To be or not to be....a Vegan...Again

That is the question.

And while I try my hand at a Shakespearean level dictation, and fail miserably, my question is no less lacking.

Am I ready to be a Vegan again?

Or...should I really be asking myself, am I ready to move on from what I've become.

When it comes to food, I've had an on-again, off-again relationship. It doesn't hurt that the Tinder for dining is so accessible. Grubhub, UberEats...

Don't tell me you don't get tempted by other options as you swipe through your options of what or where to eat. It's not like you'll feel any shame when the food comes to you or while you gorge out on delicious potatoes and scrumptious naan. And when it's all said and done, not only did you eat well, you didn't have to go out into the world to get it.

It's so nice!

It's so tempting!

It's killed my self control.

What little remaining self-control I had disappeared in the last week.

Since coming back to America, I have gained 20lbs (10kgs). I worked hard on losing the weight to begin with, I finally felt all the guilt from earlier knock me right off the scale.

"Oh nooo," I told myself when those guilt-fed numbers flashed laughingly at me. "Something has got to change."

So, I began thinking back to what helped me best in losing weight in America. "In America" is the most important part. Because what I can do in other countries, I can't pull off as easily in America. Everywhere else, it's so easy to include walking in your every day life. In America...you have to go out of your way to walk.

That being said, while I was a vegan, I also was going to the gym 2x per week, and was doing 5k conditioning. While COVID19 has me 'nope'-ing  in all social interactions/going where other people go. I'm basically more of a homebody than I've ever been.

But...I can take charge of my eating habits.

It's crazy that I have no problem telling other people 'no', but lack the strength to do the same for myself.

But I did do it once...

I can do it again.

Which is why I subscribed to HelloFresh. They have a $80 off deal right now, and if anyone wants to try it out for themselves, here's an additional $40 off if you click on this link.

With HelloFresh, I'm getting 3 meals per week that has 2 servings in it. Thankfully, I live alone, so I technically have 6 meals. And I can customize my meal options per week. It's not all in their hands, but also in mine. And while this isn't veganism, it is eating healthier.

I cannot tell you how often I've had pizza in the last week alone.

And cookies?

Let's...let's just let it go and move forward.

Okay...here's the deal.

From 7/19 to 7/31, I'm going to do right. Eat proper meals, no ordering delivery, and go on a walk at least three times a week. Maybe I'll try getting my sleep worked on as well. Just the other day I only had an hour and a half. That was a rough, rough day.

On 8/1, I'll post the before and after results. As well as talk about what worked and didn't work.

It's time for me to stop giving up.

#SaveOurToya

Just STOP

...Where to even fucking begin...

This job/workload isn't even a drop in what I'm able to take on. This job is easy for me. It is...sure, sometimes I'm at a loss for what to do, simply because the practices are different than what I did before. 

But still. 

A conversation with a Subject Matter Expert later, and I'm back on track.

I know my learning curve can't be the same for the others, and I always do my best to take that into consideration. Critical thinking is something my mother cultivated in me, and that's why HR stuff comes so easily to me. (As well as other things)

But sometimes, I can't be considerate. Sometimes, I really can't help but stare dumbfounded at people.

Not because they ask a dumb question. I can see that it comes from a place of curiosity and their own attempts at connecting things. Which is great. Work your mind how you can.

But when the behavior gets rude, then...then we have a problem. And my consideration goes out the proverbial window. 

Passive aggressive bullshit and microaggressions are distasteful, unprofessional, and childish.

We are grown fucking adults in roles where that shit has no business being in. Honestly, my kindergartners had more respect than some of the behavior I see in people here. And they had no idea how to interact with a foreigner! It's frankly, very disheartening that grown adults bring childhood rudeness into the workplace.

"I'm just saying..."

"It's not fair..."

"Well how was I supposed to..."

Newsflash, complaining isn't going to get you anything from me! You think I don't have the same problems? 

Stop expecting things to be handed to you. Stop expecting things to happen just because you demanded it. Stop with the bullshit childishness. Just STOP.

Take charge in your lack of information and make something of your ignorance. Learn about your resources and cross reference them! Because I can promise you, at the end of it all, you'll feel empowered and confident in yourself and the work product you push out.

In the past, I would say people would just be hurting themselves. But they're not. They need to take some fucking responsibility for their behaviors, because it's hurting those around them too.

Good lord!

Sometimes, I wish I wasn't so helpful or friendly. 

And I can't believe I just wrote that. I like who I am (on most days) at work, but lately it's as if my 'team player' attitude is condoning such shit behavior.

