In 5^th grade my mom thought I was going to get beat up, real optimistic of her. She thought because I was a smart, Jewish, mixed girl about to go to a middle school in what she deemed the “ghetto” that I would have to learn how to fight. We will never know if she was right in my destiny to get beat up in middle school, because we ended up moving to a different school district. Nevertheless, before the move she enrolled me in Taekwondo. I still have the trophies in my room, and whenever I look at them, I think of how in competition I was one of maybe three girls in said competition and how as a single mother she decided to pay for all the equipment and classes that came with the fear that because of my race I would be more at risk. 

I remember four things from Taekwondo; being out of breath while trying to run up and down the stairs trying to keep up with everyone else, having to retake my belt test because I couldn’t do a sit up, someone asking me when my mom picked me up if I was adopted, and how to count to seven in Korean. Three out of four of those memories do not speak highly of my sporting experience.  

The conclusion is, I don’t know, sports are neutral. While I had less than ideal experiences, I know that for a lot of people sports are a great confidence builder and especially martial arts can make people feel more protected and surer of themselves. That was just not the case for me. Sports became something that I had to do as a child, not something for joy. Even when I did dance it was more for having something to do than the actual sport itself. This experience of doing a sport for non-sporting reasons has led to my middling views today. 

When I was in Year 8 (7th Grade in the US curriculum – it was a British curriculum), I experienced true loneliness. Let me give you some background info. I was in a quaint Christian Elementary and Middle School at that time and excited to be back after a looonnngg summer break. In 6th Grade, it was me and two other girls in the WHOLE grade, that’s why there was just one class with all of the sixth-graders. I don’t know what happened but we didn’t communicate that much during summer but I was excited to see them when I got back. We’ll be the trio all over again…It’ll be great!

They didn’t come back. Both of their parents decided for them to move schools for 7th grade and since we didn’t really talk that much or even see each other, I didn’t know that this change was coming. I walked into my first day of 7th Grade to realize…I’m the only girl in the class. My world came crashing and tears filled the brim of my eyes. I told my mom immediately of what happened when I got home and I insisted I change schools too, like the other girls did. She told me that it was too late to change schools and told me that I had my brother to lean on -since we were twins.

However, my brother, especially at that stage of our lives, didn’t want to hang out with me in school. It was 9 boys and 1 girl which made me feel small and even invisible at times. During the breaks, I got tired of being alone in some random classroom studying or reading my novel (we didn’t have phones then) so I decided I wanted to hang out with the boys. The boys would always play soccer during the breaks and I had previously played club soccer and I would say I was pretty good. I entered the soccer field excited to play with them, anything other than being alone.

They didn’t even let me play. Not even for a minute. As soon as I stepped on the pitch they all went quiet and looked at my brother. My brother yelled out from the other side of the field, “I don’t think you want to play with us.” I waited for an explanation and none came. I prompted “Why though?” He replied, “Well… you know… we play rough and we wouldn’t be able to play the same way we do if you join.” The boys nodded in agreement. That definitely covered his ass but it crushed me and left my self-esteem shattered. I can play “rough” but after that public humiliation, I never tried playing soccer again.

https://www.freepik.com/

WARNING: real mf personal

I want to preface this by saying I was officially diagnosed with OCD earlier this year. This the raw form of a journal entry I wrote about a year ago. I wrote it on a day when I was seriously struggling with my OCD before I even knew the diagnosis of OCD. I want to share this to demonstrate the jarring reality of how it is living in a world that was simply not made to include neurodivergent people.

“Hey bitch, we are back.

Today was literal hell. What’s new. I don’t know what is going on with me but I’m so exhausted from it. I have been holding back tears all day. It is like I deadass have to navigate the world with this uncontrollable fear, anxiety, or whatever tf it is. And I have these ridiculous intrusive thoughts. They literally snatch my breath out of me. The world seems to keep going and I can’t catch up to the speed of it. Every step is a cautious one and I just keep overthinking each and every one. Something is off and I just don’t know what to do anymore. It’s more than just the normal anxiety everyone gets bruh. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m drowning in my own thoughts, really scary ones. Every decision, no matter how fucking small it is has its handy dandy best friends anxiety and doubt next to it. The questions literally echo in my mind and I keep second-guessing everything I do. The thing I really needed to get out and off my chest was this one intrusive thought that I haven’t been able to shake. It happened today while I was driving through the fucking chickfila parking lot. I just kept getting this vision and thought of Sophia dying if I didn’t pick the right order and say it the right way. It comes when I’m doing other things to. I will be cleaning the dishes and If something doesn’t get cleaned a certain way I think she will get sick using it and then die and it will be my fault. Or I will text her but I will think the message is wrong and rewrite it over and over again because what if she dies and I didn’t say the right thing and I won’t be able to fix it because she is dead. WHY DO I KEEP THINKING SHE IS GOING TO DIE??? HELLOOOOO??? I dont know bruh i’m crying right now just thinking about it. I literally had a fucking panic attack in the chickfila drive thru because of this. Like what is literally going on. And what makes me the saddest is feeling like I don’t know where to go or that I will be called crazy or overdramatic. I just don’t know what to do anymore or who to go to. Is this normal for other people to have. I have never heard anyone talk about intrusive thoughts like this so I really don’t know. I just need help. I can’t keep raw dogging life. I’m so exhausted of being anxious. I am just so fucking exhausted. But it’s okay. I’m gonna figure this out and be okay. I’m doing great and whatever energy I give is more than enough. I’m gonna be okay. Hopefully tomorrow is better. keep up the good work ❤

p.s. sophia is my gf 🙂

I hope some reading this finds comfort knowing they are not the only one going through this. There are other people who understand you and you will be OKAY. You are not alone ❤

