Embrace Your Awkward Turtle

"All progress takes place outside the comfort zone."

 

Embrace your awkward turtle. I like to believe that new things, new lessons, and new challenges are easy to acquire.... For me, the learning curve is simpler because my ego foolishly time after time convinces me that I'm special. Somehow, I will acquire perfection and mastery at a more accelerated pace than others. My spirit and my confidence whether it is foolish or delusional convinces me (perhaps tricks me) into thinking that I'll finish, produce and execute at a much faster pace.


Embrace the awkward and challenging times.

We are oftentimes so focused on results. Blame it on living in a world that oftentimes expects us to yield more income, more time, and other more logical finite results (usually on a PowerPoint or an excel spreadsheet with badass colors).
Embrace the truth - being awkward is an opportunity to being happier, being in discovery, being stronger and being BOLD.

Have you ever seen young kids play? I've seen small kids pipeline, waterski, and rock climb. And a child will boldly and unapologetically pursue their truth, live out this truth and discover more truth. When you get frustrated, messy, challenged  and uncomfortable, this is YOUR opportunity - stay with it. Your reality is trying to catch up with your big dreams. Life needs time to re-program, re-teach, re-familiarize with your new vision for your amazing and beautiful life.

Look at life with more curiosity and savor those times when you are awkward. It means you've told your ego to move aside... the real, pure, honest and beautiful you is still being formed, molded, and taking on a newer, bigger and more authentic version.

Give up your foolish ego.

Embrace your awkward turtle. Be nice to it. It is still growing.... still learning... And be grateful for the opportunities you have for growth. Do not let being awkward imprison you. Let it be your chance to be humbled, to learn and discover more.

Lessons Only a Tiger Mom Could Teach...

My beautiful mother

I remember a childhood that oscillated between high levels of achievement, hard work, and hustling and high levels of straight up laziness. Usually when my parents were around, my brother, sister and I had to be doing something. We had to make sure the house was clean, we did our work, and we acted right. If that house was not clean, the conditions at the Peralta household would not be favorable.

One day my dad came home from work early. This was bad because we usually didn't do our chores until after we watched two hours of cartoons after school. So for him to show up at the house in the middle of us watching "The Jetsons" meant that we were lying on the floor in a cluttered mess, with no rice cooked for dinner, no defrosted chicken in the sink, no cold beers in the fridge, and basically we were not ready to receive my dad after his messy day of bureaucratic hospital politics.

He looked at us with disgust, with his eyebrow twitching, and said, "I've never seen children like this." My very young sister (probably 5 years old at the time) with all her sassy wisdom blurts out, "I've never seen parents like this." She rolled her eyes and started sweeping the kitchen floor.

The very jacked up thing about why my dad was frustrated was not because we didn't handle our domestic chores. No, his fury was greater than that. He knew if he had get control of this situation soon. If this house was not clean ASAP, he was gonna get the fury of his wife... the TIGER MOM!!!!! It's one thing when my typically mild-mannered father came home to a messy house with no cold beer. It was another thing if my mother came home from a 12-hour shift at the hospital, and all four of us didn't have our shit done. Not only would it be my fault, my brother's fault, my sister's fault... it would have been my dad's head if we didn't have this place clean in two hours. My mom set the tone for the temperature in our house.

When I was younger, I never understood my parents. I had one parent telling me how awesome I was, and another parent who'd say something like,"Come on Nicole. It's a history exam. Who gets B's in history?." It was quite confusing.

As I've gotten older, I've grown to cherish what my Tiger Mom taught me. Below are just a sprinkling of lessons that I've carried with me through the years....

#1 Mental toughness and tenacity
I remember having a really crappy day at one of my first jobs out of college. I had a boss that made me cry. I was so upset. I didn't typically go to my mom when I was upset, but I saw white girls do this a lot. White girls seem to really get uplifted by their moms.  So I thought I'd give it a go. I was crying in a bathroom stall and I told my mom how unfair, rude and unjust my work environment was.

After I emotionally unloaded in the bathroom stall at work, my mom said, "You are young. You are Asian. And, unfortunately, you're also a woman. You have three things against you already. And, calling me and crying isn't going to solve anything. You're going to go to the sink and wipe your tears, and do your job. That's what you are paid to do. You wanna talk about being fair and being professional. Do your job. If you need to cry, cry at home on your own time."

