Homesick

Posted on by stilllearning2b

For many of my students, the three-day Savannah field trip is their first time away from their parents for any length of time. And, although they won’t admit it, it’s also their first time really experiencing homesickness.

I could see it in their increased anxiety, expressed through endless questions and clarifications.

I could feel it in their more frequent neediness as certain ones wanted to always be alongside a chaperone.

I could hear it in their voices, unsure of their first night without an adult in their hotel room.

I could sense it in their hesitation, asking if they were allowed to use the microwave in the room or when they should shower.

The homesickness was partly from being away from their usual space and routine.

But it was more from being pulled out of their comfort zone.

Unease arising from navigating new boundaries and undertaking new responsibilities.

Accompanied of a sense of the end of their childhoods and the start of a new chapter.

The first time I remember feeling homesick was during my debut night at college. I had rented a room in a co-op and, as is my nature, I retreated to my space to find some quiet. The addition that enclosed my room was slipshod, and the crumpled newspaper insulation did little to shield against the heat of a late Texas summer. I laid spread-eagle on my futon mattress, sweat darkening the sheets and realized that the purchase and installation of a window air conditioner was solely my responsibility unless I wanted to wait until my mom or then-boyfriend (later infamous ex) could offer assistance.

It was a long night. The unfamiliar sounds of the strangers I lived with filtered through my hollow door. The hot, heavy air seemed to wrap me in its suffocating grasp, keeping pinned to the lumpy bed. I had no phone apart from the public one in the shared space that required the use of a calling card and internet was still limited to a single computer lab on campus. I had a car. A credit card. Yet, since I was still 17, I had to secure permission before seeking medical attention or changing a class. It was a strange sensation, that feeling of no longer belonging in my childhood yet not yet fully independent. I missed the familiar yet I knew it was time to move on.

The next morning, I clumsily navigated to Wal-Mart and wrestled a window air conditioner into the trunk of my car. Several hours, and one long bloody thigh wound later, I finally had the machine installed and humming away. I felt a little less homesick that night.

The only other time I remember feeling homesick was after the divorce. Again, I was pulled away from all that was familiar. Again, I was in limbo, no longer an occupant of my old life and yet not fully part of the new. Again, I felt the overwhelming responsibility of being on my own. Again, I felt the frustration of needing to ask for help for the simplest of matters. Again, I laid on a strange bed listening to strange sounds as I tried to settle into sleep.

And again, as I tackled challenges in my way, I no longer felt as homesick.

Sometimes, the cure for homesickness is to return home.

But sometimes returning is not an option.

And the cure is in letting go of the home that was.

And creating the home that can be.

Mommies Are…

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I test drove motherhood this week.

I was one of 24 chaperones on a three-day trip to Savannah with 378 8th graders.

I love these trips, but they are such a shock to my system as I go from no kids to being completely responsible for a group of 16 and sharing responsibility for the others.

My days started with me trying to grab sips of coffee while I made the rounds, making sure students were awake and appropriately dressed, administering medication and giving sage advice to address the issues that arise overnight when you stick four teenage girls in a room together.

Breakfast, usually my peaceful time in front of the computer, was taken standing up in the lobby of the hotel so that I could direct the girls and strive to keep their voices at a semi-reasonable level. I think I managed two bites of hot oatmeal before it congealed.

Through the day, I lugged a large backpack filled with their medications and the day’s schedule. I was nurse, tour guide and counselor in one. I made sure that sunscreen and bug spray were applied. And then reapplied. I cautioned them about the effects of the overconsumption of sugar and the need to bring a jacket. I even found myself repeating the dreaded mom words, “Just try,” at the limited bathroom opportunities.

I swear the girls knew the moment I stepped into the shower at the end of the long days as the phone would start to ring as soon as I applied the shampoo to my hair – the hotel equivalent of calling “Mom” across the house.

By the time all of the girls were settled in their rooms, I would collapse, exhausted.

Yet unable to sleep.

