Number One: Choosing a College Major

This is the beginning of my exploration about the list "20 Things Not to Worry About Before You Turn 20". I liked the list so much that I'm going to make a blog post about each one of them as it pertains to my life. The first one, not worrying about "choosing a college major" really made me wonder whether I had chosen the right major and so I did some research on the "best" college majors. These were rated based on how easy it was to find employment after work, starting salaries, median salaries, and the expected growth in demand for these jobs over the next few years. Over and over again, engineering, math, and sciences topped the list. My own psychology major did not even come close. I briefly thought about majoring in statistics, but when I read a sample curriculum in a statistics course, it just boggled me. There was stuff there on doing mathematical analyses and something called biometry. As someone who is neither scientifically nor mathematically-minded, I knew that none of these majors were right for me. While they may have paid well and helped in finding employment, I knew that I would struggle taking those classes. What's more, I never would have been happy doing a job like that, no matter what the prestige or pay. In the end, I took a step back and really appreciated my major. It was analytical without being cerebral (unless we were talking about the brain), it was generalizable, and an easy subject to talk about with other people. I mean, how easy is it to talk about nuclear engineering with the average person? Psychology, on the other hand, can generate fascinating topics as well as be simple enough where the lay person can understand with just a little bit of background knowledge. After much thought, I was thoroughly appreciative of my major and the path it led me. Now I'm studying to be a social worker, and believe you me, it's much easier to understand social work if you've taken psychology before. Plus, for a long time, I've dreamt of counseling people and so psychology and social work seem like the best way to go. I'm glad I made those decisions after all.

Being Good Enough

I was reading through a list titled "20 Things Not to Worry About Before You Turn Twenty." Most of the things on the list made sense and felt comforting. For example, they had: "Don't Worry about choosing political beliefs or siding with a political party. It's the issues that matter, not the party" or "Don't Worry about knowing whether you want to get married or have kids." Then I ran into one that struck right to my heart. It was the one about being perfect and it included a picture where someone had written on the palm of their hand "You Are Good Enough." For some reason, that brought tears to my eyes. I don't know. I've been emotional and crying a lot lately, but those simple words "You Are Good Enough" really hit home. All my life, I've waiting for someone to say that to me, to tell me that I was good enough and that I didn't have to keep trying, to keep working. My parents never did. They were always, "You need to get good grades in school so you can get into a good college." Then: "You need to finish college so you can get a good job." Then: "We're disappointed because you didn't make anything of yourself." So I went to grad school and even then, I don't know if that will be enough for them. I've never met anyone in my social life who said that to me, either. Not my friends, not my relationships. Or maybe I just don't see myself as good enough so their words fall on deaf ears. I'm crying as I'm writing this now, the tears streaming down my face, and I don't understand why. I don't understand how such simple things can make me cry. Maybe I am being too emotional. Or maybe, just maybe, there's something to this after all.

Honesty

I was reading an article today on how a 14-year-old Utah student shot himself in the head in front of all his peers. His classmates said that he might have killed himself because of the bullying from school, but school officials said that he nor anyone else ever reported bullying. The students then replied that the bullying may not have been physical but verbal, which is much harder to see. My first reaction to the article was extreme sadness. Someone had just take their own life and it might have been from bullying. I then remember being bullied all through grade school and my second reaction to the article was, Man, if I had a gun, I would have killed myself at 14, too. Then I thought, Uh-oh. That's not a good way to think. Then I remembered something else I had read. On a list of 12 Things You Should Never Lie About, one was your mental health. I remembered all of my issues with anxiety and depression, stemming from all kinds of things and it made me think that I should really have this checked out by a professional. And soon. I looked up therapists today and tried contacting a few of them. Hopefully, this will the first step on my long road to recovery. It's like Margaret Paul, Ph.D. once said, "You will continue to feel empty as long as you continue to abandon yourself physically, emotionally and spiritually. When you decide it's time to take responsibility for yourself and learn to open your heart to love, you will no longer feel empty within." I know that this may sound cliche to some, but I've lived the last ten years of my life hating myself and I know how her words are true. If I'm going to be honest with myself, I need to admit that I do have a problem and it does need help, especially before it's too late. 

