Butterflies don’t chill with caterpillars: Where I acknowledge my progress

I started blogging because I wanted an outlet for my ideas, wanted to practice writing, and perhaps re-channel my anxiety.

To an extent, I think I have been able to do this. I have written about struggles with positive body image, shared personal experience and I’ve touched on some of the challenges I have faced as a third culture kid (TCK).

In fact, my experience as a TCK is the original anchor of my blog. This year, especially in the last several months, as my personal challenges took shape, I relied less on this attribute. It was no longer useful for me narrate my experiences  and emotions through the lens of a TCK.

I didn’t start my blog for followers or likes, but I have been lucky to attract the attention of a few loyal and remarkable followers. I have looked back at my blogs and I’m impressed with much of the content. I have been able to express ideas I’ve suppressed for many years. I’ve opened myself to possible critique, and I’ve maybe given those I’ve shared my blog with a chance to see a different side of me. Or perhaps, just me.

I’ve held back names and some finer details of particular events but for the most part, I have written honestly and to the best of my ability.

This post acknowledges how far I have come and the positive changes I’ve made thus far. Granted, while I have made an overall positive shift, there are things I still struggle with daily. This is just a part of life. What I am positioned to do now is reflect upon these daily struggles with more positivity than I have in previous years. I hope that I have put to death my former ‘doom and gloom’ mentally.

What do I need to work on moving forward ? Well, I’ve spent time doing repairs and I’d like focus on maintenance. But I’m fully aware that life being what it is, I’ll inevitably have to do some repairs along the way. The difference will be in the tools I use–tools that heal without causing more damage.

I’m dedicated to maintaining my ‘ship’ and keeping the water out. As Joel Osteen says, it is not the water surrounding ships but the water that gets in, that sinks ships.

& other long stories

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On guarding my heart

Lately, I’ve been talking to myself–but I’m not responding so I am holding on to most of my marbles. What have I been saying? I’ve been saying “God is fighting my battles”. Why?

I say it several times a day actually. In the middle of my sleep if I wake up feeling anxious, when I wake up in the morning, and during the day if I don’t feel like I am being positive. When I say that God is fighting my battles. It does a few things for me; first, it calms me down. It pauses a running mind and gives me a chance to change the conversation I am having with myself. It transfers ownership and responsibility of my challenges to a power far more equipped than I. Finally, it reminds me that there is bigger plan for me; plans that are majestic next to my problems.

Joel Osteen says that when we are in peace, we are in a position of power. If power means having total control over my thoughts and feelings, rather than reacting to what’s going on around me, then I am power hungry. I think that power is akin to a type of control we hope to assert over our lives. Instead of absorbing the impact of each emotional asteroid, power gives us the ability to deflect impact. This isn’t ignorance of what’s going on around us, or an inability to process our emotions. It is emotional intelligence, it is a guarding of our hearts.

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it” ( Proverbs 4:23). If I were to absorb each negative thought, allow myself to be affected by negativity, it would affect me. I have thought that I had more control over myself that I really did. But I can tell you that negativity will seep into your actions and your thoughts. After years of letting negativity flow through me, even when I was determined to shut it off, I couldn’t. Too many times I had attempted without success. This lead to leaking. Without my knowledge or consent, drops of negativity disrupted my thoughts and influenced my actions.

God is fighting my battles is how I maintain my tap, how I try to guard my heart.

Don’t make the mistakes I made and think that you can separate your thoughts from your actions, from your words. Your thoughts are an invisible hand. And even if you don’t notice it, someone else will pick up on it. Trust me. And it will affect them, their response will affect you, and you’ll wonder when they changed.

Joel Osteen, in an analogy that I found to be so powerful and accessible, says that ships don’t sink because of the water around them. Ships sink because of the water that gets in them. Guard your heart.

 

 

 

 

Things I am not: Separating status from my identity

I graduated from a prestigious school in May with a Masters degree. I also graduated with equally august ideas about what my life would look like post-graduation.

Before I continue, this is the first time, since my acceptance and graduation from the school, that I have mentioned it as a prestigious school. So in case ‘prestigious school’ is a trigger for you, please feel welcome. I am not going to rant about how life has failed me while I wait for my navy blue, gold buttoned blazer to be steam pressed. In fact, I’m sitting in a public laundry facility and there’s an EBT card in my right pocket. I do have said blazer but it’s currently subject to bidding on eBay.

