Life Scribbler

19 Year Relationship

2/16/2023

I've wanted Grey's Anatomy to end for about 9 years now. Even stopped watching it for 2. And yet, I couldn't make myself watch the fall finale until last Tuesday (i.e. February) because I know it's the penultimate episode to Meredith's departure. Talk about an unhealthy relationship, am I right?

Well despite it's annoying tendency to get renewed year after year (after year), this show has been with some of us for over half our lives!! I've personally binged the whole thing through at least 3 times, and yes, the first 5 seasons are THAT good. The music choices alone could captivate me, and it's because of this show that I discovered so many new artists thanks to the "moody" music. It's fun to say i've been to some famous show spots, and a really fun fact is that Demi Lovato actually plays a patient who is diagnosed with the syndrome I have (superior semicircular canal dehisence)!

Loving a TV show like this feels silly, but it's also just another marker of time. I was packing to go to Europe when I watched the S5 finale. Me and my best friend would sniffle our way through the S8 finale on the floor of my pretty much deserted college house since I was the last one to move out. The S9 premiere gave me butterflies- I went to a watch party in Seattle with new friends, and I was still finding my way out there. Ellen Pompeo leaving in the S19 spring premiere means life is moving on which feels weird since this is by and large one of the longest relationships I’ve sustained. I’m both sad and comforted by that sentiment. Then I have a good laugh at my own expense because it is the year 2023, and we’re in the Golden Age of streaming. Go binge some of this stupidly epic, ridiculous show- that’ll cure your bleeding heart, kiddo.

What are some of your favorite Grey's moments?

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How Life Slowed Me Down

3/21/2022

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My whole identity used to be wrapped up in going, going, going. I could pull back-to-back 12-hour days with the best of them, and I prided myself on doing that as a strong, independent woman. I had fully leaned into hustle culture, and I often wonder if I burned out so brightly because of how hard I pushed myself. This is the story of how I grieve life before chronic illness (or what I like to call BCI).

The peak of my BCI lifestyle was 2011-2014. It all started when I decided to leave Kansas and only apply to grad schools elsewhere. My dad and I would travel to Ball State, University of Connecticut (UConn), and Seattle U (SU) in a matter of one week. I would go on to pick SU, learn to live 1500 miles away from everyone I knew and loved, and realized I was a hell of a lot stronger than I realized. BCI tapered off with a 48-hour trip to New York City for a job interview. I was in and out of there so quickly because I was still in the thick of grad school. That last quarter was truly a race to the finish line! I was working 20 hours at my graduate assistantship, working 25 hours at my part-time gig, on the bus for two hours a day (if not more), finishing my editor-in-chief role for an academic journal, wrapping up coursework, and job searching. The bus rides were a particularly unique catch-22. They added time to my day, but I’d use that time to write papers or apply for jobs. Looking back now, I’m not quite sure how I did it all. It was indeed exhausting but also incredibly gratifying. It was the healthiest and happiest I’ve ever been. Hustle culture may be toxic, but I truly believe there’s something to be said about hustling for something you’ve worked your whole life for. Every other day, I’d pinch myself to make sure I was truly experiencing all of this in real time. It's cheesy but true- this was a dream come true, and I wasn’t prepared for life to slow me down.

When life did slow me down, it started off subtly with high blood pressure (hence the tapering off in NYC). I cried on the phone to my dad when I found out, even though treating hypertension is very manageable. I wouldn’t cry again about my health for a few years- not because there weren’t concerns but because I started getting used to (read: becoming numb to) doctor talk, medications, and medical tests.

Life’s next messages were much more disruptive and trickier. Getting diagnosed, or associating a name with the symptom, is just half the battle but it always brings me relief. I’d go three years before a diagnosis of vestibular migraines and semicircular canal dehiscence (SSCD or SCDS), both of which are associated with the inner ear and balance. In fact, when my ENT doctor (ear, nose, and throat) told me that the best treatment for SSCD was brain surgery (i.e. a craniotomy), I was scared- sure- but I was mostly aware of what it felt like to be naming the devil that had been torturing me.

Another monster in my body has been presyncope, or the sensation of fainting without going unconscious. I’ll feel lightheaded and/or dizzy, my vision will get blurry or spotty, my hearing is muffled, and I even vomit sometimes. It was only two months ago in January 2022 that I would come to have a name for these episodes that I’ve been experiencing since 2016. Five years have gone by with a mystery unsolved, and it took me being referred to a cardiologist to get here. Not to mention, the cardiologist was a referral from a neurologist who was a referral from my ENT doctor (and this is only one example of how the U.S. healthcare system is broken).

