This week is really killing me slowly. Or maybe not slowly, because I’m pretty sure that once Friday rolls around, and I’ve graduated my 8th graders, I’m just going to come home and die on my couch of exhaustion and the aggressive sads. Except that I won’t, because I’m going to go see Sex And The City 2 on Saturday night with my new sister-to-be, Lauren (Hi Lauren! Twice in a month!) and our friend Courtney, and I’m so excited I could die of THAT because I love that series even if some people think it’s awful.
Anyways, I know the entire internet is sick of hearing about Vegas, but let me be clear: none of us have gotten it back together yet. My g-chat and text inbox are full of the sads and incoherent messages and questions about why life sucks this week for all of us. I mean, I didn’t even drink that much or do anything truly wild, but I am still so tired and still missing my friends and just sort of out of sorts about the whole thing. I loved every minute of that trip, but I feel like I’m seven years old again and my mom is all, “You’re not going to another sleepover party ever again if you’re going to be so miserable the next day!” Except I’m not seven, and you can bet the farm that I’ll be at BiSC 2011.
Besides that whole missing people and just wanting to be in the pool with a pink drink, there’s the fact that I haven’t even done the most basic of things like unpack. I went to get something out of my purse WHILE AT WORK and instead pulled out a sequined superhero mask and a mini bottle of Skyy Vodka and Dave Navarro’s boarding pass and then I just tear up all over again over the little alternate reality I lived last weekend.
On top of that whole thing, I’m cleaning out my classroom. I really have no clue how I accumulated so much CRAP over three years. Books and folders and handouts and student work and the thing is, it’s all organized, there’s just so MUCH. Plus, it’s beyond emotional to realize that I am actually leaving this place. I started teaching at my current school three years ago, when I was 24, single, completely unprepared for the realities of being a teacher and a Real Grown-Up. This school has been my home. I’ve become an adult there, not just because of teaching, but because of all the things I’ve experienced there. I’ve become confident in my abilities as an educator, learned how to wrangle 14-year-olds with the best of them, and learned some exceptional “your mom” jokes. I’ve made good friends and colleagues who I value.
I can hardly believe the journey is coming to an end.
Not to get all Semisonic on you guys, but I’m just trying to believe that all these endings are really just beginnings. That the end of Vegas was really just the beginning of so many new friendships, that whatever job I end up in next year will be the beginning of something even better, that next week, when I’m sleeping in and have time to breathe and there are no 14-year-olds saying my name over and over again, I’ll feel better and happier and all this weird ick will fade away.
I give myself permission to…
…steal a blog post idea from one of my favorite people on the planet
…be pissed off and sad about the hand life is currently dealing to me and those I hold dearest, but also to…
…find small joys in every day, because they do exist
…fill the bathtub, let the cold-ish water drain, and then fill it up again so I can keep reading
…tear up easily at good things and bad things, because that’s just who I am
…keep some things a secret
…sleep in late and grab a nap whenever I get a chance
…dream BIG and hope BIG, even when things seem less-than-possible
…revel in my Don Draper obsession
…download an obscene amount of music
…sing at a ridiculously loud volume while car dancing
…pull away from friendships that don’t serve me
…try new things, even if I look and feel a little bit silly
…love the way I look in a skirt, even though I’m not “skinny”
…speak my truth with love
What are you going to give yourself permission to do?
via THXTHXTHX
On Friday night, my school district posted the official list of who was going to be laid off for next year. As I waited anxiously for the PDF to download and started scanning, I knew already: I would see a tiny X in the column marked “laid off.” I’m an intuitive person. I’m also a realist and truly, the budget in this state and in my district are nothing short of a hot mess. I was not surprised. I told Andrew, called my parents and started thinking.
I let my mind wander a bit, and woke up bright and early Saturday morning, unable to sleep anymore. I drafted a short list I aptly titled, “Things I Can Control/Do Right Now.” It’s ridiculously short, at least for now. I shed a few tears. But then, I got ready to move on.
