Know Your Limits

Wildberry Smoothie with Pearls~

If it's one thing this picture doesn't show, it's that quite recently I made a decision for my mental health. And no, it wasn't buying the drink. 

Not completely, anyways.

I rarely talk about this, but a few years ago I was on the road to becoming a functioning alcoholic. I never reached a point that the first thing I drank was alcohol and ended my day on alcohol, but I was definitely falling into the category of becoming reliant on it when I got overwhelmed.

And a few years ago, I had a lot and nothing going on that it was quite common to see rum or tequila filling up one of my glasses. I even had moonshine in the house, at some point. Naturally, if I'm gonna be an alcoholic I'm gonna do it right.

But here's the thing, I caught myself and forced my way out of the bad habits I was developing. I went sober for a long time after that. It wasn't easy, but I managed it. 

These days, I still don't drink. I may partake in something small with a friend or on special occasions. My main rule, never drink when I'm upset, overwhelmed, feeling negative in any way.

Yesterday, I wanted a drink so bad because of a situation I found myself, I realized that something needed to change in my life.

Immediately.

This was a sign that my mental health was standing on the edge of a mountain and looking at the trees below with the babbling brook and majestic waterfall in the distance.

Last night, I could almost taste my homemade rum punch and how it would dance with my taste buds to make my day better. I could hear the ice clinking in my glass. I could see how the rum and mango/passion fruit juice mixed together in a sweet temptation. I could smell that tropical getaway in a glass yesterday and I was scared.

How could a situation have gotten so out of hand that I was back to this?

Small things, that's how.

But you know what? Despite where I found myself, I knew what I had to do. I needed to take myself out of the situation.

Was it easy?

No.

Did I still try?

Yes.

And I'm glad I did, because within 24 hours, a solution was found. These coming weeks, I might still teeter on the edge, wanting to drink and get through it without having to put in the effort. But I can't do that.

I can't.

I need to process it, clear headed and with my own strength.

This is why it's important to speak up. Yes, it's terrifying. Maybe some would say a sign of weakness, admitting you need help.

But isn't it a sign of strength facing your fears and weaknesses head on?

The decision that was made wasn't just me, it was those I consider honored to know who helped me come to a solution. They asked me questions, they helped me craft my wording, supported me before I even knew I needed help standing tall.

It may have been my mental health that told me my crown was slipping, but it was my people who helped steady it.

#SaveOurToya

My Story #BlackLivesMatter

The day someone told me I looked like my mother, I almost cried. For years, I've always heard that I looked like my father. And when I think about it, I can maybe see it.

My nose.

My height.

And when my dad had hair, we have the same hair line. 

We especially can't forget these baby cheeks!

But when people say I look like my father, I wonder if that's what they see or if it's my beautiful milk chocolate skin that relegates me as black.

And that's why I look like my father.

Black = black, right?

I wonder, did other biracial kids ever think about this? Did they wonder if people thought of them as charity cases when they were with their white parent? That my white parent wasn't mine? 

So often, I would have these thoughts, but have no one to talk to about it.

Being biracial puts you in a spot that you can't get out of. I'm not fully black, but I'm not fully white. I will never know the true experience of either side. On one side, I'm supposed to have privilege and the other is oppressed and lost. I have both and none. 

I can't say when I started to put myself to a lower status than my own mother because of the color of my skin. I do know it was around the time I started to notice people's gazes on us. At some point, I would try to hide my 'blackness' when I was with my mother. I would take care of how I would speak. I would do whatever I could to promote my German half over my black half. 

And is that weird. I don't see my white half as white. But German. I have never labelled myself as "half-caucasian/white", only "half-German". Bi-racial and bi-cultural, that is who I am, but growing up, I couldn't reconcile both sides. 

Believe it or not, when I was younger, before the stares and fumbling attempts at adulting, I took pride in the color of my skin. It was what set me apart from those around me. Goodness, I can remember looking up to my older brother and thinking he was so amazing. And that I could never surpass how cool he was. 

But I had something he didn't have and that was my milk chocolate-y skin color. It was also the one thing that I could see at any time that I wanted without a mirror and have a connection to my father. After all, being an Army brat isn't easy. Sure, you get to travel and meet new people and experience new cultures, but at what cost?

