Food belly

I tested out eating ‘normal’ food last night at dinner with friends.

We went and had Korean food – the irony of the situation being that a friend of mine came with us, and she was visiting Houston from Korea – and agreed, as is typical for Asian eating situations, to have everything be shared (a style I rather prefer, as I have said often).

They asked for dietary restrictions, and I mentioned that I had mine, but that I was going to use the night as a tester for whether I’m okay eating ‘normal’ foods from time to time (because this diet is a lot to keep up, and it seems a bit nuts to keep up every day for the rest of forever, especially considering holidays and cultural events that have foods that just don’t fit the bill…).

I ate food with them.

It was delicious.

While eating, I noticed quite quickly some physical responses to certain foods (e.g. having to clear my throat from excess mucus somewhat constantly after eating the dish with dairy and the high gluten one).

Afterward, I noticed slight discomfort, but nothing too bad – it was only somewhat noticeable.

I was pleased.

Good thing, I thought.

I went home, delighted with the evening with friends, as well as with the food situation with my body – no, I had no intentions of eating that way anywhere near often, but yes, I would be able to take part in special occasions like tonight.

I go to bed, ready to pass the *** out, because it is so late by then.

At 5am, to a searing pain in my lower stomach, I awaken, almost in a bit of a fit.

I rush to the bathroom, unsure as to whether something needs to come out by gravity, or whether I need to hurl…

… it feels like both.

……..

Almost an hour later, I have managed not to throw up, despite the rising panic that it was wanting to happen, I have cleared out a good amount of what was hurting my bowels so badly, and I go back to bed, exhausted, only to feel another wave of nausea hit me when I lie down flat.

I curl over to one side, and strategically place body parts to help ease the once-again increasing pain in my belly, and somehow fall back asleep.

Today, I felt okay all day, but still exhausted from not enough sleep – had to get up too early today – and somewhat low on energy due to the bit of food debacle early this morning.

I told my friend about what happened, and she said that we are sticking to my dietary restrictions from now on at dinners. πŸ˜›

Well, I survived it, which is great, and I now know not to do it unless I want a lot of pain and discomfort – which, I don’t.

The point is that I have lived and learned on the matter, and I can move forward content with my dietary restrictions, and people who get weird about it can go eat a can of glass… just saying… πŸ˜›

(Haha – for some reason, that last bit really makes me chuckle, it is so absurd and came out of nowhere.)

Post-a-day 2019

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Third Grade

And, some nights, you begin telling your mom about various memories from third grade – a class you’ve always remembered as one of your favorites – and she ends up telling you that it is time for you to go to bed, because you have becoming a bit of a blubbering mess of surprise emotions…

I mean, I do, anyway… πŸ˜›

I had no idea how much negative emotion I had stemming out of that class…., a lot of which came from that teacher.

I’ve always loved that teacher.

Tonight, in recalling these incidents and the way they made me feel at the time, and how they somehow exploded me with tears tonight, I said to my mom that, as a teacher, I never want to make my students feel that way – embarrassed, incompetent, incapable, unworthy…, unloved.

I hadn’t ever had these particular incidents in mind, but perhaps these third grade memories have played a somewhat significant role in my open expression of love to my students.

I’m not sure a single student of mine could say honestly that he/she thinks I don’t love them – they all know that I do.

As if my actions weren’t clear enough, my constant verbal expression kind of makes it too hard to miss – but my actions, most likely would say, are already sufficient for them to experience and to know that I love them.

My mom said that it is merely part of life, and that I, therefore, necessarily will end up making a student feel that way at some point… I need merely make sure I clean up the situation immediately, whenever it does happen, whenever the student is distraught by my words or actions…

Part of me is terrified at the idea, but part of me feels like I already do a version of this.

I tell kids constantly that they are wrong or have done the wrong thing.

At the beginning of the school year, their faces look momentarily panicked, until they realize that I have clearly put no grade of them as people into my comment – I mean exactly what I have said, and only that which I have said.

In a rather short time, students don’t even flinch at my words that, traditionally, when coming from a teacher, end up embarrassing the student and making him/her feel stupid or inadequate or [insert upsetting self-identity adjective here], because they realize that I love them and that my words have nothing to do with that love dissipating – I tell the kids they have something wrong, because I love them and I want them to learn the right ways, which happens to require them to learn, too, what is wrong and how to fix it.

And they always learn how to fix it, and are praised for their success – their joy always being evident.

In short, I might make a student feel inadequate, but the feeling lasts no longer than a few seconds, before being replaced by something amazing instead.

What was missing for me in all of these memories, was the follow-up, the release of my feelings of inadequacy… the teacher left me to be embarrassed, and so I stayed that way onward and upward in school.

It kind of sucked.

However, if it, in fact, plays a reasonably large role in my expression of love toward my own students, then, perhaps, I needed the negative experiences for myself, in order to be able to love my students so well…

And, therefore, if it does end up being inevitable that I will leave students feeling the ways I felt in third grade at these incidents, perhaps it is merely so that they, in turn, can go forward in life to love even more powerfully than they can love at present.

You know what I mean?

Post-a-day 2019

Le jour last, part II

Today was my last day of classes in this role… it went beautifully and wonderfully.

I sang my students a very important-to-me song and blessing (ukulele accompaniment and lead vocals by yours truly), and they really got it, and it was clear they felt the love.

I felt the love from them, too.

And I felt how powerful it can be when I approach something with my heart, who I am and doing more and more every day to be who I want to be…

When almost every single freshman left class, and just had to hug me – and I don’t mean lame half-hugs, but genuine love hugs – before leaving, I really began to become present to the positive impact I have had on the lives of all of these boys.

