Letters to My Mother

Hey mommy! Thanks for that email. I'm in the control room right now and I printed out the Alan Cohen excerpt so my co-workers could take a look at it when they are in here! I hope you are having a lovely day. I am so far :)

It was hard for me to wake up this morning because I was so cozy in my Victorias Secret jammies and snowboard socks underneath all my new comfy bedding. I have to say that mornings are both hard and a favorite part of my day. I wake up and think about how amazing Thomas and our life together is... and how I wish I could lay in bed all day cuddled up next to him with Guinness snuggled at my feet... watching CSI or something. It's always bittersweet leaving for work while they lay asleep. But kissing them both before I leave reminds me of what I get to come home to and it keeps me content all day.

I don't know how to explain how I feel lately. I guess that's because for the first time in my life, I am genuinely happy- not to say that I have always been unhappy. But, I think happiness means something different to me than it does most other people. Most people are happy just being alive, but I think I need a little more than that to keep me satisfied.

To be happy, I have always needed to know that I am making something better; that someone or something has been fixed, completed, accomplished or gotten better because of me. I never knew why I would always be anxoius when I have been given mundane tasks or free time. Both of those freak me out. I guess it is just something hardwired in my nature to be progressive- to be working towards something. I think that's why you and I both like crossword puzzles and stuff so much :) and I think my job is such a big part of that.

As much as I feel like pulling my hair out at the end of a workday, I go home feeling satisfied... like I have just eaten something very filling and nutritious. Ok, maybe that is a cheesey analogy, but it's the only way I can put it. And it's not that I never wanted to do all of this before, but I didn't know how. I didn't have the resources and knowledge that I have now.

I know, and always have known, that the key to my happiness lies in improving the condition of the world somehow. I know that I am just one person- just one, naeve, young person with little effect on the world. But as long as I feel like I am doing something... I get by. I know that the improvements I aspire to make seem trivial in the light of the world; the universe, but they are enough for me. Sometimes "improving" is as simple as drawing flowers to make the world a prettier place and putting it on someone's fridge :) Sometimes it involves dealing with something much uglier than that.

Sometimes the world could use a little more naevety, you know? If everyone begins to think that improving the world is a lost cause, we'd give up hope and that's where humanity would fail. I think that if people sought to do small things every day to make the world a better place, they would find unimaginable happiness... like epic happiness on a whole new scale of happiness that they didn't know could exist. Do I sound like such a hippie right now???

I'm not trying to toot my own horn. I'm just saying I have been lucky enough to cross paths with the opportunity to realize all of this and I will try to extend the same courtesy I have been given to other people.

Maybe this realization is just characteristic for my personality type alone. Maybe others find other things of much more importance in life. Maybe I would seem delusional to them. Maybe my efforts and hopes seem silly to them. But they aren't silly to me, and I guess that's all that matters.

My current career and newly-starting-out-family pair together to add the special ingredients to make a more fulfilling life. I have found a love towards Thomas that I didn't know was possible with someone not of my own blood. I have discovered true happiness in supporting my core values and being loved by someone that I love. Of course Mom, it helps that I had such a good start. I have an amazing support system- a nutty family I wouldn't change for the world. Because of the people I grew up around, I feel like I have a realistic and empathetic perspective on life that I want to explin to other people (Don't I sound like such a liberal??)

I know what my happiness means to you, thank you for always taking an interest in it. I know it isn't easy being a mother. So know that before you leave for Germany, that I am a big girl; you aren't leaving me behind. You are just doing what it is that you need to do to find YOUR genuine happiness. So go ahead, and know that I am okay. I have been doing a lot of growing up, and for the most part- you are done cleaning up my messes (literally). Thank you for being patient as my "growing up" didn't start to take place until so recently.

Making you proud of me is the most important thing I could ever do for you as your daughter.

I love you! So, Stop crying right now!

Tashi

Letting Go

Many things have changed since those days;
The days of wandering around half naked
In the irrigation water across the lawn;
The days of fresh cut grass
And the sound of dad mowing the lawn;
The days of raspberries and jam;
The days of climbing cottonwood trees;
The days of swings hanging from trees by yellow rope;
The days of perfectly lemonade skies
Of rose dusted mountains;
The days when lilac grew
On the fence to the west;
And where southern rock sweetly crept
Out of the doors and windows of the living room.
Those things seize to exist
Except for vivid memories
That cradle my existence in warm palms.

Understanding that change
Is a natural course of life,
Has been harder than doing just so.
It’s letting go of naps in hammocks,
Beautiful balcony views of my world,
Peacocks yelping in the distance,
Fuzzy pink carpet between my toes,
A black dog who was always skin and bones.

