Let it Go

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I’ve been in the classroom for thirteen years. And, in those years, I have accumulated a lot of…stuff. I have games and cards for curriculum I haven’t taught in many years. I have boxes filled with files that speak of units past. I have workbooks and textbooks, long since retired, that no longer correspond to the math that I (or anyone in the state for that matter!) teach. I have hundreds of labeled bags filled with measured out amounts of random items – pennies, pipe cleaners, little foam blocks – all used for math labs that are now curricular dinosaurs.

For years, I’ve carted around more than a dozen file boxes filled with these materials. I held onto them at first because I trusted that the educational pendulum would swing back and I would again be responsible for the teaching of polynomials and imaginary numbers. But with each election and each testing mandate, the chances became more and more slim that those topics would again trickle down to the middle school level.

But even as I let go of the notion of teaching these units again, I still held on to the boxes. Because those boxes held more than just paper and plastic; they contained the years that I considered my best in the classroom.

For a few precious years, I had the perfect storm in education: great curriculum, great class sizes and great students. By holding on to those boxes, I was holding on to the idea that the perfect storm may brew again and I could teach higher-level concepts to small groups of hard working kids. Every time I would move or sort through those boxes, I would grow sad, reminiscing about what was and what was no longer. The newer units didn’t hold the same appeal, not because they were worse but because the older ones were rose-tinted with memory, idealized in time. And with the old taking up permanent residence in my classroom, it was impossible not to compare.

I finally realized this year that keeping those boxes in my classroom is pretty much the equivalent of keeping my old wedding photos on my wall.

Uhh…no thanks.

It’s amazing the mental choreography we will create to attempt to rationalize grasping on to the old. We pretend that we may need it again in some, as yet, unknown future. Anxiety and worry speaking the language of “what ifs” in order to keep us prisoner to the detritus of our pasts. We claim that it serves as a reminder of the good times, even though its presence dulls the new. We allow memory and hope to create value where there is none and, even worse, waste energy and other resources on lugging around the boxes, both real and metaphorical,  from our former lives.

So this morning, I sorted through thirteen years of lessons and saved projects. I filled recycle bins and garbage bags and re-gifted the plastic tubs to a new home.

It’s a little scary.

Letting go always is.

But you can’t reach the next rung until you’re willing to release the last.

And it’s also freeing.

Letting go always is.

Because it’s only in releasing our grasp on the past that we are able to fly towards our future.

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The Types of Friends You Need During Divorce

Posted on by stilllearning2b

It is normal for your marriage to be at the center of your social life. You have a built-in activity partner. You share friends. The “plus one” is expected when you receive an invitation.

And then the marriage dies.

Your go-to is gone. The mutual friends may be divvied up like a bag of Skittles, or they may simply scatter as though the bag of candy was dropped to the floor.

It is tempting to hide. To hibernate. You may want to pull the covers over your head and not come out until the debris field has been cleared. It’s tempting, but it won’t help you heal. Think of the skin under a bandage that has been left on too long. Is that what you want your heart to look like?  Click here to read the rest.

When Will I Feel Better?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

“When will I feel better?”

This is perhaps the question I hear the most often.

And it is also the most difficult question to answer.

Because there is no single answer.

Healing does not speak calendar.

Feeling better has nothing to do with lunar cycles or landmark anniversaries.

It operates on a different timeline for everybody, depending upon the circumstances, prior experiences, coping skills and support systems. Some may feel better in weeks, while others take years. One person may appear to be healed while holding in the pain while another wears the pain until it wears off. Feeling better is not linear. It is more the slow decrease of bad moments intermixed with the increase of good than a step by step progression.

Feeling better depends upon perspective. You have to remember how bad bad could be to realize that it’s not so bad anymore. Healing is often subtle. The pain may have come in a great crashing wave, but it recedes like the tide, slowly and often leaving pools behind.

Your progress should not be measure against the progress of others, only against the way you felt in the past. There are no shoulds, no benchmarks to meet. As long as you are making progress, you are okay. You can accept where you are in the moment while still striving to do better.

Some of healing is passive, simply standing by and letting time wash your wounds. But if that is your only approach, you will be limited. In order to truly feel better, you have to take an active role in the process. Fuel yourself with quality food, good sleep, exercise and social connections. Seek out therapy or participate in therapeutic writing.Learn to calm your mind through meditation or yoga or time in nature. Have mantras and goals and scheduled smiles.

The biggest lie we often tell others is, “I’m fine.”

