Hello October, and new beginnings
Sunday Letter #28
It’s cold today! Well, much colder than it’s been recently. It rained a little early this morning, was overcast for the majority of the day, and now is partly cloudy.
I love overcast days.
As much as I love sunny days — especially sunny days with big puffy clouds in the sky and with a slight cool breeze — overcast days just make me feel both so energized and so comfy. It’s a feeling of calm, comfort, and coziness, combined with a feeling of revitalization and newness.
I hope more overcast days come soon.
I can hardly believe that we’re going into the last three months of the year.
September absolutely flew by. It’s… astounding, and makes me a little sad, how fast this year went by. Really, just thinking about my life (yes, I know that, at 31 years old, I haven’t lived very long, in the grand scheme of things, but still), all that I’ve been through, the things I thought I would never get past, all the joys, laughter, pain, heartbreak, breakthroughs, triumphs, hopes and dreams… all of it just flew by.
A few days ago, I went to one of my favorite places: the UC Davis Arboretum. Years ago, I was a student at UC Davis, and during my time there, I often went to the arboretum; it was my happy place, my calming place, my relaxation place, my hold-me-through-my-grief place, and more. There was a particular tree I always sat or lied down underneath, where I could look out over the lake and take in the trees, the sky, the water, the flowers, and just everything around me. I’d walk barefoot on the grass, sit with my palms and feet on the earth, sometimes lie down while using my backpack as a pillow, and just breathe, ground myself, feel my mind wander, or feel it be still.
I hadn’t been there in a while, and it was so nice to be there again.
My trip to Davis wasn’t just for the arboretum, though that was a very huge part of it. I went to get a smog check, then go to the DMV, then go to the bank (I also got a lamb burger — one of my favorite burgers — from Burgers & Brew [one of my top go-to places when I was a student at UCD]). At the auto shop, there was a dog — named Dude — who greeted me as soon as I opened the door (so cute). I, of course, pet him for a while, and he seemed very happy with me. After I got the needed paperwork for the smog check done, I went to the restroom (which was outside the shop), and when I came back, Dude came to the door to greet me happily again. Once we were both inside, he lied down under some chairs. There was a man inside who had seen us, and he said (nearly verbatim), “Oh, he went under the chairs. Some people just aren’t dog people.” then went outside.
Wait, what? I had thought. Did he mean that I’m not a dog person? I wanted to tell him that I am, that I love dogs, and that Dude liked me. After the man had left, Dude came out from under the chairs and sat in front of me, leaning against my legs and just relaxing there. He was a very good boy.
Back to the man though. Why did I want him to know that I’m a dog person? It felt like a rock inside of me — like when you’re walking and all of a sudden feel a pebble in your shoe that you have to get out — my need for him to know that I am, in fact, a dog person. He came back inside a little while later, and Dude was in front of me as I was petting him, and I wanted that man to see me and Dude.
But, why? Why did I want him to know that I am a dog person so badly?
That incident reminded me of something that happened when I was in Hawaii with my mom in August. The trip had been a gift for the both of us. While we were there, my aunt, uncle, and their son (who live there) took us to an outdoor market/swap meet. My aunt told us to bargain, and since my mom and I had never been to that market before, we figured that was what people did. I bought a few things there, including two jumpsuits. When I tried to bargain with the owner of the shop, he told me that the price couldn’t be changed, and said, as he was finalizing the sale, “I know the Vu family in California — they’re rich.” It took me some time to realize that he meant my family (he pronounced our last name wrong).
You know when someone says something that is kind of shocking, and that also catches you off guard, and it happens so quickly that you don’t even know how to respond? Yeah. That happened to me.
As he was preparing to put my clothes into a bag, I wanted to tell him that — aside from my family’s last name being Vo, not Vu — my family isn’t rich. That the trip to Hawaii was a gift to me and my mom; we can’t actually afford to go to Hawaii. But I didn’t tell him. We left, and I was still thinking about it even later that day. (And yes, I totally replayed the scene in my head again and again, but this time telling the guy what I had wanted to say.)
So, with both men, assumptions were made. First, that my family is financially wealthy, and second, that I am not a dog person. And, in both instances, I wanted so badly to tell them the truth of the situation, to let them know that they were wrong.
Why is this so important to me? Why does them — and people in general — misunderstanding me give me such a visceral feeling of irritation and frustration, even anger? Why is it so hard for me to let people think what they will of me, to just let it go?
Figuring out the answer to this is something I’m still working on.
I have a few ideas — like fear of being abandoned if what someone incorrectly believes of me makes them (and others) not like me, fear of not being in control of a situation/fear of not having control and that leading to my feeling helpless, and other fears — but I feel like there’s more to it than what I’ve figured out so far. Maybe there’s also a need to prove myself? Or a need to be right? From there, the question is — why?
That I’m not sure of. Yet.
Life and all of its unraveling mysteries, eh?
A wild, wild ride.
I hope everyone had a wonderful Sunday, and a beautiful weekend. Sunday is pretty much almost over — this letter is a bit late — but it’s still Sunday! I was almost not going to publish this, since I figured it’s so late, and I didn’t feel that this letter was very good, but I made a commitment to myself and to you, that I would send out letters every Sunday — and that I shall do!
Have a lovely rest of your night, and I wish you a sense of renewal for this new week.
All my love,
Christina
The UCD Arboretum, of course.
I started dance lessons! I don’t want to reveal too much about it, since it’s still so new, but this is very exciting for me, and I’ll talk more about it after I’ve done it for a month (or three).
I made plans for a new project I’m starting this week. I’ll be releasing the first part of it in the coming days, and I’m both excited and nervous about it.
So glad you decided to publish! Congrats on dance lessons!! Exciting!!
You’re not alone. This newsletter is prompting me to think of a question to ask myself (and come up with answers.... like you were doing above) as to why it irritates me so much when people assume something about me.