#2 Learn the value of a dollar
It was very common for people I went to school with to have a job. You know that minimum wage job where you fold t-shirts with a folding board or get a $1 tip serving people food. My mom secured a job for me being a perfume sales girl. I didn't realize I was going to be selling perfume at a flea market in an unsavory neighborhood where clients would butcher the pronunciation of fragrances. "Say girl. I wanna buy that bottle of CHANNEL." What the hell is channel?!?!?

My first gig when I was a senior in high school was working for a Filipino woman who owned a perfume shop at this flea market off of MLK and 610. I learned how to charm people using a coquettish Asian girl flirtation. "Oh for you! I'll give you $5 off of this perfume," I would say in a sweet whisper. The pathetic thing was everyone got the discount. They just didn't know that. And they fell for this discount every time.  For 12 hours worth of work, I was paid $25 in cash and fed a kids' meal from Arby's. I was pretty furious. I asked my mom why the hell did she convince me to take this job.

My mom responded saying,"Yeah. I just thought you'd like to learn about perfume. I'm sorry. Also, you're going away to college. I just wanted you to sample what life for you would be like if you lost your scholarship. Just imagine how long it would take to support yourself if you worked like that all the time."

Needless to say, when I went to college, I later learned that my parents financial status didn't qualify me to get one a campus job. I remember telling my financial aid officer. No I promise, we're poor. We shopped at Marshall's. I sure as hell didn't want to work at a flea market when I was a college student. So, I set up a tutoring business when I was a freshman. Parents would bring their kid to the college library. The first session was free which enticed people. Clients came to me, and I requested a month's worth of sessions paid in cash in advance.

Not bad for a former perfume sales girl, I suppose....

#3 Selfcare

At an early age, I remember my mom taking care of herself. She would take me to the YMCA for swim lessons and she would take an aerobics class. My mom would leave us at home while she went to get haircuts. My mom had her "me time." It was my mother who took me to get my first pedicure and showed me the magical wonders of the eyebrow wax.

While I was being tickled by a woman chattering Vietnamese wielding a pumice stone, my mother told me, "I'm showing you how to do this because you are your own responsibility. If you work hard, you need to take care of yourself."

#4 Hustle

"When I was young, I used to run," my mother would say this a lot. My siblings and I would make this disgusted  sarcastic look because what she was telling us was that she had to work hard all her life and when she was our age she was the oldest daughter in a large Filipino family. She was expected to get good grades, hand wash laundry, help her mom make dinner, and take care of a lot more stuff then what I had to do.

If my mom wanted a new bag or piece of jewelry, she took an extra shift. If she needed to make sure tuition got paid, she took on an extra job to make sure we got a college education. There was always a side hustle somewhere because if she wanted something, she was going to get it.

The lesson of the hustle also means having a work ethic and doing what you are supposed to do. Take pride in your work, and make the decision to do it well.

#5 Appreciations and Recognitions

When my mom gave praise, I know that it was fair. And, she put a high standard on herself and her children. So praise was not frequent. I do have to say for a woman who oftentimes had two jobs and was busy raising three kids she was present. Anytime one of us had a recital, she was there and afterwards as a family we'd eat ice cream at Dairy Queen. My mother never let us eat crap at home. So, getting to eat a Blizzard once every three months was a splurge for us.

In high school, I remember being upset because three girls at lunch  were making fun of me. They told me that my Dooney and Burke purse was ridiculously expensive and it didn't have the classy style that a Coach purse has. I told my mother what happened, and she just laughed and said, "Yeah. You should find better friends. I bought you that purse because you worked hard and you're a good kid and you wanted it for your 16th birthday. Don't let little people rob you of your joy - especially sad people with cheap ass purses from Payless. Who gives a damn what they think."

A Memoir from a Recovering Achievement Junkie

2010 - full expression of my achievement junkie

The present

When I was younger, I was taught to be a performer. I remember being 7 years old, and a dance instructor telling me to smile at the audience even when my legs and my feet were in pain. I was told to play a song on the piano at family gatherings even when all I wanted to do was hide in my room. I felt this pressure to use my humor, my creativity, and my talent to hide my true vulnerable and oftentimes painful feelings. I got good at showing interest and being a form of entertainment for others. I'd nod or look at teachers in the eyes and feign interest. Or, I'd always be the one telling some fantastical silly story to my family and friends. If I made people giggle or smile, everything was going to be okay.

