Since I started teaching in August, I have been tackling a lot of triggers.It has felt very multifaceted…
It is related to the school where I am teaching–one that I actually attended as a child. It is related to what I went through. It is related to who I felt supported by–teachers–always teachers. It is also related to who I am teaching now, and how much I am able to help and support them.
Let me give you a hint…for my struggling students, the ones who remind me of me? Or the ones that have it way worse than I ever had it?
…I am never able to help them enough.
And that hurts my heart. Continue reading
The last week and a half has been strange.
I’ve been struggling, no doubt. Continue reading
This is my first year teaching.
I have spent the last four years working at elementary schools in various capacities. I have known, for awhile, that education is the career for me. It just took me some time to take the leap and go back to school to earn a second degree.
School was a safe place for me. Growing up, when life was crazy, chaotic, and traumatic, school represented a place where I could go and be free. Loved.
Throughout my schooling, there were a few individuals who saved me. The teachers who saw who I was, and encouraged me to do my best. The teachers who embraced me and made me feel loved and supported. The ones who saw beyond the messy hair or messed up clothes. The ones who didn’t care that my parents didn’t show to parent/teacher conferences and told me I was smart anyway.
I have been living in the past and worrying about the future.
Yesterday, I had another therapy appointment. This time, EMDR was on the menu. It has been a long time since I’ve ventured back into the depths of my memory in this way…and it is always something that I approach with anxiety and apprehension.
Sometimes, I respond very emotionally to this process. It is powerful. And real. And hard.
My focus yesterday was to target why I rely so heavily on other people for my value. Why I worry so much and spiral out of control when I feel alone even when I am not really alone. Continue reading
The things that anxiety makes me do cause so much shame.
Tonight, it is boiling up inside of me. I can taste it…and it makes me feel sick.
In moments of panic, I am weak. I reach out. I say what is on my mind because I no longer–in that moment–have the strength to pretend to be okay. I am too focused on trying to remember to breathe. On trying to convince myself that I am not going to die from panic.
I feel, in that moment, like I just need help.
I went to work today and ended up calling in a substitute and driving home early.
…I just couldn’t make it through the day. My anxiety has been terrible. My heart is hurting. And my mind refuses to find distraction.
It all weighs so much. So much to carry. It makes me feel ill.
It has been a difficult and trying week.
People around me are hurting.
I am hurting.
It is a struggle.
A week and a few days ago, I recognized and verbalized something I have known for a long time. I want to get a divorce. I told my husband that this would happen, if things do not change.
I have no hope they will change. Continue reading