I have three more weeks of teaching, two more paychecks and then, the great unknown. I would be lying if I said that I was completely heartbroken. Sure, I’m sad, scared and unsure of what could happen. But, I’m also hopeful that this could lead to something new, something different and something better. Over the past few months of waiting and wondering if this would be my fate, I’ve done a lot of writing, a lot of thinking, a lot of quiet. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want my life to look and feel like, and I’m confident that with a lot of patience, work and some luck, I’ll be able to construct a life I’m thrilled to be living.
There’s a small chance that all of this will change, that my district will resolve the issues in their budget and I’ll be called back to a job. But, I’m also ready to accept that I may not be. And I mean it when I say it: that’s okay.
I love being a teacher. It’s been the defining thing in my life for the past three years. It’s been my biggest joy, my biggest struggle, my biggest everything. I’ve been part of a club, part of a profession, part of a lifestyle. And I’ve loved it. Thankfully, I am also a daughter, a girlfriend, a friend, a sister, a writer, a blogger, a lover of social media, a girl. Teaching is part of me, but it’s not me. And hopefully, someday, it’ll be part of me again.
My life has fallen apart before — the literal bottom has come out from under me and I was left with absolutely nothing. I gathered the pieces eventually, without grace or joy and covered in fear. It’s time to do that again, this time with more strength, courage and wisdom, with a sense of humor and with so many lessons under my belt.
It’s time to use them. To turn this from uncertainty to possibility.
Game on.
Most weekends at my house are spent in a glowy haze of pajamas, of blogs and internet dabbling, of catching up on the adventures of Benson and Stabler or the Real Housewives. But lately, I’ve been feeling a little overwhelmed with the idea that I’m not really doing anything at all with my free time.
So, this weekend, I tried a little experiment. I made a little “to-do” list: nothing stressful, just fun activities I’ve been meaning to try, with a few chores mixed in, too. I wanted to know if I’d feel more or less stressed out come Monday morning if I did more than I was used to.
This weekend, I:
- Spend Friday night reading, writing in my journal and taking a nice, long bath instead of watching TV
- Grabbed a bagel and coffee before cheering my students on at an Academic Pentathlon competition
- Hit up the grocery store
- Tried a DELICIOUS new recipe and baked some vegan cupcakes (more on these things tomorrow!)
- Watched the documentary “We Live In Public” while working on lesson plans
- Went to the Farmer’s Market
- Hit up my FAVORITE thrift store and made out like a bandit with three skirts, two shirts, two pair of BRAND NEW shoes, two purses…for $42!
- Did ALL of my laundry and re-organized my closet
- Saw my little brother’s brand new house
- Celebrated my sister-to-be’s birthday with my family
It was an amazing weekend. I sort of unintentionally disconnected from blogs, Facebook and Twitter, simply because I didn’t have a lot of time. And, despite my deep love for laying around lazily, I feel bright-eyed and bushy tailed this morning — when my alarm went off for the gym, I didn’t even flinch!
I would call it a resounding success! Here’s to more weekends with a perfect blend of work, play and rest!
What did YOU do this weekend? Do you need your down time, or do you pack your weekends full of fun?
Likes to wear black dresses as often as possible, usually paired with bold jewelry or a scarf or a cardigan. Talks to only a chosen few on the phone, preferring text or email for communication. Stops talking in order to eavesdrop on nearby conversations. Keeps too many things a secret.
Reads only books that hold her attention after the first 50 pages; avid believer that life is too short to read bad books — but reads a lot anyways. Carries a book in every single giant purse she owns, because being kept waiting without entertainment is a punishment worse than death. Only uses pens, never pencil.
Loves being an educator, but is unsure if that’s all her career will hold. Dreams of being a writer, alone in a pale teal office everyday with her thoughts and words and books.
Pretends like things are going swimmingly, even on bad days until she crumbles. Changes into sweats or jammies immediately upon returning home. Finds solace in trying new recipes or baking, but doesn’t do either as often as she wishes.
Dreams about Paris daily; can’t believe she’s never left the country.
Listens to music at a ridiculously loud volume in the car, sunroof open whenever possible. Car dancer. Music taste ranging from classic rock to dirty hip hop to alternative rock and back through again.