In school, it was the extracurricular activities, the grades or the clothes. Somehow owning a pink reversible Members Only jacket with matching pink Reebok hightops would protect me.  In my career, I used achievement as an excuse - to work late, to raise more money or raise the buzz on the latest project, or to competitively outsmart a colleague. Somehow I found masks to hide behind. If I just smiled, if I rocked out another project, if I outdid my success every time, I'd be happy. I started becoming secretly addicted to finishing things - finishing another triathlon, earning another finisher's medal from another half marathon on the wall, or knowing that another client was pleased with my latest project.

I honed my competitiveness by learning from some pretty unhealthy and unhappy female supervisors and mentors. When I thought I did a great job on something, I'd oftentimes have a boss who would try to rob me of my joy and diminish my accomplishments. They'd state something irrelevant like "oh you forgot to use doilies in the place settings" or "your linens were not the right color." A young and naive overachiever, took those criticisms personally never realizing how good my work truly was. I was addicted to achievement and perfection in my career just like the achievement and perfection I would acquire when I played a piece of difficult music correctly as a teenager. Perfection was my safe place. If it wasn't perfect, I refused to acknowledge it. I also started exhibiting really masculine qualities (aggressiveness, assertiveness, and pretty bitchy) and in a lot of ways my muscles started making me look more masculine, too.

One morning in 2010, the anxiety and the bullying and the stress I was facing at work came to a stop. I didn't want to go to my job. I wanted to just disappear and die. I remember someone close to me telling me to ignore it and just go to work. I was so frustrated because I never felt like anyone was listening to me. Thankfully a relative recognized that something wasn't right and took me to see a doctor.

I remember telling my doctor that there wasn't anything seriously wrong with me. I remember refusing to take the anti-depressant medication and choosing not to participate in the therapy that was recommended. I convinced myself that I was fine and I listened to my pride and ego. I was so delusional in my confidence I honestly didn't believe that my diagnosis of depression, anxiety, and PTSD were possible. I believed the mask that I created was truly me. Slowly... when I no longer had work projects, emails, or any athletic competitions to participate in.... I began to unravel. It really began to fully unravel when a close relative of mine confessed to me that more than ten people in my family had mental illness. You can't fight genetics and how you are made. My mother hoped that it wouldn't hit me or that I learned enough coping mechanisms that I'd be the one strong family member who didn't have it.

I began to face a life that became messy, complicated, and at the time I believed my mental illness was a source of embarrassment and shame and evidence of not being disciplined.

When asked to relax and take a break and discover what truly made me happy. I had no clue what my therapist was talking about. I believed that happiness existed in accomplishments, external activities, and things the world saw. My happiness was in the next achievement, the next boyfriend, the next work project, the next bullet point on a resume or the next race I competed in. By pleasing others, I was going to please myself.

I slowly learned that happiness was much simpler than that. Happiness was walking around my neighborhood on a quiet morning. Happiness was reading a book in a coffee shop. Being happy was surrounding myself with people who truly loved and supported me - the people who didn't walk away or shut me out when I became vulnerable and honest about my problems. You'd be surprised by the reactions of people closest to you when you tell them you have been diagnosed with depression. I recall a close friend of mine saying, "Oh. Well I prefer the old you. Why don't you just act happy again?" W.T.F.....

Through time away from work, from friends, and from family... I had to re-wire my brain and re-discover happiness. Happiness IS the belief that everything was okay the way it was right this very moment. Happiness IS choosing to have faith in my talents and no longer believing the abuse and lies others tried to tell me. And happiness was in just simply being myself instead of doing so many complicated and challenging things.

Around the time my doctor told me to stop training for races, she told me to stick with doing yoga and walking. She told me that my body needed to slow down.  My heart and my mind became still. They began to work in unison and were able to relax my muscles and relax the judgements and lies and verbal abuse I collected for so many years. I began to sleep better and stopped using my to-do list as a barometer for happiness.

