August slipped away before I could catch it. Perhaps that’s how months pass when your life is in a state of transition. You look up and realize whole weeks have vanished into something new. This month, the rhythm of my summer gave way to syllabi, assignments, and log-in screens.I officially began graduate school at the University of North Texas, pursuing a degree in Library Science with a focus on Children’s and Young Adult Librarianship. It’s still strange to write that out. Me, a grad student. Because if I’m being honest, I never really saw myself as “academic.” My path hasn’t always followed the neat, linear lines of a textbook.
And yet here I am, with discussion boards and readings stacked up next to piles of ready notebooks, stepping into a space that demands more of me than I expected. It’s exhilarating, yes, but it’s also a bit terrifying. Some days, imposter syndrome finds its way into the room before I do, whispering that maybe I don’t belong here. Which is why this month’s word feels so important. Belonging. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, belonging is:
“an affinity for a place or situation; the feeling of being comfortable and accepted.”
It sounds simple, almost effortless, as if belonging just happens the moment you arrive somewhere. But what I’ve learned is that belonging is rarely instant. More often, it’s something you grow into. Or something you create for yourself when the soil feels foreign. That tension is where I’ve been living for the past month.
On one hand, there’s the thrill of grad school: new knowledge, new goals, the possibility of building a life rooted in the things I love most. On the other hand, there’s the ache of dislocation. I miss New Jersey: the friendships, the little routines that grounded me, the confidence I found in navigating a place that once felt strange and then became familiar. I carry those streets and people like a second skin. And yet, I had longed to return to Texas. I wanted the closeness of family, the comfort of being near the people who know me from the ground up.
Coming home felt like it should be the cure to longing. But Texas has greeted me with complexity. Beyond family, the culture doesn’t quite click for me; the energy feels different, sometimes even unwelcoming. So I am caught between two landscapes: one that holds my history and one that holds my heart. Neither feels like a perfect fit, and maybe that’s what belonging really is. The constant negotiation between where you are and who you are becoming.
Maya Angelou once wrote, “You are only free when you realize you belong no place. You belong every. No place at all. The price is high. The reward is great.” I think about that often as I walk through my new routines. Perhaps belonging is less about perfect alignment and more about realizing that no place will ever feel complete without the courage to show up authentically. Brene Brown echoes this: “True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are.” That’s hard for me as someone who is still learning to stand fully in myself.
It’s easier to shrink or to question if I’ve earned the right to sit in the spaces I’ve found myself in. But Brown reminds me that belonging doesn’t come from fitting into the mold. It comes from refusing to mold myself into something Im not. And Rainer Maria Rilke offers a softer wisdom: “The only journey is the one within.”Which makes me wonder if belonging is less about the external. City, state, campus, or community. And more about the internal. If I cultivate belonging within myself, perhaps every place I live and every role I take on becomes another layer of that belonging, not the definition of it. So here’s what I know as August closes:
I may not fully belong to Texas, and I may not be as deeply rooted in grad school as I hope to be one day. But I belong to myself, to my values, and to the journey I’ve chosen to take. And maybe, for now, that is enough.
Poem of the Month
by me
I Belong to Me
I am the house I return to,
the key always waiting in my palm.
No city can lock me out,
no classroom can shrink my frame.
I carry my own doorway,
step through, and I am home.
The streets I’ve loved will fade into dream,
their voices stored in my marrow,
but they do not define me.
Even here, where the air feels strange,
my breath makes the map.
I mark the ground with presence,
not permission.
Belonging is not borrowed,
not granted, not earned.
It is grown like a flame in the ribcage,
a quiet fire that refuses to dim.
And when doubt comes knocking,
I light every window,
answer the door with my whole name.
I belong to me,
and in that,
I belong everywhere.
What I’m Currently Working on
To stay updated on my journey and what I’ll be working on next, feel free to visit the Works in Progress Page or follow the Facebook Page, where I share daily updates and fun tidbits.
Patience. I want to sit with that word for a second. Not rush into defining it or dressing it up. Just let it breathe on the page the way I’ve had to let it breathe in my life this month. Patience. It’s not my favorite virtue, and yet it’s the one I keep getting handed. Like an unwanted gift that turns out to be exactly what you needed, even if it didn’t come wrapped in joy or ease or immediacy. Not dramatically. But definitely. What is Patience, anyway?
The word comes from the Latin patiēntia, meaning “the quality of suffering”—which makes it make a lot more sense, actually. Patience isn’t waiting quietly with a smile on your face. It’s enduring. It’s staying when you want to leave. It’s breathing when everything tightens.It’s loving something, or someone, or yourself…even when you don’t have the proof yet that it’ll all be okay. There’s a quote I found that resonated with me:
“Patience is not the ability to wait, but the ability to keep a good attitude while waiting.”—Joyce Meyer
However, I’d like to push that a little further. Because sometimes a “good attitude” is just not lashing out. I didn’t give up. I let it hurt and didn’t make it worse. That counts too.