Wishes she was more direct, and concocts excellent retorts in her head, but rarely says exactly what she’s thinking. Stops to watch kids play together. Finishes pasta; abandons chicken and steak.
Attends concerts as often as possible, wishes she went to more poetry readings. Terrified of vomit, loneliness, losing those close to her and never being happy. Angry at things she can’t control.
Good at making others laugh. Laughs at herself easily. Quick to cry.
Sometimes happy-go-lucky, sometimes panicked with worry; usually somewhere in the middle.
Never wears lipstick, preferring chapstick or lip gloss. Hates beets, tomatoes and dates. Loves mushrooms, cheese and chocolate.
Belly-sleeper, sleep talker, and insomniac, but not all at once.
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Your turn. What’s on YOUR resume?
This post was inspired by Zan, writer at the lovely A Cup Of Tea & A Wheat Penny. If you’re not reading her, you should go there and start now. She’s truly wonderful.
I was the recipient of an absolutely adorable bicycle for my birthday. See?
I love it. It’s so cute & the basket is removable, so that when I go to the Farmer’s Market or ride to my favorite coffee shop, I can put things in it & shop with it & I AM IN LOVE.
Still, I have to be real with you here: I’ve not always been a bicycle person.
Riding a bike is one of those thing kids learn early. I have a friend who has a two-year-old who rides a bike. Without training wheels. Far distances. Most everyone I know was tooling around the neighborhood on two wheels by the start of kindergarten.
Me? Not so much. And by “not so much” I mean that I didn’t learn until I was EIGHT. EIGHT YEARS OLD. Yes, I didn’t learn to ride until I was in third grade. I know. Third grade.
The thing is that I was really, really scared. I was scared of everything that comes with riding a bike. Pedaling. Balancing. TURNING CORNERS. No, really — seriously, I used to ride straight down the street & then get off my bike, turn it around & ride it back down the street. And ohmygod, CURBS. CURBS used to freak me out. One time, when I was just getting the hang of riding a bike, I did that stupid thing where the wheel sort of rubs the curb and BAM, I flipped over & clearly, I am still traumatized.
Don’t even get me started on our driveway. As a child, our driveway might as well have been Everest. I was PETRIFIED of riding down it, sure that I’d go careening to my death, at the bottom of a little concrete hill. My childhood home is on a very standard suburban street, & there is the tiniest of slopes when you turn around the corner. As a kid, this used to absolutely scare the hell out of me. I used to cry & plead & beg to not have to go down the hill.
Let’s pause here for a moment of silence for MY PARENTS who had to deal with my childhood neuroses. We’re not the bravest family ever — there shall be no family skydiving or anything soon — but, they also weren’t afraid of riding a bike. Bless them for dealing with their spaz of a daughter who WAS petrified of absolutely everything.
The thing is that once I learned to ride my bike, I loved it. I loved riding around the neighborhood, rode my bike to school & sincerely enjoyed being outside on it. In fact, this past year or so is the only time in my life that I haven’t actually owned a bike. I’m not big into trails (SCARY!) and whatnot, but I do love a leisurely ride around the neighborhood, or being able to grab coffee without getting in the car.
I’ve spent a lot of my life being afraid of things. If there’s something to be nervous about, you can almost always bet that I’m not only nervous about it, but actually completely terrified. It’s not something I’m proud of, because truthfully, most things end up being like my bike: something I was completely afraid of becomes one of my favorite things to do.
I’m trying to remember that more & more these days. That sure, you can be a little nervous, but after that? You’ve got to go for it.
It’s usually pretty rewarding.
What were you afraid of as a kid? What things do you do now that used to scare you?
When I was a little girl, I used to make lists in my journal about the sort of Amy I was going to be. Sometimes, the list included things like “neat, clean, perfect, polite, straight A’s” & other times, it included things like “fun, silly, outgoing, A’s and B’s, party girl.” The lists were always starkly divided into what I perceived as two types of girl: the good girl & the fun girl.