And I am extremely grateful to God for, firstly, the capability within myself, and secondly, for be opportunity with these boys.

Thank you.

Sat baam.

Now, to sleep, because I have events and grading to do this weekend, and I just really want to sleep a while…

Post-a-day 2019

C’est le jour last

C’est le jour 1, celui qu’on retient

Celui qui s’efface quand tu me remplaces

Quand tu me retiens, c’est celui qui reviens(!!!)

These are the lyrics to the chorus of this song a lot of my students love. It’s called “Jour 1”, and it is sung by a French artist who uses the name Louane. She sings beautifully, and this song it fun, but I prefer her songs from the film “La Famille BΓ©lier” – Michel Sardou really does have some great songs.

Anyway, we are doing a version of escape rooms as my departing gift to my students (the quarter ends tomorrow). I spent a lot of time putting them together these past couple weeks, and I had the upper level classes today – they went beautifully. Especially the French III was particularly awesome. ::big heart

Tomorrow is the French II and I turns at the escape rooms… I am nervous.

I so far have one helper from French III for each of the classes, and then three students in French II who will be moderators for the three sections/rooms.

For a class of 25, that still makes me a bit nervous…

However, I know that four boys will be home for French II (supposedly, anyway), which drops it to 22 total, and only 19 doing the puzzles… aka about six members per section – that sounds so much better.

I have a plan for how to make it all work – fingers crossed that it goes beautifully and flawlessly, that we all have a wonderful time, and that I give the boys an appropriately love-filled goodbye (I’m singing and playing ukulele for them for a specific blessing/prayer sort of song I love.

De la force!! ❀

Post-a-day 2019

Rockin’ it

Tonight, I went to another art exhibit.

And alone, too.

Yes, I ended up meeting friends there, however, I was going in the first place, whether they accepted the belated invitation or not…

And it was wonderful.

I loved the art, I had fun with the friends, I felt myself, and I felt totally loved, and for being just that (myself, I mean).

And I didn’t even think about this as being an improvement on who I am being in life until after the fact, upon further, late-night reflection…

It was wonderful.

It has only taken me years, but I am finally beginning to embrace and to take advantage of the wonderful arts scene found in Houston.

I am finally going to museums somewhat regularly, and am even going on my own, at times, now.

And I love it.

And I love myself for it, too.

I love being myself, the self I have always had inside, the one who wants to be a museum/goer, who can be found on her own at a museum, contemplating this or that piece with curiosity.

It’s really cool, y’all… really cool.

Post-a-day 2019

Nasty creatures and decay

Well, they exploded all over again today – by the time I went up after lunch, there were about forty of the disgusting things up in my room, doing their odd version of mixing and mingling with one another.

I still didn’t cry, but I definitely felt the panic within me.

However, I acted as was necessary to move things forward with clearing them out of there, hanging several flypaper ribbons around the room, covering my clothes with blankets, and getting the **** out of there myself.

I prepared myself mentally for the possibility of not sleeping in there tonight, as they were kind of all over, and, though I wasn’t seeming to be freaking out at the time, I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle staying in the room without cleaning it… and I knew that they might not all be gone yet, too.

This was a fortunate mental preparation, as I am currently sitting on a pallet on the floor of the yoga room, getting ready to go to sleep, feeling oddly exposed out in the open, likely to be found by the first teacher tomorrow morning.

Nonetheless, I am rolling with it… this is what I can afford right now, and this is the neighborhood in which I want to be living right now, so this is where I live… sucks and all…

Anyway… sweet dreams and restful sleep unto us all tonight. πŸ˜‰

Post-a-day 2019

Yikes

Twenty.

It sounds like an entirely reasonable number, right?

Even twenty to thirty of something sounds reasonable, low in number, even.

However, this idea seems to disappear, whenever we consider things that aren’t meant to be in groups more than just a few.

For example, toes… on one person.

Kind of weird to consider, right?

Even worse than that, however, is blood flies… in one’s bedroom…., to be discovered when one arrives home late at night after a long week, and just wants to go shower quickly and get to bed within the next half hour, before 11pm, even…

Two and a half hours later, I sit on my knees on the floor of my room, hunched on the ground, typing this.

I have myself killed approximately thirty flies at this point, and the hanging flypaper has handled around four.

I spent about ten minutes downstairs a little while ago, hoping things were finally handled, but giving some time for any loners to move to the overhead light.

Unfortunately, two more had appeared by the time I came back up here.

Now, I am almost paranoid about getting ready for bed – if I go shower, and then have to deal with more, that’s eew, but, also, if I go to bed, but they aren’t finished, will I be the warmest thing in the room, once the lights are off?

They are attracted to the light and heat…

I have lit a candle underneath clove, peppermint, and eucalyptus oils, and so am considering leaving my downstairs door open, so that any others would leave my room due to the smell, and head to the light and the warmer temperature of the room at the bottom of my stairs.

But I’m just not entirely convinced yet that it is safe to proceed.

In case you’ve forgotten, flies are one of my greatest fears in life – totally absurd a fear here, but that in no way changes the fact that the fear is there.

No, I did not cry tonight… however, I think a big part of that was the slowness of the things, so the situation was much less panicky than last time.

I certainly cursed a lot.

But that is to be expected – extreme stress brings it out of somewhere within me.

I was debating whether to go to the gym in the morning, and so perhaps this event was a means of forcing me not to go – I will not have had a reasonable amount of sleep by 7:45am, when I would need to awaken (given that it is currently just after 1:30am).

Dear God, please let me learn whatever lesson I need from this now, and give up having this happen, please – I would like very much to be finished with these things, and for them to leave my life permanently.

Amen.

Post-a-day 2019