Did you know there was a point in my life that the first time I 'met' my father, I couldn't communicate with him? That I thought he was a stranger? It wasn't because I was a baby and just recently born. But because he was doing his duty for America and hadn't been around those first few years. I spoke German and he spoke English. I can't even imagine what that must've felt like for him to come back and not even be able to speak to his only daughter. 

I am proud of my father and proud of what he's given me. 

I am proud of who I am and the color of my skin. 

But growing up....I was ashamed. My milk chocolate skin was becoming a hindrance and I hated...I hated that I was shunning half of who I am because others thought of me as less. 

It took me years to learn how to accept myself again. 

You know...I wonder why I never spoke to my parents about how I felt? I mean, parents are supposed to fix it all, right? I'm like 99.99% certain my mother is magic and my dad would move heaven and Earth for my brother and me just to ensure our happiness. 

Yet...I said nothing.

I couldn't confide in my awesome older brother, either.

All of my thoughts and emotions, I kept them all to myself. I wonder if that's why I felt so numb when I was younger? Why it took forever to notice my depression and anxiety? 

I was so focused on being perfect and not a burden for my parents and brother, that I forgot about me. 

I can speculate that the reason I never said anything was because at home, skin color wasn't a defining piece. We were simply, mom, dad, older brother, and me. I know my family kept me sheltered. I was the baby of the family, after all. It was like an unspoken rule that we didn't let the outside world come between us. 

The first time I joined the race discussion was in college. Of course, I was confronted by racism every damn day. Just because I didn't know what words to use or how to express my experiences, doesn't negate what was happening around me, with me, inside of me. That first semester in Sociology is what gave me the first tools to express my own experiences. 

While kids younger than me were getting the 'sex talk', I was getting the 'race talk'...at least...the beginning notions of it.

Since then, I've been doing my own readings, joining discussions, and learning to come to an agreeable peace within myself.

But every time I think I found peace or made progress in someone getting it, I see another brother or sister taken away.

I hear that even when doing nothing, we are still targeted, deemed less.

Just the other day, amidst the protests and a day before George Floyd's funeral, I learn of something that leaves me disgusted with certain individuals that I know. Instead of speaking up, instead they hold their silence. 

Must be nice having the option to be silent, but I guess you can still breath. I guess you don't have to keep your hands up or worry that you'll be shot in your own home by the police. I guess someone says your name just fine.

To those who do speak up, thank you. Thank you so, so much. 

To those who want to do more, it's hard to find what you can do. Maybe you're limited financially or you're not the type to protest in front of the capitol. There's always something you can do. Spread the word, educate those around you, show your support when you can. (Twitter thread for #BLM resources)

For me...this is how I can contribute. Let me show you how racism has effected me. Let me tell my story.

#BlackLivesMatter

There's a List

Strap yourselves in boys and girls and people. It's been a couple of weeks since I last posted and who knows what craziness I'm about to impart upon you today.

Best to get the big things out of the way, shall we?



Number 1 (and yes, we have a list.)

Who da fuck spilled coffee on my desk?

It sure as hell wasn't me. I don't drink the hot bean water. To be frank, it's not my cup of tea. (hehe...get it?)

So someone, who I don't know but am quite certain drinks coffee, was sitting at my desk and had a little "oopsie". Thankfully, nothing important got ruined. Just some of my scrap paper that I like to reuse cuz I'm all eco-friendly that way.

But still.

Someone spilled coffee and didn't have the nerve to tell me.

Strike(s): 1


Number 2

Why wasn't I told my class were cancelled?

I'm used to being told the morning of my classes if they were going to be cancelled. After a year of it happening randomly (for me, not so random for everyone else), you build up a casual acceptance of, 'ah...okay'. And if a class is cancelled, it's not the end of the world. You can just move your lesson plan to the next time you have that class. Even if you had a themed event that you really wanted to share with your students because of a holiday, and it really shouldn't be moved, but here we are? Yeah. I know how to roll with the punches, even then.

But when it comes to one of my students informing me the period right before the 'cancelled' class and my co-teacher saying nothing, I have some problems.