Pair all these ailments together, and you suddenly have the reason why I will continue to be sick. I’m not getting better. It’s not going away. This is me, living with chronic illness (emphasis on the chronic). There is no quick fix. I’ll most likely: need to have another brain surgery, forever measure my energy in spoons, continue to see specialist after specialist, and become an expert of my body and its faults. I’ll have some good days when I am triumphant over the fatigue, but I’ll also have bad days when all I can do is experience pain and mourn the life I used to live, BCI.

It’s true that I don’t want to be defined by my chronic illness, but I would be stubborn not to admit that it has been an instrument for change and discovery. It’s not my whole identity, but it is a part of my identity that I can't ever part with now. Really, if I was already a strong woman before pain and I got acquainted, then I am an even stronger woman because of it.

My life after chronic illness (or ACI) has also just made me a more compassionate and empathetic human being. I now see the value in rest, which is a big one for me since not only did I not understand that concept before, but I faulted people for it. Entering the chronic illness community was another milestone . I have since joined many support groups, live by Christine Miserandino's “The Spoon Theory”, and read any memoir about sickness and pain (if only to learn more about other illnesses and health).

ACI certainly has had more lows than highs and more setbacks than I ever imagined having before I turned 32, but it’s not without its own merit. Now do I thank the Universe for handing this fate to me? No. But I do think the Universe is helping me learn in ways that I never thought possible. While I do believe there is a distinct difference between BCI and ACI, it’s okay to see those as two parts of the greater whole that is my health.

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114 Playlists

2/7/2022

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Out of an abundance of curiosity, I decided to count the number of playlists I have on Spotify. It's 114. One-hundred and fourteen times, I've tried capturing what I feel through the meaning of song. To put this number into perspective, I've had my Spotify account since 2011. On average, that means I curate 11-12 playlists each year. Is that normal??? Or am I just strangely addicted to creating playlists? I have always said it should be a skill I could add to my resume, but I do wonder if the sheer quantity is a bit abnormal.

Sometimes the playlist names are random and have nothing to do with the name (Rose Gold has a very punk pop vibe). Other times, the playlist names are very on the nose (Coldsnap was created last year during the literal snow and ice storm we had in Kansas). Some are named after a song that inspired the playlist (Enamore was inspired by Me Enamore by Shakira), while some are named after the general theme of the overall playlist (Melancholic is very sad vs abcdefu is very angry).

I can't remember a time when music wasn't influencing some part of my life. When I was a toddler, I'd strum the seatbelt and sing to country ballads. At 9, I got a karaoke machine and my first CD- Christina Aguilera's self-titled album. At 10, I started playing the flute. In middle school, I chose choir and band as my electives.

I didn't personally pursue music in college, but I was able to experience my first concerts during that time in my life. I saw Sara Bareilles at the Granada in Lawrence and The Fray at Starlight Theatre in Kansas City). Glee was also a part of the Zeitgeist at that point in time and it had me obsessed with covers (when Pitch Perfect happened, I moved onto the acapella craze).

Then from fall 2012-winter 2016, I didn't have a car and was commuting by foot and bus so it was almost guaranteed that I was wearing headphones. I easily logged 10-15 hours per week of music-listening only. I imagine the bulk of my playlists came out of this era.

August 2016 was exceptional because I saw my first Broadway show, Waitress, and it revived my interest in theatre. May 2019 was just as exceptional because I got to see my second Broadway show (Kiss Me Kate) and be a part of a choir that performed at Carnegie Hall.

In 2022, I hate to admit it, but I'm listening to music less and less. Music is still an important part of my life, it's just that now, podcasts and audiobooks are also a huge part of the equation. There never seems to be enough time to listen and consume all the content, but when I am needing a brain break, I jump to my playlists to get a rush of musically charged endorphins. Music continues to serve as a marker in time. I can listen to any one of those 114 playlists, and I'm taken right back to the moment I created them. I can smell the woods and the bonfires in the Pacific Northwest, or I can feel the bumping of the bass in the clubs. Even better, I'm reminded of love and elation and laughter and dreams come true.

