Some Pics...Just Cause

Today I just want to post pictures. Because I can and because I am finally feeling...better. More like myself. Less "stuck." I am moving forward. So, let's celebrate, with some randoms pics I want to share...

Benny the one-eyed wonder:)

Obligatory puppy relaxing shot

Snoop copies....

Sign from my favorite place in the world...KEY WEST

This is how I spent my Easter this year...not too shabby. 

THIS is so Key West. 

Our catch on our fishing trip in the Keys. The biggest fish was mine!

"Pelis"

View from Ft. Zachary Taylor State Park in Key West

Is that...my God...is that a ...PECKING HEN?!?!?!

View from 7 Mile Bridge

You Can. You Will.

In the past, when I have had heart to hearts with friends, we have discussed horrible situations we have heard that people are in, and I have heard my friends say, "I can't even imagine. I don't think I could survive something that devastating. I don't know how they are dealing with it."

It is said with such heartfelt empathy and good intentions. In the past I have nodded and agreed. "I know, I think I would just give up. They are so strong, I don't know if I could ever be that strong."

But then everything happened in this past year, and I WAS that strong. Yes, I may have whined and cried and said socially awkward and inappropriate things because I had to externalize my pain and confusion, but I made it. I got out of bed everyday and I faced a world that, in my heart, hurt me constantly. I took care of a body that betrayed me at every turn. I put a smile on a face that did not want to do it.

Basically I WAS that person that people everywhere were saying "I can't even imagine what she's going through. I wonder how strong I could be in that situation?" Well, I am here to tell you, you would make it too. Even though it seems unfathomable, you would wake up each day and walk through the world just the same as I did, even if you think you wouldn't, you would. Because you have no choice. Because you don't know what else to do. Because wallowing in your pain feels worse than functioning. Functioning means distraction and distraction means whole minutes of your life that you can get back.

And while you are walking you will grow. You will surprise yourself. You will change. In my case I surprised myself with my ability to harden my heart while simultaneously allowing myself to be vulnerable. Opening myself up to "whatever comes next" instead of controlling it. I had always craved control and here was a situation that I could not control, as much as I tried. That was perhaps the hardest part of the whole thing. Letting go.

Those of you reading this who have also faced a life challenge can relate. You never would have thought you could survive whatever you went through, but you did. It wasn't perfect and you messed up along the way, but here you stand. Better. Stronger. Smarter.

So, my message to all those people out there, who are in the middle of that conversation, where your heart hurts for someone going through something tough, and you truly fear the moment when you will be tested similarly, worrying that you aren't strong enough or you fear your own pain, is that you CAN and you WILL.

Again, it's not going to be fun. It will hurt. It will stretch you farther than you ever thought you would go. But you will make it.

Along the way you will see things you never saw before. Inside yourself and in others. You will learn who you can count on and see around you people that will avoid you because they are scared of your pain. People will say things to you that they think are the right thing and they are not. It will hurt. Yes, you will answer, it could be worse. But no, that doesn't make it better. Step in my shoes, you will say- but wish they never do. There will be a piece of yourself that wishes they knew pain too, even if it isn't the same pain as yours. Just so they understand when you are not yourself- or when you don't show up to events. And you will be ashamed that you wish they understood, then you will forgive yourself. Misery loves company and you wouldn't be human if you didn't allow a piece of yourself to crave that.

You will forgive those people who want to avoid acknowledging your pain because you know they think it could be contagious. They could "catch it." And, after all, they are still wondering if they are strong enough to weather your kind of storm. Or maybe they are scared of you...scared to push you to return to normalcy before you are "ready." But mostly, they are afraid they'll get your germs. You know that. You accept it.

You lean harder on the people who love you enough to "expose" themselves to your pain. They will try to fix it. They won't be able to and you both know that. You will love them more for trying.

You will start to say "why me" but finish with "It happened to me." You will have conversations with God and the Universe that leave you exhausted and frustrated. Then those conversations will start to make sense and you will accept the hand that God or the Universe dealt you. Healing will start.

Your relationships will be strained. You will work hard not to allow the cracks that have formed in them to get bigger. Outside situations will test that. You will get angry that others affected by your "tragedy" are not "feeling it" the way you do. You will learn to let that go because you will see it affecting them in different ways.

You will feel a punch in the gut every time you are reminded of whatever it is that happened. It will hurt. You will harden yourself so you feel them less. You will start to build armor for the punches. It will hurt less each time.

The healing is still happening- it is just masked in the mundane.

And as time goes on, you take a step back and realize you are surviving it. The thing or things that you thought you weren't strong enough to survive- you DID. You still are. You carry them with you in your heart. Those things never go away. You will always feel the punches. You will never go back to life the way you knew it before. But you have adjusted. You have changed. You are breathing.

