Day 27.2

     Some of you noticed that I have retreated these past few months. I finished my clinical Pilates certification process, took on work as an instructor, as well as continued the full time job of music teacher. My depression and anxiety have also deepened immensely during this time. We (my doctor and I) believe much of the cause is related to hormones (I'm no longer nursing Caroline), but the state of our world has also contributed significantly to my mental health.

     Maybe these past few days sparked something in me because the subject of breastfeeding was involved.

A treasured photo of my middle son and I

     I can't help but wonder if I was seeking asylum, would my child be ripped from my arms while I nursed?

     There is so much to unpack with the situation at our southern border, so I cannot address all issues in one post. I can however state that I unequivocally oppose the separation of families seeking asylum. I think nearly every parent I know would attest that they would do anything to keep their children safe. Those families seeking asylum are not crossing the border because it's easier, or because they don't want to go through the proper channels. They are doing so because they fear for their lives so much, they see no other viable option. I have never experienced that type of desperation, and I can only begin to understand what their situation must be like in order to resort to these drastic measures.
     I cannot fathom the people who have drawn a line in the sand and decided that these families must be separated. That these asylum seekers must be prosecuted. That nursing babies must be ripped from their mother's arms. That children should be placed in detention centers and be kept from their parents, devoid of human touch. My heart breaks.
     If you think this is an acceptable way to treat fellow humans, I cannot argue with you. If your heart is closed to the absolute horrors these children have faced and are currently facing, we don't see the world in the same way. This extends beyond politics, beyond race, beyond class. If someone is suffering and your immediate reaction isn't "how can I help them?", but rather "they didn't have to come here", you're lacking empathy. Most parents would not put their families in this situation if it was not necessary. Just because you cannot comprehend their reasons for seeking asylum, does not mean their reasons are invalid. It does not mean they deserve to be treated in such an inhuman way.

If I knocked on your door asking for help, with my son in my arms, would you turn me away? Would you put me in room, separated from my child and tell me you needed to wait until you figured out if I really needed help? Would you focus on the details of me being on your property uninvited?

Or would you help?

Day 26.2

     Happy International Women's Day.

This woman had a lot to learn

     If an alien ever came to earth and asked me to describe what it was like to be a woman, I think the best answer I could give would be that I feel like I'm simultaneously the cause of and the solution to all problems. Ok, maybe not the best answer. It's too complex an experience to sum up in sentence, but I guess it's the thought most on my mind right now.
      I cannot claim to speak for all women, but there is such an overwhelming weight that I carry on my shoulders. I should anticipate the needs of others as to prevent issues from arising. And if I can't do that properly, I should at least know how to fix the issue.

     I can remember before children, during difficult patches as I was first learning to deal with depression, where I would go into this dark place when I felt I was no good. I would mentally and physically beat myself up, insist that I caused whatever the problem may have been. House dirty? I am a slob and I don't deserve to live in a nice home. Pants fitting a little too tight? I'm not working out enough and if I truly cared about myself, I would. The examples could go on, but I think the point has been made. I was am very unforgiving with myself. And if you think that adding three lives, dependent upon my keeping it together helped, you clearly haven't been reading this blog...

     Since giving birth to Caroline two years ago, the addition of a female has forced me to confront many of the unnecessary expectations that I place upon myself. I don't want to raise her to be me. We all say that, I know- but I really don't ever want her to feel hatred toward herself because someone else's expectations weren't met. Or because her expectations were so outrageous that they realistically could not be met. I didn't have this reaction to the birth of my boys, and I think that is in part because we as a society have been raising our boys differently. However, over the past few years, there has been a change in the collective mindset. We are working on teaching our kids to be empathetic, independent, and aware of others. We are having honest conversations with our children. I couldn't imagine my parents or teachers talking so openly with me about mental health, emotions and struggles. Sometimes I wonder if I'm too open, but I guess that's another post...

     One of the most amazing things that Caroline does is that when she is stressed out, frustrated, or simply not in the mood for antics, she'll yell out "WALK AWAY". It's simultaneously hilarious, annoying, and inspiring. She takes care of herself and her needs in a way I aspire to! Granted, I don't think it would be appropriate for me to start yelling "WALK AWAY" every time someone placed unnecessary stress on me, but I do need to find a way to start protecting myself. I'm not the cause of all problems and definitely do not have the solution for them either. If I'm able to keep raising my daughter to follow her instincts and trust herself, maybe I'll finally start doing the same.