Having been unemployed since May, I have consistently confused my status with my identity. This pushed me into an abyss of self-loathing, depression and unrelenting feelings of uselessness.

For several months, my unemployment meant that I did not have attractive skills, it meant that I hadn’t performed well at school, that my hard work was meaningless and had I even worked hard enough? I was confusing a temporary status with my entire existence.

Who I am is separate and unequal to my employment status. I am hard working, I did well in school; in a few notable courses I out performed my peers, I have an incredibly diverse skill set and I have been fortunate to have had experiences that will make me the perfect candidate for my perfect job when it comes my way.

How we talk to ourselves is so important. I would never talk to my worst enemy the way I often converse with myself. I had to change the conversation I was having with myself to find peace with my situation. When I stared doing that windows started opening. Not windows of opportunity mind you, but windows that let out a lot of bad air. Am I fully employed now? Nope! I don’t even have an interview lined up. But I am doing something now that I used to love and I am finally taking action on ideas that I’ve had for a while.

Given the pressures and schedule of a full time job, especially the type of job I had envisioned for myself, I doubt I would have had the time to do what I am doing now. And after the events of the last two years, I am not sure why I didn’t actually look forward to this time.

I don’t want to give you the impression that this was a smooth transition. It was not. I fought it, kicking and screaming. For months, I’d spend my day applying for jobs, reaching out to people on LinkedIn, formatting and reformatting my resume, I’d go on interviews only to be told some version of ‘It was down to you and one other candidate’. I heard this about four times. Eventually, I had to accept that perhaps, working right now wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing. If it were, someone else would be getting that call.

Learning how to accept things as they are is incredibly difficult. It is incredibly difficult for me because I was taught that if I worked hard, I would get everything I wanted and my achievements would be endless. And this is actually true; except no one ever said I would get what I wanted immediately.

There are other applications to this that have been useful to me, for example, body image. How I perceive myself to look doesn’t mean that I am not worthy of being in a relationship, it does not mean that I can’t have healthy relationships, it does not mean that I am lazy, etc.

I am going to continue reminding myself not to confuse my status with my identity.

—-

This post is inspired by Joel Osteen’s ‘The Power of I Am’.

Life’s Stanzas

On Loyalty
I was standing by the pool side
Assessing the depths
You came by and pushed me
Now you’re calling for help.

On Love
I was standing by the pool side
Assessing the depths
You came by and pushed me
Now you’re letting me drown.

On Friendship
I was standing by the pool side
Assessing the depths
You came by and pushed me
Now you’re walking away.

On falling in love 
I was standing by the poolside
Assessing the depths
You came by and pushed me
Now you’re holding me down.

On life
I was standing by the poolside
Assessing the depths
You came by and pushed me
Now you’re yelling at me to swim.

On God
I was standing by the poolside
Assessing the depths
You came by
“Not yet”.

A fear of spiders & something else I thought of

I have a healthy fear of spiders. I usually don’t think about spiders unless I am confronted with one. But today, I found myself thinking about spiders because I need to turn a new leaf and release the habits that keep me feeling like I am self-destructive.

I did a quick Google search to find out if spiders destroy and/or recreate their webs. I’m ashamed to admit that my research was handicapped by a prevalence of pictures, which evoked my phobia. Thus, unfortunately the thoughts I lay here are limitedly researched based.

It would appear that different spiders can and do in fact destroy their webs for one reason or another. While I was reading, I kept bumping into the concept of a bridge thread or bridge line. “Spiders that build the familiar orb-shaped web usually start with a single superstrength strand called a bridge thread or bridge line“. In other articles, the bridge line was called an anchor. Even when a spider does destroy its own web, it can preserve the anchor.

This was the part that struck me.

Starting over, redefining ourselves, developing new habits—whatever the case might be—are all daunting tasks.  I have been under the impression that to make a meaningful change, I have to start all over.

Who I am is an intricate web. If I should take one thing away, surely everything shall crumble, right? No. Thankfully, humans are divinely designed to be more complex than a game of Jenga.

Similar to the spider, I am capable of re-creation and change. I know this! My TCK-ness practically ensures this. I also have an anchor; my anchor is everything about me that has been tried and tested. It’s what holds me together when things around me are falling apart. It’s my strength, my persistence, my kindness and my work ethic.