It is letting go of balloons docking themselves on the green lawn,
Grizzly beards from daddy,
Handprints in wet cement,
Softball games and raspberry daiquiris,
Camping on the lawn with neighborhood kids,
Blue slides and turtle sand boxes,
Dinner at a round dining room table,
The sounds of dogs barking,
Brick floors, and brown couches.
Sometimes letting go of something passed
Is harder than letting go of an era;
It’s letting go of the ingredients that have created you.

Going Home is Part of the Journey

I made my way through the arroyo near my house. A crevace of nature in the middle of suburbia. I watched my four dogs pounce and prance through the rain water travelling through the sandy canyon. They scampered after birds, sniffed with their noses touching the wet sand. They ran up and down hills and playfully wrestled along the way. It was then when I realized the small but significant similarity between myself and my loyal friends.

We happily enjoyed the autumn air.

When I called to notify them that we were turning around, they happily complied, and headed west with me.

They didn't care that today's journey was half over, they didn't resist the change. They weren't set on any specific direction by which to travel, but were happy to go any which way.

They discovered new things to sniff and see that they missed the first time they passed them.

Going home was still part of the journey. I realized I was quite content myself, with whatever it is that I've been doing. It doesn't matter what. I'm not resisting, but embracing change; reveling in each beautiful moment.

I'm fine on my own.

The Tattered Angel Fish

I got home today and nearly collapsed on the couch.

I wanted to cry as my dog looked up at me, informing me he needed to go out. It was a long day. And sometimes after long days, you need a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and a Marlboro.

I grabbed my dog, and my unhealthy habits, and headed outside. On edge, on the verge of tears.

I went over my hellacious day in my head as I sat at a bench. There was one thing that had me near the "I-need-to-scream-in-my-pillow-or-my-ears-will-start-steaming" type of mood.

A kid at work decided to call me "bitch" at least twenty-five times today. Don't ask me why, because I don't have an answer for you. I was annoyed and have been a little annoyed the past few weeks at work.

Talking to someone who doesn't want to listen to you, is the most exhausting thing you can ever attempt to do. Another exhausting thing that I have found in my line of work is providing something called "support". Especially when it is thrown back in your face on a regular basis.

These are just a couple of annoyances I have discovered at a job that I love. We all have them... even at the jobs we LOVE. And I do love my career, but it's a type of love I'm new to.

I came inside from walking my dog and decided to mindlessly stare at my fishtank. This is something that I do called "zoning out" and I use it as a coping mechanism for stress and boredome. Any way, the fishtank is called a bio-orb and it is round with fluorescent lights, a bubbler and plastic foliage at the bottom.

One of the fish caught my eye. It is a small, black, angel fish with a couple of decrepid bottom fins and feelers. He was kind of swimming sideways like his equilibrium was a little bit off. I have heard this is a sign that an aquarium fish is feeling under the weather. It was no surprise to me that he might be feeling pretty awful.

My mind drifted off to a couple of days ago as I was "zoning out" in aquarium world.

I had noticed that the black angel fish was staying near one of the plastic plants more than usual that day. I screamed for Thomas in horror that the baby angel had his bottom fin and feeler wedged in between the leaf and stem of the plant.

Thomas to the rescue! He worked to wiggle the fins out of the plastic plant cunundrum. In horror, tears welled up in my eyes as I watched him try to set him free. (So, yes I am very sensitive towards fragile, vulnerable things. And yes I suppose I have assumed that the fish is a boy fish). He finally set the fish free and he could barely swim. Then had to drag his adult girlfriendhad away from the fish bowl after about 30 minutes of intently watching the injured little creature.

My mind came back to the present when I had one of those "Ahaa!" moments. I do have a soft spot for the fragile, vulnerable things in this world. That is just part of who I am. My compassion towards my fish, and the disadvantaged kids I work with, are not so different.

The student I was frustrated with is a vulnerable and misled child who cannot be held accountable for the plants that he has been snagged on. His acting out is a side effect of such damaging occurences. So instead of swimming sideways, he shows he is hurt somewhere by displaying erratic behaviors... like calling his authority figure a "bitch".

So I don't get it, but I had a normal upbringing. I am lucky. And I am fully aware that with the luxuries of having a normal childhood, I owe those who didn't; my wisdom, my advice, my supervision.

So maybe the little black angel fish won't make it, maybe he will. Maybe he will recover completely, but there is a chance he might not; that parts of him will never be the same. I have to prepare myself for all of the outcomes. And all of the side effects of his injuries. I have know how much control I have over the situation; and the truth is I can only do my best. I will give him what he needs to survive, but sometimes that won't be enough. I cannot get attached, or I'll never make it out in one piece.

So call me a bitch and I will try to understand where you are coming from. I will try to remember that you are just swimming sideways.

Twenty-something

I feel like something.

I don't necessarily feel conflicted, just out of sync. I feel like parts of me are moving faster than others; like a bicycle with wheels moving at different speeds.

I'm happy. I feel fulfilled. I feel loved.