Maybe it seems silly, but for some reason, I guess you could say I’ve always believed that you had to be one or the other. In high school & college, I was the classic “good girl” who never really rebelled. I never had a detention, got excellent grades, didn’t touch alcohol ’til I was 21 & generally stayed out of trouble. Later, I turned into a sort of rebellious, free-spirited hippie chick who would stay out all night, cleanse her apartment’s negative energy with sage sticks, worked as a massage therapist & made a lot of (rather ugly) art. Now, I reside somewhere else completely, I guess: I’m a teacher, a wine drinker, a wannabe crafter & am generally all too practical. I’ve never been good at blending my different “selves” and while I’m not Sybill or anything, I have always felt like parts of me are compartmentalized.
The truth is, I’m a bit of a walking contradiction. I’m an extroverted introvert, an NPR-listener with a penchant for US Weekly, the sort of girl who will binge on reality TV before delving into a classic novel. My likes & dislikes, while specific, don’t always seem to match up.
Sometimes, I feel like I’m always giving up some part of me, not because anyone is all, “No, you can’t listen to that hip hop! You just turned off The Weepies!” but because I like things better when they fit into my own little prescribed boxes. I always want to fit onto a list, into a box.
Except, I don’t. I mean, I don’t at all. Nor do I really want to. And I’m learning everyday to be more okay with that.
Part of “being okay with that” means being okay with all the things I’m not into. I’ve learned to look at things I wish I was really into — things like painting, running, football, beer, drawing — & simply say, “Wow, I wish I was good at that! Looks like fun!” I try to admire people who are good at those things, without feeling the need to try & fit in to that little “box.”
Instead, I’m trying to just be excited about what I’m excited about. Currently, those things include writing daily, watching baseball, spin class, finding a place to do yoga, dreaming about visiting Paris, exploring new opportunities, listening to hip hop/indie/alternative playlists while I drive with my sunroof down, white wine, figuring out how to take a French class on the cheap, dresses, skirts & as always, the color pink. I’m learning to really love the fact that I cry easily & laugh easily & am witty & smart & sensitive, all rolled into one.
The amazing Danielle LaPorte wrote, “Authenticity is not an either/or equation. Your soul is an all-inclusive package … frills, foibles, and contradictions. It’s your opposing parts that leverage your magnificence into full force…Don’t resign yourself to your idiosyncrasies. ‘Accepting’ yourself is a passively lame option for full-tilt self love. Exalt your contradictions, celebrate them, go so far as to use them to your divine advantage.”
With every day, I’m trying to get closer to that full-tilt self love. Some days, it’s easy…some days, it’s not. But I’m getting there.
“See, I spent a lot of years being a person I wasn’t that proud of being and believing I couldn’t do much at all. I allowed my life (my relationships, my weight, my outlook on things) to reflect that. So, I want to give up some things this month to continue to prove to myself I can because I think when you surprise yourself, you begin to like yourself more and more. That’s important to me.”
— Jennie, who writes over at She Likes Purple
I was reading Jennie’s blog yesterday, and feeling inspired, because not only is Jennie the brains behind Style Lush, she’s doing all of these amazing things: budgeting and running 5K’s and giving up meat and being a great mom and an awesome friend. Jennie is one of those friends that I sort of stand in awe of, because while I have a million big ideas and secret dreams, Jennie DOES something about them.
Impressive.
I was reading along when I stumbled upon that little snippet, & tears sprang to my eyes. Tears are sort of standard here at Chez Amy, but that little string of words stirred something in me yesterday morning, as I read along in the silence of my classroom.
I’ve been feeling quite unsteady & unsure lately. Many things in my life are in flux, the largest of which is the possibility of not having a teaching job next year (although…possible good news on the horizon!). Every single person in my life has been all, “Yeah, you’ll be fine!” & proceeded to encourage me to write & edit & do all of those things that I try to cram in around lesson planning & reality TV.
All that I could think of was “ME? NO WAY!” or “Ha, I mean, sure, other people I know are making money from writing & finding ways to make it, but I could NEVER do that!”
Hang tight, I’m getting to the skinny part of this.
See, the thing is that I guess I’ve gotten a little used to letting myself down. I mean, yeah, I’ve gotten my act together significantly in the past few years, but I have this laundry list of very achievable goals. Things like losing weight, planning ahead at work, submitting some writing, finishing my laundry and generally keeping my life running smoothly. None of them are out of reach, or things I can’t do.
