Gossip

Gossip may be the death of me. This is something I hate to partake in, but sometimes I do to appease the gossiper. I use to do this a lot more, but I lately I have been making it a point not to and to question the gossiper.

Someone I’m close to went straight to HR to complain about our manager. Of course this bites us in the end. I’ve tried my best to not get involved in gossip, but I’m still involved because I’m in the chat.

Anyways, I’m feeling really confused and overwhelmed because I was dragged in to be a part of the group that complained when, really, I love what’s going on. But I feel like my hands are tied because I am very close to the person that is bringing up the drama. I feel I can’t be honest about it with my managers because who knows who they will talk to. I don’t know what to do.

What do I want them to know?

  • I want them to know that I don’t have grievances towards how they run the department
  • I want them to know much of the commotion may be caused by the fear that the creative department might not be needed, or we’d be subjected to mundane tasks
  • I want them to know that I deeply apologize for anything that they’ve heard that hurt their feelings. I despise office gossip
  • I agree that problems should be brought up in the moment instead of letting it brew and I’ll do a better job at encouraging that

I feel like writing this out makes me feel like I’m groveling and makes me feel like I’m admitting to being the shit stirrer. But I’m not. I’ve tried my best to stay neutral. I’m going to talk to Tiffany and sees what she thinks. Or maybe I’ll talk to Mo.

I hate feeling this way. And I’m actually pretty upset at this close person. I truly think it could have been handled much much better, but I wasn’t the one who suggested a change in that. I just went along with it. Lesson learned.

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What You Resist, Persists

I lose myself in food because I hated who I was by about 7th grade onward. This is an open letter to no one and everyone:

I was never bullied. I didn’t get hit or ostracized. Marks weren’t left on my body, but bruises and scratches were committed on my self worth and body image. My body was not hit, but my heart and mind took a beating.

Growing up as a mixed Vietnamese girl, who had bones bigger than the norm I was the topic of poor body talk within the communities I was apart of. There’s so much in my past that is invisible to me – yet has affected me in ways that I can’t even imagine, that if I was aware of it, I might be better off. But that’s based on assumptions.

The point being, I was the subject of teasing growing up in the temple. I hated that place. It was filled with tiny vietnamese people who seemed to only carry judgement and hurtful remarks. I know not everyone was like that, and sometimes I think I only needed one person to throw me a rope, but no rope was thrown and I felt incredibly alone in the battle. I internalized it and turned it into something I truly believed in, that affects me to today – that I’m ugly and not good enough.

I was teased for being bigger. Remarks like, “You’re just as big as your mom”, or “You’re the youngest but the biggest”, or “Vien, eat this for me, your bigger so you can eat more”, or “Why can’t you be skinny like me, you can’t fit this costume”, god, I lived my Sundays in hiding. My mom forced me to go to a place where I would just get teased. Without a rope being thrown or tools to defend myself, I just soaked up all the comments up. Almost a decade later and I am still working through the scars they’ve left on my heart. I develop close relationships because close friends won’t judge me for how I look. I avoid groups because I’m trained to be put on the spot for the way I look. Temple really fucked me up.

This is the resentment I carry with me in my heart. By nature, I think I am outgoing. I use to want to play soccer, I use to want to be in dance with temple friends, I use to love hanging out with friends, but somewhere along the road, I stopped. Somewhere along the road, I let myself become isolated on a Saturday night. Driven to binge, and purge, and binge again.

How do I dig myself out of this hole that I allowed others to dig and put me in? Even forgiveness wouldn’t heal me, would it? Today I am fit and get less comments because I’m not around Vietnamese people. But if I were still overweight or still around Vietnamese people, that scar would be reopened again, and again… what would forgiveness do for me then?

I usually have a positive answer for problems I have in life, but this one, is the biggest hurdle I’ve ever had. Healing a deep wound without the help of those who put the wound there.

If I compared this to being shot, I wouldn’t care to be friends with the shooter, would I? If he shot me because he singled me out for whatever reason, it was not in my control. It was what he wanted to do. Once he shot me, I’m not going to run to him and beg for his approval. I would take the arrow out, and I would seek refuge elsewhere. I would recognize the decision the shooter made to shoot me, and judge him for his decision, rather than believing in the reason why he chose to shoot me. Perhaps therein lies tool that would have helped me then… it’s not too late, I can still use this tool now.

