Non-linear

I can usually find the words a friend in pain needs to hear. I can tell them to let their grieving happen. That it takes time. That there is no set schedule for grief or healing. That the process is not linear. Their pain and anger will ebb and flow, sometimes disappear and reappear seemingly at random. That it will eventually change, and in that change there will be better times. And when I say these things to my friends, I mean them. I know them to be true. They are not quippy phrases or Hallmark sentiments. They are lessons I've learned through my own pain and processing.
But when it IS my pain, when it IS my grief, I cannot get past the non-linear nature of it. I am frustrated by my sadness. Overwhelmed by my anger. I am angry at my inability to simply be o.k. I am annoyed by the hollow feeling and inescapable emptiness I sometimes feel, rather annoyed by inablitiy to just climb out of the hole this loss has created in my heart. Iam irritated by my regression; full of rage that I am back in a place, clouded and dark, where everything hurts or is numb. Because I should be past this. I should be over it. I should have healed by now. Instead, I am a raw nerve, frayed and tangled, just waiting for one more reason to shoot sparks of pain into the universe.
And I feel like a hypocrit.

Dear Joe Wilson,

You are a complete douche bag. Your little outburst during PRESIDENT Obama's speech last night threw into sharp relief the complete lack of respect you, your party, and people like you have, not only for the man in office, but the office itself. It is no wonder to me, any longer, why you allowed a complete idiot to be the face of your party for so long. You aren't smart enough to know better.

Had that speech been delivered by W, you would have applauded. Had that speech been delivered by anyone other than PRESIDENT Obama, you would have sat quietly through it, grumbled your dissent, and gone about your day. But because it was PRESIDENT Obama at the microphone, you felt entitled to openly call him a liar? Who raised you? Who taught you that the PRESIDENT of the United States is not entitled more respect than to be interrupted and openly insulted while addressing the nation he leads? You should be embarrassed and ashamed. Your party should, too.

Newsflash, snowflake. Your mama lied. You are not the center of the universe. You aren't even an important piece of the machinery. You've done little to nothing to make this place better. So until you get off your happy ass and do so, keep your commentary and criticisms to yourself. And for the love of Pete, remember your place. When the PRESIDENT is addressing you, keep your pie hole shut.

Sincerely,

This angry bitch now fueled by outrage.

One of THOSE days……

Have you ever had one of those days where everything you touch disintegrates beneath your fingers? Where everything you hear is a slight or an insult? Where everything you do turns out wrong, disastrously, inexplicably wrong? Have you ever had one of those days where no matter what you say or who is around, no one seems to hear you? Where everyone you meet needs a smack or a throat punch just to knock enough sense into them to make them go away? Have you ever just wanted to scream and shout and pull out your hair and have a giant flaming tantrum because the Universe is just pissing you off THAT much?

That was my day.

Why is it that one shit-brown day can undo weeks of positivity and hard work? Why does one little day, one single set of 24 hours, have so much power? Am I really that much of a sissy la la princess that a few hours of crappy behavior by others can make me feel so worthless and pathetic? When did I become such a weak-minded asshole? I mean, I am a grown ass woman. I have accomplished so much. I work hard. I have two beautiful kids and a marriage in progress. I have students I adore who work hard and do well. I have a job that matters. I make positive contributions every time I set foot on campus. I have friends who love me, and whom I love dearly. Why can a couple of dicks make me forget all the good I have around me so quickly? Why can one bad night turn it all on its head? What the hell is wrong with me that I can't put into perspective? I'm teetering on the edge of a complete flame out. Some of the people around me are just ridiculous. Their stupidity is so maddening, it's overwhelming. I need to get myself under control before I lose it and let them ruin everything I've worked for. Someone tell my temper because it's not listening to me anymore.

