Letter To My Younger Self

In light of my high reunion on the horizon, reflections caused me to write this letter to my 17 year old self upon graduation.

Dear Kristi,
Congrats on graduating high school! But to be honest, it wasn't really a challenge for you. At least not the way it is for some. The challenge is on the horizon, but you don't know that yet. You are so ready for the next step, itching to move on and forward to whatever the next stage holds. You have a whole life plan, broken down into sections and goals with steps. Just barely in the last year, you started to realize that you are so much more than just your accomplishments, but you aren't quite sure what that means so you cling ever more tightly to these goals. Almost as if you believe that if you can just reach them, then you will understand. It doesn't work that way. It's a process, love. No degree or accomplishment or accolade will make you the woman you want to become. Don't misunderstand, goals are important and plans to reach them are essential. Yet the kind of goals you are making now are, well... cookie cutter, static, banal, predictable, and lacking individuality. They are the goals you think everyone else wants you to make. It's not true. Sure, others will talk about those categories of goals in general- education, career, financial- but the sooner you learn that you can set a goal for both the process and the end result, the sooner you will discover joy in the journey.

Up until now in your life, Success has been your tutor. But now Failure will take over. And it will hit you hard. You will failure gloriously Kristi and it will take you years to see the beauty in it. If I could give you just one piece of advice, it would be to not take failure as a description of yourself. You can miss the mark, but that does not make you a failure as a person. You are still learning, growing, still in process to become the kind of person you want to be. Not what, who. 

At the same time you are holding to these rigid expectations of yourself, you are trying to prepare and plan for having your own family in the future. So you try to define yourself by your relationships- by trying to be the best daughters, sister, friend, and girlfriend. And you will break yourself apart by doing so. I would not change what happened even if I could because it has brought us here. But I wish you would love yourself a little more, a little deeper, more unconditionally. Embrace your quirks and accept your flaws. The sooner you can love yourself, the sooner you will find that love reflected all around you wherever you go.

Knock-em dead Kristi. 

All my love. 

Of course, writing to yourself can be a great therapeutic device but I'm pretty sure I'd already done it before this letter. The point in sharing I suppose would be to put out this advice to anyone in that position. Anyone moving from one stage to another, anyone who is holding so tight to their plans and expectations, for anyone else who tries to plan for this unpredictable thing called life. As Maya Angelou once said, "Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”

Ready for A Reunion?

Recently I got the news and invite to my 10 year high school reunion. Lots of emotions came with that. Excitement, disbelief, nervousness, all followed by some good reflection. I lay in bed that night comparing where am I now with where I thought I'd be, wondering if I am excited to reunite with my high school classmates, and if I'm able to own the journey I've been on.

I was so ready to graduate high school- to move on to bigger and better, that next step everyone kept talking about, and to take my first leap into adulthood. I was going to school across the country from the majority of my classmates and Facebook was still a new thing (I didn't get an account until I arrived at college my first semester), so it was mostly a solo journey into the unknown. I had all these expectations, goals, and plans for myself and for what I wanted in my life. Now I can look back and lovingly recognize how rigid those were for me. As if success in a certain area made me a successful individual, either all or nothing. Some of this reflection prompted me to write a letter to myself at 17, which you can read soon, but I want to finish answering the question. Am I ready for the reunion?