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Last December

9/26/2021

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I looked up, and somehow it's September 2021 (almost October). I keep a journal, but I haven't publicly written in 9+ months. This is hard to see since I used to write on here at least once every month. There are many reasons for my silence, most of which are very personal. In addition to handling my parents' divorce, my mother has moved to the same town I live in, and at various times I have been repairing fractures in the relationships I have with my mother, father, and sister. In June, I went back to my dad's place in Oswego, Kansas- the family house I grew up in. We went through many memories and threw away a lot. We still have more to sort and go through, and the entire experience was sad, but I'm mostly relieved to put the past behind me. At around the same time, I realized I have now lived in Emporia, Kansas, for longer than I have lived anywhere- even Oswego. This feels big for me. Maybe it's because I chose Emporia, and it still means so much to me. Maybe it's because my independence bounded out of me when I left my family home.

All the while, I've had many ups and downs of my own. Back in January, I moved in with one of my oldest friends. It wasn't just a choice that I wanted to make but one I felt like I needed to make. Financially it's helped me a bunch, but emotionally, it's been life-changing. Part of the reason why I ended up at Stormont Vail Behavioral Health Center in February of 2020 was because I lived alone. It was very isolating and not serving me well. I've also been exploring the paths to claiming disability. After learning about the roadblocks to that process, I have decided to focus on crafting better documentation of my chronic pain. For one, I created a calendar where I mark up every day I'm sick, out sick from work, and flexing time at work to make up for the work hours lost. Secondly, I made up a very detailed symptom tracker for myself that forces me to keep tabs on my blood pressure, migraines, vertigo, nausea, brain fog, fatigue, tinnitus, balance, and now, brain processing issues. I additionally record any health issue that is out of the ordinary.

https://www.redbubble.com/shop/iconic+chronic+stickers

The very best thing to happen to me since last December has been joining the Chronicon Community! What started off as an annual conference turned into a strong online community after COVID hit. Due to Chronicon, and social media in general, I've been actively engaging with people all over the globe. There's been book club discussions, health and wellness engagements, community support, and resource sharing. I'm in therapy too, so instead of bottling up all my pain, I've actually been talking to others about what it means to have an acquired disability. My reminder to myself every day is to find something I'm grateful for- it can be big or small- and write it down. This song and other uplifting songs don't hurt either!

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Pieces on the Floor, Part II

12/22/2020

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CONTENT WARNING: suicidal ideation; depression; mental health intervention; explicit language

Preface

I started this series, and I'm determined to finish it, but I had this original timetable that's just a memory now. Three parts done by 2020, no problem. The first post in the series was me thinking I had it all unpacked and then realizing I had just scratched the surface. Bare with me.

"A hundred million stories
And a hundred million songs
I feel stupid when I sing
Nobody's listening to me
Nobody's listening
I talk to shooting stars
But they always get it wrong
I feel stupid when I pray
Why the fuck am I praying anyway?
If nobody's listening

Anyone, please send me anyone
Lord, is there anyone?
I need someone, oh
Anyone, please send me anyone
Oh, Lord, is there anyone?
I need someone
Oh, anyone, I need anyone
Oh, anyone, I need someone"

Part II

In the Behavioral Health Center there was a faux pay phone that didn't require money. Security let me write down phone numbers before I had to turn my phone over. I made three calls to my friend Emily, my sister, and my parents. The first call to my parents was just to fill them in and tell them that I had visiting hours the next day. They offered to pick me up at that time instead of just visiting. I was unsure but said I'd think about it. By the morning, after speaking with a psychiatrist and the director of the center, I gave my parents the go-ahead. The director questioned my decision but ultimately let me check out because I had voluntarily checked myself in.

I was lying through my teeth when I told him I was ready. While I did feel a little more calm (as my blood pressure stats would show), I was merely rushing myself. The idea of recuperating with people who loved me felt so much more comforting than a clinical and cold place that scared the living shit out of me.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I went back and forth on using explicit language. I decided to keep the words in because they depict my truest of emotions. I do believe there's something beautiful and raw about the act of saying a word that frees me from pain and suffering. I'm also not about to hide behind my words when I chose to be so transparent about all the other things I've been through. If you wish to be alarmed, be alarmed at the lack of resources and money given to the mental health field. This is something I plan to tackle in my later pieces of this series.

