Warning! Caution! If you don't like getting tangled up in political debates and/or you believe that ignorance is bliss and/or you possess a fixed belief that the USA is the best country in the world and/or and/or your patriotism trumps everything else and/or you hate reading rants, go ahead and scroll past the text and simply enjoy some photos of a nice view at Goat Lake.
The 4th of July just happened, and for a few days, I thought I was on the verge of some kind of mental breakdown or something. It bothers me every year, but I think my tolerance for it these days is mediocre at best. I thought I would avoid writing about it, because I didn't want to cause a fuss or whatever. But then I thought, screw that! This is my blog! I can write whatever 'I want to. Isn't that why I started this thing in the first place? So if you want to know what has been deeply troubling me lately (namely my thoughts about the 4th of July), which I'm assuming you do, seeing as you didn't scroll past this section yet, here they are: I hate it, frankly. I think it is possibly the worst holiday of all the holidays, except for maybe Thanksgiving. Because here's the thing. I just can't really back a holiday that is founded on shitty things. And I can't back it, even if everyone else does. Even if no one understands. And even if it means losing respect from people I care about. (I hope people mean more than silly holidays, and that a love for humanity, not patriotism, trumps all. I hope that if you care about me, you will listen to my opinion with open ears and an open heart, and not necessarily agree, but respect me for my beliefs nonetheless. I hope as humans, we can give that to each other.) (To my mormon friends: I imagine you may feel this way too re your religious beliefs. Despite how many people are doing something, it doesn't necessarily make it right.) I can't just jump on this bandwagon of red white and blue and fireworks and pies, pretending everything is ok when it's not, toting a gratefulness for my freedoms, when I know that 1. this country is not really free and 2. the freedoms we do have come at the expense of others' freedoms. I'm not claiming to be well-versed in politics, nor do I believe that I know much at all. I have conservative, liberal, and anarchist friends alike who would all blow me out of the water in political conversation. And I'm sorry, I don't have quotes or links or any fancy sources for you. In my defense, this is a blog, not a thesis. But here is what I believe. I believe in a world without borders, where there are no nations and people are truly free to travel the earth which doesn't actually belong to humans, let alone specific people, let alone only wealthy people. It's pretty crazy to think that we pretend to own it. I mean, who do we think we are that we can own the freaking earth?! No nations means that patriotism and nationalism can be replaced with a love for humans, living things, nature, and the earth. I also believe that true freedom does not come at the expense of other people; I don't call if freedom unless others are free. Think Nazi Germany, which boasted great freedom for some (unless you were Jewish). Similarly, the USA boasts freedom above all other nations (but please only enjoy the freedom if you are "legal," straight, christian, white, middle class, and speak good English.) Do you see where I'm going with this? The United States is a country founded on oppression, slavery, mass genocide, destruction of land, and disrespect for anyone and anything that was different. Hopefully you know what I am referring to, but if you don't, here is a laundry list of examples: the slaughter and killing off of native peoples; slavery of africans; segregation, discrimination, and oppression of people of color; oppression of women; oppression of, at different times, Irish catholics, protestants, mormons, jews, and muslims; mistreatment of migrant workers. WHY do we celebrate that? WHY would we want to? Seriously, please tell me why. And don't say that we are celebrating service people who died for our freedoms, because I believe that is the biggest cop out answer ever. The 4th of July, also known as Independence day, is the day we celebrate the creation of this nation. This historically oppressive, violent nation which has done so many terrible things. I get that I have privileges and freedoms (which sadly everyone does not share, and of which the very country we celebrate deprives people every day). But honestly, I would like someone to name the freedoms I enjoy as an "American" that are unique to America. What are they? I guarantee if you think hard about it, you will realize that the United States has far fewer freedoms than you thought and also that many other countries also, in fact, have those same things. So for the love of god, can we please stop acting like the US is the greatest thing in the world? Can we please have a little awareness of what it actually means to be an American? If you read that mass of nonsense, bravo and thank you. Thank you for letting me release that, get it off my chest, and maybe share a new perspective. Because I feel sometimes that that is all I can do. Here are some photos of Goat Lake. (Jon and I celebrated having an extra day off work by going on a lovely hike, which kicked my butt, but was so worth it. We ended at an Alpine lake named Goat.)