This month, I have been sitting with uncertainty. Big things. Personal shifts. And maybe most meaningfully, I embraced my genderqueerness more boldly than ever before. People I miss.Conversations unfinished. Doors that wouldn’t open, no matter how I knocked.
And you know what? I didn’t kick them down this time. I sat. I sat with the silence and the non-answer. I chose slowness even when I wanted to sprint. I let space exist between me and resolution.
I told myself: “Let it unfold. You don’t need to hold the ending yet.” And that wasn’t always peaceful. But it was patient. I think that counts too. Patience isn’t passive. It’s trust wearing sweatpants. It’s saying, “I still believe in the garden, even when all I see is dirt.” It’s choosing not to scream at the seed.
Poem of the Month
by me
How to Be Patient
Step one: sit with the ache.
don’t ice it.
don’t explain it.
let it be sore, let it breathe.
even if it bruises your pride.
Step two: stop refreshing the page.
the message will come when it comes.
the moment will move when it’s ready.
no amount of checking will make the clock hurry.
Step three: whisper kindness to yourself.
not promises. not platitudes. just
“I’m still here.”
“I’m still learning.”
“I’m still worth it.”
Step four: let life take the long way.
the shortcut never sees the view.
and you are here to witness
not just to arrive.
Story of the Month
by me
The Waiting Place
There was once a boy who was always rushing ahead, certain that life was hiding something better just around the corner. One day, he met an old woman sitting beside a still pond. She told him this was the Waiting Place.
“How do I get out?” he asked.
“You don’t,” she said. “Not until you learn to love the pause.”
He sat beside her, angry and aching and anxious, but she didn’t say another word. Just smiled softly, her hands in her lap like she had all the time in the world.
Eventually, he stopped asking.
Eventually, he started listening.
Eventually, the wind changed, the water moved, and he stood—lighter, slower. somewhere wiser.
He turned to thank her, but she was gone. Only her seat remained, still warm.
Im heading into August with the same warmth in my chest. I don’t have all the answers, but I’m staying close to the quiet. Close to the process. Close to myself. Patience isn’t easy, but it’s powerful. And I’m practicing it like a spell.
See you next month.
—Lj
What I’m Currently Working on
These days, my schedule feels like a careful balancing act as I shift from teaching to focusing on writing and refining my craft. I returned to Texas around June 20th, having completed my year of service in New Jersey. I’m no longer tutoring, as that was part of my program at the time. With middle school testing behind me, I find myself eagerly awaiting the start of my graduate school classes at UNT on August 18th. This past year has been quite transformative, and I’m excited to share my plans and the progress I’ve made during this time. To stay updated on my journey and what I’ll be working on next, feel free to visit the Works in Progress Page or follow the Facebook Page, where I share daily updates and fun tidbits.
June didn’t crash or crescendo — it shifted. Quietly, slowly, almost imperceptibly at times. But I felt it. In conversations I didn’t force. In moments, I chose to sit with rather than fix. In the way I showed up for others, and maybe more importantly, for myself. This was the kind you notice when you’re brushing your teeth, staring at the ceiling, or standing still in a room that used to feel heavier. June moved me. Not dramatically. But definitely. And in a way that matters.
According to the Oxford Dictionary, to shift means “to change the place, position, or direction of something”— but it also means “to change gears,” “to assume responsibility,” or ” to move subtly in tone or meaning.” It’s a word built for motion, but not always motion you can see. As Maya Angelou once said, ” We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.” And bell hooks reminds us, ” Healing is an act of communion.”To shift, then, isn’t just about you. It’s about adjusting in ways that let others breathe. Shifting can be an act of grace. A quiet apology. A new boundary. A softer tone. A deeper truth. A held silence.
This June, the shifts were personal and real. My year of service came to an end— closing a chapter that stretched and shaped me in quiet, relentless ways. I moved back to Texas, returning with more clarity, more softness, and a deeper sense of who I am and who I’m still becoming. And maybe most meaningfully, I embraced my genderqueerness more boldly than ever before. During Pride Month, I didn’t just show up — I showed. I claimed space with both softness and strength, and I wrote it all down. Here’s a poem I shared this June, that still echoes in me:
Shifts are constant. That’s why, over the past two years of writing this monthly blog, a recurring theme has surfaced again and again–under different names like change, growth, and now shift. Each word marks a moment, a feeling, a phase of moving forward, even when the steps aren’t clear or easy. Change and growth have been anchors before, but this shift feels different — more fluid, less about arriving and more about navigating the in-between. It reminds me that to live authentically, we can’t settle. We have to keep moving, even when it’s uncomfortable or uncertain, because that movement is what shapes who we are becoming.