But still...I am polite. I am professional. I get the fucking job done. Because that's what is expected.

I didn't complain back when I had a full time job, part time job, grad school, and a relatively good social life.

I didn't complain back when I had to deal with Korean work politics (Everyone in America should be damn thankful they don't have to deal with that).

You don't see me complaining about this job and the unexpected demands that befall me every fucking day that puts my own training behind. I look at the positives, as much as I can. 

I really do.

But today, if I hear that whiny or demanding tone, don't expect to hear from me for the rest of the day. Because I have had 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

I am not ok.

Do you know what it's like to wake up in the middle of the night, terrified for your life? All you can hear is your heart racing alongside the sounds of someone breaking into your house. All you see are the lights flashing outside your window. 

Do you know what it's like to fear that your life will end at 3:32 in the morning and thinking it's the police? 

And no matter how you yell at yourself to fucking move, your body refuses and continues to lay tangled up in your sheets?

I do.

This morning, I feared for my life and there wasn't anything I could do about it.

When I first left for Korea in the summer of 2018, I thought that by the time I returned to America, life would be better for Blacks. I hoped I wouldn't be so terrified to live here. 

But life did not get better, it got worse.

I don't even know where to start, but I know where it ends. If it's not in the grave, it's in continued fear.

As you all know, I do my best to be honest on SaveOurToya. It's not easy putting this out for the whole world to see. But I do it anyways. And in my struggle to be honest, I confess that I am so terrified that I have to psych myself up to leave my apartment these days.

I don't know if someone will see me walking to the grocery store and see me as a threat. I am terrified to go on a walk. 

This is what my life has become. A constant cycle of terror and fear. 

I hate this. 

I hate it so, so much.

I hate that because of a terrible storm this morning, I thought I someone was trying to kill me. 

I am not ok, and I don't know when I'll ever feel safe living here.

#SaveOurToya

What was the Click?

Last Friday, I posted about how I got out of my rut. I wasn't very descriptive and there's a reason for that. While something may have clicked, I wasn't ready to talk about it. Not in full detail, anyways.

So let me take this time to describe what all went down.

Since moving back, my emotions have been at an all time high. However, those emotions were not all positive ones. I was excited to start my dream job and the contact high of reaching a dream that I had been waiting for since high school was indescribable. Sometimes, I still can't believe where my life is.

I mean, how many people can say they're doing their dream job? And how many of them can say they achieved it in their 20s?

I'll wait.

But with those positive feelings, come the negative ones. And like a friend said, 'shouldn't they be low ones?'

Fair question. But here's the thing. The way I feel my emotions, even my negative feelings can be described as 'high'. Just because I'm feeling sad or angry, doesn't mean my feelings aren't running over 100%. Honestly, I want to say that I feel my negative emotions more than my positive ones.

Or in other words, I take the good moments for granted.

So, those moments when things click is actually when I remember the good. I take a moment to remember the good in my life. And it's not easy. Lord have mercy, it is not easy.

I've been in Iowa for 3 months and for 3 months I've been teetering on the edge of my emotional fence.

Last week was when I found stability.

The question now remains, how?

How did I find even-footing in the emotional turmoil that my life had become?

The easy answer, "fuck, if I know".

The not-so easy answer, "where do I begin?"

You know that saying, 'you should do what makes you happy?' Well, that's not easy when you're in quarantine or lockdown or whatever you want to call this time we're in. Coronavirus or COVID-19 put a full stop on happiness.

Okay fine, you get to stay home and enjoy not working (or you get to telework), but you're also isolated. Especially if you live alone. And yes, we have online options to keep in touch with people miles away that can help alleviate the loneliness. But it's not the same. It's a temporary fix of a take for granted fact of life. It's rough for those who have the love language of physical touch. Like me...

I could really go for a nice warm hug right about now.

Our current pandemic is scary, terrifying, lonely...I don't know...I can't really put a word to it, but whatever it is, it's negative. At least for me.

Honestly, I thought, 'hey! I have more time for myself and getting things done. I can take all this time and focus on my goals!'

I come to find out, 'what goals do I have?' I couldn't focus on anything, because I couldn't remember what my goals were for. I reached my dream job, but now what? I wanted to study Korean, but why? I wanted to reach my goal weight, but how? I wanted to save money, but to what end?

And this is where my click comes into place.

I finally found the answers to these questions. Which seems pretty standard, but if I didn't believe in those answers, then I wasn't really any closer. When I believe in my answers, I believe in myself.

And that is what was missing.

I forgot how to believe in me.

