Becoming

A few days ago, I started listening to the Audible version of Michelle Obama’s book Becoming, which she narrates, and it’s even more amazing and down-to-earth than I ever could have imagined. For someone who is so accomplished from a working-class background in the South Side of Chicago, it is so hard to imagine the people who choose to criticize and hate her. The story of her childhood certainly is a working class one, no matter what anyone wants to twist and ask, “how can she be ‘working class’ if she went to Harvard and Princeton and is now a multi-millionaire”? Not everyone who is wealthy and successful today came from wealth the way President Dipshit did. If anyone bothered really listening or reading her story, they’d know for a fact that she had no privileged upbringing at all, unless you want to define “privilege” as living in an in-law of an apartment in a working-class neighborhood and having one parent working a city-job.  She barely left her city, much less her state, until she got to high school and had an opportunity to go to Paris for a school trip, and even that, she wanted to deprive herself of that because of the guilt around how much her parents would need to spend on this trip just for her to do what the other kids in her class did. That sounds like what I’ve done with my parents a few times… except in her case, her parents wanted her to go and paid for her to go. In my case, I didn’t go.

I’ve really come to the conclusion that people who choose to hate Michelle Obama do it simply because they a) hate women, b) hate black people, or really, any people of color, c) hate it when people from relatively humble backgrounds are able to rise through the ranks and become successful and wealthy, or even d) don’t want children (who are poor or of color) to be literate and educated, or want to prevent them from eating nutritious foods. There is little to nothing to dislike her for.

The portraits that the right-wing media paint of her being elitist or angry are rooted in racism and bigotry, designed to paint her as “other” simply because she is a black woman who has strived to achieve the same things that white men and women have always wanted, but because she is black, she is apparently undeserving of her success compared to them (Ted Cruz was Harvard educated, but why does no one ever accuse him of being “elitist”? Oh, it’s because he’s white and male. He just deserves that. Plus, Republicans swim in elitism but just leave out their education from their oppressive political rhetoric. Going to Harvard for Ted Cruz is not elitist — it makes him more qualified. Going to Harvard for Michelle Obama is elitist because she didn’t really deserve it). As a black woman, she has never had the same “status” in society as a white woman would, so it so unfair to accuse her of being “angry” or “entitled.” Why is she angry — because she isn’t shy about discussing and confronting racism and sexism, things that obviously still persist that so many people refuse to acknowledge or do anything about, which is why Trump is so popular and is now the leader of the U.S.? If that’s how you want to define angry, then anyone sane who wants progress for society should be called angry, including me.

Reading this book is really hard in many ways knowing who has succeeded Barack and Michelle in the White House. “Was America really ready for a black president?” Michelle asked in her book. It seemed they were for eight years, but after that, America grew angry and said, fuck this, we’re going to elect a racist, I’ve-inherited-my-wealth-but-refuse-to-admit-it to the White House to prove to the U.S. that we’re just as racist as we always were, but now, we’ll make it more acceptable with the example Dipshit is setting.

A little guidance can help

I left work a bit early today to meet my mentee, who has been having trouble recently attending class. When I say she’s been “having trouble,” I really mean she just hasn’t been going altogether for the last month. She’s already failed one of her classes and has decided to drop it, and when I asked her today why she hasn’t been attending, she said she felt “sleepy all the time and just wanted to sleep.” She’s been sleeping through classes and then staying in bed until she needs to use the bathroom or eat.

Well, I know what that means. Her depression is getting worse. I suggested that she start with baby steps to deal with how to battle her fatigue. She’s been going to sleep by 10 and waking up at 11am the next morning; that means she’s getting 13 hours of sleep every night, and oversleep can oftentimes make you feel even worse and less rested. So I suggested she start small by shaving off a few hours of sleep per night: maybe the first night, go to sleep by 10 or 11, then wake up by 8. No matter what time she goes to sleep, she has to give herself some semblance of routine by waking up at around the same time. Then, immediately haul ass, get out of bed, and do something active, like go to the gym, walk, do jumping jacks; anything to get her blood flowing. The biggest challenge of getting up in the morning is just getting out of bed. That really goes for all of us.

“How am I going to know that you are really committing to waking up at 8am?” I asked her. “I’m going to text you for the next few days at 8am and make sure you’re really awake, and you better not be lying to me and say you are awake but just going back under the covers. We can reevaluate in a week or two whether this is doable.”

She promised she wouldn’t lie and would commit to this for at minimum two weeks before seeing if the time/routine needed to be adjusted.