The therapy and the yoga saved me from a very dark place in my life. There are times when it's easy to re-ignite my achievement junkie mindset. And when you are diagnosed with depression and anxiety, you can't run away from it. I will always have the tendency to get frustrated, to get easily annoyed, or to react with self-depreciation. And, I have a choice to make when I feel that way. I can let it pull me under or I can face it and choose to accept that life is challenging and difficult and it's my choice to rise above the hard, frustrating events that come my way.

You accept it and deal with it. I know that I have the tendency to take things personally or approach life with a little more intensity. I know that my body's chemistry has the proclivity to make my heart feel disappointment or make my mind feel failure. Despite those things, I have the power to recognize that about myself and still choose happiness, faith, and life.

And, I no longer have to behave like an entertainer, performer, or be a person who feels obligated to please everyone. The more I sit still and accept who I am, the more I begin to be comfortable with just being me.

February Snapshots of Gratitude

Grateful for adventures

Thankful for the support of my beautiful friends.

Blessed to know people who love their community and love playing outdoors

New job and new office supplies MAKE me HAPPY!

Thankful for the change to support the Houston Area Women's Center
and connect with the BIG community

Celebrated my last day at the old job with my favorite food... TACOS! TACOS! TACOS!

Nothing brings me joy like fancy beverages
in the gorgeous Hotel Icon bar with my sassy friends

Carving out time to work on my writing

My first field trip to La Porte

Doing a wheel at orchestra level

art journaling and reflecting on lessons learned in 40 days

Explore::Travel.:Enjoy. - An adventure with my banjo-playing mathematician boyfriend

Sit in a beautiful place with a beautiful person.

Travel to a magical land where giant tortoises, sea lions, and penguins roam.

Have all the fun. Find joy. Bring a wheel to the giant tortoise farm.

Do the awkward turtle.

Practice your Spanish. Meet like-minded adventurers. And always be nice to the man who is driving the catamaran.

Sit in a sacred space. Discover an old Jesuit building. Be sneaky about taking photos where you are not allowed to.

Smile more. Love more. And  be grateful for having a best friend you can have all the fun with.

Study art. Learn about creative inspiration. Breathe.

Stare up into the skies. Sit in wonder and curiosity. Choose MindFULL exploration instead of  MindLESS desperation.

And, study more Spanish. Ponder the Spanish interpretation of an old Chinese proverb. Rosetta Stone your situation.

Let the mountains inspire you to be creative. See a city unfold like a blossoming rosette.

Drink fresh juice. Chillax. You're on vacation.

Make Anthony Bourdain proud and explore the local market. Eat some sheep intestine.

Then pay $2 to eat some freshly made pork rinds. Savor them while you explore the streets and people watch.

Admire the local graffiti. Ask your boyfriend if he wrote you a love note.

Be in inquiry about what South Americans love about North Americans. You can learn so much by reading the writing on the walls.

Jump in a sea kayak. Swim in the Pacific Ocean. Play with sea lions in the water.

Be Kate and Leonardo's stunt double.

Play some reggaeton. Sit on a speedboat. And choose your own adventure.

With the whirlwind of the holidays and an overly ambitious work schedule, I packed my things in my little red suitcase. The loyal and reliable Ai Wei Wei dropped me off at IAH and I was off on another adventure. I entrusted mathematician boyfriend to be the activities coordinator since December was a pretty full plate - filled with holiday parties, a fundraiser, the whooping cough and the flu, and my yoga teacher training graduation. Sigh.


A TSA agent at IAH had to check my hoodie and my ponytail for weapons. Really?!? Whatever. I'm on vacation now. The Avianca agent at MIA only speaks Spanish. Really?!? I thought I was going to ease into this whole Spanish speaking situation. I haven't even left the US yet, and I wonder what the hell I've signed up for. Everyone on the flight to Bogota is speaking Spanish. Awesome. I may as well have signed up for a silent retreat. I look Latina and I speak Spanish like a 2 year old child.

I am searched by a woman in military gear with a machine gun in Colombia. She asks me if I have any other electronic devices. I smile and tell her, "Solomente electronicos" waving my kindle and iPhone. I breathe calmly wondering if I was suppose to declare the security equipment and web camera I stuffed in my suitcase. Awkward turtle trying to pass off as some grubby college kid in a hoodie. Sigh.

