Week 81 – September 30, 2021 – Truth and Reconciliation
Today is a day for reflection, the first National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. I was grateful to engage in the Talking Circle hosted by UNBC on Zoom. I listened to local Indigenous scholars and community members sharing their culture and language with all those attending the event. It was beautiful to listen to Elder Audrey share her cause of bringing an Indigenous child back to their home and community… and why. I am struck by the economy of residential schools and the power of matriarchs. I was inspired and humbled. I am so grateful to be amongst people who are committed to sharing the truth so that we can being our journey of reconciliation. What I can do is to learn, read, and listen. I need to continue to understand and unlearn the values and practices of colonization and find ways to indigenize my pedagogy and way of being. I will continue to stand beside and make space for Indigenous Peoples to ensure their voices are heard, listened to, and understood… and take action.
I feel hopeful when I see and listen to Indigenous leaders and influencers who share their vision for the future. I am inspired by their clarity and determination. I am learning from them as Indigenous People in Canada are focused on rediscovering and restoring their culture, protocol, and language. As a second-generation Chinese Canadian, I can empathize with the disconnection of assimilation under the guise of multiculturalism, but cannot empathize with the genocide of my people and culture for the sole purpose of exploiting natural resources, the economy, and ownership of land. I was thinking it’s like somebody coming in and taking your aunty or cousin and owning them or exploiting them for their resources. Who does that? Indigenous People have a relationship to the land and natural world. It’s a community that extend beyond the person. Think about how much is taken from the land and not restored or replaced. The whole idea of climate change must be devastating. I can’t.
As I wrestle with my identity and ethnic identity, I admire how Indigenous Peoples were able to find the stories, songs, and traditions and revitalizing the joy and meaningful experiences to reignite and reinforce who they are. Just like many generations of Indigenous Peoples, I have no language and culture. I love how they are going back to the land and elders to learn what needs to be learned to move forward. The resilience and persistence to recover and maintain their culture in addition to heal from the experiences, loss, and trauma incurred from Residential Schools and limitations of the Indian Act is admirable and humbling. I can only learn from Indigenous Peoples, but also stand beside them to help in any way to support and understand our collective journey together seeking truth and reconciliation.
Lately, I’ve been wrestling with my identity and was asked what name would I like to use for a presentation and soon to be publication. i started life as “Alice Christine Ho” with Alice as my legal first name and Christine as my given name. Confusing and annoying at the same time for lots of reasons for many years of my life and I hated my last name Ho because it was not a “Canadian” name. It was Chinese. I just didn’t identify as Chinese… as Alice… or Christine. I could not stand my name. To top it off, my sister’s first name is “Allison” and my twin brother’s middle name is “Christopher.” I did not feel like I had a name of my own that I liked. Admittedly, my name has been the ultimate identity killer… and to realize as a midlife adult that I was colonized by my parents to be a “good Canadian” kills me (a little bit more). Who the hell am I?
As a young adult, I found some agency and called myself “Chris Ho.” Yes… I wrote a blog about it, Rebrand as Chris Ho. I was thinking in another pandemic reflection about my name AGAIN. My name is always on my mind. I hate when organizations ask for my name… I always say, “I don’t know.” After I married, I made a huge effort to call myself “Christine Younghusband” even though I made my legal documents and graduate degrees to read “Alice Christine Ho Younghusband.” Ultimately, I was undecided. Now in my new independent life as an academic, I need a name that I publish with. Honestly, it took a life of its own a few years ago at SFU and started as “Christine Younghusband,” but I spent some time at UNBC rebranding as “Christine Ho Younghusband.” Now, I’m asked what name do I want to use for a publication.
I was so desperate for an answer, I asked a couple friends, put out a Twitter poll, texted my family, and asked my PLN in a DM. The poll leaned on “Christine Ho Younghusband,” my family said “Christine Ho,” and my friends said use “Dr. Christine Younghusband” professionally and something else personally (like Christine Smith or Allison Crocs). Love the humour of my friends. What resonated with me more was what some people said on Twitter… “What name resonates with you the most?” “What name feels authentic to you?” “What name best represents who you are today?” All very good questions that brought me to a place of deep reflection. Ultimately, I am every permutation of “Alice Christine Ho Younghusband” which my PLN noted the “achy” initials. Tell me about it!!! In the end, I am all of these names.
