Who am I?
I,
I’m my thoughts,
My dreams,
My aspirations.
I’m my name,
My looks,
My imagination.
That’s what I see,
When I stare,
Into my reflection.
My reflection,
Ripples in the river of life,
The shallow,
Shallow river of life.
To the world,
I am my reflection:
I am only what the world sees,
Only what the world decides I am.
My body is but a vessel;
Why must the world ignore me,
But acknowledge the vessel?!
Books, merely objects
Are still judged
By only their covers,
So who am I to demand
They not judge me
By only what they can see.
The inside of a book
Is where the value lies
But most people don’t bother;
It’s easier to judge
From the outside
My body is a part of me,
It embodies my soul
My personality,
But it is not all I am.
I am not my scars,
My disability,
I am me,
A completely separate entity.
I, Me,
Not just what you see
Self-Awareness
“You’re Really Good At Taking Everyone’s Sh!t”
Emotional labor is the act of “regulating or managing emotional expressions with others as part of one’s professional work role”. For the context of this blog post, I will also be referencing emotional work as well, which is the role people use in any social context.
RANT: Every post, YouTube video, and link that I looked at typically focused on the emphasis of how women have been the brute focus of emotional work and often, labor. WHAT ABOUT THE MEN?!
BLOG: Ideally, men have been the focus, but in our current generation, I am starting to wonder if men are becoming the scapegoat for blame. There are good and bad things to this, but I can only share my experiences. From growing up in a household as an adopted child to working in hospitality at some of the best hotels in the Houston area, to coming home and being expected to “clean up everyone else’s shit” (one of my ex’s fathers literally told me this and suggested I work for some type of plumbing company) to experiencing my own version of emotional labor is…exhausting. As a recommendation, if you’re dealing with being the emotional laborer of your family or workplace, I suggest counseling, good friends, hobbies, and money.
Now that I have your attention, the emphasis on emotional labor during this period of the class was for women. Honestly, I love that. Often, the strongest women in my life have carried the emotional labor of EVERYONE in the family. My Grandmother (capital G, because she truly is a G), and my Aunt (who raised me, God bless her soul) have not only raised multiple members of the family but have guided others and influenced people for generations to come. I can endlessly explain what they have done for everyone, including my impaired brother (this falls into the disability category of the past few weeks, but I decided to not go in-depth with these issues and instead focus on emotional labor…anyway) My Grandmother has done amazing things as a widowed woman, and when my grandfather was alive, what I recall of him, he was a remarkable man, veteran, and overall generally good person. In order for him to be that he needed to have an even stronger woman there to not only support him, but to motivate and guide him. We so often focus on a certain gender, but I think its vital to focus and include everyone because we cannot physically do it all on our own – even if social media suggests that we do.
When it comes to emotional labor for myself, as an older male, I grew up with the family vibe of “you want it? Do it yourself” This mindset has its own version of toxic masculinity and it worked for a time, but as I have grown older and started practicing gratitude, meditation, and fitness, I have learned that kindness is the key to growing. However, that is also the curse of being easily manipulated and being the scapegoat out of a lack of emotion – if you allow yourself to be. When working as a hotel supervisor, I found myself taking on the emotional verbal abuse of people that travelled so far and attempted to check in, but one minor inconvenience (Well…one time there was a major inconvenience, we sold out and by the time they got there…the people didn’t have a room… and they were diamond members which is equivalent to being a traveling version of Karen) set them over the top, and I had to apologize profusely, make up for their issues by giving them a free nights stay at another hotel, etc… all while keeping a smile on my face. So dumb, but it was vital in learning how to maneuver around people when they are angry and teaching myself how to stay calm in the face of disappointment. That’s an invaluable trait and lessons/memories that I am grateful for.
I don’t know, I am a believer in the idea that everything happens for a reason. Maybe I should allow myself to be the gatekeeper of my own “shit”, to be more selfish and selfless at the same time, and to lack the attempt to understand everything and everyone around me but I cant do that shrug. In essence, I think all of us must have some type of role in emotional labor, but please, don’t forget to take care of your mental, physical, and financial well-being. Your family, friends, and pets will thank you for it. (I will always choose to be kind and thank you to all of the people in my life, wouldn’t be me without YOU).
Existential Ballet
Bent, Bashed, Broken… I am nursing my own wounds.
I am stretched out wide but still I am shrunken & overlooked.