As the poet Rainer Maria Rilke wrote, “Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final.” This echoes the necessity of embracing shifts — not resisting the tides of life, but flowing with them. Similarly, Virginia Woolf observed, “Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end.” The halo is never static; it moves and changes shape, just as we must. Even the philosopher Heraclitus famously said, ” You cannot step into the same river twice,” reminding us that change and shift are the very nature of existence. To live authentically, then, is to accept that we are always in motion, always becoming something new.
At the heart of all these shifts, growth, and changes is one undeniable truth: we are all human — imperfect, evolving, and beautifully complex. No one’s journey should be judged or rushed. As the Apostle Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 12:9, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Our vulnerabilities, our shifts, and our slow growth are not signs of failure, but of life’s grace working within us. Jesus himself said in John 13:34, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” That love includes compassion for ourselves and others as we move through seasons of change. So whether you’re shifting quietly, growing boldly, or changing completely, remember: this is your sacred path. Your pace is your own, and every step is worthy of respect and kindness— because being human means never standing still.
What I’m Currently Working on
These days, my schedule feels like a careful balancing act as I shift from teaching to focusing on writing and refining my craft. I returned to Texas around June 20th after completing my year of service in New Jersey. I’m no longer tutoring, as that was part of my program there. With middle school testing behind me, I find myself eagerly awaiting the start of my graduate school classes at UNT on August 18th. This past year has been quite transformative, and I’m excited to share my plans and the progress I’ve made during this time. To stay updated on my journey and what I’ll be working on next, feel free to visit the Works in Progress Page or follow the Facebook Page, where I share daily updates and fun tidbits.
Poem of the Month
by me
Unworthily Worthy
— all about being human and still deserving to be seen.
Hi friends, We’re at the end of May, and if you know me, you know I always land on one word to hold the month’s meaning. This time, the word is remember.
According to the Oxford Dictionary, remember means “to have in or be able to bring to one’s mind an awareness of (someone or something from the past).” And today, on Memorial Day — a day we set aside to remember and honor those who’ve gone before, particularly those who gave their lives in service — that word feels even heavier, even more alive. I’ve been sitting with that weight all month. Maya Angelou reminds us: “We may encounter many defeats, but we must not be defeated. I can be changed by what happens to me. But I refuse to be reduced by it.”
This May has been a month of looking back and looking forward. Exactly one year ago today, I was standing in cap and gown, graduating from SNHU — heart full, future wide open.Now, I stand at the edge of another goodbye — wrapping up my time with the GOLegacy Foundation fellowship, preparing to part ways with students and staff who have shaped my days, my work, and honestly, pieces of who I’ve become this past year.
There’s something sacred in this moment — the in-between space where you hold the past close while stepping into what’s next. To remember is not just to look back. It’s to choose which parts of yourself you carry forward. It’s to let memory shape you, but not chain you.
It’s to honor who you’ve been — and then dare to become someone even braver, even fuller, even more yourself. So here’s to remembering — and to being memorable, not because we chased it, but because we showed up fully.
Thanks for walking this month with me. See you in June.
What I’m Currently Working on
These days, my schedule feels like a careful balancing act as teaching, writing, and refining my craft take center stage. With testing for middle schoolers beginning, work has slowed down a bit, but it remains high maintenance as I navigate these critical weeks. As I look ahead to the end of my one-year contract on June 13th, I have only 3 weeks left. I’m eager to share my plans and the progress I’m making during this time, such as my acceptance into UNT for graduate school this fall. To stay updated on my journey and what I’ll be working on next, feel free to visit the Works in Progress Page or follow the Facebook Page, where I share daily updates and fun tidbits.
As I settle in to write this latest blog entry, I can’t help but reflect on the theme of persistence that has been prevalent in my life recently. It’s a quality I’ve always valued, but the kind words and recognition from friends and coworkers have inspired me to explore what it truly means to be persistent and how it connects with self-awareness and authenticity.
To me, persistence is a powerful force—it’s that inner drive that pushes us to keep moving forward, no matter what challenges we encounter. It feels like a reliable companion on our journey, motivating us to pursue our goals with determination. The past few weeks have shown me just how noticeable my persistence is to those around me, prompting me to reflect on how this characteristic aligns with my true self and the self-awareness I’ve developed over time.
I’ve realized that persistence isn’t just about pushing through obstacles; it’s about having a clear understanding of who we are. The more we recognize our strengths and weaknesses, desires and fears, the better we can navigate life’s ups and downs with resilience. Self-awareness is the foundation of authentic persistence, helping us set meaningful goals and understand when to push forward or change direction. As Maya Angelou wisely noted, “You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated.”
Honest self-reflection has guided my approach to persistence. I strive to stay true to my values and intentions while chasing my dreams. When my actions align with my core beliefs, persistence feels less like a struggle and more like a natural part of who I am.
However, this journey hasn’t been without its challenges. It requires a readiness to face setbacks and learn from them, acknowledging the doubts that sometimes arise. I’ve faced frustrating moments where the way forward seemed unclear, but it’s in these situations that self-awareness has been invaluable. Recognizing my emotions and reactions allows me to reframe my perspective and find the motivation to keep going. As Thomas Edison pointed out, “Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.”