New Diet

I'm starting a new diet today! Two events led up to this. One was a health education video that we watched at my internship, telling people how to lose weight by cutting out sugar and sweeteners and trans-fat. The other event was shopping for pants. Since I tend to eat more during the winter months, I pack on the pounds and my tightest pair of jeans don't fit anymore. In addition to that, I had to retire another pair of pants because it was getting holes I could not mend and stains I could get out. And so I decided to go buy two new pairs of pants to make up for the lost ones. (Don't worry, I still kept my tight jeans; I just have to wait until I lose weight to wear them). As I was trying on new pants, however, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realized that my thighs were just GINORMOUS. I'm not one to pay that much attention to my thighs, but this was unavoidable--they were as big as country hams! They jiggled and shook, like a big bowl of fat, gelatinous lard. It was terrible. That's when I decided to take what I knew about health and dieting and apply it to my life. I was really going to do it this time. I was going to lose the fat. I allowed myself one last splurge day where I ate pizza and ice cream and chocolate. The next day, all of it was out the window. I threw away the rest of the ice cream (Sorry, Matt!), cleared out all my old food, and set aside some new space in the fridge and pantry. This morning, after I did my homework, I looked up healthy ways to eat and I made a list of new diet foods. I have lots of fruits and vegetables on there and lots of whole wheat stuff. There's nuts and berries, lentils and legumes. But no chocolate. No pizza. Actually, no junk food at all. I cut out sweets and sugar. I cut out candy and carbs. I even cut out certain drinks like alcohol (which I wasn't fond of, anyway) and sugary fruit juice. This is a new routine for me and I'm going to eat healthy so I can be healthy. I want to look good and feel good. The only thing I really hated cutting out was dairy products. I love cheese and milk and butter. Dairy products are the one reason I would have a hard time being a vegan. But hey, if it's suppose to help me then I'll do it. Plus, cutting out dairy products is supposed to control inflammation so maybe it'll help with my acne and skin. The websites I looked up also suggested finding a substitute for dairy and so I tried out almond milk. I was hesitant at first, wondering if I should buy a whole carton of milk if it turns out I don't like it, but I'm glad I did! I LOVE almond milk. It has just a slightly sweet flavor and a nutty aftertaste. Appropriate for milk made from almonds. With everything else on my list, I left the grocery store feeling like one of those health nuts. My shopping buggy was full of Total cereal and oatmeal and frozen berries. It was like I was on the South Beach diet or something. Or becoming a vegan. Well, except for the honey I bought.

I also talked to Matt about my new diet, prefacing it with, "Now, before you start in with your..." But he was supportive of it. I told him the reasons why I was doing it, and instead of nay-saying or shooting me down, he was actually supportive of it. He worried that I didn't eat enough and he didn't want me to give up dairy products entirely. "There's something about giving up dairy products that can make you lactose-intolerant, and, if it does make you slightly lactose-intolerant, then I don't want you to give up milk forever." I told him that I already allowed myself a little pat of butter a week, and so now I can have a glass of milk, too.
"Oh, I can butter my toast today!" he said in mock voice.
I laughed. "You make me sound so...Charles Dickens," I told him.
Well, I'm sure Charles Dickens never ate like this, but I suspect he never had thighs the size of country hams, either...

Everthing signifies

I was walking with Matt along the streets of New York when I jaywalked across an intersection with a "Don't Walk" sign. I almost got hit by a car (yet again) and as soon as I got to the other side of the street, I froze. I realized that Matt was still on the other side of the street, waiting patiently for the "Walk" sign. That's when it dawned on me that I had done something impulsive and reckless. I could have been injured. I could have been killed! Or worse, I could have dented someone's car with my amorphous body shape. When Matt crossed to other side and we continued walking, I voiced my concerns to him.
"I've become one of them!" I whispered frantically.
"Become one of...?"
"I've become one of those New Yorkers who just don't care and walk out into the middle of the street!" Matt laughed. "Lots of people do that."
"Yes, but I don't do that, and now I'm changing! I'm becoming one of them!"
"It's okay," Matt reassured me. Then he became reflective. "I noticed that when little things happen to you, you tend to freak out and think that it's some fundamental change in your personality or behavior."
"I..." I foundered for a word, a reaction, then: "OH. I do do that." (Ha, I said "doo-doo.")
Matt continued. "It's okay. Crossing the street like that, it's just something you do. It doesn't have to mean anything."
"It doesn't have to mean anything..." I repeated, letting the words sink in. "It doesn't have to mean anything!" I shouted, elated and exuberant. "You're so right, Matt. When I do something, it doesn't have to mean anything. I'm going to write a blog post about this!" And so I did. (I know, so meta, right?)
"Everything signifies," Matt told me. "In literature," he amended. "But in life, it doesn't have to mean anything."
"What does 'everything signifies' mean?" I asked him.
"It means that everything means something," he told me. "But only in literature," he repeated. "In life..."
I nodded. "It doesn't have to mean anything."