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Mom,
As mother's day approached this year, I kept feeling like I needed to do something extra special for you. I thought of all these things I could make for you, and I thought "This will be the year where I actually send a real, tangible card which you can open up and all, and a package too!" Procrastination, my pal, you got the best of me again. There is no card on it's way, nor package. But know that I intended one to be. Maybe a few months down the line, it will actually show up! These past few months have been especially sentimental for me, and I have found myself thinking of you often. (Can you tell by the million phones calls each week?!) I am just so grateful for you in my life. You are such a strong woman! I hope you know that. I am now realizing that your independence, confidence, and ability to get what you want (about which we often tease you and chalk up to manipulation or swindling) are the most wonderful qualities. Why can't we respect women for their indepence? Why do we mask it as manipulation? Why do we turn it into a negative- or at best, a joke? I think it's because this quality is so rare these days. We, as a society, have trained it out of women. We've taught women to be submissive and subordinate, and when they don't fit this mold, we are are taken aback and make judgements because we don't know what else to do. That's what I think. You have taught me some of the most valuable life lessons. Lessons which no one else was able or brave enough to teach- not other women, not men, not school, not religion. Though it was hard for me to understand before, I know why you placed so much importance on self-love and self-care as a mother. I know why you advised me to prioritize my own interests; to keep working; to keep living my own life when I become a mother. I get it now. So mom, please forgive me for the times I have not respected you, for the times I have made you to feel inadequate or unimportant, and know that that was just me trying to make sense of a woman who didn't fit the mold. Who couldn't fit the mold because her greatness could never be contained in that tiny box. Do you see how special that is? Can you feel your greatness? I hope so. And I hope to be more like that in my own life. Gosh you are the greatest, and I love you so so much! As many of you probably know, I have lots of food allergies and intolerances. What I really have is something called Leaky Gut. I know...! I mean really, there is no scientific name for this thing, but please, someone get on that. I promise you that it's not as gross as it sounds, but it is a really sucky sucky thing to have.
When I was about 15, I started having sharp abdominal pains that came on sort of gradually and then got progressively worse and worse. They would last for minutes, hours, or sometimes even days. And then the pains started interfering with my daily life. I remember the day I made the decision to quit dance, and I sat with my mom in her bed and just cried. I had been missing a lot of classes and just wasn't ever feeling well enough to go. But it was an incredibly difficult decision to make. During this time, my parents took me to every kind of doctor you can imagine. For the most part, they pretty much sent me in circles; the GI doctor suggested I see an OBGYN who suggested I see a GI doctor, and so on and so forth. It was incredibly frustrating, and the doctors would tell me it was all in my head, or at best, to ignore the pain because it wasn't life-threatening. For years, I bounced around from one doctor to the next, living almost each day in pain, without getting any closer to figuring out what was wrong. I spent hours researching various conditions, and when I got married, Jon spent hours of his time researching and trying to help me figure out why my body was going haywire. I remember wishing that a doctor would diagnose me with anything so that I wasn't just living in some weird mystery. Tell me I have cancer! Tell me I have Celiac. Anything. I definitely reached a point where I gave up on finding any solution and resolved to live with the pain for the rest of my life. But Jon refused to give up, and urged me not to give up either. He reassured me every day that we would figure out what was wrong. During my many nights of tears, he told me not to give up and promised that I would be ok. And low and behold, despite all my opposition and disbelief, he was right. Isn't he the best? Through a long, serendipitous chain of events, I was led to a holistic doctor who diagnosed me with Leaky Gut. Basically, my intestinal lining was destroyed and full of holes, which allowed toxins to leak through my intestinal walls and into my bloodstream. This triggered autoimmune responses and a LOT of pain. Unfortunately, there was no pill to take or any sort of quick fix. The solution was to cut most foods out of my diet and let my intestines heal, and then slowly add them back one at a time. When I found this out, I was thinking "Ok, so cut everything out for a month and then add it all back." Not so much. It was more like, cut everything out for a year and then add one thing. Then wait a few months, and add another thing. And realize that most things you try to add back won't go well at all, and you'll have to cut them back out. It was ROUGH. Jon really is a trooper, because I'm pretty sure I cried every day for the first month. My body was withdrawing from the foods, and I was depressed. I felt like I had to plan my entire life around food. I couldn't go out with friends because there was nothing I could eat. I was losing weight, and people were definitely making an effort to let me know. As if I wasn't aware of what was happening in my own body. "You're waisting away!" "You look sick." "You're too thin." "Do you have an eating disorder?" These were just a few of the many things I heard on a weekly basis, from the people who's support I needed most. It was really, really hard. Almost two years later, I am still in this process. But I am doing so much better! (Which I think is the reason I'm finally able to sit down and write about it.) I still have a lot of dietary limitations, but I see the whole journey as a very positive thing. I've actually expanded my food repertoire and eat so much healthier than I ever did before. I feel more connected to my food and value where it comes from, and who suffered in order for me to eat. I am so much more educated about the environment and the food industry. I respect my body, and I am careful about how I treat it. I feel strong and empowered. Isn't that what it's all about anyway? So. To those of you who are facing similar heath problems: you're not alone! Please please please ask me questions. Or call me if you just need someone to cry to. And to those of you who stood by me and supported me through all of this: thank you! Your support has meant everything to me, and I truly couldn't have done it without you. You are now permitted to start bracing yourselves for a ton of recipes. You're welcome. :) Grandma,
I'm missing you so much today. I'm missing your wonderful hugs, and your welcoming arms. I'm missing your kindness and love. I'm missing the stories you'd tell me. And sitting with you on the porch of your old house, enjoying french toast sticks which you bought specially for me, because you knew they were my favorite. I'm missing lounging at the cabin with you, and buying taffy and fudge. I'm remembering your kindness and love. I'm remembering your completely nonjudgmental lens through which you saw life, and the acceptance you showed me. I'm remembering your intellect and how incredibly gifted you were. Like the time you secretly took grandpa's test for him, and "his" scores were off the charts. I'm remembering how you always made everyone feel so welcomed; it's no wonder my friends all adore you. I'm remembering your soul, and how I truly feel honored to have lived in your presence. You have the kindest soul grandma. You're a special one. Here's to your beautiful life, and all the lives that are more beautiful because of you. I love you so so much, Grandma. Oh, hi. Hello! It's been awhile. How are you? I'm medium, thanks.