6

Dear Victor,
Every year, your birthday is a source of excitement and joy. You count down the days until it arrives, and are giddy the entire day of because it's 'your' day. 24 hours under your complete (albeit supervised) control. In the past, your birthdays have been filled with trips to the park and board games, soy ice cream and vegan cakes, movies and snuggling on the couch. In the past, you were a little boy. Today, your birthday was filled with school, a surprise trip to the golf course with your papa, and a late dinner out at the restaurant of your choosing. The day passed, hustled and bustled, and I barely had time to hug you tight, tell you I love you and wish you a happy day.
You are not a baby any more. You are a young man. There are days when I struggle to see you as you are and not as you used to be. But it's so easy to see the wonderful man you are becoming. You have been the light of our lives for six amazing years. I look forward to watching you grow and mature for many, many more.

I love you forever and always,

Your mama

Sometimes they just break your heart.

I've been a teacher for a relatively long time. This is my ninth year. In those nine years, I've had hundreds of students. Each of them came to me with their own story, their own traumas and triumphs, their own little take on the world. Each of them, in their own way has touched me and shaped the way I see and interact with the world. Many of them are the reason I come back to teaching year after year. On any given day, I feel prepared to handle whatever my students bring me, be it sorrow or joy, serious conversation or light-hearted celebration. Today a little girl walked through my door and showed me just how much I still have to learn. I can't post much about her particular circumstances, but suffice it to say that such a short life should not contain so much abuse and neglect. The scars of her past are visible on her person and in her eyes. Her fear and uncertainty were palpable as soon as she walked through my door. She recoiled from my hand as I gently touched her shoulder, and it took a concerted effort for her to raise her eyes up off the floor. It broke my heart to watch her struggle with simply being in the room.
As the days go by and I try to teach her English, I have a feeling I'm going to have to teach her much more than a language, and I have no idea how I'm going to do it. Watching her trying to shrink into her desk, trying to hide in plain sight reminds me how fortunate my children and I are to be where we are and have the lives that we do. It may sound odd, but I am thankful that she found her way to me. I am almost certain she has as much to teach me as I do her.

What a difference a year makes.

Dear Victor,
A year ago, you couldn't sleep for nervousness over starting school and the changes that would bring. You got up early, excited, scared, unsure about what the day would bring. You fingered your breakfast, not really wanting to eat, in too much of a hurry to get your clothes on and get on with your day, your new 'life' as a kindergartner. You walked up to the school, anxious and excited, clutching your papa's hand the whole way, wanting to go but not quite ready to let go. You wavering confidence was adorable and oddly reassuring. On the playground, waiting for the bell to ring and your new class to start, you became confident and reassured that kindergarten would be fun and you would make friends. The walk into kindergarten was easy and exciting, as long as you were holding my hand.

Today you began first grade. There was no nervousness, no fright, and the doubts you had about being able to handle first grade were fleeting. The day couldn't begin early enough for you. You inhaled your breakfast,














threw on your clothes,















and waited by the door impatiently. For an hour.


















You didn't walk up to school, so much as you ran, your little brother chasing behind you.The walk to class was more like a swagger, and there was no time to hold hands.

When it came time for class to start, you sat patiently,














raised your hand, and let the whole room know you were there and ready to get down to the very serious business that is first grade.












You are such an incredible little boy.
I'm so excited to see what this year has in store for you, and you for it!

Love,

Mama

Some things never change.

I was out of the classroom for a whole year. While I was gone, I fretted that upon my return, things would be horribly different, new, foreign. The weeks leading up to the start of school were sleepless and anxiety ridden as I chewed my lips and paced the floor trying to plot my courses and plan every minute of the days ahead of me. I felt surprisingly like a first time teacher all over again. Until today. Today I walked back into that room and it felt like home. A few things are different, like the tardy and cell phone policies (which are ever changing and often hardly enforced) and some of the faces walking the halls. But that feeling, that sense of purpose, that knowledge that what I do here matters, those never change. I've never been more grateful for, more humbled or excited by that than I am this year. It's good to be home.