I left her this evening feeling a bit relieved that we had this conversation in person, but sad at the same time. I’m happy to help her, to give suggestions when she is struggling, but it makes me sad to think that maybe if Ed had someone extra in his life who he could look up to that he could have had similar guidance and encouragement…. Something as simple as someone caring and unjudgmental to say to him, “Hey! You are sleeping more than usual. Why do you think that is? How can we get you into a more regular routine?” No shaming. No anger. No finger pointing. No blaming. No guilting. Just observations, suggestions to make for an easier life. Everyone needs a little extra pushing at some points of their life, and Ed seemed like he never had it at all from anyone.

 

AFSP Out of the Darkness Manhattan walk 2018

This year, the turnout for the AFSP Out of the Darkness Manhattan walk was the largest yet. The organization even changed its location for the walk from Battery Park to Pier 16 at South Street Seaport. This marks my fifth year fundraising for suicide prevention, and five years since I lost Ed. For whatever reason, it also felt the most emotional. Maybe it’s because this year, I was asked to be a part of the honor bead ceremony where the organization publicly recognizes its top fundraisers and lets the audience know how and why we participate in this walk. Each person who participates in the bead ceremony, with the color of the beads she holds, indicates what their connection is to the walk. White indicates you lost a child. Red indicates you lost a spouse/partner. Orange indicates you lost a sibling. Purple means you lost a friend or relative. Green means you personally struggled or struggle today. Teal means you are a friend or family member of someone who struggles.

I have orange beads for Ed. Being a part of the bead ceremony is a non-speaking role, but one of the chairs speaks for you and explains, in your words, why you walk. This was my description that I wrote:

For the fifth year in a row, Yvonne walks and fundraises in honor of her big brother Ed, who she lost to suicide five years ago after he battled a decades-long struggle with clinical depression and mental illness. Since then, she has been actively sharing her brother’s story in hopes that being open and honest about this tragedy will encourage others to be more aware and empathetic to the potential struggles that others face.

I was grouped with two siblings who lost their brother to suicide this year, so this was very fresh and raw for the two of them. They are part of a big family where they have siblings in Minnesota, their home state, as well as in California, and all their other siblings are also participating in the walk in their respective cities and raising money. Their team is Team Morgan, and they even gathered other friends and family locally to join in the walk and were the top fundraising team for Manhattan this year. When the brother and sister joined me on the stage and Max, the AFSP walk co-chair, read out their story of why they walk, the sister immediately started crying. It was a trigger for me, and I immediately started tearing up and embraced her. The three of us talked during the ceremony rehearsal. It was just so obvious to me that this was all just too new to them and that they were still in deep pain. When I told them I had lost Ed five years ago, they looked at me as though I was some saint….their eyes looked incredulous. It still hurts, but time definitely does help. You never think so in the moment or in the months after you lost. I still cannot believe it’s been five years since Ed was with us.

I’m happy to see the cause get bigger, to see more supporters and more people fundraising and walking. I hope the stigma around suicide gets lesser and lesser. We’d all be better humans if we could be more in touch with our emotions, more open to hearing what is most painful and revealing. It would help another person. It would gradually help the world. It’s insane to think that when this walk began several decades ago that there were detractors who said no one would ever walk for suicide, that it was just too scary and provocative of a thought, that other causes for diseases like cancer or HIV/AIDS were bigger or more important. Here in Manhattan, we collectively raised over $300,000 for this walk this year, and that doesn’t even count all of the donations we will continue to receive through the end of the year, including a number of corporate matches that are still pending for my individual fundraiser. This gives me hope for a better world. On this day every year, I always wonder if Ed is somewhere out there, looking down on me and wanting to give me a hug.

This is one of the days of the year that I miss him so much. I wish the world could have been better to him, kinder to him. But we can’t get him back. This is all I can do now.

Vacationing with parents

I was having an earl grey latte tonight with a friend in town for a conference, and she was telling me about her next work “conference” she needed to attend, which happens to be in Shanghai. Unless I’m listening to someone tell me that they are traveling internationally on business for a specific customer or pitch, or to train some new hires/open a new office, I generally hear “international work travel” and immediately think it’s bullshit. I have a friend who started a new job earlier this year, and immediately he was asked to travel “for work reasons” to Singapore, Indonesia, and Vietnam. When he came back, I point blank asked him how much “real” work or training he did given that this trip was less than a month into his new role. He sheepishly admitted that it was a vacation disguised as a work trip, but no one internally wanted to admit it.

