ignorance is bliss

Every time he's come into my life, I've been able to figure out a reason, especially as it serves as some trigger/catalyst to changes I make in my life. This last time though has resulted in putting me in a very negative space. As Alex asked, do I wish I could go back to the time before? Yes.

It's made me a bit self destructive and I see it getting worse...constantly testing my limits. Perhaps this will make me better if I survive on the other side, but it's also pulled a lot of the 13 year-old girl who just craved to belong, really struggling to stay afloat after the decades I had spent working on her. I thought I successfully locked her away, or at least pacified her.

Sometimes, ignorance is truly bliss, and I'd like to go back to the woman from September 2014.

moments that matter (part 1)

One of my team members is planning on getting engaged this year and was showing me some pictures at lunch of some Cartier settings/rings he had narrowed down. It made me think of the first time I got a ring from a guy...

I'm not sure when I realized that I didn't really have memories prior to fifth grade. Many of the "memories" I may have have come from family members and others relaying stories over the years. Yet I had this one distinct "memory" that nobody else could have known about. For a long time though, I started to think that it was something manufactured, sort of like imaginary friends (although I do have a theory on what those are and whether they are truly imaginary or visions we see when we don't put up walls). 

His name is Toby. Toby Branson. It wasn't much of memories but a memory that involved receiving a ring made of grass and weeds in second grade. By the next school year, his family had moved away. Over time, it became fleeting and not real.

In eighth grade, as our bus pulled into a Christian sleep-away camp, someone yelled out, "there's Toby Branson". For a moment I held my breath as if encountering a ghost. One of the girls from our church ended up having a huge crush on Toby. During a hike with four of us (including one of Toby's friends), she did what many girls that age are apt to do...insult me to make her look better in the eyes of her crush. Yes, I considered her a friend at that time as well. What was said is irrelevant as the point was something in line with who would want me for a girlfriend (typical small town America mentality for anyone who is a different race). I only remember the response of "I did. She was my girlfriend in second grade." He was behind me as we were climbing up some rock so my only visual that accompanied the words was her face when her jaw dropped.

We never talked about it afterwards. She just asked me if it was true and I looked at her still in shock. I did send him a letter after the camp to thank him. I never did hear from him, but I indirectly got validation that the memory was more real than not. More importantly, he could have stayed silent but for a moment in time, he made me feel like I belong(ed). For that, I will forever be thankful. I hope the character of that boy is still with the man today.

ftale

It's been a very long time since I've fed this blog. San Francisco just hasn't been so exciting (ironic given los pechos de la chola), which is probably what's led me to do some experimenting. This past week I spontaneously decided to dabble in BDSM with a stranger and foreigner. Despite the stereotype of those in such lifestyles, he is kind, gentle and intelligent. What got him to dabble in this alternative lifestyle is probably similar reasons that draws me to the flame. He can just articulate it while I'm at a lost for words.

It wasn't until the sixth night that he introduced me to flogging. In my slightly drug induced state, I can remember a comment that challenged me to open up and let him in. While I'd like to think I'm an open book, I may not have parts of me that are even open to myself; after all, I don't have much memories before fifth grade. My New Year's resolution this year was to work on my metamorphosis.

So with that, and possibly with the hopes that nobody actually follows this blog anymore, I'm going to try...I want to figure out that spot in the center of my back that holds it all back. I still struggle with understanding why I'm still alive post 9/11 or what my purpose in this life truly is. I wrote the below post in 2012 but never published it. It's an honest reflection of the hopes and dreams of a little girl that just wants to feel loved and craves that sense of belonging which has always alluded her.

He asked me to count to 10. I couldn't voice the numbers but the thoughts that went into my head during the first two whips was that I just wanted to die and begging God to let me die. But after the third when my groin/buttocks were burning, there was some sense of self preservation that cried out 'red'. I know he's disappointed that I couldn't make it to 10. I'm disappointed in myself that I couldn't give that to him. In hindsight, it should have been 'orange'. Is hope red?

* * * * *

My first Disney flick was Little Mermaid. Ariel was different - she didn't quite fit in but it didn't stop her from exploring and seeking new adventures. As with any fairytale though, she found her Prince Charming and the credits start to roll. Since then, I've been enamored by the concept of love. I started collecting Disney movies after, and the sappy Hollywood scripts like Pretty Woman and Harlequin romance novels fueled the fantasy.

But reality is different. When I was 13, the thought of him out there, that there would be someone in the world in this lifetime that would love me unconditionally, kept me alive. I always thought I would be a one-man woman and mate for life. For a while I prayed for him everyday. Every spiritual location/moment, I would close my eyes, light a candle perhaps, and wish... 