I know that this was a confusing and seemingly pointless blog post, but it does mean something to me. It's given me insight into a fundamental part of my character. Like my supervisor told me several times, I'm analytical and so I tend to over-analyze things. Now, with this revelation, I can sit back and relax more. Everything I do does not have to be scrutinized for some hidden meaning or unconscious motive. Matt's words really helped me to let go. It doesn't have to mean anything. Even this blog post doesn't have to mean anything. And you know what? It probably doesn't. :)

Sharing the forgiveness story

At my internship, I shared my story of forgiveness, both the one about my mother apologizing to me and the one about the man searching for his middle-school teacher. I was given some time to talk at a group meeting of my internship and I opened up this topic just in case people wanted to build on it. Immediately, there was a response. One woman said, "You know what? I thank you. I thank you for saying that. I'm going to go home to my family this holiday and apologize to them for anything I did to them." Another woman could emphasize with my story about my mother apologizing because she said that her mother was not emotionally supportive either. She said that her parents used to say to her, "Why are you saying all those things? You're so stupid." This woman has a better relationship with her parents now, especially with her mother. She said that her mother still calls her stupid, but every once in a while, she'll get a "I love you. You're doing okay." The woman said, "I take that and put it right here [points to her heart]. Things between us aren't perfect, but every time she says, I take it. I take whatever I can get." This makes me think about how many people grow up in emotionally denigrating families. It makes me think of how others went through so much worse than I did and it makes me thankful for my own family. Now, don't get me wrong, my parents also called me stupid when I was a kid, but they were there. That might sound like a flimsy excuse, but it's true. My parents weren't perfect, but they did the best with what they had and THEY WERE THERE. That's more than I can say for a lot of people. I may resent my mother, but other women wish they had a mother to fight with. The last woman to comment on my forgiveness story expressed this exact sentiment. She wished her mother was there. More accurately, she wished her mother was still alive. Her father died when she was four or five and her mother died when she was thirteen, leaving her alone to take care of her newborn son and to fend for herself. That must have been tough. This woman talked about how her mother wasn't always the most sober person in the world, but when she gave birth to her son, her mother said, "You take care of that boy. We're going to take care of your son." Little did they know she would die shortly afterwards. Then the woman burst into tears, saying over and over again, "And I still love her. I still wish she were here. She wasn't the best mom, but she did her best with what she had, and I. Wish. She. Were. Here."

That really moved me. No parent lives forever (although some seem like they do), and I say that even the most "unqualified" parents somehow still manage to at least "be there." Suffice it to say, I'm glad my parents were there.

Forgiveness

I was reading an article the other day where a man was looking for his middle-school teacher because he wanted to apologize. Apparently, he had done something to the teacher when he was still a student and now felt remorse. So he went on a search. For 39 years. Looking for this teacher. Yes, this man searched almost four decades.

As I continued reading the article, other stories came out, stories of people looking to right past wrongs, people seeking forgiveness and redemption. The article mentioned how apologizing to someone wasn't just redressing past injustices, but it was a way to ask for a second chance.

This article just reminded me of the post I wrote about how my mother apologized to me. Sometimes, that's all someone needs. Other times, it's a good first step or a way to start over. I know of people who deserve apologies from me. And an explanation. The concept of explaining and redressing actions is not new to me. I remember having a similar revelation over a year ago. Because of this realization, I looked for everyone I dropped from my life, apologized for ending things so abruptly, and explained to them why I did it. Now, I still firmly believe that some of these people were dropped for good reason, but I felt that, as one human being to another, they deserved an explanation at least. So that's what I gave them. I often write about how short life can be and a second chance should not be something that you wait on until you're nearing the end of your life. I may die next week and I don't want to leave this earth without doing the best I can to right my wrongs.

By the way, the man eventually did find his teacher and reconciled with him. Cheers all around. :)