But somehow, in my little twisted head, I’ve gotten this message that I’m not good enough. Me, have a life that’s really & truly together? Me, be responsible enough with my money that I’ve got a large savings account & can pay off my debt? Me, actually lose the weight that causes me so much anguish? Me, be in a happy, healthy, functioning relationship that isn’t always on the verge of explosion? Me, live a life that’s creative & fun & bursting with possibility?
It all seems so out of reach for a girl like me.
You see, if you think you’re not worth it, it’s easily to justify letting your eating get out of control, because in your mind, you suck at everything, so why NOT just eat poorly, too? It’s easy to get off track going to the gym, because you already knew you weren’t ever really going to do it…you’re not capable of that. Because you’re a loser, remember? It’s easy to spend too much because you’ve decided you’re helpless at controlling your money. Why take opportunities when you know you’re just going to foul them up, anyways? When you don’t do something you really wanted, it’s easier because you’ve never really believed in yourself all along. It’s perfectly acceptable to spend your Saturdays lounging on the couch in a haze of Law and Order & whatever food you want, because you never really believed you could write successfully or start an Etsy shop or go out & tackle the world. It’s easy to let people let you down, because hey, you don’t think you’re worth all that much either. Letting people walk in & out of your life, trampling you in the process becomes tolerable when you view yourself as worthless.
My weight is just an outward manifestation of the fact that I don’t think very highly of myself.
Let’s be honest: I love food & don’t love working out — but those things CAN be overcome. I’ve got all of the knowledge in the world as to HOW to do this, I have a gym membership & every tool in the world to ensure my success. The “how-to” of weight loss isn’t a mystery to me.
It’s a heart problem.
Somewhere, inside I really believe, as absolutely effed up as this is, that I’m probably not worth it. I can’t tell you how many events —absolutely awesome events — I’ve bailed on because I didn’t want to look fat. I look back on memories from the past few years, & feel such little joy, because eww, I look disgusting in the photos. I don’t let myself fully enjoy things because I think I look terrible enjoying them.
Still, in my twisted little brain, I don’t believe I’m capable of much in this area. I think I’ve accepted that in this department, I’ll always be letting myself down, I’ll always be fatter than I’d like, I’ll never like my body, I’ll never be truly healthy or happy in my own skin.
I hate that. I don’t want to feel that way anymore.
So, to use Jennie’s words, I want to surprise myself. I want to look back in two months and say, “Holy crap! I really did workout every day before work!” I want to be proud of the way I’m eating. I want to see my body respond. I want to shock myself into seeing just how capable & awesome I am, because the more I think, write & process, the more I believe that when I get this issue in hand, my life will follow.
And most of all, I want to fix this little matter that is my heart, & my feelings towards myself. Because deep down, there’s this little voice that’s telling me that I’m worth a lot, that I deserve more than I’m allowing myself to have right now, that I can do & be & become all of these things & more.
I think I’d better listen.
{via}
I’m not always good at saying things out loud, but ink is some sort of liquid courage for me & so I send notes instead of speaking words. I’m not as nice to myself as I wish I was. I’m not as nice to others as I wish I was sometimes, either, & I’m not proud of that. I’m not into confrontation & I’m not good at taking criticism. I’m not a rebel without a cause, but I’m not always going to follow the letter of the law.
I’m not at all concerned with labels, & the idea of owning a Coach purse or a Dior anything doesn’t do a thing for me. I’m not into skinny jeans or jeans at all, really — I much prefer a dress or skirt, & I’m trying to make my wardrobe reflect that. I’m not embarrassed that I prefer a good consignment store or Target to the mall. I’m not into fancy cars or having a ton of money, but I’m not into worrying about where my next meal will come from either & calling myself bohemian.
I’m not as open as I seem, when it comes to what really matters & I’m not sorry about it, because if you wait, you’ll get there and I’m not kidding when I say I think it’s worth it, to really know me. I’m not opposed to keeping your secrets & listening to your stories. I’m not ever going to stop missing some people. I’m not able to stop over-thinking some things, but I’m okay with that, too.