After a sleepless night, I came to the conclusion that, yes I am. I started envisioning how the reunion was going to play out. You know, maybe a slide show of graduates and a list of their accomplishments, current careers, etc, and I wondered what I would put on that slide. My educational path was/is not a straightforward one, I've found myself found myself working in several fields developing a host of talents and abilities while deciding which ones I wanted to focus on cultivating, and I've moved from place to place over the last ten years. I have dealt with serious health challenges and fought my way out of hopelessness. One of the best things I have ever done, though I never planned to, was to put life on hold to serve an eighteen month mission for my church. Through that experience I made some incredible friends, fell in love with the Spanish language and Hispanic people, and altered the course of my life. I have learned surprising skills and created my own business, only to put that on the back burner to work on something else I'm passionate about in the hopes of combining them in the future. I am learning to take risks and trust myself. I have written a book, but I'm still in the process of publishing. In short, my life is in progress; I am not a final product yet, and THAT'S OK. I discovered that instead of this stock photo future that I had desired, the reality is closer to a mosaic- perhaps incoherent or abstract when looking at just one piece, but incredibly beautiful and breathtaking in it's entirety. I have learned life lessons that I did not even know needed to be experienced. I am still learning to enjoy the journey and the moment and each individual stage of life. I have been brutally broken and put myself back together a few times now. I did the work to get rid of baggage and connect with myself, to heal myself and share healing with others. I have lost people I love and gained new friendships. With each new day and experience I am learning to love a little more, a little stronger, a little deeper. And I am really proud of that.

I know as I go to my reunion that some of my friends are in graduate programs, medical residencies, PhD programs, established in a career for several years now, have multiple children (while I still prepare for mine), etc. Simply, our paths divulged in the woods and they were all the ones we each needed to take. And I will celebrate every single one of them. Though despite my lack of conventional measures of success, I will go with my head held high because I am in love with WHO I've become and where I am, not just what.

White Girl in Harlem

A few weeks ago, I saw a post on Facebook asking if people ever find themselves as the only person of their race/color in any given place. The person asking is of Indian descent and I am, of course, a bean burrito- white on the outside and Latina on the inside. But for real, I am so white, Western European that it's a bit ridiculous. I got caught up thinking about her question that I never actually responded to her, but my answer is an unequivocal yes! I live in Harlem here in Manhattan- upper Harlem across the river from Yankee Stadium. So essentially, Black Harlem. I don't say that with judgment, because they call another area the "Spanish Harlem- it is simply what it is. Any given time I can walk out of the apartment building, go in any direction, and not see another Caucasian individual the entire time. At my school, I am the only white teacher (there is a Caucasian administrator there sometimes). I go on the train and more often than not, am the only Anglo-Saxon in the car. New York demographics claim that New York City (all 5 boroughs) has a population of 8.55 million people- 44.6% white, 27.5% Hispanic, 25.1% African American, and 11.8% Asian. While statistics claim that Manhattan in particular is 50% white, 15% black, and about 12% Hispanic, it all depends on what area you live in- Chelsea, SoHo, TriBeCa, Harlem, Washington Heights, Upper West Side or Upper East Side. Washington Heights, just north of Harlem on the west side, is a known as a hub for those from the Dominican Republic. I already knew that since so many of my friends from church are Dominican. Harlem is a historically large African American community since the 1920s- here blacks represent about 50% of the population. Most well-known for it's history of African American art and as a center of jazz in the 1930's and 40s.  Sorry, not sorry, for my little history lesson on the side.

Well, so what? Why am I going on about this besides describing where I live now? Because it is giving me amazing experiences and perspective. Though I grew up in many states from the West to the Midwest, mostly in suburban or smaller communities, I was always in the majority. I had and have friends of many races, but they were a part of our community instead of the other way around. I find myself in a position to see things as the minority in a particular community. Similar to my church congregation ( we attend a Spanish ward), I am being the gift of seeing a group from the inside. Though my skin hasn't changed, I identify strongly with the Hispanic community now. Not just because of my mission to Houston or my marriage to my Mexican mancrush, but rather because I have shared so much with that community and fell in love with them. Now, I am being given the chance to look at my opinions through a different lens. The jury is still out on what that will bring for me, but I'm excited to explore that. There are things I don't like about the neighborhood of course, but there are so many unique things as well. I can't wait to share them with you.