Somewhere between Korea and Iowa, USA, I lost my sense of purpose. Which is a lot easier than what one thinks.

It's been 4 days since my click and here's what I have to show for it:
1) I know where I want to go on my career journey.
2) I'm studying Korean for myself and for my future.
3) A consistent sleep schedule and healthy eating are my current methods until I can add exercise on a more consistent basis.
4) My money is for family events and future travel plans.

These answers may seem easy or 'duh!' to you, but they weren't for me. They're a lot, plain and simple. I'm building new habits and practicing better self-control. Each day is not easy, but each day I feel a little more secure and a little more ready for the next day.

#SaveOurToya

Je ne sais quoi...

It's been a while, hasn't it?

I want to say that a lot has been going on, but there hasn't been. Not in any way that I could show physically. But mentally?

Wow...I somehow found myself slipping into a depressive mode that I hadn't even realized was coming at me full force.

It wasn't until the dead of night a week ago that I asked myself, 'what am I doing?' that it clicked. It was almost 3am and I was up. I'd been eating horribly. And I'd completely given up on studying Korean. The thoughts that were circling around, waiting for a moment of weakness were relentless.

So many times I would start and try something, but without fail, I would backslide worse than what I was before. I couldn't get out of the bad cycle I found myself in.

And yet...somehow this week...I found something. I don't even know what to call it, but I found it. I've felt this before, back in my last two months in Korea. A sort of...calmness that helped keep me on my personal goals.

I never felt lost during that time. I knew who I was, what I wanted to do, and how I was going to get there.

And then, yesterday...something clicked.

Today...I'm okay.

Sure, a few times at work I felt anger rise at some people's comments or behavior, but just as quickly it dissipated. Maybe it's because it's the magic behind the 'dream job' or because of the plans that are coming together about my future...I don't know.

But it's working. I hope it continues to do so.

#SaveOurToya

Be You, No Matter What

When coming into a new work environment, there's a lot of things you need to adjust for. New work load, new coworkers, new desk, new routines...new, new, new.

Some things are easy to adjust for, others are a little more challenging. However, in the end, depending on how you handle each new thing, is what decides how the new job will be moving forward.

Now, that being said...I'm finding myself at a loss.

What do you do when no one responds to your 'good morning's or 'hello's at the start of your work day?

I never thought such a thing would bother me, but here I am fretting. And not in a, 'do they not like me?' way, but a 'hello...can you be any ruder?' way.

Am I crazy for thinking this? - I hope not. Because I'm not stopping.

I even called someone out when they walked into the office I share with my two other team members and only spoke to the person they came to see. Yeah, that's not going to fly. If you walk into our office, I'm going to expect greetings for all of us. I'm not starting any of this clique-y BS that started in school and filters up into the workforce because people can't leave their childishness in the past.

That toxicity is not needed nor wanted.

I may be one of the youngest, but I'm not letting anyone disrespect me or themselves.

#SaveOurToya

How's Iowa?

What I see when I'm walking into work

It's good. I've been here for three weeks and I haven't had much room to complain. Except for the cold. I'm not sure how I'm gonna do come winter time, but that's for future!Toya to figure out. Right now, I'm enjoying the first touches of spring hitting the area. I can't wait to see life take a new breath this year.

Yesterday alone I saw downtown come to life as people were out and about, seeing the area, enjoying good food, and even going on bike rides. Seeing the happy cyclists is urging me to buy my own bike!

In fact, I have so many plans going in and out of my head that I've begun to overwhelm myself with everything that I want to do and feel frustrated that I can't do it. The impatience I feel right now...I can't recall a time it's ever been this bad.

My home~

This new life I'm leading is nothing like the other times I've had to start over somewhere new. Thanks to my parents, I'm no stranger to it. I've lived on three different continents in four different countries in my 26 years, but I've moved a lot more than that. I'd have to say that I've moved about 10 times, but this latest move has me in a jumble of wants and needs.

But my training at work leaves me exhausted and unwilling.

And there had been the jetlag....

And the no furniture for two weeks....

And my parents visiting....

And the whole 'moving so you're gonna spend a lot of money and should be aware of how LITTLE you have for play time'...

I suppose I should be thankful that my training is telling me to 'calm down'. It has allowed me to get all of the necessary adulting in order. Like my license plate, driver's license, my bills (so pricey!), and establishing my work schedule.

My first view of Iowa

Getting my routine down has helped settle me into my new place better than anything else. It's allowed me to ignore the ache in my heart up until very recently.

