Hey, friends.
So it's the middle of April and I've been feeling real bad about not sharing my real feelings about a lot of things that have been going on for the past couple of month on this page, since THAT'S WHAT IT'S FOR, but it's been real difficult for me to get to it.
No surprise here, but I go through spells of needing to retreat and conserve my outward energy, which can often be conflated or confused with seasons of self-sabotage (at least, I can sometimes conflate or confuse them). Sometimes it's because I've got too many ideas and energies swirling around me that I can't quite channel with discipline and focus. I'm trying to work on that. Pretty much always. Other times I'm just trying to be gracious with myself and easy on my body, and gentle with my heart, especially when I'm feeling sad, overwhelmed, unsteady, or heartbroken. This and more has happened, for sure, over the past several weeks since my last postings.
There's also the fact that I've been doing some types of writing - personal letters, cover letters, preparations for philosophy talks about whiteness and liberatory approaches to identity - that aren't appropriate or complete enough to share here anyway. Not to mention that there have been MANY babies born in the past two months (like, seriously, I think my friends have had about ten new babies. Seriously. Ten.), and some family concerns and check-ins on aging grandparents.
What's your life been like? Surely not boring!
Let's do a little recap of some major happenings that have been capturing my heart and occupying my mind, all of which are things I've wanted, or even tried, to write about. This is a safe space, after all, right? Here are some high-level summaries.
At the end of January, when I concluded and wrote about those several weeks of living in the "no," that actually marked me ending a brief dating relationship that felt not-awesome from go. This person "checked a lot of boxes," as one might say, but more often than not, whenever we would hang out, he wouldn't really talk much and would fall asleep. He had his own things going on that aren't for me to judge or figure out, but that made it all the more curious to me as to why I would still be open to engaging with him. So inquisitive, I kept at it for a few more weeks. MEANWHILE, I was swiftly progressing through this unexpected process for a job I didn't apply for. A recruiter reached out to me, which felt fortuitous and easy, so for nearly five weeks, I did the interviews, screening tests, mock presentations, all the way to getting an offer letter. There were red flags along the way that did not sit well with me though, and as much as a solid salary and benefits for a remote gig sounded really appealing as I rounded into 6 months since my resignation, and as much as I tried to convince myself that maybe I could become a corporate spy and learn things from "the inside," I also knew that I really cannot be anything but authentically me in most spaces. Trying to hide or limit myself, or feeling restricted by external factors and employer-based power dynamics in ways that already made me feel uncomfortable, was not a great starting place. So I declined the offer. That sounds like a lot cleaner of a process than it actually was. I called in all of my community to help me process and navigate what felt like really complicated considerations. Remember, it was so stressful that my uterus refused to let me bleed.
Just before I declined that offer, I met someone else who also seemed to "check a lot of boxes" who would actually talk to me (sometimes about feelings!) and manage to stay awake. We started off real strong for about a week, but uneasy tensions that I would relate to whiteness and money issues and privilege and white-guy-masculinity and communication patterns that don't work for me became prominent rather quickly. I started to get the sense that this person was someone who maybe wasn't able to really see me, at least not yet, and it would be a strong learning curve to get there. During the few weeks of our interactions, he suggested a handful of times that I connect with a career coach. It wasn't malicious, but in the back of my mind I was worried our political and philosophical values were so misaligned he might perceive me to be a lazy, unmotivated, gold-digging freeloader - one of those millennials who just doesn't want to work for anything anymore. I didn't trust that he understood how I am purposeful, principled, and intentional in nearly everything I do, including where I am in my "career." I move in ways and choose and act based on specific and deliberate reasons. We ended things. A couple weeks later, I had an edible one night and the Instagram algorithm got the best of me - sometimes I make impulsive, sometimes large purchases, like an online course for how to navigate a career change with confidence. Because sometimes I also feel imposter syndrome, not as much because I don't know how to do what I do, but because it's uncomfortable being given every indication that you need to conform to systems and structures that are set up to not get or embrace the best of you. And sometimes, you let your inhibitions go when you are a little high.
That last dating dynamic concluded by the end of February, literally days before my former supervisor, mentor, collaborator and friend died. Mary Ontiveros was our Vice President for Diversity at CSU, the first senior administrator I met (in tears of desperation) within weeks of me starting my first position at a not-healthy department in 2014. She invited me to dinner and was one of the first people I told about the abusive dynamics I was experiencing in my relationship at the time. From then on, she opened up so many doors for me by inviting me to serve on committees, making introductions to people so I could teach new classes, and supporting me as I built an entire, university-wide culture change initiative. She became my supervisor in a strategic attempt to protect the longevity of that initiative, and she shared the same frustration, anger, and disbelief as me when it was all terminated on a whim in 2019. We felt these things together. Thank goodness I wasn't alone. She was there every step of the way. It was all basically downhill from there, though, for my job at CSU and her health, especially after she retired in December of 2020. I cried with Mary in her office more than people would probably expect, and I cried a lot more than I expected when she died.