As I struggle with my name, “Dummy Bad Boy” was on the CBC. Damn. All Indigenous Children were “named.” What a huge disconnection from one’s identity in addition to being separate from land, family, and community. I can’t even imagine. My name issues and sense of identity reflects only a fraction of what Indigenous Peoples in Canada experienced. If anything, I can empathize. And because I do, in ways of my name, cultural erasure, and colonization, I am committed to the TRC Calls to Action and finding ways to decolonize, indigenize, and create space to advocate, support, and lift Indigenous Peoples on our journey towards truth and reconciliation.
Written by Christine Ho Younghusband, September 30th, 2021 | Comments Off on My Name and My Identity
Week 80 – September 26, 2021 – The Real Weekly Blog Post
Ok… I cheated with my last post by posting twice mid-week to catch up and get ahead on my weekly blog post. Full confession. It’s time to reflect. What I realized is, the weekly pace of blog posting fits my rhythm of reflection and I want to honour this time. When I don’t, I should make note of the busyness of the now and take a pause. Here I am. I’ve tried daily blogs and blogging based on moments of inspiration. Blogging weekly seems like a reasonable balance between the two methodologies.
I never realized the importance of pausing, prioritizing, and play. Today was a good day. I cannot emphasize how good I feel today. First, I am carving out the time to blog. Then, I was interrupted several times today with work, visiting with friends, walking in the sun, edu-chatting on Twitter, and taking a bath. All good things. It was a balance between being productive and being mindful and present. Now, I can see what I have to do next. What didn’t make sense before, now does. I have clarity.
Gosh. This is my last week of being 50. Yes. I’m declaring it. I’m living the second half of my life (for the last 10-years… LOL) and life is unravelling. That’s what Brene Brown calls it. It’s not a midlife crisis, but an unravelling. I could not agree more. From 40 to 50 has been a journey that I could not have predicted. The last year in particular was incredibly stressful and extraordinary (in not so good ways), and I engaged in many life experiences that I’m not sure I would like to do ever again (i.e., drive a U-Haul).
I will do a year in review next week on my birthday. My twin brother, my sister, and dad are coming up to Prince George this weekend to celebrate 51. We’re going to the Keg. That’s the big plan and possibly pitch & putt (weather pending). I think that I have learned not to take myself too seriously, I love my kid to bits, and I’m competent. I am also figuring out my research program and making time to get things done. I saw a vision of myself the other day while in the FLOW. I need to remember that feeling.
If anything, I am learning more about myself. I am learning more about my ethnic identity and how to stand on my 2-feet. And, I’m learning how to speak my truth (and not betray myself). Belonging, trust, and vulnerability are tough ones for me, but in the end it’s about belonging to and trusting myself. When I do, I can be vulnerable to take-risks, connect, and be creative. I’m not sure what the last few days of being 50 will bring. I’m hoping for some joyful moments, connection, and restful nights.
Written by Christine Ho Younghusband, September 27th, 2021 | Comments Off on My Last Week as 50
Have you ever had spaghetti made with ketchup? This was my mom’s interpretation of spaghetti when I was a kid. A “Canadian meal” meant ham, mashed potatoes, and peas. Most times we had stir fry and rice. My mom stretched every dollar. She bought X-bread (aka. day old bread) so that my dad could have toast and tea in the morning and chicken legs (i.e., the cheapest cut of meat) to make “vi-guy” (Vi = the first two letters of the name she gave herself when she came to Canada, after Vivien Leigh; and Guy = my lame language lacking ears and tongue saying “chicken” in Chinese). It was my favourite meal. She hated turkey. It was one of the first meals that she made when she came to Canada. My mom did what others were doing during Thanksgiving. She made turkey, but she hated how it tasted, it was dry, and there was so much of it. Yet, turkey dinner is one of my favourites.
My parents immigrated to Canada in the late 60’s and moved to Prince Rupert, BC where I was born and raised. My mom had no idea what it meant to be Canadian, but did the best she could to raise my twin brother and I as “good Canadians” as well as my older sister. She was born in Hong Kong. My dad was an engineer, but was underemployed at the pulp mill as a technician. Every year my parents were worried that the mill would shut down and my dad would get laid off. Money was tight and my mom worked two jobs to make ends meet. She worked in the cannery during the day and the pulp mill cafeteria at night. We pretty much raised ourselves as my parents worked to keep a roof over our head and food on the table.
I’m guessing that being Canadian was a big deal for my parents. Although there was a local Chinese Association and community in Prince Rupert, I am a product of Canadian policy. I have no idea how to speak Cantonese and I don’t know anything about my heritage or Chinese culture. I spent much of my life “blending in.” I never perceived myself as Chinese. I just thought I was Canadian. I never recognized that I was Chinese until I went to university in the Lower Mainland and I was surrounded by many Asian people. I felt uncomfortable by so many Asian people in my classes and their desire to sit near or around me. I didn’t get it.
