I'd go to my girl friends and whine and complain and pout and ask what I did wrong hoping they'd make me feel better. Sometimes they did. Sometimes they didn't. Anyway, I remember one time during the Nathan-and-I-aren't-talking-anymore periods I was talking to one of my friends and she said, "No offense, but maybe you were always like that because you never had a guy." which, at the time, pissed me off because it really hurt... and, honestly, because I knew she had a point. It was true. I had never had a guy who had made me feel wanted and I had never dated someone where I felt defined by that relationship so I could say things like that because I never had the opportunity to experience the flip side. So, this past week, being in one of those not-talking-anymore periods again, I started thinking about that again.
    Now, this may be obvious to everyone else around me, but I'm finally able to put it into a way I can understand. I don't think it's necessarily that I don't like myself, but I think I've always judged my relationships (and when I say "relationships", I mean with everyone - family, friends, guys, etc.) on whether or not I was/am worthy of it. I always wanted to feel like I was worth the love and admiration/attention I was receiving. So, after a few bad friendships and the usual hardships with family, I think eventually I started to feel like I'm not worthy. Suddenly I felt as if I was not worth friendships or otherwise. I have even told a couple of my friends how I sometimes wish that more of my friends would be more "picky". I have felt like my friendship with someone isn't as important or special because they have so many other friends - and I have felt that with close friends and even some of my best friends. I now realize that the confidence I felt within those friendships was my only confidence - when the relationships in my life are shaky, so am I. I am fully defined by the relationships I have in my life and the older I get, the harder it is for those tight-knit friendships to stay so solid. Not that they're not as strong, but it's harder to see/talk to each other as often because life gets in the way. It's also not lost on me that the older I get, the more pressure I put on the idea of romantic relationships. Why am I not good enough for someone to like me much less love me? What's wrong with me? (I realize now I've stuck myself into a chicken/egg situation... at least I see it now.)
    So, with "Nathan" it suddenly all makes sense. I had this attractive, educated, funny, athletic, popular guy start talking to me out of the blue and I suddenly thought maybe there was something in me that made me special. He would tell me things like he enjoyed talking to me, or that I was pretty, or that I mattered... and suddenly I believed that maybe I did have something to offer to the world - or, at least, something to offer to the people in the world... but eventually, I wanted more. I needed more. I needed that constant admiration (for lack of a better word) to keep feeling that sense of worth. Now, maybe I was acting so needy that I pushed him away or maybe he just realized he couldn't see himself with me or perhaps with was all just logistics and the long-distance thing, but eventually he stopped saying the things I needed to hear to feel worthy of his friendship. So, once again, I convinced myself that I'm not - and, in doing so, I probably convinced him, too. Of course, this has nothing to do with him and, like I said, life isn't a fairy tale - but at least the lesson is learned. The only thing that scares me now is how to break the cycle. It may be too late with "Nathan" to salvage a decent friendship. Of course, I hope that's not the case, but if it is I need to be able to learn from the experience.

  So here - an open letter to those who have been in my life and stuck around:

   Dear Friend,
      First off, I apologize for the times I may have driven you crazy or been too self-centered or used you in any way. I want you to know that I have never intentionally wanted to hurt you or had any malicious intent behind my actions. If I have hurt you, please know how sorry I am. I realize now what it means to be a "Work In Progress" and I feel quite certain that that is the meaning of life. So, second, thank you for allowing me to be who I am. I hope I have never given you a reason to doubt who you are. I'm sorry if I never told you how amazing you are (because you are), but if I did, know that I truly believe it. I feel blessed to have you in my life and I'm here for you if you need anything. Thank you for helping me feel a sense of worth.