Sitting on a throne above the heads of many yet I look each of them in the eye.
I wipe their tears & I hear their cries.
They all want to know the secret of my dances.
Why choose to survive when oppression’s vice grip breaks my bones?
Why does my heart continue its dances?
How do I keep up when the earth never stops spinning while dancing rewinds the clock on my face?
The dances that define my divinity burn within a soul that sings the songs & rule the time.
In that time, wherever I stand that space is mine.
It’s there where the dances are done, & in that space my soul’s songs are sung.
Spinning and Swirling I reach high with hopes of experiencing a new feel & don’t worry, I will.
A remarkable existence if I must say.
An adaptive sway for the intimate encounters that pass by my way.
These are the same dances done by the fire’s flames.
I waltz the same waltz that puddles waltz when it rains.
My tears are called resilience & my beads of sweat are named endurance.
You can master the secret of my dances. Watch me give you reassurance.
The messages might escape you but it’s not of your choosing.
The secret to my dance, is to just keep moving.
What are Memories like if You Can’t Visualize Them?
Perhaps you’ve heard of something called “Aphantasia” which is when someone can’t visualize things in their mind. This comes from the Greek words “a”, meaning “without” and “phantasia”, which is “the capacity to form mental images. (Metivier, 2022) Apparently, only 2-5% of the population has aphantasia, assuming people figure it out about themselves. Curious? Try the VVIQ test.
Read more: What are Memories like if You Can’t Visualize Them?
What does this mean for memories, though?
“People with aphantasia reported a reduced ability to remember the past, imagine the future, and even dream. This suggests that visual imagery might play a key role in memory processes,”
Alexei Dawes, PhD Candidate in the UNSW School of Psychology
Some aphantasics are still capable of reliving other senses, such as a feeling (how water feels on your skin, sun warmth, etc.), audio, or tastes. However, there are still many who don’t have any of these mentally. Everyone is a little bit different when it comes to what’s still present and what’s not, especially since we don’t know very much about “minds” at all. In a study about aphantasia, 26% of participants reported a lack of multi-sensory imagery.
If this is too hard to grasp, look into your own mind with such: Can you visualize a beach (No cheating with the picture)? Can you smell the salty air? Can you feel the sand on your toes or the sun on your skin? Can you hear the waves crash or the seagulls in the sky? Are you feeling emotions associated with the beach? Joy? Excitement? Irritation? Maybe you can do all of these. Maybe it’s a little vague. Maybe you can only see the image. If you take this idea, those 26% participants either can’t do any of these senses, or can’t do a majority of them (besides visualizing, because of course they can’t).
So what if none of these exist in your “mind’s eye”? For myself, who can’t visualize any of these things, it’s like a story. I have an inner voice, which does everything for me. It has my current thoughts, it speaks of my memories, it even does the sound effects as if my own voice made them. My memories are written like a story, which is hard to grasp for people who have always visualized a story when they read it. My memories are made up of only words and descriptions. Sometimes when I want to remember a situation I’m in, like a day out with my friends, I think of specific ways to describe things for later. It’s got a huge benefit because this means I can describe ideas or things to someone very easily, compared to someone who has to translate mental images into words.
That doesn’t apply to everyone, of course. I’ve talked to someone who was able to visualize something they’ve seen before, like an apple. On the other hand, they experienced memories similar to myself, where it’s like a book.
I highly encourage you to look within your own mind, and maybe you’ll learn something new.
Sources:
A monstrous matryoshka
As I had read Susan Stryker’s article on trans rage and the comparison of Victor Frankenstein’s unfortunate monster, I found myself following each word closely. I had so rarely seen anyone talk so openly about the pains and sorrows that are hidden about transgender identity. The discussion in class presented an extremely important point on who is allowed to show and vocalize strong negative emotions like rage and pain. As a person of color, as a queer and transgender individual, my permission of showing these emotions has been quite small, but looking further inward I know that there are other reasons I am not one to show these emotions. For my last post I call upon Stryker’s voice of these negative emotions and a monstrous identity, but not for my transgender identity, but one I am coming to terms with existing within me. I open up the physical patchwork body of mine to see inwards, within the darkness I see a cage chained to the ground. Moving closer I can hear the rattling of anger, I peer inside the cage to see a gnarled and patched up figure, teeth unnaturally pointed and sharp objects partially embedded in its body. I instinctively know these objects were brandished weapons with the purpose of subduing and killing this figure, but they have failed. This figure was human once and I can’t help the sadness I feel seeing what has become of them.
