SOULUTION

CREATING CHANGE FOR BETTER DAYS

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Californian born and raised, wife, mother, and L.A. Kings fan.

  • No Tear is Wasted

    To me, crying is therapeutic. I start crying when I see someone else cry. I cry when I watch movies, TV shows, and even commercials. It can be embarrassing. I’ve been this way all my life.


    One evening, in a church group, the subject of crying came up. This woman in the group, who had the most prominent resting bitch face, said, “Crying is for wusses.” True heart of gold {sarcasm}. I asked her what about David speaking to God in Psalm 56:8? Or Revelation 21:4? Or you cry after a good laugh? She just looked at me. I could tell by her silence that she didn’t read the Bible that much. She’s wrong. Crying is okay for everyone.


    When I dealt with postpartum depression after the birth of my daughter, I could not cry. It was the first time in my life that I could not muster a single tear. It was horrible. I felt dead inside. It took a year before I could cry again. The moment I did, I felt like a weight was lifted off of me. Maybe my problem wasn’t completely solved, but I felt like I was coming back into my body again.


    Fast forward to today: my only child turns 18 tomorrow. High school sports will get in the way of her big day. Last-minute changes foil any plans I had for her. The very things I never had growing up, I wanted to do for her. However, she doesn’t seem to want a big deal about it. So, this weekend, I have been crying a lot. Crying because my baby is no longer a baby. Crying because my efforts aren’t very appreciated.


    There are many reasons to cry: sadness, disappointment, suffering losses, or tears of joy. Crying helps get through these times.


    According to health psychologist, Dr. Grace Tworek, “…after a good cry, your parasympathetic nervous system (the system of nerves in your body that allows you to ‘rest and digest’) can take over. That allows you to shift out of a ‘fight or flight’ response. That shift can make you feel as if a weight is lifted and things become clearer.” While crying may not solve our problems, it is good for our bodies and our souls.


    Every therapist’s office has a box of tissues for a reason. But you don’t have to be in one to cry. Those tears that fall are not wasted.

  • Let’s Stop the Shame of Set Backs

    For most of my life, I have suffered from anxiety. There were times in my life when anxiety was so debilitating that I needed medication to get through the day. I was ashamed and wished I was a different person. As much as I tried to talk myself out of being anxious, my body took over, and I got overwhelmed.

    About 13 years ago, I decided to work on my self-care and figure out the case of my anxiety. Was it a dysregulated nervous system? Was it complex trauma? Was I just weak? Did I not read the Bible enough or have enough faith? I could never pinpoint an exact reason, so I got help and found what worked for me.

    I worked hard on this. But it was taking years to get a handle on it. Some days were great, some days were terrible. After my diagnosis of ADHD, that helped me feel validated. Now, it made a lot of sense; while I thought I was walking a flat path, I was walking up peaks and back into valleys.
    Like most of us, the last 5 years have been rough. I managed through it, and I haven’t been so anxious. I used to have panic attacks when I had to wait or stand in long lines at the grocery store. But now, if I felt any nerves come up, I would allow myself to feel it, and then that feeling would pass, and I could carry on. I had my tricks of box breathing, other somatic therapies, and speaking mantras. Thankfully, I did not experience any panic attacks for quite a while. Until today…

    I had to pick up two prescriptions at my Kaiser pharmacy this early afternoon. It is inside a medical building where there is an urgent care. I walked up to find a line of 12 people in front of me. I wear face masks whenever I go to a pharmacy or doctor’s office because I want to stay well, especially during this flu season. The line was moving slowly, but I managed okay until I got to the front. The pharmacy tech called me up. He located one of the medications, but could not find the other one. I began to feel this surge of panic, and I began to go numb. I honestly thought I would pass out. I pulled off my mask to breathe because I felt I was holding my breath. I could feel my feet lose circulation. I couldn’t swallow. There were A LOT of people at this pharmacy, and I thought to myself, “Please don’t lose your shit at Kaiser. For the love of God, you are not like this anymore!”
    The pharmacy tech returned, located my medicine, and began to check out so I could pay. Then he said, “I need you to stay put because there is a mandatory consult for this medication.” I pleaded with him that I knew what to do because it was just a dosage change. But he said, “Stay here, and the pharmacist will come over.” The pharmacist had a person asking about 20 questions. I began to feel my chest tighten, and I was about to make a scene. However, the pharmacist came over. I thought I was ready to go, but she was in training, so she had to ask another pharmacist why I needed a consult. She got her question answered and told me what I needed to do. I said thank you to her and walked out of the building.