In the last 48-ish hours, I've come to the jarring realization that I left a piece of myself in Korea. The part of me that felt like I came home to a place I never knew was...well, home. During my time in Korea, I never felt the culture shock we were told to keep an eye out for. I felt at home almost immediately.

And at that time, I barely knew a thing about Korea except my favorite kdrama and singers.

It's no surprise that after living there for a year and a half that a piece of myself stayed behind.

But you know what else? This isn't the first time I felt like a piece of myself was left behind in a far away land. The first time was when I left Germany, and every time after.

Maybe that's why I cling so tightly to my German heritage when I'm in America. Why I refused to lose my German even a little bit. It's been a long time since I lived in Germany, with only a couple visits back, but it's easier on me to be away. Those departures came knowingly, not abruptly like it did for me to move here.

I found out I was leaving Korea a week before it happened. I didn't have time to prepare myself or even acknowledge that I left. This disconnect is a lot more sensitive...raw.

That being said, I am still looking forward to this new journey.

#SaveOurToya

Teacher No Mo'

That's right.

I'm not a teacher anymore.

I'm finally going to start my dream as a federal employee! Yeah, you read that right.

I got a federal job~!

Starting February 18th, 2020...I will be a HR Specialist.

When I graduated high school, the goal was to be a French/German/English translator. The me of then had no idea that not only would my language goals change, but that I would be a teacher.

I don't think I ever thought I would be a teacher.

And yet, here I am.

Well...was.

After I finished my last class, I felt...relieved. Teaching takes a lot of time and effort that you notice...and don't notice. And now, it's finally done.

I think it helps that my next adventure is actually in the realm of what I have actual work experience in. The same work experience that had me pursue the Master's that I did. It's a good feeling that I have.

I'm happy.

Just a few more days now...

#SaveOurToya

Last Day

Today is my official last day of teaching at my elementary school.

Not much is going through my head. Maybe because I still have two more classes left to teacher and it's only 8:30 in the morning. My last two classes are my grade 3s and 4s. While I'm not as connected to them as I am my Grade 6s and 5s, the bond is still thriving just the same.

My Grade 3 class were my first proper class. I got to start their English journey with them. Some days, I don't feel much like a teacher, but I know that with this class...I got them from getting their barely known alphabet to making sentences. I am so proud of how far they've come. While I am sad that I won't be such an intricate part of their journey anymore, I hope they continue their progress!

My Grade 4s....oh boy. It's been a battle since the very first lesson. There has been every nightmare a parent has experienced from their children's Terrible Twos outside of hospital visits. Would I go through it all again? Yeah, I would. Despite the wild emotions, we also had fun! This class took me a lot longer to understand and how to teach, but because of our hardships, the three of us have a solid bond. Even if they picked up my sassiness and use it against me. (Rude.)

I've also seen such growth in my Grade 4s that I get blown away every time in class. And today...today is my last day teaching them.

Now, as I mentioned...I only have two classes to teach. Which means I already finished teaching my 5th and 6th graders. Now these two classes are completely different from each other. My grade 5s...wild. I have no other word for them. My Grade 4s were emotionally wild, this class...they were just everything wild. The question you should ask yourself when it comes to this class: what didn't happen?

I'm not kidding. There was a time I would dread teaching this class. But yesterday, when I walked into their classroom for the last time, I found myself not wanting the lesson to end. I bonded with every single one of them whether it was through English or my (still) boss skills on the soccer pitch.

I remember the lesson that I shared with the VP for our first class together. They told me they knew 53 words. Spelling...not so much. But if they saw the picture, they knew the word. There were no full thoughts in English or even telling me how they were.

Not only can they now tell you how they're feeling, the weather, and what they do on the weekends...they can argue for more playtime.

Of course...that's nothing like my 6th graders who negotiated for American candy that I couldn't buy in Korea.

I was offended and proud at the same damn time. They may not have had all the finer details (a, the, tenses), but I swear. If those kids don't end up in law, the world is missing out on some fantastic negotiators. Korean or English.

I would have to say my Grade 6s were the easiest to get along with and the easiest to teach. They soaked it up and were quick to use what they learned. Be it for the lesson or against me.

I tried teaching them out of the textbook, but that was nothing when we stepped away from the textbook and I showed them a different way. They picked it up much quicker, and I feel confident they will succeed in Middle School and not be left behind.

Which is a common concern when it comes to students who learn rural before heading into the city for middle school.

Wow...I guess a lot is going through my head.

These next two hours, as of course my last two classes are back to back, may go fast or they may go slow.

Either way...they're ending on high note.

#SaveOurToya