My faults and weaknesses, they aren’t anchors; they are what makes navigating my own web challenging. They are the parts of the web that a spider would destroy and recreate.  And I think I have possibly felt that anchor, accidentally walking through a spider web. It might be that lingering feeling that there are still fragments of a web on me. The point is that the feeling stays with me even after I have walked through the web. That bridge line, the anchor, it is strong and resilient like I am, like you are.

Bottom line: Spiders spin their silky intricacies using proteins and this marvel of nature is energetically costly to the spider. The whole web can’t be made of anchors. I have no background in the sciences but it would seem that preservation practically requires that a web consist of weak segments.

Anyone that has comforted me in my time of need has said, in one way or another, that I can’t be strong all the time, or, it’s okay to be weak. Nature might actually justify this. Not only can I not be strong all the time, I might not need to be. If I think about the web then, my weakness is temporary and alterable. 

I can discover that a segment of my web is weak because I fall, or because I see it when I’m perched on my anchor. Like the spider that can consume the weak segment and re-use the silk, so too can I. The segment is weak not broken. I have to remember that there is something special about my weak points simply by virtue of connectedness. Think about traits that you have that have both hurt and helped you at some point.

A Hero’s Nap

Superman, weary of being the usual hero
Took a day off.
Casually shrugging off the eminent threat to his city,
He took a day off to save himself:
Save himself from the fear of not being able to save others.
Save himself from the thoughts that would often erupt from his subconscious,

that maybe he wasn’t good enough, strong enough.
Save himself from the fatigue of appearing to be strong,

having all the answers
Needing a day to just be a man, or even less,

He closed his eyes for a moment’s rest.
A moment’s peace.
A moment where the ills of society were not assigned to his shoulders.

A Hero’s nap.

–APAF

Creating a culture of self-love: Loving my body wherever I go

When I was living in Saudi Arabia, I was between a size 6 and 8. Being relatively thin, I was less concerned with how much I weighed and far more occupied with how I looked. I was an ultra-conservative dresser—even under my abayah. I wanted to be a virtuous girl and woman; this would be achieved through my choice of clothes, which would influence my actions and ultimately, how I was perceived.

When I arrived in the U.S. I became more aware of my body type. For the most part, I continued to dress conservatively. With the cultural shock of living in the U.S. after a lifetime in Saudi Arabia, combined with a familial incision, I began to eat differently. Increasingly, I found comfort in foods that I had rarely consumed. By the end of my freshman year, I was a size 10.

My eating habits made me more conscious of my body. I think this is a point largely missed by others: It’s not that I was eating because I didn’t notice my body or take pride in how I looked.  I was acutely aware of my body and how it was changing. In fact, I was obsessed. I felt powerless in swapping my current habits for healthier ones. As I continued to lose autonomy, I relied more on food to distract me from my growing discomfort with myself.

This experience was aggravated by mass consumption of the female body in the U.S.  I couldn’t escape the reminder that thinner was better. As a naturally curvy person, even in my smaller-sized days, watching hip-less, flat chested, thigh gapped women be portrayed as the only type of beautiful woman was difficult and fueled a more destructive view of myself.

There were pauses in my self-hate though. When I visited Ghana in the summer, I could temporarily abandon the idea that skinny was better. Not because Ghana didn’t celebrate her thinner women but because it mattered less whether I was thin or not. In fact, it was a wonderful thing that I was curvy. My body type was desired and celebrated to an extent. Interestingly enough, when I visited Ghana in the summer, I could lose up to 20 pounds without any effort or intention to. My mind was healthier in Ghana and I was kinder to body.

But as I continued to gain weight, being in Ghana become a painful reminder of my weight gain. If you’ve read my post The Trouble with Words (Part I), at a point, it became increasingly difficult for me to be in Ghana because I despised being called obolo. If I knew I would be traveling to Ghana, I would schedule the latest possible departure date so I could give myself more time to slim down—this never worked.

Being away from my family and the constant feeling of displacement, are two of possibly four reasons I have continued to gain weight. Different events in my life have fueled my reliance on food as a coping tool and I’m currently wearing a size 12.

I realize now that I am the worst person to be mean to myself. I never give myself a break; I am always present and ready to take myself apart.