Day 25.2

     This morning I woke up to the news that Donald Trump was advocating for teachers to be armed in response to the crisis unfolding in our country. I say unfolding, but really, it's been unfolded for a long time. With every year that passes, every month, every week- mass shootings have become common place, a case of not if, but when.

I now watch the news with a permanent look of disgust and tension.

     I'd say this isn't the job I signed up for, but that is not entirely accurate. You see, I was in college during the Columbine shooting. I was hired as a teacher after 9/11. I knew that things were different than when I was a student. Along with my new teacher training, I was taught procedures for lockdowns and evacuations. The monthly drills of locking my classroom door, turning off the lights, hiding my students out of sight and pretending that everything is fine, is as routine as taking attendance. The only thing is that as the years have passed, the shootings have continued. The cries for more guns have gotten louder. But would more guns solve the problem? Would stricter gun control laws have any impact? Perhaps it's time for a different approach.

     Today my best friend/coworker/other half and I were interviewed on the issue of guns in the classrooms. I struggled with the comments I really wanted to make, because I wasn't sure if they could be taken out of context. The truth is, I wanted to share my real concern with categorizing all of these shootings as the products of a mentally ill individual who had access to weapons because 20 years ago, I was a mentally ill individual who had access to weapons.

     As a middle and high school student, I was always aware that I was a little off. Highly emotional, depressed, and anxious. I had trouble with sleep, perfectionist tendencies, and the overwhelming feeling that I wasn't good enough. In my darkest times, I would isolate myself from friends and family. They probably didn't even notice because I got very good at hiding those feelings from the public eye.
     Now, my father was a police officer so there were guns in my home. They were locked, but they were available. The thing is, using them to harm myself or someone else simply was not an option. One of the biggest differences I can identify is that I had resources around me that so many of the shooters did not have. Access to guidance counselors, small class sizes so that my teachers knew me, and a sense of community. I was connected to my peers through involvement in music and drama. Despite the fact that I wasn't able to open up and accept my struggles with depression and anxiety at that point in my life, I had a support system around me that I could draw strength from. Just by having those connections, I knew that I was cared for- even if I couldn't care for myself at that moment.

     Our schools and teachers have been stripped of the resources we need to help the most troubled students. Our country is completely focused on stopping the shooter in the midst of an attack, but why aren't we focusing on preventing the student from ever getting to the point where a mass shooting seems like the only choice they have? Even if I was armed with a gun and able to kill an attacker before they got to my students, there would still be an unspeakable tragedy. How can we better serve our children so that they realize that they are loved and cared for. so that they feel nurtured and respected, so that they know there is always another option? I have many weapons to use in this crisis- my genuine love and respect for my students, my expertise in social and emotional learning and my belief that we are better when we connect. A gun is simply not an option for me.

Our students do not deserve this reality. I will fight every day from this day forward, with and for them.

Day 24.2

     Women's March 2018.

Since I couldn't march, I ran.

     Instead of taking to the streets and demonstrating, I was taking my kids to swimming lessons. Then I took them to get bagels. Then I put the littlest one down for a nap and washed the kitchen floor by hand. I helped the older two build tunnels out of chairs. I read the news and scanned the pictures that friends shared on Instagram, Facebook and twitter. Next, I took the kids outside and let them play in the mud. I made dinner (half of which was eaten, the other half thrown on the newly cleaned floor) and brownies from scratch. I ran a few loads of laundry, but haven't folded them yet. Finally I took the kids upstairs to bed and fought with them for an hour until they remained in their beds.

     It seems odd that one year ago I marched with my daughter, vowing to fight for her future. Twelve months have passed and so much has changed- I returned to full-time work out of the home, began working toward a second career, came out about my personal experience with sexual assault, engaged in so many wonderful, deep, and challenging conversations, and I feel so much more connected to the world around me. I also feel a greater sense of responsibility to be out there and active in the difficult work taking place. Yet, here I sit at home, drinking a beer to congratulate myself on not hitting my kids when they really pissed me off and pushed me to the limit tonight.

     The movement is here is to stay, and I know that there will be days when I can be a more active and present participant. In the meantime, today I talked to my boys about consent and making sure you always ask before you touch a friend and that if someone tells you to stop, honor their request. I also squeezed in a quick run while the boys had their swim lessons, because this movement for equality is going to take a lot of work and I need to build up my strength and endurance.