Work was also at the forefront of my mind. I was consumed with the anxiety of looming deadlines. I couldn't stop thinking about how much leave I had already taken because of my ongoing vertigo issues. The fear of constantly letting my team down was deeply rooted in why I ended up at that institution and why I left so suddenly.

In Part I, I compared my numbness to cruise control. Though I wasn't all there, I was able to comprehend that something was different. Something was not right. For the first time in my life, I began to have suicidal thoughts (see @alyseruriani's image below). Thankfully, an alarm went off in my brain: this was far from anything normal. Yes, from the age of 19, I've been an anxious person who would go through bouts of depression, but never did I ever think of ending anything.

Even when I got to the center, I downplayed what I was experiencing. I kept telling the professionals, "I only thought about it, but I wasn't going to do it." They reassured me that I was in fact a danger to myself and that I did the right thing. Still, some part of me felt like I was overreacting. Raw conversations with other patients made me realize they had either attempted suicide or were in the center for the third or fourth time. I thought again, I am totally blowing this all out of proportion. I don't feel fine, but maybe this is all in my head. The fact remains: suicidal thoughts are indeed an active sign of ideation.

I actually didn't stumble upon @alyseruriani's image until five months after my time in the center. It's helped me put a name to where I was at, and what I was going through. It's helped me realize that I was in trouble, and that I did the right thing. It's helped me be a better student affairs professional. It's helped me be a better human. It's helped me feel validated. It's helped me feel. I hope it helps anyone out there reading this who has struggled with all the weight we must carry in this world.

posted in peacfulparenting by redrocketinn (Reddit)

To be continued...

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Pieces on the Floor, Part I

6/11/2020

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CONTENT WARNING: depression; mental health intervention; explicit language

Preface

Three and a half months out, and I know things now that I didn't know then. I wish I could go back and hug myself. It's gonna be alright, baby girl. You're just a broken person with broken pieces on the floor. It's okay that the brokenness got too heavy. You got help and you're getting help, and you're on your way to picking up all the pieces so you can tape yourself back together again.

Part I

When I walked into the patient unit of Stormont Vail Behavioral Health Center, the first thing that caught my eye were all the puzzles. They were completed and pasted up on the wall- some of the only spots of color in that whole facility. Most of them were Disney-inspired (which felt childish), a forced reminder of our younger selves who weren't jaded and clumsy and responsible for all the mistakes we carried. Everything else was beige and sanitary and well...scary.

The second thing I got hung up on was that pesky word "behavioral". It sounded so damn radical since I couldn't feel much of anything. I was sure acting fucked up, but it was a fucked up on cruise control. I was watching this numbness all unfold from above me. I had full blown conversations just 24 hours before, and although I could grasp that I wasn't all there, they still happened and there's chunks of time just missing. That's time that I can't get back or account for. It's like when you're going down a stretch of highway after a long day and you look up to realize that you can't account for the last 10 miles. Know what I mean?

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I went back and forth on using explicit language. I decided to keep the words in because they depict my truest of emotions. I do believe there's something beautiful and raw about the act of saying a word that frees me from pain and suffering. I'm also not about to hide behind my words when I chose to be so transparent about all the other things I've been through. If you wish to be alarmed, be alarmed at the lack of resources and money given to the mental health field. This is something I plan to tackle in my later pieces of this series.

As I was escorted to the bathroom, I was asked to take out my piercings and strip down. I had to change into the clothes that the facility provided. The woman who followed me in there would go on to check my breasts and butt, just in case I had carried a weapon in. I can easily say I've never been more vulnerable, and I'm a person who steps into uncomfortable conversations and situations fairly often in an attempt to challenge myself so that's really saying something.

To shield myself, I pulled on the blue shirt and blue pants about as quick as I could- they were a cross between scrubs and an inmate's outfit. The woman then handed me a paper sack filled with toiletries. There was a comb in there that was brittle and could only comb a few strands at a time. The toothbrush was also a joke- thinner than my pinky finger. Socks and underwear were stuffed in there. The socks were kind of comfy, but the underwear reminded me of the top part of pantyhose- a bit thicker than the bottom half of the hose but still nylon-like and uncomfortable as hell. (I'm very thankful they let me wear the underwear I had on when I entered.)

When I got to my room, they told me that the doors were to remain open unless I was showering. The bathroom was directly to the right of the room's main entry so anyone could get a clear shot in there. Even more invasive was the fact that the bathroom doorway only had a shower curtain hanging from it and that curtain didn't even cover the entire frame of the door. Since I didn't have to go to the bathroom at that very moment, it wasn't until later that I discovered there were no mirrors in the rooms. This was for safety purposes of course, but it was just another surprise in the long list of sobering realities.