When I embrace persistence authentically, I also inspire those around me to do the same. This creates a positive ripple effect, fostering a culture where we support each other in our journeys. Our experiences are interconnected, and the more we lean into our persistence, the more we encourage others to tap into their own potential.
As I look ahead to this new month filled with reflection and growth, I invite you to consider the role of persistence in your own life. How can you harness this powerful quality while staying true to yourself? Embrace the challenges and celebrate each step forward, for every moment is an opportunity to learn and grow.
Let’s journey together through the intricacies of persistence, building self-awareness along the way. Together, we can support one another in our pursuits and thrive on the path of authenticity. Here’s to writing the next chapter of our lives with determination, purpose, and a touch of courage! As the saying goes, “Do not wait to strike till the iron is hot, but make it hot by striking.”
What I’m Currently Working on
These days, my schedule feels like a careful balancing act as teaching, writing, and refining my craft take center stage. With testing for middle schoolers beginning, work has slowed down a bit, but it remains high maintenance as I navigate these critical weeks. As I look ahead to the end of my one-year contract on June 13th, I have only 10 working weeks left. I’m eager to share my plans and the progress I’m making during this time. To stay updated on my journey and what I’ll be working on next, feel free to visit the Works in Progress Page or follow the Facebook Page, where I share daily updates and fun tidbits.
What Im Currently Reading
Like many avid YA readers presently, I am currently making my way through Suzanne Collins’ latest entry into her Hunger Games books, Sunrise on the Reaping. This fifth book in her world of distant future Earth, Panem, focuses on Haymitch and when he won the Hunger Games. I share this in this post of persistence for two reasons: 1. Suzanne Collins’ dedication to these stories, this world, and these characters shows a beautiful level of persistence and drive. And 2. The character of Haymitch at his core, especially in this book, deeply relates to the characteristic of persistence. I highly recommend this book regardless of whether you are a fan already or not.
Birthdays can be a double-edged sword. For many, they are moments of celebration and joy, a time to gather with loved ones and reflect on the past year. Yet for others, particularly those who have walked through darkness, they can evoke feelings of introspection, nostalgia, and sometimes even sorrow. As someone who has grappled with thoughts of suicide, I’ve come to realize that birthdays represent a complex interplay of emotions and experiences.
On one side, there’s joy—the happiness of another year of life, a moment to celebrate milestones and personal growth. However, there’s also reflection on what has transpired, the struggles faced, and often the painful memories that can resurface. Like I exhibit in my blog post from my birthday last year when I share my poem AS I LAY ME DOWN:
As I lay me down to sleep
One last post to
his Facebook feed.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
He types, clutching a bottle of
pills ready.
But if I should die
before I wake
He hits postand
hopes for his end.
I pray God my soul
will take
He’d rather die than keep
making countless mistakes.
But if I should live for other
days, I pray
The Lord guide my way
And here I am still today.
Each year, we are reminded not only of how far we’ve come but also of the battles we’ve fought, some of which may still linger. In reflecting on my own experiences, I’ve found that taking a step back during these times can be crucial. I think about the importance of embracing both the light and the shadows that come with birthdays.
When we confront our emotions and allow ourselves to feel—even the difficult ones—we open up the possibility for healing. I remember a quote that resonates with me: **Albert Einstein**: “Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.” This idea encapsulates the essence of what many of us face—noticing that setbacks or dark times may also provide us the chance to rebuild, to reevaluate, and to appreciate the life we have.
As I reflect on past birthdays, including my twenty-ninth, I recognize a shift in my perspective. The years leading up to this point were filled with challenges that shaped my outlook on life. Each birthday now feels like a celebration not just of life but of resilience—the ability to keep moving forward, despite the odds.
Here is a look at my differences of perspectives from 29 to thirty through a birthday poem I wrote last year to the one I wrote this year:
“Happy Birthday To Me”
Twenty-nine years today
have come and gone.
I can’t believe that I
have lived this long.
Eighteen years, I thought,
was enough. What will become
waits for us.
Eleven years more, I
have gotten past that.
Over four hundred bright
new days I have seen with
all their clumsy blessings.
Just shy of one thousand
hours I almost didn’t see.
I have decided to keep running.
All the endless possibilities and
beauty I never could see
before I truly started living.
Eleven. Eighteen.
Twenty-nine.
“Twelve. Eighteen. Thirty.”
It’s my Birthday again
Twelve years
of just straight living.
since
Eighteen years of age
I tried to stop my existence.
Thirty years old now,
Jesus that’s crazy!
Twelve. Eighteen. Thirty.
it’s my birthday once more.
Twelve years of living, breathing,
since
Eighteen’s desperate night
I tried to silence my heart’s light
Thirty years old now,
Jesus, that’s a miracle.