The belief system I had last night that led me to binge and purge was faulty thinking. So what if I was alone on a Saturday night, so what? What does that mean about me? It only means what I want it to mean. It only means what I allow myself to believe. Like I allowed myself to believe I was fat and uncool then. I just didn’t fit in

I didn’t fit in… I didn’t fit in anywhere.

What if I didn’t try to fit in? What if I just was me, and just observed things then, and now? Especially now? What you resist persists…

I resist not fitting in, I resist not being socially awkward, I resist wanting to be alone on a Saturday night, I resist foods that sounds delicious, I resist not being hurt by hurtful remarks. I’ve lived a life of resistance…

I’m not resisting anymore. Instead… I’m cooperating with who I am now… I’m not going to try to fit in or be liked. I’m not going to beat myself up for not having plans. I’m not going to stop myself from eating what I want to eat.

I’m going to start cooperating. It’ll be hard at first. But, this is my goal. To cooperate with my true self. I’m not fighting anymore.

I still need to practice getting out of my head. I will always need to practice this.. to be mindful. But I’m going to also start practicing cooperations with myself.

The Continual Pursuit of Happiness

Alright. Last night, I binged. I surely did. I was happy with my abs coming through the entire day yesterday and then, BOOM, the night came and I found myself in the kitchen. Like a racoon, I was scavenging for food. I ate everything from 2 chicken sausages with squash spaghetti, half a stack of crackers with sour cream and salsa, a chicken drumstick, 2 cups of ice cream, and almost 5 tablespoons (blocks of butter measurement) of cheese (maybe even more!)

This morning I feel the same old feeling I’ve felt after a night of binging, as I have for the last umteen years…

Why did I binge? Is it worth asking that? Eckhart mentioned a saying… when an arrow is shot and hits you, you first don’t question why the arrow was shot, you first try to remove the arrow. That was applied to a question that was “where do thoughts come from?”. But in the context of binging, is it worth asking why I binge? Do I have to seek the why to stop the action? Say a child is crying after school and you kneel down to console her. You will ask why she is crying and then you will dispel whatever happened with a better outlook to make her feel better… so with this example, it’s like figuring out the list of why’s so you can talk yourself out of each point that encourages a binge. But, you know what would be even more badass… if that child wasn’t crying in the first place… if that child wasn’t affected by whatever happened on the outside world and she carried on as is… if that arrow shot and missed her… I think that’s what I aspire to be. I don’t want to dig my brain for a endless list of why’s to the question of “why do I binge?”.

Meditation so far has been so difficult but it has made me realize how overactive my brain is in terms of thinking. It also has allowed me to find a bit of peace in the moment, I can breath through anxious feelings in my belly that arise when certain thoughts take over. This peace and little bubble of happiness in my belly is what I am investing in to enable me to be this badass child – to not feel down because of external happenings.

Last night, I binged, though. I don’t feel stressed about it because I feel I am working towards understanding my body better. Who knows, I was hungry but lacked a bit of self control. That’s simply what I’ll work on today. If I’m hungry, I will eat and control myself from eating the junk I did like last night. With that being said, I truly want to heal my relationship with food. Sometimes I look at food as if it’s the enemy. Food brings me fear… I look at junk food and a little fear is triggered in me. I look at healthy food and a little resentment arises. How do I heal this relationship with food? Healing this relationship though, might sidetrack from being that badass child I want to be – but it might be necessary to be that girl by being opposite her for the time being.

I would think I would have to heal my relationship with my body image and appearance in order to heal my relationship with food. What does that take? Healing isn’t saying nothing is wrong and that what I’m insecure about is from thin air. There are certain expectations and an ideal look that I think is beautiful, what society thinks is beautiful, and that is the standard that I’ve set for myself. So, since I don’t feel I meet that standard, then I think something is wrong. Thinking something is wrong leads to body dissatisfaction. I want the hot body because I want the attention, and I want the youth and energy that comes with it. Nothing is wrong with wanting that, but the issue is that I think I’ll be unhappy without it. 