I was then introduced to my roommate and shown to my bed, a big, box-like plastic...thing. It reminded me of playground material. To the left of my bed was a big, box-like plastic shelf. When they only gave me one pillow, I was scared to ask for one more to help with my vertigo, but they kindly accommodated me. I felt a pinch of relief. I took my first deep breath.

Around that same time, a nurse came in to check my vitals and review my medications with me. She explained that a nurse would be coming around every hour to check my vitals and/or give me meds. The every hour thing made me feel both cared for and anxious.

Next thing I knew, it was lunch- a time to fill up on pretty questionable food and talk to the other patients. They had us line up and all walk to the cafeteria together in a single-file line, like we were in grade school. That's when my ears started to ring....

"I couldn't stop it,
tried to figure it out,
but everything kept moving
and the noise got too loud.
With everyone around me saying,
'You should be so happy now.' "
-Light On, Maggie Rogers

I don't know if the ringing was because I was angered by the regimented act of being lined up or panicked by the control of being told what to do and when, but I was shaken to my core. Deep down I knew I needed someone to be giving me direction! I knew I needed help! I was just suddenly face-to-face with the severity of the situation. It was my lowest of lows, a messy moment.

To be continued...

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This is Hard

5/25/2020

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I've tried writing this post about 500 times. Sadly, that's not an exaggeration since I haven't publicly blogged in 2 years and 2 months. The longer I was away, the more I felt this urge to produce something... profound. That is, until I realized fear was whispering in my ear. When I started listening to my heart, I realized that producing is the thing. Thinking about the thing isn't the thing. So rather than making this eloquent, I'm just going to talk about what's been going on.

During this time away I've been processing and grieving my old life. I went from being a very active person who won awards for being so active to now living with an acquired disability. I've been in denial about it for awhile now, but since my work life and my social life has taken a huge hit, I have now had to come to terms with that identity. Of course, this is all cycical too, so my mental health has taken a toll as well.

There's been many doctor's appointments at numerous locations and lots of medical bills. There was a brain surgery, and a couple of ER visits. I even had a very short stint in a mental facility which is a whole other post for another time. Now I am in therapy. I am also working with my university's HR department on some disability accommodations.

The feeling I've experienced the most over the past few years has been numbness. I don't quite know how to be this other person. I don't recognize her, and I don't really like her. But she is me, and I have be more accepting of that.

I turn 30 in one week, and that milestone means a lot to me. It's another factor that nudged me in the direction of publishing this post. As a teenager, I loved 13 Going on 30, and over the next decade of my life, I actually want to live out the "Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving" motto. Laughter and love belong in my life, and I've had far too little of both lately. I need to dance despite my dizziness. I will travel despite the days when I just have to lay up in my hotel. I plan on moving and taking up new hobbies. With accommodations and moderation, I will be gentle with this body of mine but not at the expense of living out my dreams.

The blogging will also make a comeback because I'm not really me without it. It's helpful when I need to unpack the crappy stuff and wonderful when I wish to share dreams that come to fruition.

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Millennial Monday: Ivy Buena

3/25/2018

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Grounded & Whole

I am ignited by simple moments- by living in authenticity, helping others when I can, spending time with people I love, and experiencing various cultures that enrich my body and soul.

Ivy Buena (Boston, MA)

Age: 28
Job Title: Activities Coordinator @ Carleton Willard, a Nursing Home

I manage weekly activities for dementia residents such as energizing stretches to encourage physical activity and engaging activities to improve cognitive abilities

Sexuality: Straight
Orientation: Female
Ethnicity: Filipino-American
Race: Asian
Socioeconomic status: Working Class/Middle
Education:

University of Vermont- Bachelor of Arts
Wheelock College- Master’s of Science in Educational Studies (with a focus on Social Work)

Do you consider yourself a millennial-
why or why not?

Yes. I was born in 1989, in Manila, Philippines, and moved to Massachusetts at the age of 6 years old. I grew up in a generation in which technology was evolving, and I felt a strong sense of community through local and global means.

What has been key in your development as a millennial?

As a Filipina-American woman, the following things have influenced me:

digital and technological advancements such as social media
an increased interest in service
immersing myself in various cultures that differ from my upbringing

Is your job the sole purpose or “calling” of your life? Who do you serve at work, and why do you serve them?