Were you born with a vagina or a penis? Right, the question is none of my damn business, so why doesn’t the rest of society accept this fact? Being female or male does not make a difference in all areas. Think about sports such as basketball, football, ballet, and swimming. Do you remember the story regarding the transgendered swimmer (born a male and transitioned into female)? She was the topic of a national debate because of her personal choices. People were suggesting that she shouldn’t be allowed to swim on the women’s team for various reasons such as not being born a female, having testosterone and being able to physically perform stronger and better and other issues. This is not a disadvantage because if this is the case, then someone can find fault in any sport. For example, I’m short and can walk under a volleyball net depending on the height, or my husband shouldn’t run in a race because he is 6 feet 6 inches and has longer limbs than most people. Aren’t there some women that are stronger than men, but they are not condemned for it. For example, Rhonda Rousey is stronger than the average man because of the training and profession that she is in, but that doesn’t make her less of a woman or more of a male. The qualifications for sports has nothing to do with what is between your legs. It should be based on your ability to perform at the best level that you are able to without any enhancements. Everyone is entitled to enjoy any sport. I have a vagina, but why is that your business? So, to those ignorant and closed minded people, please dial 1-800-GO2-HELL!

My parents were older when they had my sister and I. They, as a couple, decided to wait until they were mentally and financially ready to raise children. When we were born, my mom was the type of parent with a ridiculous number of books to learn how to be the “perfect” parent (which does not exist). My dad followed my mother’s lead while using his teaching skills on us.

From a young age, I understood that love comes in different forms, which are all valid. My parents are friends with biracial, gay, and lesbian couples, etc. When I would ask my parents questions about these friends, they would explain it to me in a kind, respectful manner. After they answered my questions, it was normalized to me because my parents treated them like any other person, which was essential. After all, parents teach children by example.

Later, in elementary school, my mom had my sister and I join the 4-H club. This club taught us a lot about social and physical skills, like sewing, baking, working with hardware tools, etc. We also did fundraisers where I would help cook and serve food to the homeless shelters, gather and donate food for people experiencing homelessness, and clean parks and beaches. 4-H would have competitions where I would have to give speeches and demonstrations. These competitions helped me to be more confident and learn how to communicate with others effectively.

My parents made sure at a young age that we could adapt to the world and be open to everyone around us. They continued to improve themselves for us, which is what my mother did until her last breath. I am thankful I had a childhood with parents who sincerely wanted the best for my sister and me. I am grateful for a father who continues to try to support us in every way possible while struggling with the loss of his partner of over ten years. I am thankful that I can eat delicious food with my immediate family. I am thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Ever since I was a child, becoming a doctor has always been my dream/goal. Watching my mother and grandmother struggle with health issues and chronic illness has been my motivation to be in the healthcare field and help people like them. I’ve always been one-track-minded when it comes to becoming a doctor. In high school, I even joined a program catered towards kids who wanted to pursue a career in healthcare and help prepare them for college and the courses they would be taking.

My family has always been proud of me and encouraged me to pursue my goals. They’ve always expected nothing less of perfection regarding my grades and overall performance in school. I want to become the first doctor in my family and they want that for me as well. 

It wasn’t until last year when I became sick and this year when I had to care for my mother following brain surgery, that my grades dipped below that line of perfect and my performance in school was lacking. The whole time I couldn’t even focus on taking care of my health because I was so worried about how I was doing in school and what my family would think of me.

I didn’t start doubting my ability to achieve my goals of doing well in my undergraduate year and making it to medical school until this year. I’ve worked so hard and I know I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, but honestly, this doubt has in a way uprooted my self-worth. 

I am slowly learning not to quantify my self-worth based on how well I am doing in school and how much that is pleasing other people, but at times it can be hard. It’s those moments while I’m on the phone with my grandparents and they mention how I’ll be able to help my grandmother with her knee when I become an orthopedic surgeon, or how successful I’ll be when I become a doctor and how proud of me they’ll be that I find myself fighting back wanting to tell them I’m struggling mentally I’m not sure if I even want to be a doctor anymore or if I’m worthy or becoming a doctor, or if I deserve to receive their praises or for them to be proud of me. 

It wasn’t until these last two weeks that I had stress-induced muscle spasms and migraines that I finally decided I was going to ensure I put focus on my mental, physical, and emotional health.  I cannot be consumed with what other people think of me, even if it is family members. I have to live my life for me.