So there… without going into a tangent… I will accept imperfection little by little everyday. Accepting imperfection… I think this will be a very powerful move in my life. I’ve lived in fear of not becoming someone. I always wanted to be something great and felt less than when it didn’t seem I would be that person. That in itself is an expectation that, without it, caused me great unhappiness. Yesterday, though, I had moments where I felt I’m okay without being that someone. That I don’t have to be, really, anyone special. I’m just another human being, and that’s okay. Some people are wired to be more seen, and more heard. I don’t have to be this great daughter, this great friend, great co-worker that strives to greatness. I’m great in my own way. I am great in that I can write all this out, I’m truly happy about that. I’m great in that I can strum a few chords and sing to it, I’m great in that I can run long distances. I am great in my own way. I have imperfections but, truly, every single breathing and non-breathing thing has imperfections.

This… this release is bringing tears to my eyes. I am great in my own way. It’s different from the greatness we see others are known for, but it is still great. Everyone has this greatness in them, this hidden greatness. There’s even greatness from the realization of the greatness within all of our imperfect greatness…what a mind twister. It doesn’t mean I’m going to stop working towards being this badass child, it’s opposite of that.

So.. food.. I deeply love you, do you love me as well? I’ll give you time to figure that out. Breasts… I also love you for your imperfections… do you love me as well? Stretchmarks, thighs, to my average eyes… I love you all… do you love me as well?

I’ve always craved to be me… but felt lost because I didn’t know who me was. All along, the me has been here. I’ve just been too embarrassed, in denial, and a little bit of a sheep to let me break through the current front that is me. I’ve been told growing up that ‘me’ wasn’t good enough and that I should fix this, do that, act this way, don’t act that way…but now, I’m on my own. I don’t have those voices in my ear every single day anymore. Well, I did, it had become my own voice.. but I’m realizing, that is not my voice that I’m hearing. It’s voices of others, it’s their aspiration of perfection shoved onto me to fulfil… I’m not signing up for that anymore.

Vien, I truly love you. Be that messy, sometimes mindless girl that you are. Have no shame.. cross your legs however you want, spill out of jeans and shirts if that’s what your body does, say blunt things, act boyish, be loud, dance, sing, and play! Let your mind run free, you owe it to yourself to let you shine through now. No more hiding behind the curtains because your form doesn’t match the silhouette. Be you, great in subtle ways. You don’t have to make a splash to live happily, nor do you have to leave a mark.

Anyways… back to work I go.

Moods

Something I know about myself is that my mood sometimes is adjusted by how I feel others think about me. Like today… I feel I reached out to my old boss but it went no where, wanted to get lunch with him and them, but because he didn’t offer it, I felt almost rejected. Which when typing it out, sounds oh so misconstrued! I am quite passive with these things, passive because I don’t directly ask people to lunch..and I’m afraid of them saying no… no for what? For lunch? For them thinking about my motives? I tend to be a collector of good graces, like I want others to reach out to me.. it gives me confidence, it allows me to be me.. but when I’m reaching out, I start getting into my head, like am I enough. Oh to be human…

Also, with my one co-worker, like I’m over the top with him… I put money where there is no bank even. I don’t want to be this way. I want to be…unmoveable. Like, the way others are has nothing to do with me, but has everything to do with their day…perhaps they’re super busy, perhaps they’re pissed about something, there are plethora of reasons why and I choose to believe it’s because of me… I’m going to stop taking things personal.

It has no rhyme or reason. Because I think this way, it makes me believe that I have control over how they feel with the way I conversate.. Like there’s right and wrong things to say, when really… I have no control over what others say or do or think, which makes what I say or do or think towards them obsolete.

My mood is affected by things that don’t exist. That’s why meditation and mindfulness can bring inner peace… you’re only mindful and aware of what’s in the present, instead of what you’re making up in your head. 

So… how do I work on this? I’ll be mindful of my tendency and try to take myself back to the present moment, back to what I see, touch, smell.

Anyways. I’m sitting on my back patio with only shorts and a tank on. It’s super hot! I’m trying to get work done but as you can see, I’m just writing here… anyways.. off I go, back to work. Wish me luck on my endeavor of it’s not me… it’s themism.

