Saturday, January 28, 2017

Remembering a piece of me

Short bio: I am a second generation mixedrace Nikkei who grew up in the south part of greater Seattle. A middle school guidance counselor by day- helping my boos through the processes- and an activist/artist/writer/lover/poet/singer/all-around badass by night (imho). Through my journey as a counselor in the past 6 years, I’ve discovered that I’m not, in fact, a feelingless robot, and it has changed a lot of what I want to say and how I say it. More importantly, it has indefinitely blurred the lines between personal and political; whether in community or on the page, I hope you hear my heart.
My Blog: this piece appeared on my personal blog in 2 pieces, “Obituaries Unsaid” on Dec 1, 2012 http://thicknhip.blogspot.com/2012/12/obituaries-unsaid.html, and “Sayonara,” on Nov. 6, 2012 http://thicknhip.blogspot.com/2012/11/sayonara.html . My blog address is thicknhip.blogspot.com . I don’t have any blog subscribers or anything so my estimated circulation is like, maybe 10 (being generous).



There is an important story that I have to share. If I don’t say it now, there will be no one left to hear. Among Nikkei (those of Japanese descent), we have intricate rules about shame and what can be spoken. An intimate understanding that if it is never said, then it never existed… but this is too important to be shamed into nothing. It is someone’s life, and she was my precious mother.
It's almost been a month since my step-mom passed away and I often cry still when I really think of her, and our relationship. Even the word “relationship” however, seems strange when I apply it to the hearts that spoke in quiet days at home, in hospital rooms, and in care centers.

It's true that she never had to love me- never should have—I don't know as though, if I were her, I ever could—but she tolerated me. Through my childhood I remember sitting in her beautiful un-child-proofed apartment in West Seattle. It had beautiful views of the city skyline tucked between glass figurines and dolls that had never been played with. I remember thinking, “this is a lonely place…”
As I grew into an adult, the uncomfortable formalities and sideways glances became less so. When my dad and Kimiko remarried, something changed in her. She became a little more comfortable with us. She began to smile and even laugh with my brothers.
Although when I visited alone she still seemed reserved. Almost as if my presence were difficult to bare. Being the daughter of my father’s mistress; now I can see why. But at that time…

I didn't understand the bond that held us until she became sick... until her formalities became the only thing that told me she was alive.
And suddenly, we needed each other… We understood that all the things we had wanted to communicate were not important—that both, my mother and father, were separate from her and I. That her steady presence and unchanging nature had been the only consistent female presence in my life. We were both too angry at everyone’s betrayal to love each other before, but when she got sick and it all changed.

She laid so still and sad- with frail limbs swaddled in the smallest size hospital gowns. Even her own delicate and immaculately cared-for cloths had grown too big for her shrinking frame. And no matter how much she forgot where she was or forgot who came to visit- she never forgot me... not once... not at all...

One of the times she was hospitalized, and in her state of dementia, she was convinced that she was kidnapped the night before and taken to this strange place. She didn’t remember being with Dad and I in the ambulance the night before. She had no recollection of us tucking her in and promising to see her the next morning. She only knew we were there at that moment. Her face grew wet with tears of happiness and relief.
"Aishteru" she said looking at Dad and then me.... this was the first and only time she ever said she loved me.

We loved each other when we were ready.
And there is no one to tell.

At the memorial the boys asked if it would be weird if her family came to meet us. After all, we had spent our lives as children of a secret lover. Children that my father rarely told anyone about. When we showed up at events and concerts for Dad, it was always at a cost to Kimiko. Like us, she had to live with the embarrassment of explanation or silence…
"I don't have to explain myself, because they sure as hell weren't family enough to be there when she was dying," I replied to my brothers, as my face grew hot and eyes swollen. Despite our relationship until the day she died, I still didn't want to embarrass her...  I knew that I had no regrets and nothing to be ashamed of. Even if my father introduced me to no one at her funeral- I had done what I knew was right. I formed a bond with someone, that only 5 years before, would have seemed impossible.  But still... I knew that no one who loved her could really accept me as family. In their intimate circle of friends-those who grew up and survived post-war Japan- that's just not the way of it.