I feel exhausted.

From trying to establish my career to trying to live up my 20 somethings to the fullest, I am utterly exhausted. I work 12 hour shifts. I wake up at 5 am. I fill my weekends with things I can only get away with at my current age.

Part of me is still very young. I miss my parents. I miss my entire family. I miss my hometown. I still look at the world with the wonder of a child, and I hope that never changes. I hope I always strive to make myself and the world around me happier.


I love my job. I love my boyfriend. I love my apartment and being able to pay my share of the bills. Part of me is not resistant, but unprepared for the adult-ish life I have already taken on. My ambition and work ethic outweigh my ability to manage my adult responsibilities. I don't think I am immature or irresponsible, I just believe I lack certain coping skills that most people have already mastered.

So I guess I missed the training seminar on how to manage money & time/multitask.

And it's hard. But it's amazing.

I feel like I'm doing my small part in improving something great in the world. I have a long road ahead of me. I have so much to learn.

As long as I work and try as hard as I have been doing, maybe my back wheel will catch up eventually.

Maybe someday I'll feel like a real grown up. And even if I don't; as long as I am able to feel how I am feeling now, I'll know I'm doing something right.

Finding "Tasha"

I feel like I am finally getting back to who and where I want to be.

A time not too long ago, I forgot who "Tasha" was. I became someone I do not know. Someone I do not understand. Someone who I do not like, for the past few years. Who I am. That concept has been at the mercy of the people I've surrounded myself with. I've been at the mercy of the person I became, because I thought it was easier to be her. Because I thought, perhaps, they would like her better. Because sometimes being "Tasha" hurts a little too bad.

The fact that "me" is a fluid state, has made it all the more easy to stray from my home base: from my morals, my compassion, my conscience.So I became this person; this woman; that held the ability to adapt to the harsh truths of the world. A woman who faced adversity with an unforgiving spirit. A woman who could do all the things that I wasn't built to. And so wished that I was.

So this new person emerged, and became, in essence, who I could not. She became the protector of the fragile and sensitive person that is Tasha. She was this person that protected "me". A person I became in times of trial. A person I became when being "Tasha" was too painful. A person I became when I was uncomfortable; a person I became in close proximity to vulnerability.

And so she became "me". And "I" became nothing . I sat sheltered underneath her concrete wing, unable to grow, unable to see. She emerged. "I" was able to see this entire new world; a world faced with strength, with shamelessness, with anger, with aggression. And "Tasha" faded away into the background of an unfamiliar world.

The difficulty with becoming someone else for a long period of time, is that you forget who you originally were. I have lost track of the person I was ultimately protecting; I have lost "Tasha".

And I come to that realization.

I know who Tasha is, I just don't remember how to be her.

I'm not mean. I dislike confrontation. My skin is not so thick that no one and nothing can reach in. I'm not her. I'm not her.

So, in this realization, my only hope is that "Tasha" is still in here somewhere. And if she is, I hope that she can forgive me, and who I have become.And so I emerge into this new and terrifying place, as a sheltered and vulnerable version of myself many years ago. And hope that it won't hurt too badly.

I know it won't be easy. For so few people are aware of the beauty and tragedy that this world knows. It's never easy to wear the weight of the world, but a life seeing beauty the way that "Tasha" once did, is one worth living as Tasha.

Disarray

I’ve recently crossed paths with an issue I don’t fully understand; the idea of self esteem; the idea of a positive regard for oneself. The concept does not resonate with me. It is completely unfamiliar, but doesn’t bother me. It is normal; because things in my life are not black and white. It’s not that I lack a certain regard for myself, or dislike who I am. It’s hard to explain. I’m not fully sure who I am. This, what might be seen as another character flaw, does not bother me either. How am I to feel something either way, for someone I do not know? ; Myself.

I’m a person in constant evolution. I’m surrounded by change. How am I to have this personal esteem for myself, when “myself” is an ever-changing concept? My self-awareness is constantly mirrored by the places I see, the people I know and the feelings I experience. My life is a messy art-form; a collage of where I’ve been, interactions, and the things I find beautiful. I am soft clay, being sculpted and re-sculpted by these things. Never satisfied with the current shape; change being necessary. Each form, once completed, evolves into one renewed; different. Maybe one day some form will be who I become; soft clay hardened. But I am still searching for who that is, who I want it to be.

I often think that what is beautiful about my life is the disorganization, the mystery. It has never bothered me. Order, gone. It was never really there. The key things run along jagged edges, parts of me overlapping, not in line. Pieces stuck together; adhered with the glue seeping from the sides. Images stuck to words. These things may not be easy to identify up close. Concepts pasted together with little correlation. Colors clashing. A collage that makes no sense when the elements are alone. But when you step back, the components, as a whole are wonderful; the overall concept makes sense. Disarray is beautiful, and part of me; whoever that is.