I go to confront said teacher, and she goes, 'oh right! Yes, but not really. Only 7th period. It's a chicken party that we knew of for the last two weeks. You will be teaching during 8th period.'

Guess who didn't teach 8th period either...

Strikes: 3 (they got 2 strikes, for the double cancellation)


Number 3

Yesterday, I learned of something worse than last minute class cancellations. Last minute class additions.

Y'all...let me tell you how I work.

Because I've found a self-love for myself during that fuck-up of a time from a few months ago, I no longer bring my work home. Almost everything is done between work hours. Per my contract, that's a total of 40 hours. 22 of those hours, I am teaching (if classes aren't cancelled), and the other 18 are left for lesson planning.

Now, my lesson planning is down to a fine art. I don't prep a week in advance. I wish I could, but I don't. I lesson plan within 24-48 hours before the class.

Why?

Because I want to have taught the class beforehand to understand what needs to be worked on in the next class. Or hey, maybe we didn't get as far as I hoped to and can be less stressed as I ctrl+c and ctrl+v for a hot second.

Or in much, much simpler terms.

If my class is on Wednesday, I start planning on Monday and finialize by the end of my last free period on Tuesday.

Apparently, the teachers in my school thought, 'oh Toya's more than prepared. She always is. Let's just shift 2 classes forward, so now she's teaching 4 class this morning, and she should've already have been in her first class ten minutes ago. She's got this.'

To say I didn't have a mini-freak out and questioned my life choices would be a dirty, dirty lie.

I showed up, 15 mins late to my first (SURPRISE) class. Instead of giving them a proper lesson, we got to watch the wholesome movie Klaus on Netflix. Happy Holidays, y'all.

My other surprise class, I couldn't prepare for either but I showed up on time (small win!). I was still teaching my normal class schedule and those classes sat between my first surprise class and my second surprise class. Aka, no free time. They got to finish watching their semester movie and start watching Home Alone. "Merry Christmas, you filthy animals."

Strikes: 6


Number 4

Since my Wednesday schedule was thrown out of wack, for the last 5 hours, I have been finalizing 4 separate exams that my students will be taking in two weeks. You know, instead of spreading it over two days, alongside lesson planning for the next day, it got all packed into today.

I knew, at some point, that switch inside of me flipped. You know the one.

The fuck it switch.

Grade 3 and 4, sure as hell better be thankful, because Grade 5 and 6, that test is playing hardball. It's the type of test written by those teachers you hear about throughout your entire academic career. The teacher who "won't take your shit, so be sure to do it right the first time".

I meet with my coteacher tomorrow to discuss the exams. Unless there's an error, I'm not feeling to kind to making changes.

That may make me a bad teacher, but the hand-holding needed to stop at some point.  Why not for a competition test that these kids should have been preparing themselves for for the last three months?

Strikes: 10


Number 5

Now, let's rewind to Monday. It's only the second day of December. I was feeling pretty good. No mystery coffee, no cancelled class, no added classes, and no test finalizing.

My classes for the day were prepped on Friday and I had the drafts finished for the big tests done too. My weekend was solid (for once in a really, really, really long time) and I haven't had to deal with any racist bullshit.

The only thing I had to really be concerned about was my Korean test the following evening.

Then my co-teacher showed up and was asking for the Winter Camp lesson plans (that were never requested for until just now).

Which were not done. I had a stickie note of a rough outline, but nothing to be submitted.

So, I asked when she would like it.

Joker had the thought to have them due today. As in, the day the four big exams were due.

I think something in me knew. It just knew, "Don't you fucking agree, La Toya."

I didn't. I asked for it to be due the following week.

Thankfully, she agreed.

Unfortunately, I didn't get the form.

Strikes: 11


Number 6

It's fucking cold.

These days, I'm up to 4 layers when I leave my apartment. It's so cold, my eyes start crying without me even realizing. (It could be from the rage, but I'm like 99% certain it's the cold.)

Strikes: 15 (one strike for every layer)


Real Talk

Despite all these frustrating, mentally exhausting, when is my vacation, headache-inducing stress, some good things are happening too.