After I finished university, my parents moved to the Lower Mainland. For them, living in a condominium felt more like home to them. It reminded them of Hong Kong and they had access to authentic Chinese food and restaurants. My mom did not have to make it anymore. I loved meeting up with my parents to go out for dim sum or “double duck dinner,” that is two Peking ducks and many other yummy dishes. I always relied on my mom to make the order. I never questioned. She was so excited to look at the menu and negotiate with the server or restaurant manager to get the best dishes on the table. I had no idea what she was saying, but appreciated the food on the table. She managed to get everyone’s favourite dish on the lazy Susan. Food brought us together. I wished I knew what and how she ordered.
My mom passed away a few years ago in my 40’s. Damn. She was a strong woman. She was dying of cancer in the liver and lived with the pain for many years before being diagnosed at emergency. My mom opted for MAID (Medical Assistance in Dying) over palliative care. It was an easy decision for her, but a tough one for the rest of us. Since entering the hospital, she lived for 20-days. I had the pleasure and joy of taking care of her. My brother and sister had to work, and my dad was preoccupied with the condo-strata and getting the elevator fixed. My mom was rooting for my dad and wanted the elevator fixed too. She laid in bed at the hospital for days, blind, and begging to go home. When she decided to move forward with MAID, she found solace. She was at peace and we were managing her pain. And to her delight, she wanted to host one more Chinese dinner to say goodbye.
Double ducks, of course, and all of her favourite food. She made the order on the phone from the hospital bed. My dad, sister, brother and I listened to her as we gathered around her bed. She was so excited. She knew every dish she ordered from her favourite restaurant without looking at the menu. We had dinner at the condominium with family and friends. That is one of my favourite memories of my mom. She laughed and giggled. It was joyful.
Since my mom’s passing, I moved north to Prince George to be a professor at the university. She would have been proud of me. I spent most of my life trying to “fit in” and being a “good Canadian.” I never thought I was Chinese. I hated how I look and I got frustrated by racist remarks. You don’t know who I am. You are judging me based on how I look. After 18-months of the pandemic, my daughter moved in with me into my one-bedroom apartment. I sleep in the dining room, now my bedroom. I’m starting a new life. There was some permanence to this final move and all of a sudden I wanted Chinese food. I could not find anything authentic. Thank goodness for Google and Facebook. I found one place that sells “ethnic food” and a few items at the Superstore. I never thought it mattered, to feel connected to my Chinese heritage or cultural identity, until I did not have it anymore.
I miss my mom.
Written by Christine Ho Younghusband, September 26th, 2021 | Comments Off on Food and Culture – Ode to My Mom
Week 80 – September 22, 2021 – Rewriting what’s important
I suspect that I will return to this again. I was so inspired to get back to this writing and so I did. Now I feel like I’m ahead on my weekly blog posts by posting ones back to back. Seems fitting. Returning back to my Location Statement, it was clear to me that I have shifted since my first iteration. Lots of the details don’t mean that much to me anymore. For example, I did not mention the lingering effects of the Pulling Together Journey or what it mean to live away from the ocean. It turns out that I am more defined by how I look as a “person of colour” and who my parents were. I am a product of colonization and Canadian policy. I believe my biggest learning so far is understanding my value and acting in ways that are aligned to my values.
My Location Statement: Alice Christine Ho Younghusband, B.Sc., B.Ed., M.Ed., Ed.D.
My name is Alice Christine Ho Younghusband. My mom is Vivien Ho (her Canadian name given to herself after the British actress Vivien Leigh) and Douglas Ho (but had also named himself Cyril because it sounded more like his Chinese name). They were both born and raised in Hong Kong and both immigrated to Canada with my older sister, Allison. My twin brother and I were both born and raised in Prince Rupert, BC, a place where my parents settled.
I am a non-Indigenous settler and second generation Chinese Canadian woman. I am the youngest of three children and could never compete with the first child and first boy of the family. I self-identify as “Number 3” in my family, but always strived for “being equal” to my siblings. I am a math educator, teacher educator, and wannabe researcher. I am a mother, daughter, sister, aunty, niece, cousin, colleague, and friend. Although I have led a life of privilege and am currently an Assistant Professor at the University of Northern British Columbia, I was also marginalized and subject to racism, sexism, and more recently lateral violence.