It’s okay to not be fine at all times. It okay to need help or a hug.

The biggest lie we tell ourselves is, “I can’t.”

But you can.

You can feel better.

It may not happen when you want it to.

But it will happen when you need it to.

The way you feel right now is not the way you will feel tomorrow. Or next week.

Find peace in the process and inspiration in the intention.

And you’ll feel better.

 

Voices of Divorce

Posted on by stilllearning2b

We all know about The Five Love Languages, but do you know about the five voices of divorce? You may not refer to them by name, but if you have faced the end of a relationship, you have certainly heard their call. Unlike the gentle languages of love, the voices of divorce are harsh, often abusive in tone. They tell us that we are broken, they implore us to lash out at ourselves and others and they plant seeds of fear and doubt. If we listen to the voices for too long, we risk believing their lies and falling into their trap. Learn the tricks that the five voices of divorce use and how to escape their grasp. Click here to read the rest of the post.

Sprained

Posted on by stilllearning2b

If I ever hear one more person say, “Just get over it,” I am going to scream.

Loudly.

I’m warning you now so that you have time to buy earplugs.

I have a little story, an analogy (I know, shocking!), to help the getoverers understand why there are some things you don’t just simply get over. Feel free to share this with anyone who tells you to get over it. And then scream if needed.

Fifteen years ago, during my first winter in Atlanta, I slipped on ice while taking the garbage out to the apartment dumpster and sprained my ankle in the process. Since I’m a Type A personality, it was a Type A sprain, bad enough that the physical therapist I worked for at the time added me to the therapy rotation. Rehab was pretty intense for the first few months. For the next year or so, the injury was always on my mind due to chronic pain and instability. I wore a brace of some sort for most of that time.

As time went by, the injury became less apparent and the brace went into a drawer. But the injury is still there. Every time I take a balance pose in yoga on that side, I have to focus to keep the ankle from collapsing. Whenever my mileage increases with running, I develop biomechanical issues on that side because my hip has to compensate for the wobblyness of the ankle. And, the worst part, is that my ankle is prone to further injury. It’s as though it carries a memory of the trauma in the soft tissue and becomes damaged again with only minor assault.

I haven’t let my ankle slow me down. I wear high heels. I run marathons. I master balance poses in yoga. The vast majority of people in my life don’t even know that the whispers of an old injury lie beneath the scarless skin.

But even though I can still live a full life, I can’t simply get over the injury and pretend it never happened. It’s there. A part of me. I don’t have to give in to it yet I also have to accept that it exists and that it occasionally needs attention or support. The structure of that ankle has been changed. Permanently.

But even though I still limp sometimes, I can still kick ass. And that’s even better than simply getting over it.

Because it shows that I can take a licking and keep on ticking.

It shows that I refuse to turn my traumas into liabilities and limitations.

It shows that accepting weakness is a part of strength.

It shows that even though there are some things you don’t just get over, you don’t have to let them hold you back.

Here are the lessons I’ve learned from my ankle (who’s currently sobbing after a spill on a wet kitchen floor last week) and how they apply to “getting over” divorce:

Rehabilitation  The early and intensive rehabilitation on the ankle was critical and I am so thankful that I had the assistance of an expert. If those interventions had not occurred, it would have been a much slower healing process. In divorce, don’t be too shy or proud to call in the professionals in the beginning. Make taking care of yourself your job. It will pay dividends in the future.

Support At the beginning, my ankle was too weak to go unsupported. If I tried to walk without a brace, it would fold over and re-injure the damaged tissue. Yet I couldn’t cast it forever or it would never grow strong enough to stand on its own. It’s okay to wrap yourself in protective bandages after divorce yet make sure you remove them when ready. Struggle is what makes you strong.

Adaptation Once I realized that my ankle would always be weaker, I worked to strengthen the surrounding muscles. I learned what kind of shoes aggravated the injury and I avoided them. I became more aware of activities that were risky for re-injury and I added support or used caution. After divorce, your circumstances will change. Change with them.

Acceptance I could spend my days cursing my injured ankle. But honestly? I don’t even really think about it. It just is. It doesn’t stop me yet it also doesn’t allow itself to be ignored. But now addressing its needs is second nature. And that’s how divorce is too. It’s there. It doesn’t have to stop you yet it also will need attention at times. And that’s okay.   So next time somebody tells you to just get over it, tell them a little story about the little ankle that could. And then show them that you can still kick ass.