This year, I'm feeling the Christmas spirit. I feel unconditionally happy. I've gone to see Christmas lights and I'm even getting egg nog this year! I signed up to be a Santa Shopper for Samsungwon and doing a Secret Santa thing with my friends. (Which is wild, cuz I suck at shopping for people.) I'm also feeling all, 'let's share the Christmas joy' and want to bake Christmas cookies for my school and share my egg nog with them.

My Korean studies are moving along nicely. I have my big cumulative exam next week, and I'm not even nervous for it. I've made some good friends in that class. It's made the whole trip to Daegu every week more worthwhile. Though, after this test, I am switching back to self-study. I have come to realize that I'm actually pretty good at the self study bit, I just need to be more active in using what I learned. Cuz, yes, I can do it.

I've rekindled my passion for writing. I fully acknowledge that I want to write a book. Badly. No clue who would read it, beside my mom...s. (Yes, I recognize that I have more than one mom.) The funny thing is, what broken my writing hiatus that I've had since 2012 was the fact that I played the Sims4. The game has allowed me to visualize my stories, allowed me to play out various scenes, and when my Sims were on their own, give me plot twists that even leave me astonished.

I love myself. I'm not trying to sound self-absorbed, but I love myself. I really, really do. Finally, the relationship I've had with myself is turning for the better. I can finally see it. I'm pretty fucking amazing. I'm not sure when it all just...snapped into place. Maybe it was me acknowledging my real limits, a Christmas miracle, or I leveled up while I was sleeping, but it's beautiful.

I saw Frozen 2. I'm not going to talk about the songs, or the artwork, or the transformative "qualities" of the movie. What I am going to talk about is that for a solid minute or two, I was in literal body shaking, tears falling, hand slapping, mouth covering hysterics all because of a single snowman who likes warm hugs.

After this month, I have 7-ish months left until I leave Korea. It's a bittersweet thought. I've made a life here. My kids drive me up the wall, but I adore them as well.

And who knows...maybe...I'm just done with teaching in 7-ish months.

#SaveOurToya

It's Back! And I'm not Ready. ㅠㅠ

"Adulting? Ugh."

You know what I hate? Job searching.

The process itself is straight forward enough.

1) Look at vacancy/job announcements
2) Submit a resume to the hiring official
3) Go to an interview
4) Get a job

Straight forward, right?

And yes, I do know it's a bit more intricate than just those 4 steps, but that's my point. In and of itself, the whole process, if you were to be selected, can be boiled down to these 4 steps.

However, what makes the process an Everest to traverse is the fact that these 4 steps have SO. MANY. SUB-STEPS.

1 - Look at Vacancy/Job Announcements
Yes, you're looking at job postings, but what on Earth are all these acronyms? Who can understand your acronyms? People who already work for you?

But what about the new talent you want to hire?

These acronyms may mean something to them, but let's be honest, we shouldn't be relying on possibilities. Only certainties. And I am certain that not everyone who looks at these job announcements knows what your alphabet soup means.

Let's also not forget that we have to check if we even qualify for the position. Some of these postings should just say what they're not looking for. It would make the whole process a lot easier.

After wading and filtering through all these job postings, hopefully transcribing the duties correctly sans a Rosetta Stone, and almost 100%, but it's more like a solid 83%, certainty you qualify for the position, you pull out your resume.

2 - Submit resume to hiring official
Oh no, wait.

You can't submit your resume. Not with it looking like that!

You gotta tailor it for the that job or that company of that astrological sign of the cat two countries over who hasn't been born yet.

What?

Exactly.

Since no one really knows what they're doing with their resume; they go to an 'expert' or someone who's more experienced in the job searching life and ask for help.

One person will say, "whatever you do, stick to one page".

Okay, fine.

Another will say, "be detailed, but curt. Just don't leave anything out".

...sure...alright...makes sense?...

And then, my favorite, "just write one full master resume that is completely detailed down to when you take a breath during work, so you can then just make a one-page, detailed, but curt resume for whatever position you're applying for".

...

Oh! Ohhhh! And let's not forget, "oh, you mean you're not [whatever position the person assumes you're applying for or may be better suited for]? Then you have to follow completely different rules!"