Although I may appear Chinese based on my genetics and how I look (and some have presumed that I am Indigenous based on my appearance or married name), I am Canadian, assimilated by my parents to “fit” or belong to the Canadian Culture. I don’t speak or understand Cantonese and I have no sense of Chinese culture, except for food. I just blended into this multicultural community thinking that we are all the same: Canadian. My parents were a part of the Chinese Community in Prince Rupert and they worked very hard to give us a better life in Canada.
My dad came to Canada trained and educated as a gas engineer, but worked at the pulp mill as a technician; remembering when he had to serve coffee to his boss and never having to make coffee before, nevertheless making it for anyone. He was underemployed and could not get past being the second in command. My mom worked at the cannery and pulp mill cafeteria, with shifts back to back. She never cooked when she was in Hong Kong and had to learn how. Later, she became a coffee shop owner, caterer, and worker at the delicatessen. My mom saved every dime and never asked for help. She was a strong and proud woman.
Gawd. I remember food shopping with my mom as a child and she used to buy “X bread” (aka. day old bread) from a specific basket in the store to stretch the dollar. I never understood as a child why my mom insisted on X bread. Now I do. Even though my parents bought the house we grew up in with no mortgage, and had never carried a mortgage into their next house or for the condominium they bought for retirement, I hated buying X bread and was determined not do it.
I graduated from Prince Rupert Senior Secondary, then went to the University of British Columbia and completed a Bachelor in Science degree majoring in Chemistry and Bachelor of Education degree specializing in secondary science, chemistry, and math. I would consider myself to be an average student. I got my first teaching job on the Sunshine Coast, where I taught for 16-years. In that time, I got married, had one kid, and completed my Master Degree in Curriculum and Instruction from Simon Fraser University. I never thought I would be a secondary math teacher, but what I have learned from teaching (and playing competitive curling as an adolescent), has guided and informed my next steps.
When I left teaching in K-12 public schools, I felt misaligned and disillusioned. I lost faith in the system and purpose in the profession. I was enrolled in an educational leadership doctoral program and wanted to create change. A year after leaving the practice, I became a school trustee while completing my dissertation. It is from this experience, I was able to write for the BC Ministry of Education, First Nations Education Steering Committee, and BC Open Schools. I also had the opportunity to understand the system from a different perspective which then helped me to complete my dissertation over 2-terms of trusteeship.
The Sunshine Coast was my home for more than 25-years. Much like leaving the profession, I felt misaligned. I tried to maintain two homes, two lives, in two places while teaching and learning in Prince George. It was not meant to be. My marriage ended, I said goodbye to my home, and my kid graduated high school. She now lives with me in Northern BC in my one bedroom apartment. I sleep in the dining room (aka. A bedroom with no door or closet). I have never been happier. It’s like returning home. Although I am not near the ocean, I am in community and learning once again my identity and sense of place on this land.
I am in a state of transformation as a person, educator, and academic. I enjoy my work, I love who I am meeting, and I am grateful to be with my kid and be her mom. I am committed to learning more about Indigenous Peoples in Canada, make space for voice and change, and walk beside Indigenous Peoples in Truth and Reconciliation to decolonize and indigenize my pedagogy and practice. I am learning what I am passionate about while supporting others to do the same in teacher education, leadership, and research. I feel lucky and I am grateful and humbled to live, learn, and teach on the ancestral territory of the Lheidli T’enneh. Mussi Cho.
Written by Christine Ho Younghusband, September 22nd, 2021 | Comments Off on My (Revised) Location Statement
Week 79 – September 22, 2021 – What is my ethnic identity?
Yes. I am overdue on my weekly blog post… AGAIN. I’m not surprised. It was a tough week at work, meaning… busy and cognitively consuming… and I just needed to rest. With full intentions of writing soon after the weekend or at the end of the weekend, it’s now Wednesday. I have a moment to breathe and what I am learning is how to carve out time to what’s important even though there are many things that are pulling at me. I often get distracted by the immediacy of the now. It’s ok to park time to attend to items of priority. For example, my self care, teaching, and writing… I’ve parked and carved time for these items and email piles up. That’s ok. Also, I have learned that people are compassionate. For example, I screwed up on one timeline, I confessed, and in response, they were gracious and kind. For that, I am grateful.
I’m also pausing because I am continuing to wrestle with my ethnic identity in light of Truth and Reconciliation in Canada. I am listening to a BIPOC group that assembled at the university, but also I am working with my classes at two institutions about creating a Location Statement, inspired by Dr. Henry Harder at UNBC, to think about our biases, our identity as educators, and our understanding of the Professional Standard 9 (2019) for BC Educators. We are currently reading “Settler: Identity and Colonialism in 21st Century Canada” in a masters course in curriculum, assessment, and evaluation I am teaching. I have asked this group and teacher candidates from the teacher education program I teach in to write a location statement. The book, recent reports, the EDI movement, and reflecting on my own experiences are tampering with my ethnic identity, sense of place, and who I am as a person.