So, to those of you who are wondering if you, too could survive, I am here to tell you that you CAN. You will carry a heavier load as you walk, but continuing to walk, you will.

Benjamin

Introducing Benjamin- our little rescue. Helping with the hole in my heart and putting holes in shoes...

The Hope Drug

Hope. It's a very powerful thing. And one that I have had a love/hate relationship with over this past year. In the past hope was something ever-present. Something that waited beneath the surface and could be summoned at will.

After this past year I relegated hope to a different place- a deep, dark, tucked-away place. Because it was dangerous. This past year hope has been a drug with a deadly hangover. Hope was something that I  welcomed like an old friend but later banished like the deceiver it turned out to be. Hope was lethal and highly potent.

In recent months hope brought with it an aftertaste of grief, or fear, of anxiety. With hope came disappointment and heartbreak.

So now, as it surfaces again, I am wary of it.

Recently I received news that was, dare I say it, hopeful. With each word muttered another piece of that old friend hope began to sneak back into my heart, even as I resisted. Even now, as I acknowledge it's presence, I am hesitant and scared. Will it come back to bite me in the end? To allow myself to partake in the elixir of hope? Will I ultimately hate myself for it, regret it, beat myself up for "not learning my lesson?"

I don't know. But it's there...I can't deny that I have at least allowed it to sneak a ray of sunshine back into my heart. The iron door is cracked just a little and instead of straining to shut it immediately I am letting it hang open just the slightest...

Allowing myself to have some hope is like standing on a big cliff. A cliff I know well and have fallen off of before. Like a kid whose mother has repeatedly warned them to back away from that cliff, that it's too dangerous, it's too tempting. I want to see what's below, even for one fleeting instance. To remember what it's like to see possibility again. So I tempt the cliff like that mischievous child, even if I know I can fall.

If I fall I can heal the broken bones later. And I will curse myself for standing near the hope cliff once again, leaving myself vulnerable to the fall. But for now, just to look over and see the possibilities below is a temptation I cannot resist.

I had forgotten what a powerful drug hope can be. If it turns out that it was a bad trip, I can, in the words of a former President, tell myself "I didn't inhale."

A Quote About Life While Grieving

From "Edgar Sawtelle" by David Wroblewski

"Just when normal life felt almost possible- when the world held some kind of order, meaning, even loveliness... Some small thing would go awry and the veil of optimism was torn away, the barren world revealed. They learned somehow, to wait those times out. There was no cure, no answer, no reparation." 

We'll take our raise now...

I will spare you the cliched rant from a disgruntled teacher. But it's true when they say we "don't get no respect." [Insert Rodney Dangerfiled clip here].

But I could write for hours on how we are underpaid and overworked. How we are expected to raise other people's children. How schools have become a dumping ground for negligent parents- a glorified daycare, if you will. How we are expected to teach kids who think they don't have to DO anything. But I digress... it would be a waste of my time and energy to write about all this.

What the real shame is that those of us who are brave enough to work in underprivileged schools- the ones who are storming the educational beaches of Normandy- truly the ones on the front lines, are also the teachers who never get the perks of Teacher Appreciation Week. You see, all across America, in affluent communities, teachers are getting gifts, are getting spoiled, are getting appreciated. They work in schools where parents will send their kids to school with elaborate gift baskets, notes, cards filled with love, even gift cards to fancy spas or retreats. All in the name of National Teacher Appreciation Week.

Yeah...not happening everywhere. For those teachers brave enough- or care enough- to work in a school in an underprivileged community- we are getting....nothing. Teacher Appreciation Week isn't even a blip on the radar. We still do our job, every day, under harder conditions and dealing with kids who are bringing in more "baggage" and we are doing it because we care. We are not receiving expensive gifts or sweet cards. Our gift is that we are truly making a difference (although it doesn't feel like it some days.) But we are, in the long run.

I know this because I was surprised this morning with an email from a former student. In my rush to get to work and get things going this morning, even I, the teacher, had forgotten it was Teacher Appreciation Week. And you know what, after reading what she wrote to me, I didn't care that I wasn't receiving gift cards to get hour-long massages and pedicures from my students. Because what I do each day is worth more than that and can only be expressed in moments like below:

My email read:
"Tomorrow which is probably today when you open it is the first day of teacher appreciation week. Since it is teacher appreciation week I couldn't allow your inbox to be empty of appreciation. I am filled with appreciation for you, you saved my life you changed life. I am forever in debt to you forever and I know the best possible way to repay you is to pay it forward so I do. I greatly  appreciate you and I am here today stronger than ever because of you. You have No idea how much pain I was in when I came to you all the fear inside me but you put me at ease. You told me "Let the pieces fall where they may" and worry about myself and I held that advice all throughout my recovery and treatment. I nearly killed myself I was in a dark place and I was so far gone ending it seemed to be the only answer. That day shoveled out the first big heap of gravel that was covering the light from coming into my tunnel. And in that day I saw the first gorgeous rays of sunlight on the other side past all that was in my way. You were a light in my dark world your class a safe haven and your compassion the thing that got me through. Thank you so much for being there for saving my life. Only a teacher could have done this teachers are a special kind of person that can connect with children and change lives. Thank you so much enjoy your week and keep on keeping on! Keep shining your light and being a role model :)"

So, yeah. You can keep the fancy gift baskets and the chocolate covered strawberries. I have just what I need in moments like that. 