*flips a table*

Step 1 already had your questioning the meaning to life, but hey, just in case you were still feeling confident, your resume will be sure to solidify your self-doubt.

But okay, you have your resume as good as it's going to get. And it looks pretty impressive, that you very much. You ask how the company would like for you to submit your resume, and they ask you to rewrite it into their own application system and reiterate everything you just put your blood, sweat, and tears intro.

This step is one of the hardest steps to accomplish. Because whether you qualify for a position or not, you can apply for it regardless. You can always make it to step 2.

However, getting pass step 2 to step 3 requires your step 2 to be executed to the hiring official's liking.

Note: I did not say 'perfect'. Only, to their liking.

Say, you nailed it, and you got a phone call or email saying, "congrats boo-boo, we wanna talk to you!"

(I am well aware no hiring official will contact you in such an unprofessional manner, but clearly this whole post has included a comedic element to it since the beginning, so deal.)

3 - Go to an interview

Oh dear lord.

THE INTERVIEW.

And not the movie with Seth Rogen and James Franco.

I think the hardest part about step 3 is remembering that you've alraedy proved yourself in some way to the hiring official. Be it that you wrote your resume in a way that mattered or something else, something stood out. The official is interested.

They swiped right on you.

You matched.

And oh my god they even contacted you for a date.

Not only are you flipping out that you were selected, you have to pick out an outfit, figure out how you're going to get to the interview, figure out your personal life, and try not to sound full of yourself.

Ugh.

Yes, the interview is about me, but also no.

If you're like me,you're hella nervous and you forget everything. You forget what three words best describe you, where you see yourself in 5 or 10 years, and second guessing if you'd even be good at this job.

Again, you were like 83% sure you qualified and even thought the cat from two countries over wasn't born yet, your guessed Pieces.

Thus, the interview blurs by and you hope you sounded like ah educated professional you know you are. Whatever happens now...it's officially out of your hands.

4 - Get a job
If you made it this far, not having to restart because you didn't hear back or decided the job didn't suit you or the company told you 'mmm, let's just stay friends', then we still ain't finished.

You get the offer, but you have so much flying through your head!

What do?

Do I need to respond now? Do I even want this job? Do I have to relocate if I do? Am I paying for my relocation? What was this position's duties even about? Can I get a raise?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Look, the point I'm trying to make here: I've begun job searching.

Again.

#SaveOurToya

Changes Are Coming

It's been about two months since my anxiety attack over trash. Lots of things have happened since then.

I've been to Jeju for the Fulbright Spring Conference, Sports Day at my school, various Korean holidays, and even, my parents came to visit me.

Each moment has something that I could talk about, but for some reason, I found myself struggling to talk about it. At first, I wasn't sure what's been going on, but my words were lacking.

Which is odd.

In Jeju, I was able to hear the ocean every night as I fell asleep.

At Sports Day, I got many awesome pictures of my students being...well, awesome.

During the Korean holidays, I was able to recharge a bit and hang with friends.

With my parents, I've noticed how much I've changed since I left Florida.

These are all good things with stories tied to them!

And yet...I'm left speechless in the worst of ways.

In roughly one month, my first year in Korea will be finished and I think...that's what's stopping me.

In one month, despite the fact that I'm not leaving, I am still saying goodbye to those who are. With each of them goes a part of Korea that has made my time here so memorable. I've already begun to notice it with others who've left that aren't Fulbrighters.

Things are shifting and changing as the circumstances are.

It makes sense, though.

It does.

And I supposed I could say I'm making peace with it.

Now that I'm being honest with myself, I can see the sadness that's holding my voice back.

Changes are coming and I need to find my new voice for the year.

#SaveOurToya

56km later...

I have made the "wild" decision of walking from my school to my apartment.

Doesn't sound like a big deal, does it?

Well, my school is three towns over from the town where my apartment stands tall. It's about a ten minute car ride, but by foot...it's a little under two hours.

It's a wee bit of a walk.

And by wee bit, I mean a little over 8km (~5 miles).