Of course, I had to make my version of a Hawaiian breakfast today. It’s not a loco moco, which two beef patties, brown gravy, and potato salad on the side, but it has eggs, rice, Spam, and soy sauce. I find some solace and comfort in this meal. I often go back to it when I feel disconnected or disoriented (for a better word or less). Somehow it grounds me. I guess there are parts of me that wishes I was in Hawaii instead and how Hawaiians are connected to culture through food people, and the land. For some reason, these flavours bring back memories of my mom, being home, and eating “traditional” food. I used quotations there because there was a clear difference what I ate at home as a kid and what was considered “Canadian food.”
I wrote My Location Statement in March 2021, with the same inspiration I bring to my classes this term. In this case, I was preparing for a presentation at a conference with a teacher candidate. I look back at this version of my location statement and parts of it still resonate with me, but parts of it don’t seem to matter anymore. I am planning to write a second version of my location statement. I was hoping to write something very different or maybe keep it the same. It turns out, it will be a bit of both. What’s important to me and why does it matter? Questions to consider when thinking about your location and identity. For me, my ethnic identity is playing with my mind, spirit, and soul. I just wrote a blurb for a book and I was brought to my mom and the role food played in my identity. I had no idea of the importance of my Chinese culture until my mom passed away and when I moved away from the Lower Mainland.
Damn you 50. You have not been kind to me. I have been up and down and all around… and here I am… wondering who I am. This is not a bad place to be. I am challenged by figuring out what’s important to me and why. And in doing so, I am learning more about myself, my values, and my cultural background. I might consider learning my language… Cantonese… at least learn how to read and write it. That seems like a good starting place. I was talking to a colleague the other day and they learn many languages autodidactically. Learning language might connect me to my culture and identity… then, I think about Indigenous People in Canada who are losing their language, thus culture and identity. A few thoughts for now. More to come.
Written by Christine Ho Younghusband, September 22nd, 2021 | Comments Off on In Progress of Defining
Gosh. I was looking for photos of NYC and the twin towers or ground zero and I stumbled onto this photo. I was married on July 21, 2001. I graduated from my Masters Degree on October 2001. In between was 9/11. Watching the footage on TV tonight is jarring to say the least. I remember this day like it was yesterday. I was living in Sechelt, BC. We were renting my friend’s house on Turnstone. I woke that day and was getting ready for work. My “husband” was still in bed and I was watching the morning news and getting ready. At that time, I was watching the news in disbelief. I was not even sure if I was watching the news. The images were unreal… almost fictional. I thought was was watching a movie or had the wrong channel. When I realized what was happening, the second plane flew into the second Twin Tower. I was shocked and in disbelief. Then, I had to go to work. I was teaching at the high school. How do you “teach” what’s happening? You don’t. You just be… and pause.
The video footage being shared on TV is extensive. It makes me feel sick. I’m brought back to that time. The devastation. The fear. The pain. People are trying to make sense of what they are watching or experiencing. Listening to the heart wrenching stories of family members and those who were at the foot of ground zero and survived reminds me of how many people are impacted by this one event and the ripple effect it’s taken with all those who witnessed and remember. The chaos. The trauma. The devastation. I can’t believe that it was 20-years ago. Our lives changed radically on 9/11… how we live… how we travel… and, how we can trust others. I am reminded of other recent horrors like George Floyd, unmarked graves of residential schools, and the COVID-19 pandemic. I am sickened and in my lifetime. My perceived problems are not problems. I am safe. I live a life of privilege. Even though my marriage ended, this tree I am sitting on in this photo no longer exists, and I moved away from my home after 25-years, I live a good life. I am lucky. I am grateful.
We will never forget.
Written by Christine Ho Younghusband, September 11th, 2021 | Comments Off on Remembering 9/11
Weeks 77 and 78 – September 10, 2021 – What’s my value?
I missed last week’s reflection because everything was parked so that I could get orientation for teacher candidates prepped. It’s not to say that what transpired today has inspired me to write this week’s pandemic reflection, but I definitely had the urge to cry several times today, but resisted. I am just so glad the week is over and orientation was a success. It was my primary goal to ensure that the first days of teacher education, whether if the teacher candidate was returning or if they were new to the program, that the lingering feelings were joy, happiness, and belonging.