I cry for her still... with no words to share with people who know us both. How could they understand what was between her and I, because, honestly, I didn't understand it myself... I just know that a part of her is always with me. And I will always be grateful for the time we shared together.

The last time we saw her, we sat next to her empty shell in the hospital bed.

My father leaned down and pledged his eternal utterances of love
"I will marry you when I see you again in the next life"
"I am sorry"
"You look so beautiful... you were always so beautiful"
... and when he was ready,
... .. he leaned down and told her "Sayonara.... Sayonara"

and walking through the hospital door after him,
I too
turned and whispered
"....Sayonara....” 

Thursday, December 10, 2015

Fuck you John


I was born a leader.
As a kid, I was always helping to direct others. Always coming up with the games. Racing to be first in line. Competitive with my brothers. Always the first to enter a dark room after a scary movie. 
Never backed down from a fight with anyone.

When I got to school, they called me bossy. My mom lovingly nick-named me "boss hog" (much to the delight of my bros), and called me this whenever I gave reasonable directives. 

I was strong. 
Determined that they would not break me.

In 3rd grade I watched the grown-ups around me act like children: name calling, arguing, petty judgements, crying, shaming, withdrawing- falling apart at the seams. And despite my tall frame
and thick legs I tried to quiet my mind and actions fade into the background.
become dust.

In 6th grade I was still trying to blend in, but the tallest and thickest girl in 6th grade kept coming up 
in grown-up conversations. And all the boys and girls had become much more aware of who was the different one.

John called me fat.
every day.
This twig ass, stupid fuck. no home training. white boy. 
called me fat 
every
day.
So one day I told him he was stupid. 
The next day Mrs. Sakamoto had a group discussion with all of the girls at recess "John is having a hard time" she told us "we should all be kinder to John." Never able to hide, she must have seen my disgust.
"Especially you." she pointed at me. "He said you called him stupid."

silence
filled my heart.
and the leader I was born to be flew out the window on the notes of screaming children and snickering girls, and John... who was probably terrorizing someone else out on the playground...

FUCK YOU JOHN. (and Mrs. Sakamoto)

I am a saggitarius, a natural charismatic leader, who was born to roll heads like yours and find efficiency, excellence, and grit into any and all work that I do. 
And John, I am ALWAYS good at what I do.
With 2 degrees and a badass motivation, 
I am a fucking goddess.
I narrowly escaped my childhood to find 
a life 
I have fallen in love with
I have become the me I always dreamed about.
And when or if someone 
EVER
tries to take 
my daughters' sparkle
Both you and they
will feel the earth shake beneath 
because I am
she is
powerful.

Monday, June 8, 2015

For Tairyn

so angry
at the people who made promises
at the people who broke them
at the empty dinner table
at the full tummy
yes, girl, 
there is a lot to be pissed about.

he taught you to be cautious 
before you could walk
afraid of every
split of the path
and stones all turned
pretending to know the rules
peering at the world 
at exactly what's in front of you
because you're too afraid to look
scared to see his voice
        the lies  
an image
        that might be distorted...

but you're seeing that reflection already 
and even it if was long ago
the safety of these fears pulls you back
sleeping snuggled up to subterfuge
here,
at least you know the way
same story,
you tell yourself,
but slightly altered for
dramatic effect.

She taught you to be strong
that maybe if you fake it long enough
you will make it
and next time
 you will really be
bullet-proof
and that love
is still worth hoping for
even if it breaks you in half.
In your most vulnerable moments
you hide your tears
as if you wish the healing waters
never existed
confusing strength
with distance
from you and your heart.

... but this is your life
despite what has happened to you
separate from what has been given to you
know
     dreams 
            are waiting 
                     for you
the ones that you are too afraid to say out loud
too afraid to whisper in your heart
speaking to you in round, pear-shaped tones
crawling up from the bottom of your gut
begging you to remember them
made of the wonder and beauty
that you pretend not to have

you don't have to wait to listen.