The details of the days are tiring, but it is nothing compared to the weight of responsibility that motherhood, even of the three-day variety, holds. I saw potential dangers lurking around previously harmless corners. Every stranger was a threat, every body of water a potential drowning and every curb provided an opportunity to fall. At night, I found that I could not enter deep sleep, as I was constantly listening for the kids.

When I was a kidmyself, the pastor at my church would call all of the children up to the steps in front of the pulpit for a brief children’s message embedded within the larger sermon. One year when I was about four, the pastor celebrated Mother’s Day by beginning with the prompt, “Mommies are” and then holding out the microphone for the kids to complete the sentence.

The first few shares were your standard:

“Mommies are nice.”

“Mommies are pretty.”

“Mommies are gentle.”

And then the microphone was put in front of me. My contribution on that Mother’s Day?

“Mommies are tired.”

Yes, they are. Motherhood is a job with the biggest responsibilities possible and no time off. Motherhood is a job that, just when you think you have it figured out, your kid enters a new phase; you’re in perpetual training. Motherhood is a job that requires that your own needs are neglected so that your offspring’s needs are met.

It is tiring.

But is also rewarding beyond belief, as reflected in the faces of the moms as they reunited with their kids at the end of the trip. I’m sure they enjoyed their three days of peace and quiet but they were thrilled to see their kids (even stinky, cranky, hopped-up-on-sugar kids:) )again.

As for me, I enjoyed the test drive but this particular model is not for me. I’ll stick with teaching!

Happy Mother’s Day to all you tired mommies. I am in awe of what you do every day.

In and Out of Love

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My brain, numbed and molded into a box from days of administering standardized tests is slow to make connections and weave non-standardized sentences this morning. I have found myself strangely drawn towards curves over the last two weeks – doodling nonsensical and nonlinear designs, sitting in the comforting arch of the non-corner of my deck and appreciating the bends in the trees and the undulations in the clouds.

It always takes some time for me to re-adjust. To remember that life is not multiple choice and that children are not defined by which bubble they darken. To feel comfortable again speaking off of a script and speaking my mind. Today, I am purging myself of the testing remains and spending time without monitoring minutes or erasures.

Meanwhile, here’s another collection of some interesting articles that I have encountered over the last few weeks. Enjoy. And remember, life is not a test. There are no wrong answers, only different paths.

presentlife

The Science of Betrayal

This research invested the effect of oxytocin on feelings of betrayal. The results are interesting and not what I would have expected. My ex expertly used affection, and thus oxytocin, to keep me calm.

Life Sucks

After the Divorce: 5 Ways to Know if You’re Ready to Date

Good stuff here. I have to admit, I started dating before I had resolved all of these (I was still pretty angry), but they all had to be resolved before I could really be in a relationship.

interview

She Shared Her Brutally Honest Experience of His Affair and It Worked

I share this not because I think it will “work” to save a relationship on the rocks (you have to have a straying partner willing and able to listen first), but because I think it is a well-written description of what it feels like to be betrayed. Countless writers have attempted to describe the pain in words. I don’t think any words can quite embody it. But these get close.

pullplug

The 10 Biggest Reasons People Fall Out of Love

It’s interesting the perspective that can be gained when distilling something so complicated into a simple list. I know I fell out of love at first sight once I realized that he wasn’t the person I thought he was.

Happily Ever After

5 Tips to Improve Your Self-Talk

We work hard to improve our physical environment – creating a comfortable home and welcoming space. Yet sometimes we neglect to spruce up the environment we spend the most time in – our own minds. The words we say to others have influence and the words we say to ourselves have power. Choose them carefully.

Escalation

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I came home last night to images of the riots in Baltimore on the TV.  I wanted to turn around and walk out, so that I could pretend for just a little longer that we lived in a world where situations like this didn’t occur on a regular basis.

It’s sad. Both sides – the police and the communities – are angry and scared and frustrated. The police are asked to go into dangerous situations and deal with unstable people on a daily basis. They never know which encounter may turn violent. They walk a narrow edge of fear and some use dominance to control it. The community members never know the mindset of an officer or what residue his/her previous calls left behind. They never know if an officer may respond too strongly. They too, walk a narrow edge of fear and some are using aggression to vocalize it.