SIGH. Although the feedback I am hearing from Teacher Candidates are excellent and I feel very satisfied with the work that I have done in collaboration and consultation with others in the department, I still get pulled aside to and “put in my place” again for the decisions I had made and the actions I took. I have no regrets. And, I had no ill intent. I’m not sure what is said behind my back and how that information is interpreted, but I was told today is follow the collective agreement of the other employee groups and in the end, my work was belittled to “why didn’t you… [ ]?”
I had no words… LIE… I had lots of words and stated clearly my purpose, my drive, and my rationale. All arrows pointed to the student learning experience. I am 100% willing to take ownership of the decisions I made, but there were plenty of variables that made the journey to orientation challenging, uncertain, and delayed. I could not control those factors. All I could do was problem solve, adapt, and be reflexive. Was it perfect? Hell no. When is it ever perfect? And, what the hell does that mean? No one says what that mean, but today I did… and truth, I could say a lot more. But why?
Just throw me under the bus and move on. GAH. My goal was to ensure Teacher Candidates were engaged in a coherent, comprehensive, and collaborative orientation before the school year starts. Everyone had the opportunity to contribute and participate. I’m exhausted. I supported new faculty, contacted people when we pivoted, checked in with facilitators, co-published an orientation guide, and revised a PowerPoint show that took hours. Over a month of planning with hopes of landing on both feet. Do you know what? Everything that I have done will not help me get tenure.
That’s the kick in the mouth. Everything that I am doing is for the students and the program are not recognized in academia to further my career. WOW. That is the true awakening. It’s taken me about a year to realize this. I lost a tenure-track opportunity because I am investing my time in the wrong place. I am constantly in service to others and I am passionate about the program and its potential. I am not taking care of myself and neither will the system. As much as I wanted as strong start for the Teacher Candidates, my actions in doing so have negatively impacted my career.
GAWD. This idea is counterintuitive. Is it ok to cry? Do I value my worth? Maybe.
Written by Christine Ho Younghusband, September 11th, 2021 | Comments Off on It’s OK to Cry… Right?
You know… I thought about quitting the weekly pandemic blog, but NOPE. The fourth wave is here. Thank you delta variant and the deep desire to getting life back to what it was. I have to admit, not wearing a mask felt great. Being around people was awesome. It felt great giving someone a hug. Damn. Human connection was AMAZING. I can see how the numbers are going back up. Not everyone is vaccinated and the delta variant is getting everyone and anyone. No one is 100% immune, but having a population that is not vaccinated does not make things any better. 864 cases today in British Columbia. Yesterday was 628. Gawd. Do the math? It’s not good.
I feel like it’s dejà vu. I’ve been here before. I was in Prince George and teaching at the university. We pivoted on Friday, March 13, 2019. Boom. We were online and teaching remotely. Albeit, it was great to return back to the Sunshine Coast to be with my daughter and live by the ocean, but I am happy to return back to Prince George to get back into the classroom and teach in person again. On Thursday, August, 26, 2021, it was announced that the mask mandate is back. Not sad. The day before, vaccination passports were introduced. Understandable. The numbers are multiplying and I am paying attention to the numbers again. I spent time planning and prepping to return back to the classroom, but pandemic rituals will also be apart of it. Social distancing, hand sanitizer or hand washing, daily health checks, and masks. Here we go again.
August 28, 2021 – Returning back to the blog. This is how it rolls sometimes. I’m in the shift. Here I am again, on the floor of my friend’s house that I am house sitting, watching food documentaries on Netflix, and pondering the purpose of life. Oh ya… the classic midlife “unravelling”… as Brené Brown calls it. I thought my midlife started when I was 40. Apparently, it never ends (at least not yet). That’s ok, but as we delve into the fourth wave of the pandemic, unfortunately… the pandemic reflections persist. Admittedly, I don’t think I am the same person as I was 2-years ago, but I can also recognize is, I am still changing. I feel that I spend a lot of my time resisting, when really I should be surrendering. This tension is the learning I’m engaged in so far.
I have to also recognize the my blogs have transformed to a place for me to write and think to unpack what I am experiencing, feeling, and thinking. When you are engaged in transformation, you have to engage in some form of sense-making. What the hell is happening… in essence. After a few health scares and car crashes… lol… how many more wake up calls do I need? Oh wait… there is more. Ok. I get it. Stop. Look. And, listen. It’s not easy because sometimes I don’t believe myself. Often what I have been telling myself is not true or not good. What the hell? I’m done with “the shoulds” and what I want to do is to get into “the coulds.” What can I do? What do I want to do?
