My Summer Flings

Posted on by stilllearning2b

A reacquaintance…

My whole life, I’ve always been a huge reader. In fact, I did a trip to the PNW with my parents when I was eight that pretty much mirrored the one I did a few weeks ago. However, I hardly remember that trip because I spent the entire time curled in the back of the car with my face in a book. Actually, many books. We stopped at every used book store along the way so that we could sell off one lot and purchase another.

My book consumption dropped alarmingly last school year. It got to the point where I didn’t even bother with the library because I wasn’t able to finish a selection before it disappeared from my Kindle. I can certainly blame some of this on time. It was an all-consuming year at school and yoga absorbed much of what spilled over. Some was due to grief; after losing Tiger, I struggled to focus on the words on the page. I can also attribute some of the decline to my increased use of podcasts; I found myself listening more than reading (which usually accompanies activity for me, not rest). And then of course, some has to be chalked up to just plain habit. Inertia is a bitch.

Since returning from my trip, I’ve been once again devouring books. It feels like returning home. I’d forgotten how much escaping into a well-written novel or intriguing piece of non-fiction can relax me. And I need all of the help with that I can get.

A discovery…

I enjoy music, but I haven’t been one to play music much in the background since high school. With the recent uptick in quality and availability on podcasts (A funny aside here – my ex tried to get me to listen to podcasts for years and I resisted, claiming that my auditory processing sucks. Now, I subscribe to probably fifty of them!), I don’t even listen to music in the car anymore.

Now, I love podcasts. I learn so much and enjoy the intimacy and vulnerability of the conversations. But they do have two downsides for me. First, as I mentioned before, I’m doing something else while I’m listening (walking the dog, running, weeding, doing laundry, etc.), so it’s not restful for my body. What I’m now also realizing is that it’s also not restful for my mind. I need to think, but I also need breaks.

Enter Spotify. I downloaded the app over a year ago to access some of the playlists created by my yoga teachers. I downloaded it, but rarely opened it. Until last weekend. I finally started investing the time and energy into finding and “favoriting” some music that I love.

And now, I not only have a favorites playlist, but I’m also enjoying the daily mixes that Spotify curates for me. Time well spent.

Speaking of curation, I keep getting tempted to try Stitch Fix, but the program isn’t really in my budget. I learned yesterday that ThredUp (an online consignment store) offers a similar box. I filled out the order form and then checked out the reviews before I entered my payment info. From all accounts, it seems like a dud. Oh well, I guess I’ll stick with the free recommendations from my library and Spotify.

A disappointment… 

I enjoy trying out new fitness activities. So when Buti Yoga streamed across my Facebook feed on Monday, I was intrigued. Yesterday, I found a free online “sample” video and gave it a go. It was…weird.

I wasn’t expecting yoga per say, since the facebook ad didn’t look super yogarific. In fact, the routine was a strange mix of yoga, a pole-dancing class and a Jane Fonda video from the 80’s (although the leg warmers and leotards have been replaced with bralettes and booty shorts).

I didn’t get a stretch. My heart rate stayed low. And my booty struggled to achieve some of the prescribed gyrations. And even after an hour long class, I have no residual soreness today.

I guess it’s not for me.

Back to School Blues

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I’m in a funk.

A stressed-out, down-in-the-dumps funk.

I have a precious few days left before the intensity and insanity of the school year returns.

And I feel like I’m wasting them.

I feel pressured to make the most of this time while also also allowing anxiety to build from the other direction as I start to think about what needs to happen for this school year (the local paper constantly reporting on the changes to testing/teacher evaluation doesn’t help!).

It’s not unlike the mad dash of an Alaskan summer to get everything done before the harsh winter sets in.

But I’m letting the upcoming winter cool my summer.

I’m allowing August to seep into my July.

It’s like a steroided-out version of the Sunday night blues – when you mourn the loss of the freedoms of the weekend while berating yourself for not accomplishing every goal and allow thoughts of Monday’s tasks to intrude.

Ugh.

It doesn’t help that the intense humidity and near-constant storms have kept me from my usual cure for anxiety and too much thinking – a long run. I managed to get in four (very sweaty) miles yesterday, but that wasn’t quite enough. I still feel the pent-up energy building in anticipation along with the frustration that my days will no longer be mine to schedule.

I’m giving myself a series of goals and intentions for the last few days and I’m sharing them so that I am held accountable:

– Embrace rest. Time resting is not wasted. Give yourself permission to just read or nap or chill by the pool. It’s okay.

– Don’t waste time thinking about the changes and new pressures coming at school. You’ll have plenty of time to think about them when you’re there. And, really, they matter less than you think.

– Do something special each day you have left (favorite lunch buffet. hike, yoga class, paddleboard rental,  etc.). Mark each day with a smile.

– Don’t add to your pressure. If you want to write, write. But don’t force it. The blogs will be there.