I often think about the tools that help me navigate these feelings. Engaging in mindfulness, connecting with others, cultivating gratitude, and practicing self-compassion have all become essential practices. They remind me to stay present, to acknowledge my struggles, and to cherish the moments of joy that arise amidst the chaos.
Additionally, taking breaks and expressing my feelings through writing have been therapeutic. These practices support my mental health, especially during birthdays when emotions can feel particularly heightened. They foster a sense of renewal that allows me to enter a new year with hope and determination.
I encourage anyone wrestling with their feelings about birthdays—or any significant milestones—to give themselves the grace of reflection. Embrace the complexities and allow yourself the time to recharge. Entering a new year can serve as a powerful reminder that, while we may face darkness, there is also light to be found.
In a world that often encourages constant celebration, it’s okay to step back and acknowledge the full spectrum of our emotions. Whether through quiet moments of meditation, heartfelt conversations with loved ones, or simply taking a walk to clear our minds, let’s honor our journeys and the unique paths we have traveled.
Each year brings new possibilities—a chance for growth, healing, and a deeper appreciation for life. So, let’s embrace our complexities, lift each other up, and step forward into 2025 with open hearts and renewed spirits. Here’s to both the celebrations and the reflections that shape us, making every birthday a meaningful part of our journey.
What I’m Currently Working on
These days, my schedule feels like a balancing act of teaching, writing, and refining my craft. As I look ahead to the year winding down and the prospects of what comes after July, I’m eager to share my plans and continued progress. To stay updated on my journey and what I’ll be working on next, feel free to visit the Works in Progress Page or follow the Facebook Page, where I share daily updates and fun tidbits.
Poem for the Month
This month I am going to do something a little diffrent as I am going to post a poem of one of my friends they wrote to me for my Birthday. I am going to do so annamylously because I do not have permision to share it. However it highlights the sentiment I discussed about friends and connections helping in these times of complexities. this amazing friend wrote this nameless poem in resonse to my poem “Twelve Eightenn Thirty.”
Mr. Lj is truly great,
he has a heart of gold and a mind that shines,
even in the darkest of nights,
it’s no secret he is a true delight,
for if there was no Eccles,
there’d be no bright ideas from a friend in sight.
First things first, it’s hard to believe that I’ve been writing this little monthly blog for a whole year. I originally started it for a class, but it’s since evolved into a significant part of my life, especially in light of everything that has happened this year. If you’ve been following along, you’re already aware of my journey.
I graduated from college, moved to New Jersey, and continued my path of self-discovery. A key aspect of this journey has been building connections. As someone who struggles with social anxiety, lacks confidence, and has a natural shyness, making any kind of connection has always been challenging for me. I have a large family, and while those connections are important, they have their own difficulties.
That could be a topic for a future post, but today’s focus is on friendships. Making friends has never come easily to me. When I was younger, I had many friends, but they were more superficial connections. I wore a mask that prevented them from truly knowing me, as I didn’t allow myself to be vulnerable. Unsurprisingly, after a significant event in my life at eighteen, when I attempted to take my own life, most of these “friends” disappeared.
Since then, I haven’t put much effort into forming authentic friendships due to fear. However, to my surprise, I’ve managed to build true friendships here in New Jersey, thanks to amazing, patient, and understanding individuals. It has been a challenge, but I finally feel loved, seen, heard, and cared for.
While it may seem unusual for a personal journey, building connections with others is a crucial part of the process. I spent a long twelve years focusing on self-work, but I’ve now entered a new phase where I am actively working on my connection-building skills and discovering who I can be as a friend. This is a significant and challenging step for me but one that is necessary for my ongoing journey of authentic self-discovery. Our identities cannot be defined in isolation; they are shaped by our connections with others. Friends play a vital role in helping us understand and convey our identities to the world.
What I’m Currently Working on
These days, between work and personal projects, my schedule seems to be a juggling act of teaching, writing, and refining my craft. I’m excited about the new poems I’ve been crafting alongside my students, capturing their voices and experiences, which parallel my own journey of learning. As always, to follow my progression or what I am doing, you can head over to the Works in Progress Page or follow the Facebook Page where I post updates and share fun tidbits daily.
Author Recommendation
Author Recommendation
Poem for the Month
If you follow me on social media, then you will have already seen the following poem. It is titled mirror and is a recent poem I wrote. It explores seeing yourself differently because of the way others see you. This goes perfectly with this month’s theme as, more often than not, our friends see us differently ( hopefully in more of a positive light) than we see ourselves.
As I settled into October, I couldn’t help but reflect on the theme of learning, especially having been immersed in teaching recently. It struck me how learning never really ends; it’s a continuous thread woven throughout our lives. A quick glance back at my previous posts reminds me that while I’ve touched on various topics, I don’t think I’ve dedicated a post solely to the importance of learning. So here we are, diving into the journey of learning and the profound influence it has on our identities as we grow.