It's 12:30 am and after 7 hours of travel, I arrive in UIO and my best friend is at the other side. It's easy to spot him since there's not a lot of gringos. I board another flight. Part of me wants to drink good coffee and another part of me wants to pop a melatonin. So, I decide to do both. Hmmm....

Our plane lands in the Galapagos. I was surprised that Baltra looked like a desert - a bit like New Mexico sprinkled with strange looking cacti and a dusty red surface analogous to Fahrenheit 451. Maybe Georgia O'Keefe's ghost will make an appearance in my exhausted and fatigued mind. Our driver meets us and takes us to the port. The other side of the island is filled with tourists, locals, and a more tropical landscape. The Galapagos has multiple micro-climates. It's crazy. One second it's cold and wet and then the next second you're in a desert. Sea lions and crabs are napping on random sidewalks. Iguanas are walking around like poodles on a Parisian sidewalk. The animals are not bothered by humans.  It was pretty surreal especially when you haven't slept in 12 hours.

We jump on a speedboat (aka the vomit comet) that takes us to our catamaran. We meet our fellow travelers representing various countries. I felt like I was in the Olympic Village: Team Switzerland, Team Korea, Team Slovenia, Team Ecuador, Team Germany/Columbia, and of course, Team America. The other bit that made me feel like we were in the Olympics was the fact that we had some physically demanding activities: swimming, snorkeling, hiking, kayaking, mountain biking, and of course I had to throw in some tomfoolery and yoga antics.

We had to wake up early for breakfast which was served at 7am. In order for us to get to our morning adventures and have all the fun, apparently sleep was not part of the itinerary. I began to wonder if we were on a Latin American fat camp.It was interesting to connect with people on a teeny tiny boat. Each time we hit land, I still felt like I was on a boat. My body felt as if I was swaying side to side even though I was standing still. We went to Floreana Island, and our nature guide dropped some evolutionary biology knowledge. The boyfriend and I totally nerded out. I busted out my Sharpie pen, drawing birds, tortoises, and started taking notes. Yeah... it got really nerdy up in the Galapagos.

Not only were we physically challenged each day, the Galapagos got me re-introduced to my love for biology and field studies. We were able to identify all sorts of animals: blue-footed boobies, flycatchers, finches, sea lions, penguins, stingrays, tropical fish, and sharks. A sea lion scared the crap out me when it torpedoed towards me and swam under me. We scared the crap out of a sea turtle who was swimming in the ocean. Having all the fun - sitting with all sorts of animals. And, no I did not steal an iguana or touch a giant tortoise. I respected Mother Nature because I was a nerdy biology student again.

In the evenings, we enjoyed multi-course meals featuring local Ecuadorian fare. Lots of fish, fresh fruits, and bread. Ecuadorians love their bread. I was in carbohydrate heaven. (Shh... Don't tell my Weight Watchers leaders about that bit.) With all the walking, exploring, jumping, crows, and wheels.... you can basically eat and drink whatever you want.

After our lovely adventure on the islands, we returned to Quito. We explored the city. And my best friend showed me all the amazing things and people: his host family, the panderia, the lavanderia, the Super Max grocery store, and all sorts of various street foods. I'm pretty sure good ol' Anthony Bourdain would have been proud of us. We explored a church decorated in 23 carat gold. I've never seen so much Jesuit bling in a sacred space before. I got to visit the Chapel of Man and learn more about Guayasamin. I found joy in doodling, listening and exploring all the artwork. There are so many places to explore and discover. I was convinced that I was definitely going to have to say "Hasta Luego" and NOT say "Adios!" Ecuador - I shall return.

Adventures in NYC

On top of Sam's rooftop

Inspiring images and words @ the Ransom art show

Friends, kiddos, and loved ones gathering together

Supported our lovely and talented friend Adrienne

Discovered a warm cat sleeping on my belly

Wandering through the East Village, sipping German beers, & sharing funny stories

Getting a new pencil pouch in at the market in Bryant Park

Waking up at 4am on a Friday & packing my essential items in a bright red suitcase.
Choosing to be a jetsetter can be tough.Thankful that my travel buddy
Albert offered to drive. Unable to sleep on our early morning flight. Kinda jealous that Albert
was able to pass out and snore. Inspired to get more rest.