Both sides have a justified mistrust of the other.

And I fear that mistrust will only grow as the escalation continues.

You have a majority of people that are honest and decent. And then you have those – in uniform and out – that take it too far. That respond with a “10” to an offense of a “5.” And those few up the ante for everyone else, especially when the media is happy to stir the pot, much like the teenager at the edge egging on the fight.

In a personal relationship, it’s difficult enough to stop the escalation. To respond with a “4” to your partner’s “5.” We naturally want to rise to occasion and see a softer response as a sign of weakness. But often when the intensity is dialed down by one, the other responds in kind. When one is willing to back down and listen, the real conversation can begin with a focus on understanding rather than blaming and deflection.

Often the partners act against each other when they really have the same goal of a healthy and happy relationship.

That’s hard enough in personal relationships. It’s releasing the ego. It’s being willing to be perceived as weaker and vulnerable. It’s being willing to listen, even if some of the words are uncomfortable.

And it’s even harder in entire communities. When the identity is formed not by one, but by the shared history of an entire group. When being seen as weak can be a death sentence and strength is found in numbers. And it’s hard to listen when the cries of the crowd are in your ears.

Often the groups act against each other when they really have the same goal of a healthy and happy community.

These conversations are happening. In small groups and online. With each incident, I’m hearing more people talking about what can be done to fix the problem rather than focusing on amplifying the problem.

Nobody wants to be the one who shows up with a knife at a gun fight. But maybe we can work to stop the fight from happening at all.

Who Do You Turn To For Help With Your “Character Building Experiences?”

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I recently read a synopsis of a study that demonstrated that people receive a more empathic response from someone who has not been through a particular difficult experience than from someone who had survived something similar.

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At first glance, it seems counterintuitive. After all, who knows how rough it is better than someone who has lived it?

But that’s not the whole story.

Because the people that have experienced the trauma have been changed by it.

And that alters not only their perception, but also their response.

Protective Amnesia vs. Unrestrained Fears

I remember trying on the idea of living without my husband a few years before he left. The exercise wasn’t prompted by anything in the relationship; I was simply reacting to the news of a coworker’s impending split by trying to put myself in her shoes.

And I couldn’t wait to take them off again. My imagination went wild and my pulse followed suit. It was her living nightmare and it was my envisaged one. I responded with nothing but, “I am so sorry” and “That has to be so scary,” using my own unrestrained fears as a bridge to her situation.

It’s different now. I’ve lived those fears. But, to be completely honest, I don’t really remember the pain in the rawest sense. I know I felt it; I can read my journals and emails and see the devastation in the pictures of me from that time. But it’s almost like it happened to someone else.

My brain has slid a protective cloth over the worst of it, softening the pain like the sun’s harsh rays through a gauzy curtain. The protective amnesia allows me to function without the sharp memory of the pain. And it also means I can easily underestimate how bad it really was and how horrible it is for someone else in a similar position.

Known Present vs. Imagined Future

When we haven’t experienced something, we have no benchmarks. No reality checks. It’s all imagination and prediction. When somebody’s character is being tested, it’s easy to use their current situation as a template for their future, assuming that the way it is is the way it will be. Face to the tree and blind to the forest.

But once we’ve been there, we see the larger picture from our vantage point above the woodland. We appreciate the struggle and yet we know that it is able to be mastered.

But when someone still has the imprint of the bark on their flesh, the last thing they want to hear is about the view from the top. And yet sometimes the message they need to hear is that there is a top somewhere above the trees.

Progression vs. Isolation of Thought

It you want a hug and commiseration, you may be better off turning to somebody who has never been through your trial. They will view your situation as it is. Isolated. You will be nurtured and they will cry along with you.

If you want reassurance that it can get better along with a kick in the pants, talk to someone who has been there. They know the progression of effort that it takes to climb out. And in many cases, they appreciate the gifts hidden within their struggle It may not feel as nice to hear their perspective, but sometimes a dose of tough love is needed.

They were once in a position where they didn’t know if they would survive.

And yet they did.

And they know you can too.