– Rather than focus on what didn’t get accomplished this summer, be happy about what did get done and, even more importantly, what did get enjoyed.

– Prioritize sleep.

– When thoughts of school come up, shift them to thinking about how good it will be to see your teacher friends again.

– Run in the rain and try not to get struck by lightening:)

 

 

 

 

 

Precipice

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Sleep has been elusive of late. I’ve struggled to fall asleep and then I find myself awake again far too soon. I’ve run my Kindle battery to zero every night for the past couple weeks. I’ve moved from bedroom to couch, either to escape Brock’s movements that seem to amplify when I can’t sleep or to avoid disturbing him with mine. I’ve resorted to Benadryl to try to force my brain to slumber, but my body just laughs it off.

It’s amazing (yet not surprising) how critical sleep is. When I am tired, everything feels insurmountable, from making decisions about the house to trying to compose an essay. My temper is short and my patience shorter.

I. Just. Want. To. Sleep.

When Brock comes in the bedroom to see me still reading or comes to check on me on the couch, he inquires, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

The short answer? I don’t know. I’ve never been a great sleeper and I’ve gone through periods where I struggled more with it than usual. Apart from the months after the divorce; however, I have not resorted to prescription sleep aids. Usually, it’s a phase. It seems like my body gets into the habit of sleeplessness and, like any habit, it can be hard to break.

The longer answer is that I am standing on the precipice of a time of great change. I know it’s coming, sooner rather than later. I can somewhat prepare but, no matter what, I cannot do enough now to make the near future any smoother.

I am in the last few precious days of my summer break before the whirlwind of the school year starts again. I just received word that Georgia has opted out of the assessment program that we have spent the last two years preparing for and there is talk of yet another curriculum overhaul. This means that the preparations that I did last year for the coming year are now null and void. I don’t know what I’m walking into next week.

We are set to move in the first couple weeks of September. I’m taking advantage of my time now to begin some packing but most of it will have to wait. Which, in a way that’s good as it says that we use most of the stuff that is in our house, but… it also means that the bulk of the packing will have to occur when I’m trying to acclimate to the new school year and Brock is consumed with some martial arts activities. Likewise, the needed purchases and updates can’t occur until after closing.

So, new school year with new assessments, new house and, let’s not forget, a new marriage all in the next couple months. All good things (okay, except maybe the new assessments), yet all change.

I think change can be easier when it comes in the form of a tsunami. You do not have the anxiety of anticipation nor the time to question it as it occurs. It just sweeps you up and carries you along as you struggle to simply keep your head above water.

Planned change can be harder. You have the illusion of control so it can be more difficult to simply let go. You can see it coming and foresee (and fabricate!) troubles that will come with it.

Right now, I feel like I should be taking action. I have time, something I will not have starting next week. However, that anticipation of the precipice is making action impossible since I cannot achieve the required rest.

I am going to do my best over the next few days to turn my back on the precipice, to not worry about what needs to be done or what may come up, and to simply be in my current moment.

Change is coming and maybe the best thing I can do to be prepared to give myself the gift of this moment. The edge will be here soon enough. Hopefully I can sleep without rolling over it.

The End.

Posted on by stilllearning2b

You would think that I would be used to endings by now. I finish several books a week, following the tales to their final word. I run races, keeping my eye on the finish line. My weekdays are filled with bells that signal the end of a class period seven times a day. I’ve been through 29 last days of school – some as a student, some as a teacher and a few as both. Hell, even my blog is about an end.

So why do endings, even the ones I look forward to, still manage to feel abrupt? Too soon? A premature conclusion reached before resolution?

This past Friday was the last day of school with kids. I had been waiting for that day, counting down since the end of the spring testing season. Many days, it felt like the end would never come. The days felt longer, the children squirrelier.

But then, that final bell did ring.

As I watched those faces pull away in the school buses for one last time, I felt a loss. For the past nine months, I have laughed and cried with those kids. I have driven them crazy and they have driven me crazier. I’ve struggled to help them make sense of algebra and we have struggled together to make sense of tragedy. For nine months, those 120 teenagers are part of my extended family. And then they’re gone. I will never see or hear from most of them ever again. In one day, they go from constant presence to memory.

Eighth grade is a crossroads year. It is time when teenagers are beginning to develop themselves apart from their parents. They are learning to make choices and beginning to understand the nature of consequences. They try on different personas as often as outfits, going from class clown to teacher’s pet and back again in a blink of an. I call them 150 lb two-year-olds, as they test boundaries yet want to know that you’re still looking out for them. I see them develop over the year into more independent beings but I don’t get to see the conclusion. In May, many of them are still at a crossroads and I am unsure which path they will choose.