The Return

    Wow. Looking at my blog "Overview" it's been almost two years since my last post. I'd love to be able to say that I've returned because I realized I have something to offer to you and the world and had to share; but, alas, I find myself in a very dark place today and needed an outlet. That also means I won't be giving you a full update on me and what I've been up to the last two years; unless it directly relates to said dark place, which, I suppose, a lot of it does.
    The great thing about social media (Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, etc.)  is that it allows a person to express his or her self. It is also a great way to keep up with friends and family that one may not see very often in "real life". The downside? Well, don't get me started. There's always the double-edged sword; and considering where the world is today (especially the U.S.) it seems that social media is now more about *blank*-shaming (please, fill in the blank however you see fit: fat, thin, slut, dumb, cat, dog, etc.), updating everyone on your fitness goals (GAINS), making your political views known (normally in a hateful and ignorant way - regardless of what side you're on... again, refer back to the *blank*-shaming comment), trying to make others jealous of your life, or, for some of us, it's a place where we cry out for help hoping our "friends" will respond with the right words or in the right way. I really don't want to be that person... but, I'm starting to feel like I need to be. So, instead, I've decided to write about it and people can decide to read or not.
    As I said earlier, I'm not going to spend this post updating you on the last two years of my life. However, the last year - and especially the last six months - have been pretty tough. I don't like to really say that because I feel like it's me trying to make excuses, but looking back on it, it has been tough. Last year (2015) in February, I started getting sick. It first started with the normal cold/flu and then progressed into issues of vomiting, nausea and eventually moved on to weakness, fatigue, and ridiculous joint pain. Suddenly it was like I was a teen again - spending most of the year trying to figure out what was causing all of these issues just to be told that I was overweight and it was all somatic. (For those of you not in a medical profession - it basically equals being fat and crazy.) That was pretty tough to handle. It's hard to be physically ill and then have everyone tell you it's all in your head. (If this hasn't specifically happened to you, trust me. It sucks.)
    Then, later last year (around October) I started having some issues with the relationships in my life. Friends, and even family, were starting to make me question what I wanted out of my relationships; and made me wonder whether history or the same last name gave people the right to treat me in certain ways. During that time, as I was still dealing with the physical issues as well, I hoped and, reluctantly, even prayed that I would meet someone to help me through such a hard year... and through a very weird turn of events, I did. No, it's not some fairy tale romance where Prince Charming came and swept me off of my feet; but, he was a bright spot in the dark days I was going through. Though he never really said it, I think he was going through a somewhat hard and transitional time when we started talking. So, it was nice. It quickly became routine for us to talk every day and I quickly became attached. Perhaps it was the hoping and praying, but I put a lot of stock into the idea of this guy.
    The new year brought along new problems. I turned 30 mid-January and I can't even lie - I totally had a pre-birthday crisis. The idea of beginning a new decade in my life had me looking back to the last 10 years and I didn't really like what I saw. I was, and am, pretty much still in the exact same place I was when I was 20. I still live in an apartment, it's just now I go to work instead of school. I still haven't had a relationship and haven't really dated. At all. And I still have a lot of issues with friends. Making friends, yes; but, for me, it's even harder keeping friends. I just feel very emotionally immature for my age. I think a lot of us believe that our 20s are the time to figure out what we want to do and who we want to be; but, by the time we're 30, we should be settled down. Suddenly it's time for us to adult. Now, through life experience I know that's not true for a lot of people. Still, it was hard for me to feel like I had failed at that goal. Suddenly 30 was upon me and I still felt as lost as ever.
    Now, if you can't tell, and for some reason you're reading this but don't actually know me, you've probably noticed a couple of things. First, I am a huge over-user of commas. Sorry, I type like I talk and for me commas go where I would pause. Second, the relationships in my life are my number one priority. One of my friends said the other day that I'm not happy unless the people around me are happy, which is somewhat accurate. I enjoy being someone people feel like they can go to and I'm ridiculously loyal to the people in my life. That, however, causes some issues with feeling used from time to time (see paragraph above issue of having friends and even family sometimes treat me worse than I would want...). Also, as I mentioned above, because of health issues and just having other priorities I don't have a lot of experience with dating or romantic relationships. This brings us back to the fore-mentioned guy. (Let's refer to him as Nathan from here on out... and that's purely because I've been re-watching One Tree Hill lately.)
   So, through this pre-birthday crisis, Nathan and I had been talking. A lot. But, by this time, we had already agreed that dating/a relationship was not in our future. Basically he was long distance and was also hell-bent against long distance relationships. And I get it... or at least I keep saying that I get it. We would only get to see each other maybe once a month or once every two months and it would only be for a few hours. It would suck trying to have a relationship over the phone; however, on the same hand, we sort of (in my mind, anyway) acted like we were together. We conversed every day - from the "Good morning" texts to the "Goodnight" ones. Yeah, admittedly I was pretty smitten; but, he got out of his hard time transitional period a lot faster than I did and then there was a change. For me, it felt sudden. Suddenly he was hanging out with friends and didn't have time to talk. He started to get annoyed at me and, one could say, the honeymoon stage was over... now, in the last few weeks or so, it's just gotten bad with him.
    This change hasn't been as sudden. Of course, after the honeymoon stage is over and it's agreed that there wouldn't be a relationship, things just fall into the high school crush place. Then, when I get into the high school crush place, it's just a matter of time before things implode. Most of the reason why I wanted to write today was because I ended things today and I've been really feeling bad about it... but now that I get to the things I wanted to say, I suddenly don't know how to say it. Some of you, if there is still a "you" reading this, may know of whom I'm talking about and if you do, just know it's nothing he did. He's still a really great guy. But, that's a lot of the problem, isn't it? "Nathan" is the popular, attractive, ambitious, educated jock. He's also very kind and wants to be there for the people in his life. It's just, recently, I finally realized that I felt like I needed him to be there for me and I hadn't earned that place in his life yet.
    I tend to have this issue with feeling like things should be black and white. I don't really like grey areas. Actually, I hate grey areas. I like to have things labeled and I like to know where things are going. I mean, it's even like, if I'm going to watch a movie - it better have an ending. If it doesn't, I better know there's going to be a trilogy or whatever. I tend to research shows I'm watching on Netflix to see if they had actual endings or if it just got canceled and left the viewers hanging. If it did, I tend to not watch. Everything in my life is black or white, right or wrong, ends well or doesn't. This could be why I don't really date. I hate that ambiguous feeling. There was a lot of ambiguous feelings with Nathan. So, I finally had to end it. Black. Labeled. Done.
    Now, I sit with the aftermath. The regret. The "what-ifs". The things left unsaid; but, girls like me don't end up with guys like him. I've said that to a couple of my friends today and, of course, they yell at me and tell me I need to have better self-esteem and I can't feel that way about myself; but, when do we finally get to an age where we have to accept reality? Why do we teach ourselves to believe in the fairy tales? Isn't it just false hope? Where is the line between reality and negativity? I feel like that line gets more and more blurred with where society is these days. Am I just too jaded or am I just too real? Perhaps a bit a both. Let's face it, I've always been a bit cynical. But, what do my actions today tell me? Probably that I'll constantly ruin things for myself because I'd rather end things and cause the hurt than to wait for it just to happen. Still, I think all I've ever really wanted was to feel like matter to someone. I just want to know that there's someone out there who thinks of me when he/she wakes up. I want that feeling that I can go to that person no matter what the issue and he/she will want to help me. Always. I'm sick of giving people priority in my life and not having that reciprocated - so is it so bad to push them away? Probably; because then I'm just going to end up alone. I know what people will say to me if they read this - that's why I didn't put this on my social media. Ultimately, I don't want answers to the questions. I don't want the little motivating and uplifting sayings. I don't want the lies that people are there for me. I just want what I want.