Well, all power to these people. They get to travel on their company’s dime and enjoy themselves. If they have the opportunity, why not? But the conversation immediately went a little sour (or at least, in my head, it did) when she said that her mother was also coming along, too, and that they’d be spending a week traveling in China together. I physically felt dread in my limbs, and this wasn’t even me traveling with my own parents.

To add to this, a colleague I’m friendly with just got back from a six-day trip to London with her mother, and she said that she felt like coming back to work was actually a vacation because it meant she didn’t have to listen to her mother complain about all the food and how expensive everything was, nor did she have to pose at each tourist site and take 20-plus different photos of her mom.

Chris says I just attract “mama-whipped” people in my life. “What is wrong with you — you just like spending time with people who take their mothers on vacations, don’t enjoy themselves, then come back and complain to you about it all!” he claims.

Well, I don’t really look at it that way. Maybe I just attract people who want to create the ideal “mother-daughter” relationship with their moms, but it never ends up turning how they’d like it to be? Don’t we all aspire to some better state of being?

The way that I look at taking family vacations with your parents as an adult is — in an ideal world, it’s time spent enjoying a different place in the world as adults in a family. If the child is paying for it, it’s a way of saying, “Hey, Mom! I’m doing well enough so that I can not only afford to take myself on a vacation, but I can take you on a vacation, too! Now, you can be proud of me!”

…..

Okay. I just re-read that statement, and I realize it’s almost like the child is trying to prove herself. Or potentially give bragging rights to her parents so that the parents can come back from vacation and brag to friends and relatives about it… which we all know is definitely going to happen. I guess at the end of the day, deep down, no matter what background you come from, no matter what your relationship is like with your parents, every child wants her parents to be proud and happy for her. That is what this is really about.

 

 

My supportive love

After sending out a reminder email last night to previous donors and friends from my Gmail list who have not yet donated this year and also sending out a very public message via our Team Slack channel, my inbox has received over a dozen new donation notifications in the last 24 hours. Chris has been closely tracking the progress of my fundraising drive as he does every year, and him being him, he is very competitive and has a lot of commentary about the other people who are “competing” against me for the top fundraiser spots in this year’s Manhattan Out of the Darkness walk. He’s unhappy about the fact that every year I’ve participated, all the people who are usually ahead of me in fundraising are a part of a team, which means that they have more power in numbers in terms of raising funds. So, with that logic, there should be a differentiation between “team” rankings vs. “individual” (that’s me) fundraising rankings, and they should not be grouped together and ranked. I kind of get this rationale, but at the same time, each team member of a team has his/her own page, and therefore they are responsible for their own numbers.

A real message of annoyance from my husband today:

“Bottom line …no. 1 isn’t a real individual fundraiser, …no. 2 as defined as 2 ppl, no. 3 is suspicious, and no. 5, I have said a lot already plus works for AFSP  … and all of them are teams. You win!!!”

I love my baby even when he’s being super cute and excessively competitive. My general response to all this is that at the end of the day, we’re all just trying to raise money for an important cause that often gets overlooked, so the rankings or the teams versus individuals don’t really mean that much to me. But my heart warms when he says combative things like this because he is always the most supportive and thus always wants me to win. I have the most supportive and loving spouse. Ed would be proud and grateful.

Donation reminders

According to the AFSP website, sometimes it takes as many as five reminders to get people to donate to your chosen cause, so it encourages those who are fundraising not to be shy about sending reminder emails and messages. I always feel like they are a bit of a nuisance; if someone wanted to donate, then they would have just donated the first time around, right? But hey, people get caught into their everyday life, so maybe one or two reminders wouldn’t be a terrible thing.

And in my own personal experience, this advice is definitely accurate. The reminders do work: with my email outreach during the first round, I received 19 donations. With my second reminder email to those who did not already donate, I received 15 donations. And with my third (and final) reminder email I sent just tonight, I received one very generous donation (that was only 20 minutes ago). Maybe the reminders aren’t so terrible or annoying after all. Maybe we all could use a little nudge here and there.

The everyday things that will never happen

I dreamt last night that Ed came to visit at this apartment. We strolled through Central Park and the streets of the Upper West Side together. He explored the apartment building, asked me random Ed-like questions he’d normally ask if he were around, and marveled at all our new appliances and how modern our apartment looks. It was like a real life event, except it wasn’t real life at all. It was a potentially normal, expected event.