Maya Angelou once said, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” These words resonate deeply with me, especially as I navigate my role as a teacher. I’ve come to realize that learning isn’t just about absorbing information—it’s about the transformative impact of those experiences. It’s about cultivating connections, grappling with ideas, and ultimately growing together.
Throughout my recent teaching experiences, I’ve been reminded that the classroom is a microcosm of the larger world. Each student brings a unique perspective, and there’s an incredible richness in learning from one another. As I guide my students through their own discoveries, I find myself learning right alongside them. It’s almost a beautifully selfish endeavor, where I learn just as much—if not more—than they do.
Reflecting on my own journey, I realize that some lessons have come wrapped in struggles and challenges. I’ve faced my share of tough moments, but even in those, there’s been profound growth. It’s a reminder that learning looks different for everyone, and the path is often winding and filled with surprises.
The essence of learning is that it evolves. As someone who has always been a curious soul, I find that every experience—good or bad—adds to the tapestry of who I am. Embracing lifelong learning has been one of my greatest challenges and rewards. I’ve learned to lean into the discomfort of not knowing, welcoming the opportunity to grow and question without fear of answers. I’m more determined than ever to embrace this mindset—and I encourage you to do the same. Let’s light the fire of curiosity, seek out new ideas, and support one another in our individual journeys of learning. Be it in the classroom or elsewhere, every interaction holds the potential for growth.
What I’m Currently Working on
These days, between work and personal projects, my schedule seems to be a juggling act of teaching, writing, and refining my craft. I’m excited about the new poems I’ve been crafting alongside my students, capturing their voices and experiences, which parallel my own journey of learning. As always, to follow my progression or what I am doing, you can head over to the Works in Progress Page or follow the Facebook Page where I post updates and share fun tidbits daily.
As I sat down to write this blog post with thoughts of Identity possibly being the topic of theme this month, I found myself shocked as I looked through my ten past blog posts dating back to November (which is crazy to think it has already almost been a year since I started this website journey), because surely I thought I had already written on the topic. Alas, though, I have not written one single blog on Identity solely, although it is at the forefront of all my writing. This website highlights the pure essence of my Identity and the importance of Identity as a concept to me.
However, since I have yet to write one, this eleventh blog will focus primarily on Identity, so let’s go! According to Oxford, Identity is defined as the fact of being who or what a person or thing is. Okay, Oxford! Way to simplify that (Ha). That’s the thing with Identity; it is not simple and is so so hard to define, so good effort, Oxford.
Defining Identity, especially one’s own Identity, takes time; we aren’t truly ourselves until we fully come to an end, so that’s the trick. Identity is constantly changing, adapting, and ever-evolving. The key to it is being aware of that. Noticing and grasping the pivotal moments of ourselves and who we are is important to self-awareness. Frankly, it is hard, tiring, and stressful, but ultimately beneficial to your life and success. My Identity has been a struggle pretty much from birth.
Born to two individuals who had previous marriages and already six children between them before they had me, though beautiful, was an instant thrust into difficult identity struggles. Unfortunately, being in a blended family causes a lot of pointing and staring. Then, on top of that, as a child, I had a speech impediment to which most people, even my mother, really couldn’t understand me, so I was in my head a lot from a very early day. Because of that, I already asked myself pivotal identity questions, but I really couldn’t ask anyone about them.
I also am and was raised Christian, so honestly, that didn’t stop the questions from stopping. Fast forward because of these important key factors in my Identity and the struggle with them up to that point, my major anxiety sneaked into me and introduced me shortly after to its friend and partner depression, which tried to but failed to have me meet its bride death. And now, here I am because of those major elements of my Identity and several more. I am here today as the person I am, JustLj.
What I’m Currently Working on
I have now been living in NJ going into three months now, with my year of service as a fellow with the GoFoundation in full swing. This new venture and opportunity currently has been taking up most of my time, but I am hoping as I adjust and the year progresses, it won’t take up as much time as it has, so I can continue my blogging and writing as I was before. I am still also busy submitting my poems and short stories anywhere and everywhere. As always, to follow my progression or what I am doing, you can head over to the Works in Progress Page or follow the Facebook Page where I post updates and share fun tidbits daily.
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Poem for the Month
This month in the spirit of identity I am going to focus these sections on my self and share two poems. The first is actually one I wrote alongside my students at work during tutorial as we read a collection of three poems about dual identity from Annie Donwerth- Chikamatsu. The other was inspired from my attendance of a night out listening to poetry this past weekend at the Blank Studios.
This month’s blog will likely be similar in many ways to last month’s blog post on growing/moving on as the themes of growing/moving on and loss & celebration are alike in many ways. As many of you know, at least if you follow the site’s Facebook page, This month has been a crazy one as not only did I just arrive in my temporary home for a year in New Jersey to start a new venture with The Go Foundation, but I also lost my sweet Hazel dog of sixteen years before leaving.July was an emotionally crazy time, to say the least. Starting the month celebrating the 4th of July, seeing family not often see, getting hyped for the trip, for the move, then getting struck by guilt and loss at the last second.