I type this post from the bedroom of my temporary home in Seattle, where I am, ironically*, watching the Big Bang Theory. I would describe this place, oh gosh... as dungeons and drangon-esque? Real authentic frat house vibes here, with a heavy dose of fantasy and grime. Did I paint a good picture? *Yes it's true that I am entertaining myself by watching a show about the very scenario which I just described. See the irony? I swear, it is much funnier on TV. As you might surmise, this is not my ideal living situation. Such is life. I had a great run for the past few months, so I guess this was sort of inevitable. In response to the aforementioned, Jon and I have been visiting approximately 3 parks a day, eating out every meal, and altogether being financially obtuse. Oh, and my succulents died, which was a real joy. Icing on the cake. Below are some photos of our many many park trips, and a few from Salt Lake too. Here's to hoping things can only get better from here! Big news! I completed my Pilates teaching certification process. So that means I can now officially teach what I love! It feels amazing, and I am pretty darn proud of myself. (Darn is an odd choice of words, is it not? I feel like it just slipped out. I credit that word to my religious upbringing, btw, but it's apparently stuck with me. Perhaps I should've listened to my mom's advice; as she always said, "damn is a very classy word." I don't know about that, but hey, it's better than darn. And then the more I type it and say it in my head, the weirder it gets. Anyway... Back to the story!)
I went into the process knowing that I was pulling myself totally out of my comfort zone. Sure, I know Pilates well. But I have a long history of struggles with confidence, body image, and self worth. While I've come a long- like thousands of miles long- way on these issues in the past few years, I sometimes feel them creeping back in. And that's normal, I suppose. Anyway, I was very nervous about this training program. First of all, I don't really consider myself the fitnessy type; like, for example, I don't even own a pair of tennis shoes. Also, I am painfully anxious about public speaking, and to be a teacher of any sort, well, you kind of have to speak to people. But I signed up anyway. I intentionally threw myself into this thing that I was so nervous about. Why? Because I owe it to myself to believe in my own strength. Pilates makes me feel strong, and that's what I love about it. During the months last winter when I was incredibly sick and could feel my body deteriorating, Pilates was the one thing that made me feel strong. I don't know what it was exactly, but something about it just pulled that strength to the surface. So I geared myself up for the long weekend of intensive training, and tried to act brave. It can be difficult to feel brave though in a room full of super fit and confident fitness instructors. Of course, everyone else was nervous too and it really wasn't that bad. The test-out still loomed over me though, and when the instructor asked if anyone wanted to test out early, I raised my hand before I could have the chance to second guess myself. Fast forward to test out day. As I was waiting for the instructor to show up, I blurted out a quick plea for advice and asked if anyone could give me tips on how not to sound like a pubescent boy as I taught. Everyone sort of gave me a standard answer like "just breathe" and yada yada yada. But one kind, kind classmate really talked me through it and gave me some pretty great advice. He told me to practice "power poses" while I was waiting, and he explained how that signals to your body that you're powerful and strong, even if you don't necessarily believe it. Well, it couldn't hurt to puff out my chest and put my hands on my hips for a few minutes, I thought. So I did. And, it kind of actually worked! I got through my routine sans shaky voice and rapid heartbeat, and that was enough for me. As it turned out, the only points I missed on the exam were for "confidence." As in, I didn't have enough of it. But whatever! Because I did wayyyyy better than I was expecting. And probably if the teacher would have seen me during my 8th grade social studies presentation where I was literally on the verge of tears and vomiting, she would've known how well I did. Then, as if everything was coming full circle, the last question on the written part of the exam was this: "What do you want people to leave your class saying?" I thought about it for a minute. That was a great class, I thought about writing. Or What an amazing workout. But after I really thought about, I wrote I am strong! And it felt so good. It felt good to write it, it felt good to believe it, and it felt good to think that I could inspire others to feel it too. I will feel successful as a teacher if I can help people want to be strong. Not skinnier, not prettier, not anything like that. I want to empower people (especially women) to embrace their strength. So, there you go. |
ELLEfeminist. linguist. traveller. foodie. crafter. ARCHIVES
January 2018
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All photos are the property of Elizabeth Cheney and may not be used without permission.
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