Day 23.2

     Happy 2018. May this year bring us stability, strength, control and balance...

     I for one, have already achieved Control Balance.

Notice the control and balance I maintain, while son #2 melts down behind me

     This is a Super Advanced Pilates exercise called Control Balance. It's horrendously difficult and one of my biggest achievements in 2017. In 2016, I couldn't imagine having the core strength to get into a "rollover position", let alone the flexibility, control, and balance to perform the full exercise. I shocked myself when I was able to do this on my first attempt.

     I laughed when I read the name of the exercise during my Mat 2 training, because the movements seemed unattainable and the name was ironic. There are two things escaping me right now- Control of my life/home and balance of work/family/friendships/all other things. In this exercise there are so many opportunities to lose it- the rollover, the leg positioning, the engagement of the core, the stability required by the back and shoulders-combined with the strength of the hip extensors and flexibility of the hip flexors. Plus, having to roll down to a supine position after switching the legs numerous times. Also- you have to breath!

     I was so determined to prove my instincts wrong and do this exercise well. I was pretty scared, partially convinced that I would hurt myself. I inhaled deeply, engaged my body to prepare and went for it.

I think this is how I'm going to approach 2018.

     2017 was a pretty mixed year. I marched for women's rights with my daughter. I called senators and members of congress. I shared extremely personal struggles in my writing. I took on a new personal challenge by studying to become a clinical Pilates instructor. I returned to work as a music teacher after two years of maternity/childcare leave. But there have been challenges. The end of the year saw a deepening of my depression and anxiety. The world has become a more frightening place in the last 12 months- or truthfully, maybe I was just awoken to the state of affairs as they have always been. I've been insecure as a mother and as a partner, feeling an increased sense of guilt as I've tried to adjust to working outside of the home. I'm overwhelmed with it all.

     Honestly, I don't know that I will ever find complete control and balance in my life. But I'm just going to inhale deeply, engage to prepare, and go for it.

Day 22.2

     Every once in a while, we need to give ourselves a shout out.

The relief of a clean bill of health

     Today, I did something for me. Now, I am not going to get into the details, but I had an issue that I could have easily put to the side and not taken care of because it was just easier to focus on the needs of others-especially during this time of year. Instead, I put away my pride and made my health first priority.
     This afternoon, I sat on the couch in our new family room and enjoyed the remaining sunlight before attempting to tackle the laundry (5 loads and no end in sight as of this posting). I could have gotten frustrated with myself, or annoyed at the circumstances surrounding the day, but I'm choosing to embrace the fact that for the first time in a long time, I put myself ahead of others' expectations of me. I can't remember the last time I felt like I had even the slightest bit of control- apparently taking care of myself can help with that!

     I think this is one of my most empowering moments of 2017.

Day 21.2

     Try as I might, depression shows it's ugly head. I blame the holidays... sick kids... never ending home construction...the fact that a 21 month old is sleeping in a crib, two feet from my head...work stress...lack of exercise...this stupid, stupid world we live in...

I wonder what I would do if I was faced with an active shooter situation.

   

     Why aren't more people in America OUTRAGED that I as a teacher have to think about this EVERY FUCKING DAY?!?!?!?!?!?!?! That I practice how I will get the door locked in the quickest way possible? That I set up my classroom so we can easily escape if needed-or easily hide? That I've mentally prepared myself to do anything necessary to protect the students that I've been entrusted with?

     I wonder how a gun lobbyist would feel after experiencing a lockdown with 25 panicked 7 year olds. What words would they use to soothe a frightened child? I've held hands with sobbing students during surprise precautionary drills. This is the screwed up norm that we face in America because for some reason our elected officials can't address this crisis.

     5 YEARS.

     Nothing I type out seems to articulate what I am trying to say. I just want to scream. I want to punch something. I am so angry.

     Nothing has changed.

     Yet everything has changed. 5 years ago, I had one child. Now that child has gone through his first grade year. THOSE KIDS NEVER DID.

WHY HAVEN'T WE ADDRESSED THIS?????????????????

     I am so mad. Every single day there is something else this fucked up world hands to us on a silver gold platter to lose our minds over. And every single day the Sandy Hook families live with loss.


I don't have anything productive to write tonight. I don't feel any better having written a slew of curse words and sentences in all caps. Nothing can make this feeling OK.

How do we find hope when this all seems so hopeless?