As an Activities Coordinator, I work closely with elders who have dementia. My job is to keep the residents engaged by promoting social, physical, and mental wellness. I serve my residents because I find value in our generational differences; it's a chance for me to learn from them as they share their stories, as they also learn from me. It gives me an opportunity to truly understand others, through struggles and resilience.

My job is not necessarily the sole purpose, but I am ignited by simple moments- by living in authenticity, helping others when I can through a kind act or word, spending time with people I love, and experiencing various cultures that enrich my body and soul; these memories that you create with others develop meaning.

I am fueled by education, and especially the performing arts, that utilizes communication of truthful stories and portrays awareness and sensitivity. I am passionate about a holistic framework lifestyle that balances work, family, friends, and "me" time. I thrive in fast-paced environments in which I am able to unite others and develop meaningful connections. Last but not least, spirituality energizes my way of living by keeping me grounded and whole.

PC: Montgomery College

What are your passions, hobbies, and/or aspirations?

Passions: I am deeply passionate about empowerment. I strongly believe in encouraging others to recognize their true potential in succeeding. That’s why education and service plays a huge role in molding individuals’ capabilities. I have a strong background and great interest in theatre, music, and dance. My passion for the performing arts connects to education, which promotes cultural competence and distinguishes an awareness and sensitivity through body movement and storytelling. I honor people’s experiences and stories they bring to the table, because when you develop an understanding of others, not only do you bring out the best in you, but you bring out the best in others as well.

Hobbies: I have had a lot of “me” time lately as a single 28-year-old woman. Depending on the weather, my hobbies include jogging a few times a week at my own pace. I love to explore and walk around the city of Boston or get lost and go wherever my heart leads me to. With recent snowstorms here in Boston, social media has been my go-to when it comes to updated news and events. I love to watch theatrical plays, cultural events, and ballet performances that give you these elements of joy and warm fuzzy feelings. Additionally, I love to attend live concerts and explore museums and libraries that portray history.

Aspirations: I aspire to become an educator and a social agent of change. I would like for every little girl that was told that she couldn’t do something believe that she can. I aspire to become like the administrative mentors I have had in my past and empower others to achieve as much as they have inspired me. I aspire to have positive impacts in the communities I have lived and worked in. I aspire to become a program director that will promote a sense of well being, instill awareness and understanding, and broaden individual perspectives.

What communities or groups have helped you feel like you belong?

Asian American Student Union: When I first entered my undergraduate career at the University of Vermont, I became an active participant of the Asian American Student Union (AASU). AASU at that time became my home away from home. In some ways, I finally found myself, and it was the first time that I embraced my Filipina American identity. For someone who felt lost at times, and did not know where I fit in, my AASU friends eased my transition to college. Growing up in a predominantly white suburb I felt somewhat invisible, but I adapted. Becoming part of the AASU community not only helped me develop long lasting friendships, but also enhanced an understanding of my salient identities.

Grays Harbor County Jesuit Volunteer Corps 12’-13’: When I graduated from the University of Vermont, I moved to the northwest and served as a Jesuit Volunteer at Grays Harbor County. I lived with two strangers from various states- Casey Jergenson from Omaha, Nebraska, and Melissa Minato from San Jose, California. Luckily the three of us roommates got along fairly well- we were very similar yet different in many ways. We were a community of three that shared moments and stories together while living in an isolated community. Through our weekly spirituality nights and shared evening meals, there was a sense of belonging and mutual bond between all of us.

PC: JVC

The millennial generation has been labeled as entitled, tech-savvy, non-religious, and non-direct communicators who are financially irresponsible.
What do you think about these labels?

As much as I disagree and agree with the labels above, everybody’s situations, upbringing, and interests are different. We are all flawed and imperfect. Yet each and every one of us have the power to become social advocates of change. Change starts with each of us.

We are living in a very technological savvy society in which we are constantly on our iPhones, iPads, laptops, and computers. This is what led us to become non-direct communicators and couch potatoes. We live in a society in which there is constant upheaval, political antics, and where healthcare is not always a priority. The media communicates and molds our daily views. Religion is not always dominant, but depending on where you are living, it may play a role in your spiritual life. I have lived in various parts of the country; some areas are a lot more conservative and religious than others while other areas are very liberal and spiritual. Religion may or may not play a role. Perhaps we are entitled because we work for our money and we do what we want. I think the entitlement piece comes from access and working for your money. We may be seen as financially irresponsible because we live in a materialistic world and we take out loans for education in order to invest in our futures.