We land in EWR and take a slow train from Jersey into Penn Station.
Did I mention that the train was slow? Albert telling me to relax because we're on
vacation, and all I can do is memorize the fact that the Q & R train is a yellow line
to Chinatown. Albert accuses me of being racist. I roll my eyes & shake my head.

We begin walking through Herald Square. We see that Macy's has a giant lighted sign that says, "Believe."
I learn that Albert does not like to walk. That may not be a good sign if we are vacationing in NYC. We find our way to Chinatown. There was a distinct
grittiness, and little Asian ladies ask me if I want to buy a fake luxury bag.


Officer Sam asks if anyone offered to sell me a bag. I nod yes. When Albert and I walk with
Officer Sam back on the sidewalk, nobody wants to talk to us anymore about fake handbags. That was entertaining. Seems like Officer Sam has a lot of friends in Chinatown.


Dim sum. Waitress tries to nonchalantly put multiple plates of dumplings on our table, and I smile and tell I only wanted one.
Ladies pushing carts and carts of dim sum. Eating with chopsticks and listening to more fascinating cop stories. Albert and I are excited to tour the precinct. We can't go in the holding cell because someone was arrested.

End up in Times Square. The tourists freak out when Snoop and his bodyguard walk down the sidewalk. Lots of cameras and people stopping.
I smile at Snoop and try to walk around the crowd,
and Snoop's bodyguard gives me a shove and a pat on the butt. Ick. And, Albert laughs at me. Double ick.
I roll my eyes & shake my head. Then halfway smile because I assume that's my official welcome to The City.


End up having our after party at Adrienne's swanky hotel. Kiddos laughing. Albert
passing out. Tomfoolery ensues. Sam takes us on the L Train or should I say
the Hipster Express back to Brooklyn.


Slept in on a Saturday for the first time in weeks. It felt good to work on my sketchbook
and listen to some Johnny Cash. More relaxing and more resting. I take a chance and check out
a class at Makara Studio. Met an amazing yoga teacher with an incredible understanding
of anatomy & physiology. Since I'm a teacher in training, she invited me to
provide assists to her class with straps. Yoga teacher's language is a little more fiery and blunt than what I'm used to hearing down South.
Inspired by NYC style yoga. And, I was having all the fun.


Saturday afternoon consisted of eating a bagel and making Albert come with me
while I get a massage. I needed Albert to be my Chinese interpreter/bodyguard.
Massage was ah-may-zing!  Little Asian ladies are deceptively strong.


Joined Adrienne and her kiddos at the Ransom artshow. I could not remember the last time
I really examined and appreciated art. With happy art fans, I quieted my mind and
took it all in. Enjoyed a warm and cozy curry afterwards.


We embraced our inner hipsters and walked into a place
with lots of people and PBRs. The bar had miniature golf in the
back. A crazy Eastern European wanted to play and interrupt my game. Whatevs. I'm on vacation and I don't care.


Sunday rolled around and I slept in a bit. Walked over to yoga class again.
I began to start missing the heated vinyasa flow style at my home studio
in Texas. Spent the rest of the day wandering around Sam's old haunts, listening, walking, and
exploring. I tried to find Holden Caulfield.



Renewed. Refreshed. And restored.
Open to going on the next adventure... Ecuador here I come.

How do you reclaim a dream deferred?

A Dream Deferred
by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load. Or does it explode?

-------

That Langston Hughes poem can hang so heavy on my heart sometimes. And, I'm sure there are so many people out there with a lifetime full of dreams deferred...

perhaps it's a novel that lives in your head, but has never even existed in a rough draft,
a vivid painting that only exists in your imagination,
the trip you keep meaning to take and yet never take the time to plan

or perhaps even worse...

the lack of even having big and bold dreams...
the lack of an imagination to even know what your heart wants...

Oftentimes these dreams or unfulfilled stirrings and lofty desires sit there on our souls. These dreams...these "someday I'll do's" just keep buzzing away in my ear like a pestering mosquito when I'm trying to sleep in the middle of the night.

Life is best experienced when you are a dreamer who can take action -- not waiting for perfection -- but being ready now to get messy, uncomfortable, and have the courage to be transformed.