I’m not sure why I haven’t traveled the world yet, when the mere sight of the Eiffel Tower gives me goosebumps; but I’m not sure why I still prefer coming home to my own bed over just about anything else. I’m not sure why I have such a hard time setting off on adventures, because I always have a fabulous time. I’m not sure when travel will happen for me, but I’m positive that it will.
I’m not athletic & I’m okay with the fact that I’ll never hear cheers while out on some court or field. I’m not good at buying presents, but you’ll know I love you if I bake you something just because. I’m not ashamed of the fact that I’ll listen to the same song on repeat for hours because if I do that, it means that the song is doing something to me & I want to savor it. I’m not above a good Facebook stalking, or a good reality TV marathon. I’m not above reading five books at once. I’m not ever going to stop loving food, or stop loving cooking it. I’m not the kind of girl who drinks her coffee without cream and sugar.
I’m not as strong or together as I pretend to be sometimes, but I’m not as devastated by things as I used to be. I’m not as uncomfortable about who I am, & I rarely feel like I want to climb out of my own skin anymore. I’m not ashamed that the littlest things can bring tears to my eyes, & I’m not embarrassed by my loud laugh. I’m not always politically correct in my humor, but I’m not mean at heart. I’m not good at dealing with people who can’t laugh at themselves.
I’m not good at drawing or directions or math. I’m not into people who cancel plans with me if something better comes along or who need the conversation squarely centered around them. I’m not into being told what to do, or given unsolicited advice. I’m not good at handling disappointment well. I’m not above drinking wine at home, but I’m not party friend who will hold your hair while you get sick in a gutter. I’m not doing as much yoga as I’d like.
I’m not the smartest girl, I’m not the prettiest girl, I’m not the most-anything girl, but I’d like to be the happiest girl.
I’m not sure exactly what that means or looks like for me, but I’m not done yet. I’ll know it when I get there.
- – -
{A big thanks to Kyla Roma and Skrinkering Hearts for the inspiration}
It’s Saturday, so technically, my two weeks of break are done & over, something that breaks my poor little heart something fierce. Still, breaks wouldn’t be so sweet if they were forever, so I am coming to terms with the fact that on Monday morning, I’ll don my teacher apparel & launch into a unit on poetry & genres of it & once again be behind an overhead.
Le sigh.
I spent the later part of this morning outside at a coffee shop, writing & dreaming & processing the experience of the past two weeks. My life really has changed dramatically in just a few short weeks due to a change in job status & it’s only the start of the changes. I’ve had a chance to absorb & start laying the very basic foundation of what I hope my life to come will look like.
If I had to describe my feeling after this time away, it’d be refreshed. Not just because I had more sleep than I can shake a stick at, or because I watched a truly alarming amount of awful television, but because I’ve gotten out of my head. I’ve written volumes in my paper journal, read books, listened to music. I’ve spent time with my parents & talked through all the big questions of life to come. I’ve interacted with girls I admire, girls who make me laugh & girls who are completely sweet, girls who inspire me, girls who make me want to live out loud, & girls who are willing to offer me their experiences as I carve out mine. I’ve had honest conversations & seen possibilities. I’ve been in the presence of friends where I don’t have to put on the happy face & I can talk honestly about life without being cautious or putting on airs. Snail mail from across the country has brought a smile to my face, as I read words I know I need to hear. I’ve gotten out of my tiny city & near the water.
I’ve hit the reset button.
The next few months are going to challenge me. I know this. It’s going to be a whole mess of packing up my classroom & saying real goodbyes & laying a new path for myself. The past two weeks have allowed me to think & feel & cry & just be. I’ve already been overwhelmed with love & statements of support & the sheer number of people who believe in me. Thank you. This space has been an incredible support already, & I can’t overstate how thankful I am to those of you who’ve reached out. Thank you for believing in me.
This break has allowed me to learn to start believing in me, too.
Get in touch!
Search me…
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Coffee Fund!
Don’t steal…
This work by www.justatitch.com is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.