Going For it

Michael asks me “what’s the issue” when we rolled last week. One hand held my sleeve, one foot rested on my shin, a look of intense focus on his face. My first thought was he meant “why aren’t you moving, what’s the issue”? What he truly meant was, “think about it, what is the issue that is holding you up right now? Address that issue”.

“What’s the issue”?

  • I hate that my work in the content department isn’t up to par with the standards that are currently set
  • I hate that my dad takes my emotional life as a joke
  • I hate that I binge eat
  • I hate that I feel incompetent with work and get pinged for errors
  • I hate that I’m hungry right now
  • I hate that I have zero motivation to work
  • I hate that I am being the person I often criticize — seeing my life right now as glass half empty…

“Address the issue”

  • STOP GIVING A FUCK

In BJJ, the way I addressed the issue with Michael was to slow down and think about my escape. Used my hands and feet to get out. Once I did, another issue came about. I had to keep acting and reacting to get out.

All these bullet points are Michael’s move to stop me or to submit me. The way I react is to keep going and not to just fall flat.

I am frustrated today. I feel my hands and feet are tied by those bullet points. I want to lay flat on my back and give up. But I can’t. I can’t because then I may lose my job, then I may have to move back home with my parents, then I’d have to do things I really don’t want to do.

I went through college, I got my degree, I have a good job, and I am creative. Those are my techniques if compared to BJJ. I have a dream of competing just like my dream of writing for a living, but I have to put in the hard work. I can’t just cry and wish things to be different. I have to MAKE things be different.

Ok… that’s my rant for today. My ego and fear of my future will be set aside now. I’m going to work and do my best then invest in creative writing.

Happy New Year!

I spent most of today laying in the living room with the Moores. We went to Grant’s house last night and hung out with his friends, including Amber. That was after driving around the surrounding area for an open McDonalds – in which there were none. But, to our hangry surprise, Burger King was thankfully open.

Once at the party we took our drinks – a few beers and shots – to get the night going. Besides us three, there was another couple, two girlfriends, and Grant and Anne. Jonathan showed up about 45 minutes later…with a gun. Not just any gun. It looked like an automatic rifle. Grant and Anne were understandably not happy about that. I was a bit nervous but I knew nothing was going to happen, but then again, if it were my home I wouldn’t be happy either. At one point, he stood up quickly from a computer chair and it hit the wall where a glass frame holding one of Grant’s favorite artists cracked. He also showed up carrying a big box of Reds – about 15 bottles, already dropping 1 or 2 on the sidewalk on his way up. Needless to say, Jonathan was enjoying himself.

Besides Jonathan’s affects, the night was good overall. We didn’t talk to their friends too much and when we danced once New Year’s struck, we were split into two groups mostly. Us dancing and them talking. I didn’t think anything of it until Kristina brought up the glances and comments they were making about us. Comments of us being ‘young’, and her thinking we were being ratchet.

I have a little thing for Grant, but I am chalking it up to my tendency to fall for every guy I am semi attracted to. On top of that, he’s a runner and he is musical – my aspiration in male form. He has a good woman so nothing is going to happen there, as it shouldn’t even if he were single. At one very awkward point while dancing, he reached out for my hand. I paused, and thought that odd, but maybe that’s how they roll. So I took his hand and did a little spin where then he said, “oh…I meant the remote”.

Awkwardly I smiled it off and pointed to the remote, where I left on the side table. I was frozen on what to say and do. I felt myself being a homewrecker. In reality, it was an honest mistake between friends. We all carried on for about an hour and a half after midnight and said our goodbyes.

About 45 minutes after being home, Kristina had a friend over. She is making moves this New Year’s Eve. I feel at odds with this fellow. My gut tells me he is not good for her, but my heart says I have it wrong.That’s all I’ll say on that matter.

Yesterday I also called my dad and had a conversation with him. He opened up about having another woman that cares for him deeply. Then he backs out and says he was just playing. I wish he would just treat me like an adult and tell me things straight, but he wouldn’t be my immature mature father.