There wasn’t anything unusual or momentous about this dream. Nothing dramatic happened, nothing out of the ordinary or tear-jerking was observed. The most depressing thing about this is that it will never happen in real life. I thought about this as I woke up this morning. Those everyday events that you get to share with people you love — introducing them to your home, your neighborhood, the city you live in — those experiences will never be shared between Ed and me because he just isn’t here anymore. That’s what made this dream so sad.

Dumpling Galaxy

My work friend has been in town visiting family from Amsterdam, so I agreed to meet her for dinner at Dumpling Galaxy in Flushing tonight. I’d had this on my Yelp bookmarks list forever and had been dying to come for a long time, but I was never able to make it work until today. Dumpling Galaxy is pretty much any dumpling lover’s dream: the biggest variety of dumplings you could possibly think of, all on a single menu. And if for whatever reason you don’t want dumplings, they have a pretty extensive Chinese menu that is supposed to be delicious outside of the dumpling section. This place certainly met expectations; my favorites were the lamb and green squash dumplings and the cod and fish roe dumplings.

I make a lot of judgments about people when it comes to food. One of the potentially worst ones is that there’s a high correlation between extremely picky eaters and people who are racist. Some of the other ones are… if you’re not willing to try new foods, you’re probably just a really boring human being. If you hate all Asian food, you must be a horrible (and racist) person. If you repel any and all spice… well, I just don’t want to hang out with you. If you don’t eat sweets, you must not be a very sweet person. But another one I want to add to the list is… if you don’t like dumplings, you probably cannot be trusted. Who doesn’t like some incredibly flavorful filling stuffed into a little dough, then boiled, steamed, or fried?

The New York Times food critic who came to Dumpling Galaxy said that a single bite of a dumpling from this place had more flavor than a large percentage of full meals in his entire life. That — that is how life changing a single dumpling can be.

Aging and painful body

Chris left for San Francisco for Dreamforce rehearsals early this morning, so I have the weekend to myself. I began what was supposed to be a productive Saturday by hitting the gym. While doing tabata exercises with my Aaptiv app, I was doing hinged rows when suddenly I stood up and immediately felt a twinge in my lower back. A sharp pain ensued any time I moved.

You’ve got to be kidding me, I was thinking in my head. My hamstring literally just got to 100 percent last week, and I started running again after nearly two months… and now my lower back is in pain?! 

I laid on the mat for a few minutes, contemplating my aging body and why all these injuries are happening to me one after another. How bad is this going to be, anyway?

Well, it wasn’t good. I went downtown to meet a friend for lunch, and every time I stood up or sat down, I experienced what felt like a stabbing pain in my lower back. I had to buy groceries, but there was no way I was going to carry them back on my own. So my friend graciously carried my shopping basket around and carried all my groceries home for me. It’s a good thing he lives so close to me.

All the signs of age are just staring me in the face. When I was lying on the mat in the gym this morning, I wondered if Ed ever experienced issues like this while at karate and just never told me. He always hid things from me because he didn’t want me to worry.

And to think that next year, I will turn 33, the same age Ed was when he died. How the hell can we possibly be the same age? This is just so wrong.

 

 

the generosity of colleagues

This is the fifth year that I’m fundraising for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention’s Out of the Darkness walks. Each year I do this again and again, I start it feeling cynical. Does anyone really care what I’m doing, or what my story is and how it’s evolved? Is it just a one stop donation, and then people forget about it in their everyday lives? What is actionable from this other than giving money to someone’s fundraising drive whose story you found touching?

I struggled with writing a story this year. I would start, stop, edit, delete, start again, stop, get annoyed, then delete everything. I wondered who would donate again. I wondered of the colleagues I’ve met in the last year, or gotten closer to, if they would donate. I wondered what they were thinking when they read my message.

I actually received quite a number of very touching, heartfelt messages from colleagues this year in the last couple days about my story and my fundraising drive. I’ve also received a lot of extremely generous contributions. I’ve been responding to each of them one by one, but the one I was definitely not expecting was from our CEO. He shared with me that he has compartmentalized his own family experience with suicide from over 45 years ago, and still doesn’t talk about it, but that he admired my ability to be so open about it to help others. He said he’s only shared this with four other people in his entire life. He also donated $1,000 to my fundraising drive today to support me. I was speechless. No one has ever donated that much to my fundraising drive, ever. And he barely even knows me.

Statistics show that people are more likely to donate to a fundraiser if they know the person who is leading the fundraiser. They’re more likely to donate more if they are closer to the person. This level of generosity was not part of these statistics.

I ended today feeling hopeful. People really do care more than I give them credit for. My cynicism is slowly shaking.