To find my new passion and start again...

So, normally when I haven't written for awhile I go over the past and what I've been up to since my last post. I want this time to be different. Lately I've been doing a lot of reading and even more thinking. I've also been trying a bit of online dating and a question that every dating site asks (yes, I've been on more than one) is: How ambitious are you? Now, I normally answer that I'm quite ambitious. I mean, I have a college degree. I've been to New Zealand. I have a good job. However, when I think of my life now - am I really ambitious? Am I ambitious at all? And I have realized, to be ambitious - you need a goal. Anyone can say they have a "strong desire to succeed" but, what is success? If you don't have a goal, how can you achieve it? How can you be successful? I've also been thinking a lot about passion. Being passionate. I don't know if you've noticed, but passion is sexy. As everyone who knows anything about me knows - I'm absolutely obsessed with Nitro Circus. Why? Because passion is sexy. The idea that these guys and gals took something that they loved to do, worked their asses off, and make risking their lives look easy is sexy. And they did it because they loved it! They love to entertain. They love to push themselves past the limit. And I'm not saying that I want to risk my life or anything, but I don't feel passionate about anything like that. I'm passionate about the relationships in my life, but I've never taken a passion and made it a talent. Does that make sense? It doesn't even have to be a talent - but I've never been passionate about something and felt accomplished in it. For example, I always wanted to write a book - that's partly where the idea where this blog came from, but I don't even have that many posts on this blog - and I have much less written for a book. Another example, my sister. She's passionate about running and therefore has taken that passion and accomplished something - running a marathon. Yes, I have done a 5k, but I didn't even run the entire thing! (I know, I did have food poisoning, which yes, I'm using as a valid excuse - but still, I could've run plenty others since then and yet I haven't.) I also used to enjoy drawing, but haven't done that in such a long time either. Therefore, it is time that I find a new passion and set a new goal.

Earlier this month I wanted to start drinking more water and though I haven't been drinking is much as I want, I have definitely been drinking more. Tomorrow, I'm going to start "oil pulling". If you haven't heard of it, look it up. I'll let you know how it goes. I've also been wanting to read more, which is actually going okay - but I would really love to read more of the classics as opposed to the "fluff" books I'm currently reading. Although, I did find an article about "The 16 Books to Read Before They Hit Theaters This Year" and so I think I'll finish that first. I've actually read a couple of them already so hopefully I can read those and then jump into some of the classics. If anyone has any suggestions (fluff, classic, or in between), please comment them below. I know I also spoke about (was that on this blog? I'm pretty sure it was...) how I want to be more financially healthy this year on top of being physically healthy - so since I haven't really done that New Year's "resolution", I guess I should start that, too. Seriously.

I guess these aren't really passions; but, they are something I can set goals for and maybe find a passion from them. Perhaps my ultimate goal is finding my passion. Until then, my little goals are going to include:

• Running another 5k (I'm signed up for The Color Run in July)
• I'm hoping that will help me lose 20 lbs. by the NYC trip (This is in August and basically I don't want to be sweating and feeling miserable as I run around the City - I'm going to see my first show on Broadway!)
• Make myself a budget so I can travel more or perhaps buy a new car this year. (The poor Malibu is getting very close to retirement.)
• Finish reading my article books by the end of the year. (So far I've read 2 of 16)
• Start writing my own book. (It's time.)
• Learn Spanish. (I'm thinking of getting Rosetta Stone.)

I think that's a good little list. There are plenty more things that I want to do, but I also don't want to put too much on my plate and fail. Let's see how ambitious I truly am. Let's see if I can find that passion, that drive that got me to New Zealand, that thrill of accomplishment that got me my degrees. I need to find my new passion and it's time to start again...