In many ways, it feels selfish. What I am learning is, it’s what I am meant to do. Buying my car was waaaaaaay out of my box. But when I really think about it, buying my car is something that I had always wanted to do ever since I learned how to drive. I never thought I deserved a car like the one I bought. Now, I have one. It’s unbelievable. Driving a U-Haul… I never thought I would ever do that, but when I had to, I did it. I was scared poopless, but I held my breath at times and jumped in. I shake my head thinking about that journey and can’t believe that I persevered. And, my health… is a work in progress. Huge neglect on my part and now I have to make it better. 🙂
With my work… I am slow to change. I don’t know if that’s exactly true, but I wished I was a bit more swift. Ok. That sounded a bit judgemental on my part. It is what it is, but as mentioned earlier, I need to stop resisting. I can feel it. In the end, it equates to sabotage. I have many deeply held beliefs that need unpacking. This is the work. And when I work with people and connect with others, these are opportunities for reflection. They are mirroring what I see in myself. For example, I loved what I witnessed at emergency. Even though I was in incredible pain, I found the health professionals were caring, professional, and competent. On the other hand, I had conversations with a few colleagues, whom I perceive as mentors, last week and realized days after… I’m their colleague (not grad student). Shifting my mindset.
Written by Christine Ho Younghusband, August 28th, 2021 | Comments Off on Shifting My Mindset
Week 75 – August 22, 2021 – Pivoting at its finest
I decided to post a picture of my new car. It a replacement from the one I had posted last week that experienced a slight mishap with a buck. Both the buck and I are fine, but my Honda CRV took the brunt of it. I found out one week after my accident that my car was a write off (while I was chairing a meeting), my car rental was ending, and I realized that I had to buy a car. I was just griping to my kid the night before my accident that I did not want to be spending anymore money. Moving and all that was happening in my personal life, I had no appetite to spend anymore money. Well, the universe go me. After my meeting, I picked up my plates from the collision car repair place, had another two meetings, and spent the rest of the day with my kid.
We looked at cars and went out for dinner. I had a really delicious meal. Butter Chicken. I went for my night walk, was chatting with a friend, and then the pain struck me. I thought it was heartburn, but I was vomiting and the pain got increasingly worse. After an hour of moaning and being brought to my knees, I went to Google to see what was happening to me and the information I received was not good. I texted the link to my kid and asked her to drive me to emergency. What a nightmare. I was in so much pain, yet I helped my kid drive me to emergency. She was spooked, looked for parking, but did not want to come in to the hospital. Understandable. It was in the middle of the night, we are in a new city, and your mom is not doing very well.
After checking into emergency (and had great difficulties taking out my care card out of my wallet), the hospital goes into lockdown. That was fun. I was in incredible pain, trying to text my kid to lay low in the car, and waited out a lockdown for my own safety. Admittedly, all that I was doing was moaning and praying for the pain to stop. After the lockdown, I had to advocate for myself and beg them to help me with the pain. I was moved to one bed and got an EKG to check my heart then I was moved into emergency and treated by the doctor. An assessment, blood test, and mini-ultrasound brought me to a diagnosis of gallstones and a gallbladder attack.
If the car accident was not a sign to slow down, then this painful attack was a second wake-up call. I had these painful attacks before, but thought it was heartburn. It was something more. The universe often whispers to help guide and inform, but when you are not listening, sometimes it hits you with a full swoop to the head. What was it going to take to wake me up? Something had to change. Strangely, during my time in the hospital, I really enjoyed watching and listening to the coaching or mentoring in this teaching hospital, the professionalism of the staff, and the level of care I received during this moment in my life. I felt that way about my car crash and all those who helped me with that situation from ICBC, the collision place, to the car rental place.
Thinking in threes, I felt the same way about driving the moving truck. Gawd. I didn’t want to drive it, but did. I moved my stuff and my kid’s stuff from the Sunshine Coast to Prince George. My brother helped me to drive the damn thing back to Prince George… and I am so grateful. I had so much fun and had a moment to rest. My friend helped me to find movers to lift all of my stuff up three flights of stairs into my apartment, and my brother helped me to bring a zillion boxes to my office at the university. ((deep breath)) It was a lot and I am grateful. My kid and I are settled in.
