Coping with My Trauma

My body went through a trauma. I went through a trauma. I can finally say those words.

On Wednesday, I met with the surgeon for a follow-up appointment. It’s been three weeks since I had emergency surgery to remove my appendix. During the appointment, I asked him a few questions regarding when I can exercise again, lifting, any restrictions. He told me what others had told me, but I refused to believe: my body has been through a trauma. In his words, my body is reacting and responding to the surgery the same way as if it had been stabbed. Which, he clarified, it was: three times in my abdomen. Granted, it was with my permission and for healing, but my body doesn’t know that. It knows something sharp pierced through the skin and worked on the insides.

I awoke from the surgery crying out. I remember that, even through the fog of the anesthesia and drugs they gave me. I started hyperventilating and getting upset, so much so that the nurse told me I needed to breathe or else I was going to kill myself. I didn’t understand why I reacted that way out of surgery. I wasn’t in pain. They put an anti-motion sickness patch on me prior to surgery so as to avoid waking feeling nauseous. No. I awoke crying out as I came to consciousness because my body knew what happened. I may not have been awake during the procedure, but my body was.

My body was in pain. Not physical pain; instead, it was in its own sort of emotional pain at having had the boundary of skin crossed with a blade. Of missing a piece of itself it had known for its entire life, albeit, an inflamed one that was no longer healthy.

My body is starting to understand that it was done for healing and that I am, in fact, healing because I am starting to understand what my body has been trying to desperately tell me: trauma.

The body and self are finally communicating.



Here I was, going through my semester at full speed. Eagerly waiting to know about the position I applied for, trying to somewhat win over my students, working on an essay to potentially send out for publication, and starting to feel as though I was getting back to my old self in terms of ambition.

And then I was hospitalized with appendicitis and had to have emergency surgery.

I don’t know why, but I thought the recovery time after an appendectomy would be shorter. I thought it was a simple matter of “After a week, you’re good to go!” No. More like two-four weeks. And not being able to lift anything over ten pounds.

Checking emails takes a lot of effort, let alone doing laundry or other seemingly everyday tasks. All I want to do is rest.

I’m starting to think that’s what I’m supposed to do. Slow down, rest, and recover.

What Does It Mean To Teach Writing?


Poe was a great writer. But what does the art of writing even mean?

“What do you teach?”

I often get asked this question when I tell people that I am a professor. My answer typically goes from “I teach English,” to the more specific “I teach writing.”

With the end of the semester fast approaching, I have thought about what it is that I teach. Yes, I teach writing. But what does that mean?

There are, of course, the many concepts that I incorporate and teach to my students. Bias, appeals, audience, tone, thesis, revision, peer review…these are seemingly standard fare in the particular course that I teach. I could get even more general and say that I teach students how to analyze a text, research a topic, and write about themselves in a thoughtful, self-reflective manner.

More than that, though, what I teach is critical thinking. Critical thinking may sound like a simple enough concept, but it’s actually rather complex in that it requires students to engage with a text and/or topic in a way that goes beyond simply reading and looking stuff up on the Internet. Critical thinking involves thinking beyond the self so as to widen the lenses individuals use to comprehend information. And it’s not just students who are tasked with this; as an instructor, I, too, have the responsibility to constantly view information and situations from different perspectives.

To answer the question I originally set out, I teach the product of many discussions, drafts, edits, revisions, and challenges: voice. Because to teach writing is to teach voice. How to have one and how to effectively use it.

Understanding Jane Bennet, The Broken-Hearted

I recently experienced a breakup, and I have to say, it sucks. I was the one who got dumped, unexpectedly, and I was the one who put most of the effort and commitment into the relationship. So, yeah, major suckitude.

Jane Austen’s works help shed insight into my personal life, and this time is no different. I thought about my current situation, my favorite novels, and, more specifically, my favorite characters. Emma Woodhouse and Elizabeth Bennet did not seem to be appropriate for my present emotional state. Neither did Anne Elliot nor Catherine Morland.

No, the character I can connect to most is none other than Jane Bennet. Before the breakup, I thought of Jane Bennet as an extremely static, somewhat dismissible character. Her storyline consists of beautiful girl falls in love with Charles Bingley; he reciprocates her feelings. He is misguided by his closest friend and his family and breaks it off with her upon their advice. She continues to love him. When his best friend (who convinced him to breakup with her in the first place) persuades him to get back together with her, Bingley proposes to her; she accepts. Happily ever after.