July is often full of celebration due to the 4th, and it is the height of true summer, causing many nations and lots of happiness. We may forget that the very celebration of the 4th is ridden with loss. America fought and won the fight for its independence, but that didn’t come without mountains of loss. The decision to go to war and battle for this right did not come easy; often, any measure of loss comes with that type of heaviness. Taking Hazel to the vet and ultimately coming to the decision to help her pass was no different. Selfishly and unfortunately, I believe I was holding back the process to leave it to be dealt with after I left for New Jersey. Fortunately, I came to my senses and knew I needed to see her through, not just for her but for me, too.
Most often, this is how loss is dealt with because no one wants to deal with it and confront it head-on, hence why these types of decisions commonly do not come easy, no matter how big or small perceived. Hazel, even through her discomfort, pain, and need for release, with her big ol heart, regardless of how unsteady it was to find out, knew I needed her to show me how strong to be in times of loss and change. Though naturally shy, nervous, and timid, she welcomed that vet staff and her passing as the best thing ever; the staff was her family, and she was so strong, bold, and happy the whole time. So, although I did cry that day, those tears, as heavy as they were, were sobs of celebration.
Hazel lived sixteen beautiful years with me and my family; she outlasted many furry companions and helped love on many new generations that came during her life. Her life was one to be celebrated, not regretted and feared, and I am so glad that I made the tough decision to be with her for that moment, as we both knew it was coming. I just needed time to truly process that and not hide and try to run away from it. My only regret on the matter is how long I took to come to that decision and how close I made it to my time of leaving, making it even harder than it was already going to be leaving my one remaining dog, Duke, who has always had both Hazel and me and within the span of two weeks he presently has neither. As Hazel taught me in her last moments in the difficult times, we need to show strength, especially for and to those we love. My time here in New Jersey is only short and I have a big, supportive, loving family, so Duke will be just fine. In case you missed it on Facebook, here is my poem in honor of my sweet Hazel Bazel:
As I type this blog post on loss & celebration and do so greatly needing a reminder of sweet Hazel’s lesson of strength in difficult times as I am going through it today. These types of days were and are expected during this big adjustment during this year in New Jersey, but awareness does not make things less hard; it just makes it easier. So I write on the loss and the celebration of Hazel because I need to for myself, and I know that. Maybe Hazel’s lesson will touch someone else as they read it, and they needed to be taught this as well, but regardless, loss is hard, but that is why we celebrate. Whether the loss you are going through is personal, global, partnered with grief, or the loss of comfortability due to change, know that your feelings are valid, warranted, and, most importantly, need to be coupled with celebration. Loss, when followed up by celebration, ultimately results in inner peace and trauma passion; this is why we have holiday celebrations such as the 4th of July, but caution yourself not to forget or discredit the small things too, like in my circumstance for instance; I am struggling today because of the newness of moving to New Jersey from Texas without my dogs and far from family, but I am fortunate for my loving and supportive family and for this great opportunity and venture post-graduation that I prayed for and that is worth celebrating!.
What I’m Currently Working on
As you can guess, after reading the above blog, I have just moved to NJ, and my year of service as a fellow with the GoFoundation has begun. I am also busy submitting my poems and short stories anywhere and everywhere. As always, to follow my progression or what I am doing, you can head over to the Works in Progress Page or follow the Facebook Page where I post updates and share fun tidbits daily.
Author Recommendation
This month, to continue the memory of Hazel even more, I share one of the short stories that I wrote a few years ago in preparation for the inevitable day that ultimately arrived earlier this month. It is heavily influenced by my life and inspired completely by Hazel’s story completely:
The Other Puppy
This was not supposed to be my life. I was the other puppy. The brown puppy. My brother, the black one. He was chosen. My Boy often likes telling this story. Mom went out searching for a new friend for him. She met me and my brother in one of those parks for cars. I was scared I didn’t know what was going on. My brother was excited, though, greeting each new person like his new best friend. I was apprehensive, unsure, and shy. Mom was immediately comforting to me. She paid attention to both of us, but she lingered on me.
I thought I didn’t like the attention at first, but then suddenly, I was disappointed when she stopped massaging my ears. Rubbing between her thumbs and index fingers like a soothing pinch. I enjoyed it and wanted her to begin it again, but she scooted back from us, smiled, and then there was a flash. I put my head down, attempting to shield my eyes. My brother looked directly at the fleeting light sticking his tongue out. I later learned that was Mom taking a picture of the two of us to send to My Boy. She asked me which one I wanted, and I said The Black One, My Boy would say and then begin to chuckle as he continued. Then Mom said too late, I got The Other One. That’s me. The Other One. The Other Puppy.