The day after my emergency episode and my daughter picked me up at 430am to take me home from the hospital, life continued with a meeting at 9am, a meeting at noon, and a meeting at 2pm. Life goes on. I went to the car dealership at 330pm and bought a car by 6pm. I took the car home the next day. I had moments of regret. This was a huge purchase. I never done something like this for myself before. This was the first time buying a car without my mom, it had all the bells and whistles, and I made the purchase before learning what I would get back from ICBC. It seemed almost too good to be true, like I have good credit (which I do… great news!). It has taken me a few days to fall in love with my car, Musubi, and know that I am worthy of this car and I am safe in this car. I feel very lucky that I am able to make this purchase for me.
But, it’s not the car that matters or how it drives. What I have learned is the following: (1) I can do this on my own; (2) I can ask for help; and (3) I am strong, resilient, and optimistic. I am so happy to be alive. In each of these scenarios, I could have died. Ok. A bit dramatic, but it’s true. I could have given up. I am not 100% well yet, but I am learning how to create boundaries, make choices, and value myself. These are big life lessons and I am happy that I have the opportunity to learn them and hone these skills. It will take one step at a time, and tonight on August 22, 2021 is an excellent time to make a change. It’s a blue moon. A time for grace, kindness, and patience.
Written by Christine Ho Younghusband, August 25th, 2021 | Comments Off on Once in a Blue Moon
Last Wednesday, I was in a car accident. I hit a buck. I would have to say it was “the perfect accident.” I’m ok (aka. I’m not dead or injured). The buck is ok (aka. he got up and ran away). I had no passengers or witnesses. It was dark and I was on my way home. The car did not explode when I drove it home soon after the incident. All I could do at that moment was gasp and tried to assess what happened. The incident was quick and my car looks like hell. I made the insurance claim that night online. This photo is the morning after. I took photos of her for my insurance claim. My poor little car. I invested thousands in her before moving up to Prince George. My daughter and I were just unpacked and settling in. Although the accident created another distraction from life and work, I thought it was also a wake up call.
The message is, SLOW DOWN. Notice. I think I have a lot on the go personally and professionally that I can lose sight of what’s important. My kid is important. You have no idea how grateful I am to have her with me in Prince George. My mind, body, and soul can rest when she is near me. She transitioned well to moving. She was born and raised in Sechelt, so moving to a different town was a big deal for her. I am thankful to her friends who helped her with this transition. One drove up with her, another came by to visit, and some are local. She connects with her friends online regularly. She seems happy here. My kid takes care of me as much as I take care of her.
My health is very important to me. I’ve been neglecting this for years and there comes a time when you have to put your ego and shame aside and address your health concerns. Being on the Sunshine Coast for the past year was a blessing during COVID-19. I was able to check with my health professionals and be prioritized for treatment. It started with my teeth, to my blood pressure, and then my throat. I had a lump on the roof of my mouth, holes in my teeth, and apparently my blood pressure was way too high. I had my wisdom teeth removed, got a mouth guard, and looked into the sleep apnea. I cannot do the CPAP. I thought my eyes were getting worse, but it was from being online too much (aka. remote learning). What I was worried about, the health professionals were concerned with other things. In the end, I am on the right track and ready to take next steps with my health. I started walking again with the #Daily5kChallenge and getting back on WW. I need to focus on my blood pressure.
Finally, my sense of self-efficacy is important to me. I need to believe in myself that I am able to do things. I have mentors, friends, and family members who believe in me. They support and encourage me. I have accomplished many things, but what I am learning is… I am still learning. That’s it. Kindness and compassion are key to my success. Fear does not hold me back, but it’s how I protect myself. This is a Brene Brown lesson. I am Enneagram 8 and I protect myself from being hurt. Most times things turn out OK, like driving a U-Haul truck, being in politics, or completing a doctorate degree. It’s taken me some time to understanding this. I am passionate about student learning, identity development, and subject matter acquisition situated in the context of mathematics education, teacher education, and system change.
I am also learning that I am always researching and I just have to write about it. TRUST is a big thing for me. I just read a tweet from Simon Sinek that said “Leaders take the risk to trust first.” That resonates and makes a lot of sense to me. I am brought back to the ideas of vulnerability and being hurt. I can’t prevent myself from being hurt and be seen at the same time. Not everyone is there to protect or support me. The only person I need to belong to is myself and TRUST that everything will be OK. We are back to my car as the metaphor. She had a few scratches, needed a few repairs, and was lined up to get new tires in the new year. All of a sudden, plans changed. HAPPENSTANCE and chaos theory, as I’ve heard from a few Teacher Candidate presentations, and my car has taken a new trajectory. I was not hurt or injured. I can do this and will do this. The accident was a signal to stop… and restart.
Written by Christine Ho Younghusband, August 17th, 2021 | Comments Off on Wake Up Call
