To my women

Today is the International Day of Women. So I want to take a moment to pay homage to the women in my life who have shaped me and blessed me with their camaraderie, friendship, sisterhood, and care.

My girlfriends: My ladies (as I like to call them) have shown me that female friendship is vital to the feminine soul. My husband is my best friend, but he will never ever understand what it means to be a woman. You need girlfriends in  your life to share the ups and downs of being a woman. No one else gets how creepy it is to have a million empty elliptical at the gym and having that ONE DUDE pick the one next to you. Only my girlfriends can follow my tangents and how we can be talking about one thing, jump to another topic, and ultimately go back to square one.  My girlfriends have taught me that friendship with women doesn't have to be filled with drama. We build each other up, push each other.

My fellow female runners and co-workers: You guys have taught me the importance of ambition. Nothing pushes me to run faster or learn more than a women who knows runs faster or knows more. Not because I want to be better than you, but because I want to be as good as you. We need women who push us to be better versions of ourselves.

My Sister: My sister is the epitome of giving. She has shown me the giving nature of the female soul.  She is the sweet to my sour. I wish I could be as giving and nice as she is. My sister isn't also just nice, she has this underlying quiet strength. Like a river that looks calm and subtle, but the current underneath is one to be reckoned with.

My cousin: She is like my sister cousin (which sounds really backwoodsy; she's just my first cousin). My cousin is someone who gets me...I mean genuinely gets me. She understands my internal struggles of personal growth, my tugs and battles with the possibility of motherhood. She has also taught me that soul mates don't necessarily have to be the opposite sex, or sexual, or that there is just one.

My mother: The baddest of them all. My mother has taught me so much. She has taught me to love my body and my not shy away from my beauty. My mother taught me the importance of being "Cachimbona" (Salvadorean slang for being a badass). She praised and lauded me for every student of the month, understood and never shamed me for my academic struggles. She encouraged and valued my quirks and artistic desires. Knowing a bit of her past (my mom can be a bit of an enigma to me at times), she has got to be the strongest woman I know. Without her, I would have no scaffold of how a woman should be. She has taught me to work hard/play hard. She's taught me to run free and love travel. She has taught me the importance of sisterhood and family.  She has taught me to be the mother I want to be.

To all the women in my life, I value you you so much, you have all taught me the beauty and wonder it is to be Female.

Me Vs. My Brain

Back in September 2013 I came out of a stupor surrounded by men in uniform, in my bedroom, and half-consciously asking my husband "What's wrong?! What happened?!" I knew they were paramedics, and I was scared shitless. My husband then proceeded to tell me that I had had a seizure. According to him, I had drifted off to sleep for a bit, just to wake up a few minutes later complaining of my eye. Turns out it was an aura about to precede my seizure.  They almost didn't take me to the emergency room because I was pretty responsive, but my husband decided that it would be best just to be cautious. They led me down the stairs in my sports shorts and all I could muster to say (because my head was pounding) was "Scott, is my vagina hanging out" to which he responded "No honey, it isn't."

This was my first seizure. I had my first one around the age of 12-13, the other at 15-16, I can't remember. All this was brought on by a run in with Cysticercosis which lead to scar tissue on my brain, which in turn lead to seizures. I was on meds for about 5 years, until I turned 18 and my neurologist gave me the green light to get rid of my Tegretol. Fast forward 16 years later, and I am straight up convulsing again.

What this lead to was to 4 months driving suspension (which sucks, because my job requires it), pushing against the demands of my jobs, and relying on folks for rides (which sucks because I don't like asking for help). I found myself unable to get to the gym (HELLO WEIGHT GAIN) and walking to the train station. It also coincided with Daylight Savings Time, which meant shorter days and colder nights (cold by California standards). I found myself bummed out because I felt at the mercy of my neurologist, the DMV, and the Metrolink schedule.

My neurologist basically said she has no idea what triggered the seizure, and I may have another one. At anytime. Just randomly. It's bullshit really, the way my brain decided that right now was the best time to go into energy surge mode.  Luckily I haven't had another one since September, but unfortunately I'm looking at the beginning months of another 5 years on medication for something that may or may not happen.

My stint in not being able to drive and having to set boundaries at work lead to some pretty cool revelations.

1) I missed the part of me that would walk everywhere, and journal. I got to get in touch with a part of me I haven't really been able to since I was 18 years old.
2) A quiet early morning Earl Grey by myself is my idea of heaven
3) It's OK to ask for help or a ride. This is really hard for me, but I had some fortunate friends who jumped at the chance to give me a hand. Thank you!
4) My life will now come before my work. Letting my job know that I am prioritizing myself over billable numbers was empowering and necessary.
5) My husband is the shit: He would drive to pick me up on my late nights at work, at the train station, held my hand in the MRI machine. He's a keeper ;)

All in all it put some things in perspective for me that I think I needed, now, lets cross are fingers and hope my brain doesn't opt for another rewiring any time soon.

The Ode to my Z

This past Saturday, I said goodbye to my 350z. I had been so hell bent to get rid of this car that I didn’t realize how sentimental I would get when I finally drove off in my more appropriate-for-my-current-life-stage car (the 2014 Mazda CX-5). I’ve been thinking about the Z all weekend long. The Z was my car of transition, my quarter life crisis car, the car that I imagined myself driving when I thought about my future when I was 18.

I bought the Z  6 years ago. Around that time I had called off an engagement, moved out of my parents’ house, started a job that I had busted through 2 years of grad school to get, and started a relationship (which would eventually lead to marriage). The Z represented the badassary freedom I felt at the time. I was hopeful and tired of the bullshit I had put myself through. The Z was the spirit animal of my 18 year old self.  So when I said goodbye to her on Saturday, I was also saying goodbye to a little part of me  that I had grown out of. I was no longer feeling tumultuous.  I wasn’t an intern anymore. I was licensed, married, setting money aside for my house, contributing responsibly to my 401k, setting aside personal savings. OH MY GOD I HAD BECOME AN ADULT, and MPG’s mattered more than looking good, and cheaper gas mattered more than leather interior and sports car handling.

The new car ushers in the possibility of maybe future baby seats (NO I’M NOT PREGNANT),  camping trips, and road trips.  This car may transport the boxes into the new home I buy with my husband. I’m excited, and honestly I love my new car.

 

Good bye Z, good bye Sam, may you make some other young Adult the thrill you gave me.