Teaching may have it's downfalls, and it sure could pay more...but sometimes I am reminded that in my line of work, I change lives. And sometimes, even save them. I am right where I am supposed to be and I am not going anywhere. 

I've Got You Now

For those of you that don't know, I am a huge "Glee" fan. Corny, but true. Inside of me, locked deep deep away, is a secret musical theater geek. And if we're being honest, it's more than just musical theater, it's all things performance. I think starting the Marley Middle School Drama Club 3 years ago was the first time I had let this side of me slip out since high school. Watching Glee faithfully, however, has let this side of me resurface in ways I hadn't expected. Usually I secretly savor in the shameless outbursts of song and dance in the show as I secretly wish life was like a Glee episode. Sometimes I even cry as a song or a scene touches a heart string and I wonder why this show has such a huge effect on me.

In a recent episode, I figured it out. The character Santana, takes a ballet class for the first time in a long time in an attempt to reconnect with the part of herself that is an "artist." She admits to having "lost" that part of herself for quite some time. Immediately, I was entranced. Did someone write this episode for me? After all, I spent my entire childhood dancing, singing, performing, and acting and one day it all just stopped. Lacrosse took over. Being cool took over. I mindlessly let the part of me that had brought me so much joy go. Overnight I had replaced her with practice and running and militaristic training for a goal that wasn't even mine. Where had that little performer gone?

In Santana's dance class, a "dream sequence" began, as it so often does on Glee, much to my chagrin, and she sees a tiny little ballerina in the corner. As you can guess, that Ballerina is supposed to be Santana's younger self. Her "artist" self. She walks over to the child and the child says something along the lines of "you forgot about me." At which point I start to bawl uncontrollably on the couch. Santana then embraces her younger self and says something like "never again. I've got you now." More tears.

I related. Perhaps a little too much. My late high school and college years were so focused on pleasing others, a coach, my Dad, the image that the world had of me, that I forgot all about the part of me that truly made me, "me." That little girl who took such joy in performing had been abandoned in my attempt to fit the mold that the world had created for me. I had known this all along throughout my adult life and had verbalized it often. "If I could go back and change one thing..." had often been the sentence starter when I began to reflect on my negligence of that important piece of myself. Yet, I did nothing to change it. I continued to walk down a path that the world had set for me instead of the one that was in my heart.

When Santana admitted to losing that piece of herself I watched and inwardly admitted the same thing. Something had been missing for so long and I just couldn't admit that it was my fault. In my attempt to please others I had stopped pleasing myself. I had stopped doing the things that truly resonated in my heart and therefore, forgotten the little girl who was so in touch with herself. In my attempt to be a "good daughter" and a "good wife" and a "good teacher" I had stopped being good to ME.

Perhaps someone upstairs had been aware of this all along because just last night, a door opened. In the door I could see that little girl standing there, just like Santana saw her "younger self" in that dance studio. I got an offer to reconnect with that little girl again. She was standing on the other side of that door with her hand out to me. I may have forgotten about her but she hadn't forgotten about me. In that moment I was scared to walk towards her but I knew that she wouldn't be ignored anymore. So I took her hand.

In the literal sense this offer may not come to anything in the "real world." But what it will do is remind me that I have neglected myself. I have neglected such an integral part of myself for so long and I have suffered because of it. The MMS Drama Club was my conscience way of awakening the "performer" in my students- a way I had described as "living vicariously through them." But last night, and today, when I watched the Glee episode, I realized I had been living too much through them. Was I dead? Who said that just because I hadn't connected with my inner performer in so long that she wasn't in there anymore? Why live vicariously through others when I can still live through myself?

It is time to stop living to fit a mold...stifling the person that has lain dormant for so long. Perhaps the things in my life that have been denied to me recently were meant to happen so I can reconnect with who I really am and honor the person I have neglected for so long. Perhaps it's time to stop sending my energy into a template that I don't squeeze into at this time in my life and let myself fall easily into the one that I do.

Last night I smiled genuinely for the first time in about a year. It was because I had received an invite from that little girl I had abandoned so long ago. And just like Santana said as she embraced that little Ballerina, I accepted the invitation and said, "I've got you now."