In a brief moment in time, I was so sure with every fiber of my being, every bone in my body...that fate (God) finally led me to him. I took bold steps, I was willing to let go of it all...if only for the hope. But I didn't see the wrench that as fate gave me hope, it quickly dashed it away. I stopped praying for him daily - convinced that nothing I try would work. So while I cry less at night and haven't hugged the door in quite a while, it still hurts just as much.

While I'm no longer looking for Prince Charming and want someone to take care of me, it sure would be nice to find a life partner to share your joys and sorrows. And this post, just like every other journal I've started and trashed on this very topic, will eventually get deleted just like the wish of love.

stone skipping (part 2)

Around midnight of my last night in Vietnam, I got a random text asking me where I was and how long I would be there. They had been working until the wee hours to surprise me with a DVD for my going away present.

The DVD included a montage of our time together, including a team vacation where one showed us the beautiful culture and nature of his country, Philippines. It also included video clips from each of them with not only their well wishes but also insights to how their lives have been impacted over the years. The beautiful part was seeing their personalities shine in each, including one where the team is practically chasing the camera shy person all around the room.

When I joined, there were two team members in the Ho Chi Minh office. There was a lack of trust between the two as they scrambled to report to the leader in Hanoi, bypassing the local leader who was an expat in Ho Chi Minh. Despite the ongoing pressures to control individuals from the leaders in the North, we were able to build a very close knit team. Some (see stone skipping (part 3)) transferred from other practices after learning about the opportunities that our team had.

We did not just work together but also became close family members who looked out for each other. When I was deciding on whether to extend my stay or not, one of them took me aside and advised me a couple of times not to stay in the country as his in-laws were part of the government, and he was privy to information that may have been dangerous to a VietKieu in the country - pending war with China. I struggled to leave them behind though as I knew that the things they learned would have made it challenging for them to stay in an environment that stifled growth and aimed to control individuals through insecurity. 

I have faith and hope though the lessons they learned in the last few years will take them far in fulfilling their hopes and dreams. They were an amazing team and are sponges who were willing to get out of their comfort zone and challenge themselves and bring others with them. Beautiful people with enormous potential. They may think that I have changed their lives, but they have also left a significant mark on mine.

We had said our next trip will be to Bora Bora so one day, we'll have to make that happen.

* * * * *

Update January 10, 2017:

During my last visit to Vietnam in July 2015, we were able to gather a number of the team together for a reunion. While not everyone is still with the firm, the others have taken steps to follow their dreams. They still all keep in touch and when someone is in a bind, someone reaches out to others to congregate to assist. I am hoping that each one of them will be an honorable mention in this blog as I continue to track their accomplishments in life.

coming out party

One of my staff had a đầy tháng celebration, which is a one-month party for a newborn. Traditional Vietnamese tend to have a newborn and the mother 'hibernate' for a month to recover while maternal relatives take care of them, either by moving in or having mother and baby move to the relative's house. In some cases, they already live together. There are very specific dietary restrictions and care. Different families have different traditions. Many of them steeped in centuries of superstitions and beliefs despite modern medicine.

Infant mortality used to be very significant - so much so that one superstition is not to name your child until the one-month mark. Despite the hot climate, one tradition would be to not run the air conditioner or fan because the 'wind' could cause illness. Some even 'burn coal' under the bed or some form of heating to keep the body warm. Certain food (including congealed blood) is prescribed to help the mother 'heal'. Rice wine or something similar is used to bathe the mother - again, the reason is to kill the bacteria. Neither can leave the house during this period and the mother is expected to stay in bed for much of the time. While many of the traditions had reasons - some valid, some not, modern medicine and hygienic conditions make them moot, the deep superstitions rooted in these traditions have caused some families to be at odds with each other.

The đầy tháng birthday celebration is usually only attended by extended family. However, small packages of xoi (sweet sticky rice) and che dau (bean dessert) are put together for others that the family wants to share blessings with or that the family believes will bring honor and luck to the baby, depending on who you ask. So when another staff brought in the package for me on behalf of the new mother, I was surprised that she thought of me, not knowing of course what it meant other than that everyone knows I have a 'wicked sweet tooth'. Although we have such celebration in the United States, there are a number of traditions that get dropped. So I was not aware of how common the packages are. On my commute home from work, I had two people ask me if it was for đầy tháng, with a knowing smile. I'm not sure if that was because it was confirmation that I would bring luck to the baby given my success or that the family especially picked me to receive extra blessings.

 

Either way, I am honored and blessed.