There's so much I want to say to you
so much that grown ups always say
just wait
just hold on
just survive
and one day
not so far away
but farther than you can see
you'll be a grown up
and you can leave forreal.
you'll be able to stop running
if you can just hold still long enough
to realize that it isn't working
you can focus on healing
the heart that broke
that will always rebuild
and is fractured even now 
but still stands.

I wish I could watch you grow.
Become the woman that lives and loves
and heals in her journey...
Thank you for sharing your medicine with me
at this special time in your life.
I see you, baby girl.
And you are beautiful.

For Zaylynn

baby face becoming grown
with the lines that come from looking away
and leaving yourself
when there's a hard ass-whooping
and words that have long since
left their imprint 
and a hazy evening of trying to forget
how much you want to cry
how small you feel
and how your heart misses what it can never have again

The sea wont let you forget
swallowed your tears into it's lonely waves
constantly searching
seeking
for water to quench your thirst
Not knowing
the world lights up with your smile
and shuts away when you do
decibels and crescendos 
but no words
... and still no water
to come home to.

Pretending to not care
as if you really don't
as if your bitterness doesn't come from mourning
what a sunrise
can really be.
I feel your grief radiating from your body
in the way you walk
the look on your face
when you think no one is looking
the tone of your voice
as if all hope is lost
... searching.
falling from your lips
and spilling your wariness
in puddles on the floor.
The defiance, the vulgarity,
all to prove
what you think you know
that maybe
    love
isn't meant
 for you

... but this is your life
and as much as I want to fix it all for you
as much as I want to scoop you into my arms
hug you
and pet your hair as you cry
really cry-
(that hard and ugly cry
that comes with healing)
I know it's not safe for you here.
With all my heart
I believe that you can survive
that those words you try and squish down
the ones that tell you
"Z- you don't want to do this"
and "Z, you were meant for more"
the ones that
scare you
to death
are the ones that are the real you
and soon
it will be safe enough
to be that girl too.

There's so much I want to say to you
so much that grown ups always say
just wait
just hold on
just survive
and one day
not so far away
but farther than you can see
you'll be a grown up
and you can leave forreal.
you'll be able to stop running
if you can just hold still long enough
to realize that it isn't working
you can focus on healing
the heart that broke
that will always rebuild
and is fractured even now 
but still stands.

I wish I had more time with you
to watch you grow
help you heal
encourage you when you decide to chart your heart
and all of the stars that have been trapped inside.
Thank you for surviving this long
Next year,
let's work on growing up
together.

Sunday, December 28, 2014

the many reasons that I HATE T-MOBILE- don't switch!

I switched from ATT to T-Mobile at the beginning of November...
and since then I have said this phrase countless times:
"I fucking HATE T-mobile!"

CONS
1. The cost of getting a good phone and having a line+data are Waaaaaaaay more than I was initially quoted
2. the people in the store were douchey
2b. they charged me extra and billed my phone lines wrong in the first place
3. the costs of international calling are astronomical!
4. without a list of their "international text" countries, I had no idea that there is no way to sms message in the country that I would like to contact (in the PI)
5. I had to pay my monthly bill (which was more expensive than ATT) 2 weeks after I put down $250 to get started. To move it back, the people on the phone were total assholes about making me call back on the actual due date. Why should it be so hard to move back my payment date cycle when I just STARTED with you guys?! The initial person said I could change my payment cycle online but i couldn't. Why couldn't I have just set it in the store?
6. the mobile app for your account is dicks... WTF? Aren't you guys a mobile phone company??!!
7. the app and the website are not friendly and are not intuitive as far as where information is stored and how you access it. You can't manage your billing cycle, you cant set up payments, you can't contact a real person or talk to someone via chat. WTF?!
8. I didn't know that I wouldn't receive my termination fee from those T-mobile A-holes until 4-8 weeks later. That means you are on your own for payment. THEN!...
9. the reimbursement comes in the form of a pre-paid gift card which i cannot use over the phone or online to pay my ATT bill without an error message. When trying to access via the website there is no number to call. When looking at the accompanying paperwork and then dialing the number I was told by the woman on the phone to pay online using it as a debit or credit multiple times- despite telling her that I did that already. (smh) before she finally relented and yelled over me that means I have to go there in person... I have a fucking cell phone and the internet so my lazy ass doesn't have to go there in person! WTF?!
10. I fucking hate t-mobile!

