A few things…

A few things on my mind…in no particular order. If I put them here, perhaps they’ll stop taking up space in my head and let me sleep.

Appreciation doesn’t have to be demonstrated through a thing. Sometimes it’s the heartfelt words said or written in the moment that matter more than any “thing.” Don’t get me wrong, I love and appreciate the gifts of Raisin Bran and cold milk, Dr. Peppers left by fairies in the night, random sticky notes, and snacks. But sometimes that moment of a young one taking my hand to walk down the hall together or the kids who tell me I’m kinda like a mom or the colleague who takes a moment to let me know they noticed ME… Being seen is still better than any Hershey bar ever will be (well…most of the time anyway).

Coming back to your Why has to be a regular thing. Schedule it if you have to, but come back to it often. Burnout is a real thing…and so many of us put our hearts and souls into teaching, into our classrooms, into our school families and community, that we neglect ourselves and forget why we wanted to do this Big Work to start with…and who we are when we aren’t doing the Big Work. Because we are someone beyond it…

Growth and change are difficult. Promises and people get broken in the process. One can’t exist without the other. You can’t change without growing and you can’t grow without changing. I think of a friend’s tarantula *shudder* when she shed herself…she outgrew herself essentially and was even more beautiful (for a fuzzy spider) afterward for having let what she’d outgrown go. To remain always the same takes away some of that freshness and beauty… and it makes your skin uncomfortably tight…

I split and repotted my Mother-in-Law’s Tongue on the advice of a green-thumbed friend. She had existed in the same pot for as long as I can remember. But something wasn’t right. And now, even after just a day, both of them seem happier in their own pots, one in the bedroom and the other in the living room–each still away from the cat who thinks they’re a potted snack. Sometimes you have to separate from the things that you are familiar with in order to thrive.

When it feels like no one is hearing us, seeing us, or acknowledging that perhaps we have a point (or a purpose), taking a step back and just letting everything we can’t control go is the only way to stay sane. Also, moving tasks to the “backlog” to deal with later or just flat deleting them altogether after moving them from one day to the next for weeks and months is the best course of action. They might have been important at one time, and they might be again…but letting them go is okay too.

Monthly massages are necessary for adulting. Adding cupping, essential oils, or a steam tent are fabulous add-ons. I asked my massage therapist if I could just come every day and she said no–every week or so is best, and varying the type of massage is a good idea. Also, adding on the steam tent requires that you drink all the water in the land afterward. Trust me and plan ahead.

Watching your parent/s age is awful. CJ Cregg’s dad (or step-mother maybe) said in one episode of West Wing that Alzheimer’s was called “The Long Goodbye.” I think watching your parent grow old, slowly becoming more reliant on you while trying to remain stubbornly independent and at the same time letting things go like the dishes, or putting things away, or compulsively cleaning, is pretty damn bad…I can only imagine how awful it is adding Alzheimer’s or dementia to it.

For many of us, COVID stole people we love. Some passed away. We grieve their death, celebrate their lives, and grieve some more because we aren’t done yet. COVID also impacted relationships with people we care about. Some disappeared quickly, allowing politics or rhetoric to beat them to death. Some relationships disapparated over time, growing more and more faint like morning mist at sunrise. And then suddenly, they’re simply not there anymore. And some are there, faintly, but very much changed…trauma does that. It changes people and those we loved are different now…

Everyone is hurting in some way right now. And probably will be for a long time. Sure, we don’t have to wear masks to work or to shop, and we can go most places without much worry. This hurt though…it’s not going away. We can’t forget what people said and how they behaved because they were hurting too. We can’t forget the fear, the loss, the worry, the hypervigilance, always wondering what is coming next. And we can’t forget the pain of being separated from one another…pool noodles or more apart, faces covered (or not), and the unmistakable fear (or loathing) in the eyes of those around us.

I think that the ghost of my Lab mix has spoken to my Border Collie from the other side of the Rainbow Bridge. He’s let her know that “Ball is life” and fetch is the best game ever invented. She will get the ball (and it has to be THE ball…which could be any one of the eleventy billion balls in the house or at the dog park) and bring it to me, dropping it next to me, laying down and waiting for me to throw it…and letting out sharp little barks if I don’t throw fast enough. This is our routine…here at home, out back in the open grassy area, at the dog park… He taught her well…even from the great beyond.

Perhaps now that all of this is out of my head, I’ll sleep.

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