I resent him. I do, in this moment in life. I wish he were a better role model. I wish he were there for me emotionally, I wish he wouldn’t make up white lies to get me to do what he wanted, I wish he were less focused on money and acquisitions, I wish he showed me love in a way that I could understand. I wish he and my mom would make up their minds about their relationships. I wish they would have either separated to find happiness on their own or commit to staying together and working through tensions.

My sensitivity to this is heightened by the fact that both my parents often portray themselves as victims of what I think they have choices in.

I learned my attachment style is anxious/ambivalent yesterday morning. These children grow up to be insecure in relationships. It gave a little reasoning to why I was so fond of Billy and why I struggle with feeling wanted. I’ve formed an unhealthy attachment to my roommates. The loneliness I feel when they leave can be explained by this style. I feel really lonely when they go home to Vandalia. I say unhealthy because, I don’t think they are ‘my people’ as I am a bit anxious around them all. Yet… I feel a sense of abandonment when they leave.

It’s a very confusing and frustrating experience. I am glad I recognize it. I also recognize that I am hyper focused on loneliness – as my dad is as well verbally – and I’m sure his mom was as well. Perhaps I’ll ask him about that next time I see him.

Today I visited him for about 3 hours and then went to see Lily. Holding her brings me peace. I feel a strong sense of wanting to transfer positive energy to her so that she grows up happy and loved. Holding her makes me want to have children. But it also lets me know that I am not ready yet. I am not ready to love my child as much as I want to yet. I don’t want my child to have my sadness, possibly brought on by own my inconsistent love. It’s a cycle that I won’t continue.

It’s something I want to be able to talk about with my partner. I know now that my partner must have a secure attachment style. My tint of the world was dark. It seems suffering is all around, as my mom says. My dad is sad, Sue lost Brett, Mom is in Burma for months, Mo is doing her own thing and not talking to me much, Ashly and Cong have their tensions as they muddle through parenthood. Me, I still believe in the silver lining in everything, even though I have been feeling sad on most of my days.

On my way home, I listened to Freakonomics. I listened to an episode about getting better at your chosen hobby. It’s made me excited for the musical meet up I plan to attend.

Anyways, it’s 1:40 am now, I must get sleep. I am hungry though. I’m not sure if I’ll just go to bed or raid the kitchen. You’ll know tomorrow.

Feeling that Feeling

Who am I?

I don’t know…

I’m afraid, I never will. What are my thoughts? What are my beliefs? My opinions? I spend a lot of time listening to others. It’s what I do most of the time, instead of talking. I don’t have much to say, or if I do, I’m highly censored. The censorship keeps me from making friends that truly know and accept me – if any do exist. I bite my tongue and gear towards being agreeable, to the point where I’m a chameleon. I watch others live out their values, speak their opinions, and connect. I don’t want to watch or listen to others anymore…it makes me feel less than who I thought I would be.

I want to have strong values and beliefs. I want to have confidence in myself. Lately, during conversations, I have been more inclined to downtalk myself. I don’t want that anymore.

But, I don’t know if I can ever be who I aspire to be… So, I feel a bit stuck in life. It’s as if I hate the way I make my bed, yet know no other way to set it to my liking. For almost 27 years now, I’ve lived with this anxiety of self loathing and rollercoaster emotions. I always feel as if I’ve finally climbed out from under the rock I’ve been living in, only to realize I’ve climbed into another damn rock.

Pictures of Billy and his woman doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Perhaps it’s because of the recent realizations of why I can’t have a healthy relationship right now. If I were who I aspire to be, I wouldn’t desire him as much as I do as he does not treat me kindly. I think of him still, but, I know it really is for the best that we are apart as I have so much emptiness inside of me that not a damn person can fill – it’s not their job to.

This emptiness is mine to fill, but I don’t know what to do. I have a lonely ache that attacks, deriving from attachment issues. Issues that may be apart of my DNA or so deeply ingrained that I’m afraid I’ll never resolve it. I’m afraid I will always be this way

How will I ever love someone the way I want to, and have them love me back if I’m this way? 

I entertain the thought of leaving every single thing behind here, and moving away. Somewhere where no one knows me, or at least with my older sister who isn’t afraid to set me straight.

I miss that in relationships, someone who will set you straight. I realize I push away people who ‘try to set me straight’, I don’t know why.

Anyways…

here’s to the new years… 20 fucking 17