    My walk to my car felt like a walk of shame. I was so mad at myself that I felt so out of control. It felt like those feelings blindsided me. I thought I stopped feeling like that forever. I was supposed to be this healed person from anxiety who never needed to deal with this again.

    As I thought about the episode, I realized I felt amped up beforehand because I was rushing to get to the pharmacy. As much as I liked the protection of the mask, I was not breathing as fully as I should. I have had issues getting this one prescription before and was annoyed it happened again. The pharmacy had a lot of sick people, and I was concerned with exposure to the flu. My body told me, “Hey dear, you’re a bit stressed, and you aren’t paying attention; maybe I need to notice you’re more affected than you realize. Here is some shallow breathing, and maybe a quick fainting spell will rest your body?” Thankfully, I didn’t pass out or go into a complete panic attack. It was a mini one. I will take a mini-one over a full-blown episode.

    Once we learn how to manage anxiety, it doesn’t mean panic attacks can never happen again. Managing anything is being able to experience it in a less obtrusive way. I caught myself starting to spiral into shame, and I reminded myself that I had come a long way and managed this specific situation as best as possible. Shaming myself wasn’t going to do anything but make me feel like crap.

    As I have read, “Healing is not linear because it can involve ups and downs, twists and turns, and loops. It can take days, weeks, or years. Healing is also a practice that involves learning and incorporating healthier patterns into your life over time.” Be gentle with yourself, especially on difficult days. We are all deserving of this self-care.

  • For My Neurodivergent People

    My daughter and I went to Las Vegas for a club tournament.  She looks forward to this trip every year.  It feels like a vacation to her.  However, I am a complete mess from the planning and expense of it all.

    We decided to fly instead of drive. I tend to get bad motion sickness, so I was concerned about flying.  I swallowed the motion sickness pill instead of chewing it as the directions indicated.  I messed up the ticket on our checked bags.  We got to the gate, and I began sweating from the stress.  But, despite the turbulence and taking the motion sickness pill incorrectly, the flight was super short and we got to Las Vegas safely.

    We took a cab to the hotel.  The cab driver was super chatty; we were both from Southern California.  He talked about Super Bowl Weekend and how it was busy but great.  He mentioned that the new baseball stadium was planned to be built on the Tropicana Casino property.  I started asking questions.  I was asking many questions rapidly.  Honestly, I didn’t even notice myself doing that (thanks, ADHD).  The cab driver said, “CAN YOU CALM DOWN FOR A SECOND?! I will tell you if you let me talk.”  I was stunned, embarrassed, and mortified.  He proceeded to explain the plan.  I stayed quiet for the rest of the ride to the hotel.  He dropped us off and said, “Well, this was such a pleasant trip.  You two are very delightful, and it was a pleasure driving you.  Good luck at the tournament.”  I thanked him and got out of the cab.  I thought, what in the world was that? He yelled at me but then said I was pleasant.  

    I did not know how to behave for the rest of the trip.  I would have conversations with the other parents but catch myself going off on a tangent or watching their faces seem uninterested in what I was saying.  I stayed in the room most of the trip, feeling ashamed and judged. I got through the rest of the trip and was thankful to go home.  

    Unfortunately, I felt out of place or didn’t belong for most of my life.  People (who don’t care to understand) would tell me what they didn’t like about me because I wasn’t normal.  It was so hurtful.  All I wanted was to belong and feel loved.

    I was diagnosed with ADHD at age 45. This diagnosis was a massive relief for me. By the way, an ADHD diagnosis comes from taking a series of tests and analysis by a psychiatrist.  ADHD is not something a doctor can just pull out of the air.  I am so thankful there is more awareness about neurodivergent people. Someone once told me to have some grace for myself because I am wired that way.  I realized I can’t shame myself into being neurotypical.  I am built differently, and that is okay.  I don’t need to fit in; I need to be myself.  