PROS
once I called and the person on the phone was very nice and helpful- pointing out that the person in the store had initially over-charged me and billed my lines wrong. Unfortunately, I don't know if this situation was ever remedied because when I called again, the next person said she couldn't understand what was done to my account. :(

Point in case: I fucking hate t-mobile.

Friday, December 12, 2014

I'm feelin thirty-twooooooooooooo

Oh heck yes it's time for my bday blog! I even took the day off to do WHATEVER I want (which so far has meant cake for breakfast, jogging and blogging. =D

This year has been another super amazing wonderful fantastic year of birth with tons of growth and pushing myself to heal in ways I didn't think were possible. I gotten through the year with like only 1 hangover (fuck you alcohol!) and I've been super motivated to continue to work on my health this year. Take a look at the 32nd year accomplishments:

-seeing a mental health counselor with my own money, time, and work (love canelli)
-almost eliminating alcohol and drinking to excess from my life
-being called on by my bro in his time of need- when timmy never calls on anyone
-re-connecting with my brother to strengthen a relationship that had been distant for almost a decade
-being okay with limiting access to family that is blood but isn't safe
-growing closer with dad
-summoning the willingness to work on myself and my relationship with my partner
-being brave enough to say no to him
-going camping for the first time since i was in single digits!
-trusting Jedi to lead the way
-connecting with my darling god-son and accepting responsibility as his god-mama
-finding ways to heal the little one inside of me that still hurts sometimes
-fishing!
-training and watching Steve to do the full 5K mileage (damn I'm a good sister!)
-making more GF Xmas cookies
-finally finding a doctor that I like and that diagnosed my tummy probs
-did CROW pose for the first time! (1 solid second)
-saw some of my favorite people on the road to having their own families! (Kristine and Meagan got pregnant)
-went to Forks and saw all the twilight gear
-took a friend vacay with Jessi Jahnke (which was not  like I thought it would be but still cool)
-went on a mother's day overnight trip with my bros
-made an enemy into a friend (Smarg and her deschuttes class!)
-started golfing thanks to Tim and Dad!
-went to Joe and JJ's wedding, saw Crisis, didn't die.
-went to bon odori Tacoma with dad and Jed
-lived with my partner
-Lia moved in/out
-started watching my credit score
-saw Porgy and Bess
-started running again
-had osechi with mom!

Had a good time and a terrible/sad time, but definitely looked good doing it. I think this 30s trend of feeling safer and saner then ever is always going to be like that. The hardest thing to do will be to be brave in the face of change. Trying to get spiritual and loving in my old age has been a challenge, but as I prepare my world for one that I want to bring little ones into- I look on knowing that it's worth it.

In 32, I want to get better at self-soothing, loving myself and my body, and make time to connect with the people that keep my heart beating.
Love and healing to us all
ThickNHip

Thursday, December 11, 2014

ermehgerhd work

Who knew that working in a public school would and could
make me feel like I've moved mountains
and make me cry like a baby
Consistently inconsistent has been the story of my life
and I thought I could be the rock here
and I thought I could be myself here
but I keep forgetting the difference between suspensions and long forms with
offenses and defenses delicately check-marked
and
the whispers of dreams that float on the wind in lonely romance
lullabies of love and longing and the place that exists between child and adult
where do I keep myself in all these
competing voices
when ears are open
voice is silenced
hands are tied
children scream
and I
helpless
to help
myself