But! Despite my legs and feet being angry with me by the time I get home, I don't really regret the walk. It's nice to just walk in nature, which is almost what I'm doing. Just on a paved road...with cars passing by...rather closely...God, I wished there were more sidewalks in rural Korea.

I digress.

Nature! So, I get to walk along the foot of many mountains as I make my way back to Geochang, seeing the Korean countryside for realsies. All those glimpses I get when on a bus or carpooling with my host mom has prevented me from really getting a real look of the Korean rural life.

Apparently, that also means my student's parents see me walking on the side of the road. I wonder how long it'll take until all my students know and they start questioning me on my sanity? I mean, more than usual.

A lot of the staff are so quick to stop and offer me a ride when they see me on the side of the road. The thought that I willingly walk back to Geochang is mindblowing.

Therefore, I even took the time to take pictures on my walk. I hope you enjoy the views as much as I did!

#SaveOurToya

The Aftereffects

Trigger Warning: mass shootings, feelings being validated, emotional rambling on triggering topic
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Nose clogging.

Throat throbbing.

Eyes watering.

Head aching.

And yet, its the latest news about a mass shooting in a California bar that is making it hard for me to breath. Guys, I don't know where this naive thought came from, but for whatever reason, I thought that once I came to Korea, I'd stop hearing about shootings.

No more heart stopping news.

No more breath quickening to painful levels.

No more.

Joke's on me, I guess.

I'm recovering from a fever right now, not having the most comfortable of week, and it pales in comparison to how I feel.

I am well aware that the topic of mass shootings is a sensitive topic for me. The fact that a fellow Fulbrighter had asked how to broach the topic of mass shootings in America for their Korean students had me tensing, sweating, and breath quickening. It was hint enough that this was a topic that triggered me.

And here's what I recognize.

This is something I need to work through, but I'm not ready to talk nor do I know where to begin. Do I start with the school drills I learned in school for whenever there was a shooter on campus? Or do I start with the attempted mass shooting at my university during my undergrad days? Or the false alarm during grad school? What about Pulse? Parkland?

I keep having to stop typing. My fingers keep stalling.

During the recovery in Orlando after Pulse, I heard from various sources that it's okay to feel what you feel. That your feelings are valid.

That my feelings are valid.

But...maybe its because I'm not surrounded by the community that knew what it was like, or because I've been lulled into a bubble of safety since moving here, but its been getting harder to stay steady whenever I hear about a shooting.

Of all the things to have to prepare myself for with my move, finding support for moments like these was not something I thought I had to do.

I'm working through these emotions, I am.

But it's not easy....hell, writing this post was not easy. I mentioned that I had to stop typing many times. My fingers were literally tensing and causing me to hit the wrong keys. It doesn't help that my thoughts are all over the place and stringing one thought together was so hard.

Partly because of the fever, but mostly because of this topic.

This post was/is more for me than it was for you, I admit. An attempt at putting it all down. Granted, I'm doing better now than I did when I first started this post.

If only it were that easy to move past this.

#SaveOurToya

That time I went to Busan

An unexpected trip that just coincided with the Busan International Film Festival. The host family and I went on a road trip to Busan, which was an unexpected trip. But hey, when you have a four day weekend, may as well, right?

There's nothing crazy noteworthy I want to talk about. 

I am simply thankful that my host family wanted to take me with them and I was able to bond with my host sisters more. They don't live at home since they live in different parts of the country, but it's always a fun time when we're all together.

But I did realize something...now that I think about it. There is definitely a lot more Korean flying around that I'm not able to participate in. I felt more isolated than normal, but I know that wasn't their intention. I tend to be quiet just in general and I don't expect them to do everything in English just because I couldn't participate. I found my inclusions in other ways.

They always checked in with my injury, since there was a lot of walking. If I wandered off a little too far, someone would always make an effort to wait with me. There were even times when they would ask about how something works in America or how to say something in English. 

And whenever we ran into another Fulbright ETA (which happened both days we were there), they would ask me about them.

It was on this trip, that I was reminded that I needed to look at the small actions of others. Because sometimes, that's what they're able to do during that time.

I hope you enjoy the pictures!

If you wanna keep up with my latest shenanigans, please hit the 'FOLLOW' button on the right to get updates!

#SaveOurToya