I wrote a lot about what it's like to lose a teacher when bell hooks died. But I didn't have the energy to write about the significant influence Thich Nhat Hanh had on my life and learning ever since I was 16 when he passed away in January, shortly after bell hooks. Then when Mary died, it was a lot of grief to hold in such a short amount of time. Ever since María Lugones passed in the summer of 2020 (as well as another person from CSU whom I still hope to write about someday) and then Charles Mills in October of 2021, a very large portion of my thoughts and feelings for the past near-two years have been focused on what it's like to lose these very important people. They feel like more than teachers, but I haven't quite been able to find the word to describe their role in my life, how I understand the world and myself and who I've become since coming into contact with them or their work. I think about them every day.
Mary's funeral was February 28th, and that night, I got an email about a Vice President position at a liberal arts college that actually piqued my interest, and I told a couple people I'd been casually connecting with about how excited I was. I haven't been applying to VP roles in higher education, but this one felt different based on the culture of the college and their areas of focus. It felt like a special opportunity (so much I couldn't help but think Mary might have had a hand in it from the Spirit side). Every conversation with the recruiter made me more excited, and as the weeks went on, I dedicated more and more hours of research into the college and staff so I could write a compelling cover letter. "Write the search committee a love letter," the recruiter advised, "they want to know you understand how they are feeling and what they are going through." I LOVE love letters. I studied even more and researched everything I could to prepare for my first interview as a semi-finalist. I talked through the possibility of me moving across the country and how big of a deal that would be with my family and friends and even random people I kept running into at my favorite cafe during all those hours of website scouring and note taking.
Before I had even updated my resume and sent in my application materials, I had an amazing night with someone I've kind of known about in some very distant form for six or so years but never met in person. The night was full of jokes and conversation and so much laughter and meta banter about food. There was even dancing and me flexing as the iPad-DJ at a very small, intimate after party (what I'm saying is that he got glimpses of my truest self). The whole night we declared to everyone that we were NOT a couple, especially to all the strangers who probably resented that we were laughing too loudly in public.
With that in mind, for the first time in 15 years, a friend set me up on a blind date. It didn't go so great.
Then my not-date and I discussed again how we were not-going to pursue a relationship because we have different goals and ambitions in our romantic lives, which apparently meant it would probably be best for us to never see or talk to each other again (not my choice, but you gotta respect people's boundaries and meet them where they are at). That's when we (separately) moved through a whole week of a lot more crying and a very weird, unique kind of heartbreak. I mean, here's finally someone who thinks I'm funny AND can follow along as an equal contributor to lengthy meta elaborations about food stuff AND suggests it's best if we never see each other again unless in case of dire emergencies like, for instance, if I'm alone at a park and blacking out from the pain of falling and breaking my hand while rollerskating (a true story from Fall 2020).
That week was awful. It made total sense. And my heart was sad and confused.
We started talking again. We still have different goals and ambitions. We are still not pursuing a serious relationship, but we do find ways to help and support each other and laugh a lot and talk for hours on end which is really, truly lovely.
And then last week I found out I didn't advance as a finalist in the search for that very unique and special Vice President role at that very attractive liberal arts college. Despite the fact they wanted to center social justice and I reportedly had a strong interview, the committee apparently decided to "go in a different direction." That's 100% the hiring manager's version of "It's not you, it's me." I pretty much already knew the decision as soon as I got on the phone with the recruiter - based on the unusual amount of background noise I could tell she was doing dishes or cleaning out a closet or packing for a vacation or something else that indicated this was going to be a short, obligatory call. She explicitly noted that she didn't want to use any of these words when explaining the rationale for the committee's decision, but she did use all of these words to describe how they opted to go for someone more "traditional," "conservative," "safe," and "less risky." They probably assumed I would be the type to write publicly about work things, like examples of poor decision-making among senior leaders (among other things), which probably made them feel just the tiniest bit uncomfortable. Of course they wouldn't have been wrong and I indicated as much in my cover letter because I strive to be a person of personal and professional integrity.
And now we're basically all caught up except for two last things.
Some bad, snowy, windy weather along all of the western United States thwarted my plans to road trip it to Idaho for a family visit this week, which opened up some time for me to really think about what I'm going to do with my life and how I can create a path into whatever comes next. I filed and paid my taxes, experimented with some new cooking techniques in the kitchen, and finished reading another book on how to become a writer. I also binge-watched all of The Ultimatum on Netflix in two days. I'm not proud of that last one.
However, in an act to completely redeem myself, I just put effort into actually setting up a newsletter on Substack and create a new space for me to write about some things that have been on my mind A LOT lately. You might have guessed it by now. I want to write about dating and working. The newsletter is called Working Relationships. I hope it's honest, irreverent, insightful, and humanizing.
Don't worry! I'm still going to write here! Whereas Working Relationships will be dedicated to a specific theme and topic, this Buy Me a Coffee space feels different and cathartic - it's a place where I feel I can write freely about what's most present for me without having to worry or censor too much about what people might think. That's refreshing. And I definitely still need that space. I also have some other ideas for what I want to do here that will take time, but will serve a particular purpose.
Okay - after all of that - thank you for reading along. If you want to also read Working Relationships, you can find the very first issue here. Just know, Buy Me a Coffee is still very likely going to be where I'll process the process of that stuff, too! I anticipate it kind of being like I'm dating Working Relationships, but BMAC is the friend where I feel most comfortable sharing and making sense of my real feelings about real life things as I'm working through them (including owning the responsibility of actually having to show up for and take care of Working Relationships now that I've brought this new baby into the world).
Make that eleven babies then.
From the bottom of my sometimes overwhelmed heart, thank you being here!