I am unsure why My Boy refers to this as one of his favorite stories. The first time I heard him tell it, I had nightmares for nights after of him taking me back to exchange for my brother. When Mom picked me up in her welcoming yet cautious arms loading me inside her car, carefully driving out of its park, I had my suspicions. It took me time to accept and get used to my new home.
My new home meaning My Boy. He is perfect. Caring. Compassionate. My voice. My champion. My Boy. Any doubt is replaced with love in his presence; which I have been around for thirteen years. Of course, that’s not to say the doubt never crept in. It was in my nature to worry. My Boy, my home, just made it easier to cope with. Through the numerous changes: inside dog to outside dog, new dogs, new people, new places, even as I became weaker and all my brown brindled fur turned to grey, My Boy always showed me love.
As my teeth began to pour out like rain and my sight went as foggy as a druggie’s brain. He would tell me how beautiful I was and how lucky he was to have me. It was nice to hear and much needed because I am so naturally The Other Puppy or other anything. I don’t call for much attention, not like most dogs. Its always been easy for me to fall back and take a secondary role. What’s that saying, ‘never the bride, always the bridesmaid.’ That’s how I felt most of the time. Wait my turn until the needier was taken care of, and let me tell you, I have had some needy roommates. Dumb, goofy, loud, obnoxious, and full of themselves.
My Boy loves dogs more than he loves himself sometimes. My Boy is like me in that way. Anxiety, depression, and lack of self-worth are all ways that we could be described as. In fact, some may define us by those words. That’s okay. We know we are more. Sometimes it takes the other to remind us of that, but we do. We rely on each other. Have all these years. A kiss. A nudge. A snuggle here or there delivered at the right time could mean the world. Some days it has literally meant life or death for My Boy. When I was still an outside dog, just on the brink of becoming an old dog, My Boy tried to take his own life. I heard Mom say he was tired of worrying and being afraid. He would have rather sank into his daydreams than live life knowing he wouldn’t achieve them. I understood that.
That’s when I realized My Boy was an other like me. That was why we clicked. That is why Mom brought him me instead of my brother. We needed each other. I made it my mission to become an inside dog again once he returned home. I knew I could be what he always was for me. A blanket of love and worth. And now I knew just how important a job that was.
That’s why my current situation kills me. Lying on this doctor’s bed that reeked of all different kinds of dogs, looking into My Boys tear-filled eyes. He was keeping the tears in because he didn’t want to cry in front of the doctor, but I knew once he left to prepare for my final nap, My Boy would cry with the power of a tsunami. This moment had been coming for a long while, and we both knew it. Still, that didn’t make it any easier.
I had to be strong and confident for him. Four years as an inside dog since My Boy’s forced brush with death and two inside his little home all to ourselves. Just me, My Boy, and Good Boy. An ironic name for my newest roommate. I often think My Boy calls him by this as an incentive and not because he is, in fact, a good boy. When My Boy brought that dog home, it was clear he was a bonified bad dog. My Boy has put much time into Good Boy these two years. I also followed suit, especially since sensing my time was nearing.
I taught Good Boy everything I knew about My Boy. I tried to explain how My Boy and I are others and would always take a step back for those who needed more attention, like himself. I warned him that although he would never show it or admit it directly, My Boy needed assurance and recognition that he was valued and loved. I told him again and again how much My Boy needed reassurance, and that soon, he’d be the only one here to take care of My Boy. I was never sure if Good Boy was truly listening or grasping any of what I told him. It worried me desperately in these last couple of days if I would be leaving my wonderfully precious Boy, who though now was a man, would always be My Boy, without a dog who truly understood him and knew what he needed. Today as My Boy carried me through the house Good Boy gave me a look that told me he did understand after all. The big blonde dog with his usually perked-up ears now drooping and cocked let out a small whimper as I was walked out of the house to take my final car ride.
Back in the little room, the doctor left us in just like I predicted My Boy lost himself in grief, bursting into a fit of tears. I mustered up the little strength I still possessed, edged myself to the end of the tall, smelly doctor bed, and nudged my dry brown nose forward, meeting the temple of My Boy’s head, ruffling some of his autumn-colored hair.
He looked up from the defeated position he had taken with his face buried in the palm of his trembling hands, crouched forward on the bench near the bed. Our eyes met, and I knew he felt what I did — The love- — The time and life spent together — The endless appreciation. He stopped crying, as a tender smile replaced his look of dread as his leafy green eyes lovingly locked with my muddy brown ones. I heard the doctor renter and saw My Boy give a slight nod toward him before suddenly wrapping around my neck in a warm embrace that felt like a fireplace on a cold winter night.
“My sweet, sweet girl. Thank you. Thank you so much.” My Boy sniffled in my good ear while he messaged the other like Mom used to. I felt a pinch but ignored it as the moment felt too good. My Boy put his nose to mine and everything else disappeared from thought— the smell, the pain, the fear.
” I can’t imagine if Mom had brought that other puppy to me instead. You were exactly what I needed.” I drifted off with those words looking into My Boys loving eyes.
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