“What happened to you?” I ask cautiously.
The pause feels deafening.
“I’d think you’d recognize us, not many come back from the war of trauma unscathed.”
It’s said that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but no one should be forced to be this strong to the point of being caged in fear.
As an echo to the original article, my comparison of monstrous identity in regards to trauma is not one to be used against all who have trauma. This is my sole reclamation of my past and should never be used against individuals who do not wish to do the same. This post will include raw calls to mental health happenings in response to traumatic experiences. Though there will be no details of happenings, there are insinuations of abuse on varying levels.
Continue readinguntitled thoughts
Lately, I’ve been realizing just how challenging it is to recognize my own harmful habits and ways of thinking, interrupt them, and embark on a healing process. Although something like this has happened several times in the past, it only took a few deadlines and assignments to launch me into a spiral of over-analysis, self-criticism, anxiety, avoidance, and distraction. All the while, I felt powerless to stop this process, and I really hate that!
You see, what I had been struggling with up to that point was a couple papers, a presentation, replying to emails, doing weekly readings and assignments; all pretty mundane tasks, but ones that can feel like mountains with impossible summits some weeks. Even so, as I start to slip and fall behind, one part of my brain reassures myself that I’ll catch up on everything “over the weekend,” no problem, without the need to ask for help or communicate in any way. Another part is already recognizing the warning signs, pointing out my flaws, and criticizing myself on where I need to do better. The most destructive side deals with all this noise by shutting down completely. Sleeping in until 3pm, skipping meals and classes, being anxious to leave my room, neglecting self-care, and raking up my screen-time on Genshin to do nothing but avoid, avoid, avoid, avoid has indicated there is a bit more than academic stress below the surface.
Continue reading“I’m okay”, “I’m tired”, “No worries!” and other lies I tell: An ode to my failing mental health
2020 was a train wreck, a dumpster fire, the roller coaster we weren’t allowed to get off, and it doesn’t take much looking to realize everyone is fed up and burnout from the pandemic, over a year of condensed trauma (whether you or someone you knew got sick or not), incompetent people in power, social justice at the forefront of everywhere, up rooted and cancelled life plans, the world is a dart board with every inch covered in things that will decimate your ability to keep going. But 2021 seems to show that 2020 was just a prelude to what our everyday life will be like from here on out.
Content warning!! Candid mental health talk, sucide and suicidal ideation, and open talk about trauma responses (NO details will be given about the traumatic events).
Continue readingWhat’s in a Name?
Names, everyone has one (or several), and a name is used in everyday occurrences. You see your friend walking down the hall, you excitedly yell their name and embarrass or startle them, you see your pet eating something they shouldn’t, you shout their name and chase after them, you get the idea. A lot of people never really think much about their name, it’s their name, their parents gave it to them, case closed, but the issue of names comes up when one’s gender identity is brought to the forefront of their thoughts. As I try to untangle my own understanding of my gender identity, my name becomes an issue.
Continue readingQueer Identity Discovery: The Domino Effect and Queer Time
Image Source: http://www.avclub.com/article/theres-mash-rainbow-road-themes-all-8-mario-karts-206528
I’ll focus on my own experience here but I know there are going to be things about my experience that many other queer people can relate to in this regard.
My experience with queerness has never been linear, it has indeed been very queered. It has consistently involved not knowing about a way of being queer and then being introduced to the concept, a moment of reflection and then realizing “oh shit that’s me.” But I’ve also consistently struggled with coming to terms with these new labels and seeing how they fit me.
From the age of 12 to about a month away from turning 21 I had been on a journey of denial, internalization, grief over myself changing and growing, complete secrecy, exploration, etc. etc. about me being bi. I had come out after years of being afraid of myself, but in that time I also developed a yearning for community. When I came back to UMBC after two years of community college I knew that I’d want to seek out my community. Since then my reality as a queer person has shifted so greatly. I feel so liberated. Yet I grieve. I grieve for the ways I have been, not knowing if they are different than who I am now. My sense of self has been questioned. I don’t know if my new state of existing is just blurrier, or if things have just been just out of my sight this entire time and it constantly feels like both. I don’t know how consistent this person who is me is. Continue reading
I shouldn’t have to suffer in silence
You want to know what growing up with depression taught me?
Continue reading
Unruly Bodies 