    If you fall into this category, you have a place in this world, especially if we want to make it a better one. You make the world more exciting!

  • Time to Let Things Go

    When the Year 2022 began, I planned to write something every day. Then, my father died suddenly due to COVID-19 in January 2022. I ignored the grief for those first six months because I had to be strong for my mom and handle all of her affairs. She heavily relied upon my father for EVERYTHING. She didn’t know how to send an email or that Google was a search engine. I had my own family and worked a job as well. The world was a dumpster fire, and everyone seemed on edge. As I entered month 6 of grief, I could feel the burnout coming. Somehow, I would trudge along and get a good night’s sleep. Then, go full force again for another couple of months before the burn would creep up again. Also, I did not write.


    Even in my grief, I always think about this blog. Yet, I could not bring myself to write because I wanted it to be perfect. How can I write posts when I barely function day to day? As Sheryl Sandberg said, “Done is better than perfect.” Yet, I still have not been able to write.


    Unfortunately, this current bout of burnout has taken its toll. I began experiencing neurological and digestive issues. I started to shop online a lot. I could not experience anything joyful. I started to outsource things I had no energy to do. I sent clothes to get pressed at the dry cleaner. I even booked a hair appointment just to have them wash my hair.


    My doctor ordered medical tests for my symptoms, and they confirmed I was still in good health. But, I knew I was not well mentally. I finally told my boss I was burnt out and needed help. I was dealing with something with a family member, and I told him. I cried. I never cried in front of him, ever. I said I had to take some time off. Thankfully, he was understanding. I decided on the dates of my vacation. Three weeks off in October. While I may not go anywhere, my primary purpose for this break is to rest.


    I am getting messages that, right now, being productive is counterproductive. I can’t heal until I rest. I also finally learned about what it means to let go. Whenever I would hear, “Let it go,” I wanted to scream, ‘”HOW DO YOU DO THAT, EXACTLY?!” I couldn’t get the message. I heard a person explain that letting go means you don’t think about it anymore. I am a master ruminator. And I thought, oh if I don’t think about it, I won’t give it any power. I finally understood! As Fall is next week, what a time to let go of the things that no longer serve me well. May we let go of the things that no longer serve us as easily as the trees let go of their leaves.

  • Stop Dealing With Other People’s Trash

    I went for a walk around my complex. Today is also trash day. I noticed a few bins overflowing with shipping boxes and their past week’s rubbish. I started to judge their inability to break down a box or put trash in their recycle bin. I thought about the driver who had to deal with this mess. Then, the thought, “Stop dealing with other people’s trash,” popped into my head. I realized this was meant for me figuratively and literally.

    I have a terrible habit of analyzing why people misbehave. I can blame complex trauma, being a highly sensitive person, or just being nosy. Unfortunately, this behavior is time-consuming and mentally exhausting. As long as no one puts their trash in my bin, I don’t need to worry about what other’s trash bins look like.

    Ironically, I am the listening ear to two people at war with each other in my community. I do not share what either person said about the other. I nod and appear concerned. The whole situation is petty and childish. If I gossip, I’m dealing with other people’s trash.

    I’m always looking for ways to simplify my life. Besides decluttering physical things, eliminating the mental clutter in our lives is just as important. There are too many things vying for our attention. We get caught up in the wrong things and must catch up on our needs.

    So, a lesson learned: do not deal with other people’s trash and shovel your sh!+ before it piles up.

  • The Path to Least Resistance Does Not Create Growth

    Eighteen months ago, we buried my father. I continue to struggle. I wanted this year to feel more “normal” after my dad’s passing, but it is not. My body screams pain; my mind gives me tormenting thoughts. I am on high alert for anything that looks dangerous. How can I not want to do anything or go anywhere, yet I don’t want to be home either? And my passion for writing disappeared.