I would love to have the body I had in Saudi Arabia. But I was so disconnected from my body then, so ashamed of what society said it could do, so afraid to use or portray it incorrectly that I did not love my body. Even though I am less satisfied with my body now, I think I love my current body more than I ever could have in Saudi Arabia

Bottom line: A nomadic life style has exposed me to different ideas on what defines a woman’s beauty. These ideas have either been uplifting or burdensome. Despite the richness of variety, my happiness and self-confidence should not be subject to locale. I was late in coming to the realization that regardless of where I am, I am always with me. My body is the place where I live. And maybe, in that sense, the relationship I have with my body is actually a culture. So, I could construct a culture that positively influences my body. I can create my own beliefs, behaviors and values towards my body. I can even choose foods that celebrate and encourage my well-being. I have adopted different cultures anyway, what’s one more?

An adventurous and quiet introvert

A life of adventure, overseas travel, comparing your high school student body to the UN General Assembly, coveted trinkets from around the world, multi-lingual, frequent flier before it was even a thing—yes, the glamorized life of Third Culture Kid (TCK). At first thought, it may seem odd to be a TCK and an introvert. How would an introvert manage the constant change and chaos, engaging with different people and cultures?

In my view, there is an expectation that TCKs are extroverts.

I am a TCK and I am an introvert. I have no reservations about identifying as either, especially being an introvert. I’m more reserved than I am shy, more contemplative and observant than I am talkative. I’m less likely to say what I really mean, and more likely to correctly express myself in writing. How does that fit into being a TCK?

Being an introvert means that I am very close to a small circle of people. It means you either know all of me or you know nothing at all. It means that if you want to go out tomorrow at 11pm, I need to know a week in advance—preferably. It means that when I agree to go out, I’m already looking forward to coming back home. It means that before I go out, I’m mentally preparing to have conversations I don’t really want to have. It means that being around ‘too many’ people exhausts me, and that however loud the room is, in my mind, it’s louder.

Being a TCK means that I know it might be several years before I see friends and family again. In the case of Saudi Arabia, being a TCK means that I know I might never see many of my friends again. It means that each time I move, each time I make that decision, I am consciously risking friendships and relationships. It means that I will make that tough decision knowing it will hurt me, hurt others, break me, but I will make that decision anyway. It means that I can be incredibly mature. It means that I am very empathetic; that sometimes I understand others more than I do myself; that I can associate as quickly as I can dissociate; that sometimes staying is just as hard as leaving; that my parents are my anchor; that I have had mid-life crises in different area codes, that it’s sometimes easier to pack than unpack, that I’ve had to learn and unlearn who my race is; that the U.S. is a foreign and exotic country, that I sometimes have to be content with not being understood; that I have to put effort into making myself understandable, that the first time I heard someone say don’t throw the baby out with the bath water I wanted to call the police.

I think sometimes it’s hardest being a TCK when you’re introvert. It’s not like I can throw myself out there and easily get to know a whole other group of people again, and again. But I can, I do, and I have. As an introvert and TCK, I create meaningful bonds with my environment and as often as I have had to break that bond, it’s never easy. With each environment, I am immersed into a culture, a way of thinking, a new lifestyle.

I am highly perceptive, hyper-flexible and while it might take me longer to form intimate relationships with people, I can adapt to new surroundings. I’m more than just a perpetual traveller; I can go beyond participating and observing surface culture to truly understanding and even adopting different facets of deep culture.

In revising this entry, I have questioned whether to post this at all. It can read as being extremely arrogant. But I think that is because I still have an incorrect definition of introvert hiding in some unreachable corner of my mind. I am not weak because I am an introvert. I’m not socially inept or lonely. As an introvert, a sense of adventure is not absent within me. It’s there—it’s a quiet curiosity that poses questions and carefully sifts through observations, and experience to get answers. In this way, I don’t over-burden the people I encounter with questions to make them appear exotic and foreign; I don’t exemplify the differences, I discover as what makes ‘ them, them’ and ‘me, me’. I engage with the people I meet and speak with them as I would others—their nuances; whether personal or cultural, are naturally revealed. And for me, I have found that too often TCKs, non-TCKs, attribute tangible differences to culture, rather than a person’s being.

Me, my mother and my Turkish friends in front of our house in Saudi Arabia.

Bottom line: Being an introvert is not a setback. Neither extroverts nor introverts are better at being TCK; we are equally aware of the blessings and challenges of being TCK. Being TCK means that I don’t have a better half, I have better halves and they are scattered all around the world. I am product of different cultures and I am extremely grateful.