Yet, millennials are also advocates that will change the direction of our futures. I strongly believe that millennials are civic-minded individuals that will encourage stewardship and environmental sustainability. We are the open-minded generation that will challenge inequities and serve as allies for those who are oppressed because we have a deeper understanding of social justice and equity. We are the generation that will demand for equal rights and opportunities, and promote a just society. We are the generation that thrives in service and uses creativity to innovate change. If influenced by positivity and access, we have the life experiences that can impact our surrounding communities for the better. We are the generation in which women can finally be our future leaders. Millennials are the generation in which knowledge and collaboration are critical components of our system. Life is our teacher and we are part of something bigger than ourselves.

Think you have a story to tell about being a millennial? Comment below or message me today at eden.tullis@gmail.com!

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Millennial Monday: Snowflake

1/15/2018

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I named myself a liberal when I was 18. It was November- the election of 2008. I didn't really understand what that fully meant at the time, but I also knew that I didn't like the idea of this big label that could define you for at least 2 years until you voted again. Nope, I didn't like the idea of being one or the other. (This would also cement my long-standing belief that we shouldn't have a two-party system...but that, my friends, is a WHOLE other blog.)

Looking back now, it's odd to me that I knew the identity of liberal before I knew what Millennial meant to me. Maybe it was because the election of 2008 was so electrifying and important to us 18 year olds that year. But I have come to understand myself as even more than just not Democrat or just not Republican. Being part of the Millennial generation has been an identity I proudly affirm- a badge of honor if you will. And that, in turn, aligns with how I feel about voting on election days. I vote for and WITH my generation because I know that we can are movers and shakers. We may not hold the highest offices just yet, but our voices make a difference. Our careers and firm beliefs our changing the tides.

It's why I created Millennial Mondays. We are more than the stereotypes. We are more than avocado toast and memes. We are our stories, and each story deserves to have a spot in space and time.

If that makes us snowflakes, well then move over cause I'mma cause a whole blizzard with these stories that I'm spreading.

You see, over the last year, a parallel has been occurring with this project that has given me inspiration and pause. As I have lost faith in the White House and its administration, I have gained more trust in the colleagues and friends around me such as those who have been featured in Millennial Mondays. It's been an unhinged year, and when I can barely stand where we're headed as a nation, I look to my millennial community for affirmation. We are the leaders of tomorrow, and that doesn't just have to be rooted in politics. We are educators and social workers and we're in the service industry. We hold 2 to 3 jobs at a time and still make time for community service or local engagement.

We're also the generation who has seen an uptick in this thing called "Emotional Intelligence"....oooohhhhhh. Snowflakes!!! But you know who I really respect and admire for her work in this topical area? Brene Brown (Ph.D.)- a Generation Xer.

At first I was threatened and frustrated by this title of snowflake, but couldn't it be an identity that we take back and claim as our own? So we care. A LOT. And there are people in each generation who empathize and understand and care A LOT, but I think what makes the Millennial generation different is that we seem to connect with each other by actually talking about the elephants in the room like shame and imperfections. It may make us too sensitive I suppose, but I really do believe there's great courage and self-awareness that comes with that sensitivity, too. Emboldened, true stories is what Millennial Mondays is for.

Think you have a story to tell about being a millennial? Comment below or message me today at eden.tullis@gmail.com!

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Daughter Glow: Feel It In My Bones

12/14/2017

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I'm sitting in my living room with only the Christmas lights on. That glow, though. I curl up, sip my midnight tea, and stare into the twinkling abyss.

Daughter is playing softly. Now before you call me a Grinch, hear me out! It may not be Christmas music, but that's not the vibe I'm going for tonight. In fact, I'm not even seeking merriment. Nope, I'm actively seeking a contemplative state, and Daughter is my go-to when I need a good break through.

My thoughts tonight keep pushing me towards the year ahead- carpe 2018? There's a lot that's waiting to be both seen and heard. I'm excited for the clock to strike midnight, but until then so many unanswered questions leave me wondering:
What (or who) will I fall in love with?
What (or who) will break my fall?
What big changes are on the horizon?

I can feel it in my bones.
It's coming.

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