    And the guilt I have is astronomical. Since I have not felt well in a long time, I constantly wish for better days. I “should be” all over myself. I should be a better mother. I should be a better wife. Shit, I should be a better person. I’m angry, depressed, and anxious. I see people who say and do horrible things and wonder, “Why are they allowed to live? I wish they were six feet underground instead of my dad.” Sometimes, I wish I was six feet underground. But I still want to be here, just not in pain. I told someone that I sometimes feel my daughter gets the short end of the stick. And she said, “No, she is alright, but you did.”

    Despite the grief I have experienced in the last 18 months, I have managed some self-growth. I still play the dangerous comparison game of seeing other people’s accomplishments and wince at my current life stage. I am not where I should be. This belief is a lie. I may be struggling, but it won’t be this way forever.

    Many years ago, I was at a church function. I shared how I felt stuck in all areas of my life. A man asked me, “Do you know what the slogan is for the shoe company Nike?” I replied, “Just Do It”. He said, “Yes, my dear, just do it. Nothing in the beginning is perfect. But you need to start and be consistent.” I think of that often. When I feel like giving up on writing, looking for a new job, or expressing gratitude, I hear, “Just do it!”

    Time is precious. I do not want to waste time on things that take a long time to develop. But in that time of figuring out what to do instead and not finding something, I’m wasting time. The path to least resistance does not create growth. Like Aesop’s Fable, “The Tortoise and the Hare,” slow and steady wins the race. I worried about everyone else’s well-being growing up. I never felt like I truly lived. I figured I could only enjoy life if I had a significant income, or once my child was in college, I could start finding my purpose. These are all lies. The truth is that day will never come. That is perfect.

    Whether you feel ready or not, this is your (and mine) sign to start. Do this for yourself. May the force be with you.

  • Protect Your Energy from Trying to Convince People

    After I had my daughter, I experienced severe postpartum depression. I had a difficult pregnancy with pre-term labor, bed rest, and delivering four weeks early. I was in constant pain and not sleeping. And due to my daughter’s low birth weight, I had to feed her every 2 hours. I could not give her a bottle because she only wanted me. I was beyond exhausted.

    Three weeks after her birth, we had a medical scare where the doctors said she tested positive for a genetic condition. (Everything turned out fine and she is healthy today.) I wanted to maintain a clean and tidy household through all this stress. So I stayed home with our daughter. My parents helped the best they could. Other family members said they would help me. But their “help” became, let me hold the baby while you clean your place and feed us.

    After one of the specialist’s appointments for my daughter, I felt a UTI (urinary tract infection) coming on. I went to urgent care. It was the first time I had a break. I could be by myself and in a quiet room. The doctor came in. He asked me how I was doing. I cried and told him I was overwhelmed with the new baby. He said, “I’m sorry you are going through this. I hope you can learn no one will fully understand what you are going through. You cannot convince them. They look at these things through their eyes and are selfish.” The doctor encouraged me to stop convincing people how bad things are because they won’t care. He said you have to hold firm boundaries, despite people getting upset. And through time, you will get more sleep, get into a rhythm, and feel better.

    When we deal with difficult people, sometimes it feels like prepping for a brief to present to the court to get them to understand us. Instead, we can better use the energy we put towards that can be better used in maintaining our boundaries. For example, I wasted so much energy trying to prove to an in-law that I was exhausted. They didn’t care. So, I decided I would see them if I had the bandwidth to handle them that day. If it were a sleepless night, I would cancel. At first, they were angry and spoke badly about me behind my back. But at some point, they stopped and started to back off.

    When I lost my father last year, I didn’t have the energy to convince people of the depths of my grief. People wanted to see me and tried to give me their junk platitudes. They asked why I didn’t want to go out or talk on the phone. I used Covid as an excuse to avoid seeing people and texted instead of taking a call. I stepped on some toes, but I had my sanity intact.

    In life, difficult people cross our paths. Even if we tell them how we feel, they will not listen or consider they have hurt us. As that urgent care doctor said, you cannot convince them. Hold firm to your boundaries. Let go of upsetting people; making people happy despite how you feel people pleasing at its worst. If it takes so much energy to please others, you will be exhausted. Protect your energy at all costs.