I am not relating to Jane Bennet for happily ever after; rather, I am relating to her for her broken-heart. She is the girl who got dumped, unexpectedly, even though she did nothing wrong. She is the girl who remained in love with the guy, even though he metaphorically kicked her to the curb. She is the broken-hearted. She is the character who helps me during this time. Plain Jane Bennet, the unexpectedly relatable.


The Jane Austen Social Scene Part IX: Marriage and Friendship


(Photo source:

Emma Woodhouse and Miss Taylor. Elizabeth “Lizzy” Bennet and Charlotte Lucas. What do these pairs have in common? They each represent a pair of Jane Austen characters whose friendships were altered when one of them married. It then became Emma Woodhouse and Mrs. Weston. Elizabeth Bennet and Mrs. Collins.

One of the motifs of Austen’s novels is that of marriage. I would argue that a more specific theme would be how marriage alters friendships between female characters. Regardless of whether or not the marriage is to a likable character, such as Mr. Weston, or to a not so well liked character, such as Mr. Collins, the institution of marriage impacts the friendship and usually in a way that weakens it. Look at Lizzy and the former Miss Lucas: sure, Lizzy visits her friend and new hubby at their home, but Charlotte is no longer the friend Lizzy could confide in and gossip to at the beginning of the novel.

Austen’s observations regarding marriage and friendship ring true today. In getting married, the woman takes on the additional identity of someone’s wife, a role society promotes with traditional connotations. In other words, in marrying, the spouse is expected to become the priority while pre-existing relationships take a back seat. It’s no wonder that when Harriet Smith tells Emma about Robert Martin’s initial marriage proposal, Emma’s reaction is to persuade her friend to turn him down; in her eyes, she’s already lost one friend to a marriage, and she’s not about to lose another.

Does putting a ring on it mean putting an end to a friendship? Not necessarily. But it does mean that the friendship will not be the same as before.




Reading List:The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo

I received Amy Schumer’s book The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo for Christmas, and I meant to read it before the end of winter break. Call it a reading goal, but I was determined to finish it before returning for Spring semester. And I did (and, yes, I am proud of myself for accomplishing said goal – sometimes it’s not easy to make the time to read).

The book chronicles various aspects of Schumer’s life, from her childhood to her rise as the comedian she is today. As a fan of Amy Schumer, I loved it. Her writing style invites readers into the text so that it reads less like an autobiography and more like a series of conversations you would have with a friend. She even includes photographs at the end of most of her chapters, furthering this personal connection with the reader, allowing them to see more into her life.

Schumer is candid – she admits her faults, her mistakes, her imperfections. She owns them, not dismissing them to try to glorify herself in the eyes of the reader. Her honesty is what makes her both appealing and approachable for the audience. This quality is something Schumer is known for in her work and why I look forward to her next project.

2017 Book Kickoff:We Have Always Lived in the Castle


Happy New Year!

I intend for 2017 to be a year of books, among other wonderfulness. To kick things off, the first book I read so far this year is Shirley Jackson’s We Have Always Lived in the Castle (1962).

I admit, I was drawn to this book because of the cover and because it’s by Shirley Jackson, one of my favorite authors.


The book is told from the perspective of Mary Katherine “Merricat” Blackwood, one of the few surviving members of the Blackwood family. She lives in an old, large house with her sister Constance and her Uncle Julian. There used to be more members of the Blackwood family, but she poisoned her family’s sugar with arsenic to punish them when she was sent to her room without supper. Her sister survived because she does not take sugar (and that is the reason why Merricat poisoned the sugar and not something else) and her Uncle Julian only took a small amount.

The plot largely centers around the daily routine of Merricat and her family and their relationships with the other characters. The most fascinating part of the narrative is Merricat herself – she shows no remorse for having killed her family, and yet she respects  various spaces and objects that belonged to them, even though they are deceased ( for example, after her Uncle Julian dies, she still does not enter his room, insisting that she is not allowed). As a reader, my reaction to Merricat was at times, “She’s crazy” and “She’s a brat,” but I still found myself happy that she and her sister were happy at the end of the story. I feel like it’s an odd reaction to have given how horrible Merricat is as an individual, but that’s part of the beauty of Jackson’s writing: she doesn’t just invite you into the psyche of a character, she thrusts you in, allowing the reader to become intimate with the character by helping to detach the reader from their own preconceptions to understand the world of the story through the character’s eyes.

Now, onto the next book!