Life in the Fast Lane... I mean, Backup Care

I live in a city where people never stop working. I mean, lots of people come to the city for that dream job, or at least a better job to lead them to their dreams. Fast paced, demanding careers seems to be the standard for The City, and the teaching field seems to be no different. I had no idea that backup care existed before moving here. Basically, my company has full service (regular preschools or daycare) centers as well as backup and hybrid, or centers that are both full service and backup. Backup centers partner with a company as a benefit offered to employees. For example, my center is associated with New York Life Insurance Company. So as a benefit, employees with children get a certain number of days per year to bring their children to the center when school is out, their nanny is sick, parent has a commitment, etc. Literally we are the back-up child care for these parents. Kind of nice, right? I know lots of parents that would be so grateful for this wherever they are. It is a wonderful resource for these parents especially as we do a program to help transition infants after parents return from maternity leave, giving them extra days as they get back to work and finalize more permanent child care solutions. Definitely something that gives me comfort when I think about having and raising children in the city.

As a teacher in this environment, there are also lots of benefits. This atmosphere is never dull or boring. It is rarely predictable and I am always being exposed to a new issue or situation. It is also incredible to be able to work with so many children and see the development process as it differs in each of those children in the same age groups. However, there are lots of stressful and demanding aspects. While some parents plan ahead and have their child scheduled for certain days, spring break, etc, the very nature of the center leads to lots of last minute reservations making it hard to stick to even the most simple of lesson plans. I am still learning all of the children who come to our center since they don't come on a regular basis so it makes forming those relationships and trust with the children more challenging. Not impossible, but definitely challenging. Along with that, even though they complete medical information beforehand, we have many students with disabilities or challenges arrive and we have to recognize the issue and be able to respond appropriately. It's also a blessing to be able to learn about various special needs and situations, but can be stressful when a particular child may be new to the center and we are not yet familiar with how to help provide an environment that helps them be as successful as we would hope. Sometimes my husband asks me if I wouldn't rather be a bank teller or another 8-5 kind of job where the job stays at work, blah, blah blah. And though somedays that is tempting, I love those little moments of connection, of making a difference, of nurturing, guiding, teaching.

Black Coats and Green Mats

I live in a city of black coats and green mats.

I thought it was a joke when someone told me that everyone in New York wears black coats in the winter. I mean, really? A city known for it's individuality and fashion and the people mostly wear black coats? Well, my friends, it's TRUE! I am not sure if it is because black is stylish or slimming, if it's all they sell in the stores here or if it's harder to see dirt or smog on a black coat, but the city is a swarm of black on cold days. I own a maroon coat and a bright red one. Most of the time I am the only one with a colorful jacket in the subway car. And I'm ok with that. I like feeling that I'm not a New Yorker. Is that strange? I think in general, I personally like to fit in, to feel like I belong. However, growing up and moving lots of places, and now as an adult as well, I've come to learn that where I reside has very little to do with who I am. For some, where they were born or grew up or live now is a huge part of their identity. Not for me. I can live somewhere and find everything good and learn from experiences there while at the same time contributing everything I have to offer. I know lots of people here in the city who are proud New Yorkers and that is awesome. I have come to know many people who simply are here for a job, for family, for awhile.  And I reserve judgement on those who come and want to fit in and belong here. Put on that black coat- you will feel right at home. But I love to see those occasional individuals with their other colored coats- the rebels, those who refuse to change who they are under the pressure of this city.

At the same time that I say there is this almost unspoken uniformity in outerwear, I am reminded of the green mats. At my school, we use place mats for the children when having snack or eating lunch. Blue signifies that the child has no food restrictions or preferences. Red alerts us to an allergy. And green indicates a preference- something that we honor strictly but is not a medical allergy. It can be any number of things from Kosher to only food prepared by parents, no processed food etc. I have learned so much about traditions of the Jewish Passover in regards to food and restrictions, as well as during Lent for those students who had changes in their regular eating. Maybe it's a silly example, but it reminds me that there are so many complexities that we cannot see in people. These children do not "appear" any different that those children without any preferences. And even though I can't say that I know all the people I see on the trains everyday, I am sure they all have intricacies that are invisible to the eye. Maybe all I can see is a black coat, but everyone has a green mat. Those black jackets are just the tip of a very complex iceberg. New York is teaching me to look beyond what I can see, those first impressions, the tendency to judge quickly, and to give everyone a bit more grace.