And just when I think I have it all figured out– Everything falls apart again the universe has a funny way of humbling me just when I think I finally have it together When does it get easier? Am I being punished for not conforming to society’s expectations of me? Should I be sorry for not wanting to just be a wife and mother? Will I ever be free of society’s shackles thrusted upon me?
The journey into the broken pieces of my soul makes me cry out from agony felt Solitude, vitamins, a healthy and boring routine Affirmations with big and healthy dose of self compassion are the requisites for healing and growth- it’s a spiritual journey into healing my inner child and it fucking hurts
As I’m thinking about this answer, two teachers come to mind. One is my 11th Grade English Mrs.Idica and the other is my college professor of creative writing, Dr.Blais.
Who knows what would have happened to these two if it wasn’t for Mrs.Idica 😭😭😭
I took Mrs.Idica’s Asian American Lit and Creative Writing class my junior year of high school. I did really well in my creative writing class but almost flunked the Asian American lit class. I remember not liking her too much at first because she pushed us to do our best and was strict. I think I did well in the creative writing class because I really loved writing poems and little short stories. At the time, I didn’t think it was something I’d ever be passionate about but of course the class did have a great impact on me, here’s a poem I wrote in that class:
Mrs.Idica ended up being my homebound teacher when I was on maternity leave with my first son at the beginning of my senior year. That meant that for 6 weeks, she came to my house to give me my school assignments and helped me with them if I needed help. She would stay and talk to me and always encouraged me to drop out of high school and to continue on. This was important for me to hear as there was pressure from people in my family to drop out and work. She could have easily just dropped off my work and not have these conversations with me but instead she showed up with the compassion and grace I needed during a really dark time in my life. She also had the patience of the saint as I trudge through my school assignments since I was an terrible student. She never gave up on me or told me my life was ruined because I had a child at such a young age. In fact, she was one of the few people who didn’t shame me and reminded me my child was a gift. The encouragement from her and her belief in me really made a difference in my life. I don’t believe I would have put so much effort that last year in high school and graduated on time. I think what made her not just a great but exceptional teacher was that she was caring, had the patience of a saint, and was this light of compassion and encouragement for me when I needed it. This is a poem I wrote about her:
I also want to say that I’m still in touch with her through social media where I share updates about my life and my writing. Even now, she tells me she’s proud of me and that means a lot to me.
Right after taking Dr.Blais class
Another teacher in my life who was exceptional was my creative writing professor Dr. Blais. Like Mrs.Idica, she pushed us to do our best in the class and provided a safe space for us to express ourselves creatively.I also learned to be super disciplined with my writing in her class and the editing process. She was very patient with us and in her class I wrote 3 plays and both of them won 2nd and 3rd place in the college writing competition which meant a lot to me since it was the first time I was writing plays. She also encouraged me to continue writing and even invited me to one of her playwright workshop groups but I couldn’t go due to family obligations. Also, her class was my favorite escape from my busy mom life that included 2 small kids and 3 part time jobs at the time. It was a crazy time in my life where my mental health was a bit touch and go but going to Dr.Blais class helped me cope. Like, Mrs.Idica, Dr.Blais saw potential in me and encouraged me and was incredibly patient in kneading the writer out of me. I think taking her class validated my passion for writing. Especially when the last assignment was making a book which I titled “My Quarter Life Crises” . I felt accomplished in making that little book of my poems and plays. Here’s a link to one of the plays I wrote in her class:
Unfortunately, I lost touch with my Dr.Blais after college and can’t seem to find her anywhere. Last I heard is that she’s had success as a playwright in New York.
I think I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have had two educators show up in my life who made a positive impact on effect. It doesn’t always happen that way (thinking about my super condescending English professor at UGA- but that’s another blog post) . It’s hard to imagine who I would have become without both of them.
My lack of worth of self-esteem allowed me to accept not even the bare minimum from lovers as long as they showed any interest in me, any sign of wanting me, I’d give them my energy made them the muse of my poetry put them on a pedestal where I worshiped them like a deity and made what I mistook for love my religion thought each one was the one because of my inability to find self-love it was the version of me who thought the world began and ended with the love of a man It was the version of me who didn’t know that alone I had always been whole, I had always been enough
This is my response to prompt #10: One thing you could not give up
Don’t ask me to give up writing….EVER
You might as well do radical lobotomy before you make me give up writing You’d be asking me to give up one of the things I most love– my creativity with poetry and prose brings me purpose and meaning on my good days and helps me stay alive on my bad days so if you ever ask me to give up my paper and pen Understand you’d be asking for my slow death
I wrote this in 2003 about Damon who I was seeing again.
Your strange ways confuse me One moment you hold me in your arms The next moment you want someone else in your arms Do you want to break our amorous ties? Was the love you professed another one of your lies?
Day 23 of doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. Today’s prompt was “From the Ashes of the Phoenix” . The artwork is “Mama Quilla” by artist Rodrigo Elgueta in 2001.