It often feels unfinished. I find myself, years later, wondering about certain students. Hoping they did okay yet fearing that they did not. I have to trust in them and relinquish any influence. Sometimes, I receive the gift of an update when former students track me down. It’s funny – I can see the echo of the eighth grader I knew in these adults, yet there are years of experiences that have shaped them after they left me. In some ways, they are frozen in time for me: middle school in perpetuum (now that’s a nightmare!).

I think we all struggle with endings, even those that we initiate or those which we welcome. Every ending has elements that we relish leaving behind and facets that we will miss. Every ending brings uncertainty and transition. Every ending requires a re-scripting and reappraisal as we disentangle ourselves from the past and set course for the future. Every ending has opportunity.

My school year begins with a list of names. Monikers with no faces, no personalities. My year ends with a list of names, as I file reports and stuff report cards. Only now these names have meaning. Visages. Character. The year may have ended, but its impact has not. Those nine months together have influenced us all regardless of what our collective futures hold.

We tend to see endings as a termination, a conclusion. Perhaps it more accurate to think of them as a transition, a sign of change. It may be over, but its reverberations carry forth.

Do You Ever Hear That Voice?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Do you ever hear that voice? The one that tells you that you’re not (good/smart/strong/thin/pretty/rich) enough?

The voice that finds your insecurities and broadcasts them back to you?

The voice that makes you question your choices. Your life. Your worth.

Do you ever hear it? Do you listen?

I’ve been listening to it lately.

It started innocently enough. I needed to buy a new pair of sandals to replace a pair that self-destructed. I made a stop at the shoe store on my way to gym. At the store, I took off my gym shoes and peeled off my socks only to discover that the polish on my toenails was chipped and half rubbed off (the natural consequence of spending more time running than on toe painting).

I looked up and noticed that all of the other women in the store were perfectly polished – nails and otherwise.

I felt embarrassed. I felt ashamed.

The voice whispered to me that I was not good enough.

I got over it enough to locate a pair of sandals and escape to gym, where I thought I would be safe.

But the voice followed.

It watched the other women in the gym and was quick to point out comparisons.

“Look at that! She can squat 140 pounds. You can’t do that!”

“Oh, look. She’s wearing that cute Athleta outfit you wanted. Too bad you only have your old race t-shirt on.”

“Look at her form on leg lifts! You’ll never be flexible enough to do that.”

Over the next couple weeks, the voice was like a malignant parrot on my shoulder. I’d shake it off for a time, but it kept coming home to roost. It seemed to feel the need to comment on every area of my life:

When a pair of shorts I wore last summer wouldn’t quite make the journey over my hips, “Well, look at that. Getting a little chunky there, are we?”

When one of my students complained about a boring lesson, “Wow, you can’t even make M&Ms entertaining. That’s pretty bad.”

When I looked at my book sales and saw that they had slipped, “What did you expect? It’s not like you’re any good at this.”

When another week went by and I hadn’t finished a piece I started for Huffpo, “You’re just a fraud anyways. Just give up on it.”

Yesterday, after more than a week of this verbal abuse by my own critical mind, I decided I would take some action. I stopped at Walmart on the way to yoga, thinking that some new makeup would do the trick. Maybe eye liner has some magical gag order action. The eyeliner is nice (and much easier to apply than the broken, stubby pencil I had been using that always threatened to leave splinters along with its color) but it didn’t shut up the voice.

That’s because I was allowing the voice to distract me from the true insecurities.

I wasn’t really upset about unpainted toenails or curvier hips.

It’s bigger than that.

The life of a teacher has a rhythm: frantic action in August and September settle into a routine that slowly builds in intensity until it peaks in May. And then we breathe.

Except I’m not content to simply breathe.

I’m not content to simply be a teacher.

I want more.

But I don’t know how.

Last summer, I was singularly focused on finishing the book and getting the wellness coaching business up and running.

I succeeded on both fronts.

This year, I have so much I want to do.

But I also have doubts. Am I wasting my time and energy? Which paths do I explore and which should I ignore?

Last summer, I posted four small bulletin boards above my desk, labeled body (marathon training), book (notes, etc. for writing it), blog (goals and post ideas) and business (goals and info for the coaching). I have not altered the boards much since the summer. As I look through the pages tacked to the squares, I realize that I am accomplished most of what I intended last summer.

So why is it not enough?

photo-238

Change is scary. Risk is scarier still. My inner critic is telling me to maintain the status quo, to not dare to post bigger goals and intentions. The voice tells me not to try so that I do not risk failure.

Today, I am telling my inner voice to shove it.

I am dedicating today to rebuilding my boards. I am committing to posting bigger goals and aspirations than before. I am pledging to sort through my ideas and clarify my paths. I am promising to use those boards as inspiration and motivation this summer.

So, yeah, I hear that voice. But today, I’m telling it to shut up. After I paint my toenails, that is:)

(This post makes me think of that old SNL skit with Stewart Smally: “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me.” 🙂 )