  • One year ago today

    One year ago today, you left this planet.


    I cannot bring myself to delete your phone number from my contacts. I keep your iCloud account active. I wished the days got easier, but they seemed to be getting harder.


    No words or platitudes help me. The first six months were a blur. I was distracted helping Mom. In these last six months, I’ve been feeling it. My body is giving me hints I haven’t grieved enough. I feel like I’m being strangled.


    AND I AM SO ANGRY! I’m still angry at how you caught Covid. It was at a place where “pro-life” people congregated but ignored the health of people because they felt their freedoms were being taken away. As an immunocompromised person, you did everything you were supposed to do as a responsible human, but God didn’t protect you, and Jesus was NOT the vaccine for the anti vaxxers. And the burnt-out, stretched-thin medical “professionals” pushed us to end your life because you were already 77 years old, and their medical treatments only help healthy people. No prayers by the faithful worked. You have always been a fighter, yet your poor body couldn’t fight it. And my last time seeing you was through a window. It was seconds before the ICU doctor started intubation. You waved at me one last time. I saw in your eyes how much you loved me. We could not properly say goodbye or comfort you in your last days. I hate that you were alone. Yet, you still seemed hopeful up until the end.


    This time, I got disappointed in our friends and family, who I thought would be there for us but were nowhere to be found. I found people who stepped up, who I never expected.


    But you always hoped for the best, even in your last days. So I will try to laugh and find joy today. I know you would want me to do that.


    We love and miss you, Dad. ❤️

    1st Heavenly Birthday

  • Stop Telling People What They Want Doesn’t Matter

    I overhead the the franchise CEO at my real estate brokerage firm tell someone I was a broker’s assistant. I’m actually the marketing manager of the group. I was upset that he did not know that. I mentioned this to my co-worker and she told me I should not care and it doesn’t matter. It matters to me. I am upset because several people in the office also thought that I was an assistant. Instead of asking what I do, it was assumed. There is nothing wrong with being an assistant, but when I am not that position, why should I claim it?

    Why are we dismissive with people? People filter through their minds other people’s expression and instead make it what they want. We need to stop doing that. Things matter to people. We can respect that, even if we don’t agree with it. We also don’t need to share our opinion when it isn’t asked.

    Similar thing happened on a radio show this morning. A woman called in and said one of their segments was highly offensive because the DJ jokingly said, Hitler was not so bad. She proceeded to say, this was poor in taste, even as a joke, because of all the Anti-Semitic hatred that has been in the news. She mentioned that she listens to their show every morning and knows they were making a joke but this was not the time for it. The morning show personalities listened to her and acknowledged her concern. They said they try to joke about things because the world is scary and want to take the power away from racism and bigotry. Another caller spoke right after her, a man, who said the caller was too sensitive and needed to relax. This second caller was a white man who has probably never experienced what BIPOC people endure daily. Here it is again, someone dismissing the problem because they never experienced it or care to acknowledge it is even a problem. Thankfully, the DJ cut him off and told him he was out of line.

    I have done this countless times, too. To my husband, my child, to others. It is not okay. But, I’m learning and hope to give them space for it.

    Image: Clare Rojas, 2022 painting at OCMA in Orange County, CA

    photo credit: Kellie Cross

  • Days Like These are Difficult

    Credit: @ IG refugeingrief

    This is my first Father’s Day without my dad here. It has been almost 5 months since his passing. There are days where the grief is unbearable. Today is one of them. I visited his grave today. As soon as I walked up to it I began to cry. I wanted to wail. But others were around me lamenting their loved ones. I save the rage for the car rides where I’m alone. Where I can let out guttural screams till my voice cracks.

    My husband gets to celebrate today. I want to share in the love but I can barely stomach a second. 

    I want to shut my eyes to the world today. I get jealous of my dad sometimes. He doesn’t have to experience this hell hole of a world.  There are many days where I wish I wasn’t here sometimes. But that is not a choice I want to make. I know I have to keep going.

    To all of those missing their “dads”, I see you and hear you. May we find peace in some way.