I like to stay busy. This will come as no surprise to many of you. I like to feel productive and needed. I abhor wasting time, so I plan ahead to circumvent said waste- making lists of what needs to be done and lists of lists.
I’ve never been at home, as a child or an adult, for this long in my life. I’ve always filled everyday with tasks. So, this isn’t new behavior. I like to do.
For the first few years after Libby got sick I threw myself even further into teaching. I completed two master degrees within the first two years of her diagnosis. My pain and fear was kept at bay while I binged lots of food and even more research studies and teachery texts. (I’ve also feared the day when Libby’s illness will require me full time and I’ll have to leave my classroom. So I teach like I’m on fire.)
Being at school was my haven. There I could teach, support, cajole, nag and love my students, coworkers, campus. When it came time for Libby to start high school we made the painful decision to transfer Libby to my campus. Now my refuge became an even safer place for me, as Liberty was with me. That was good.
I have occupied myself for years, so I wouldn’t face the deluge of sad. The reality of the child I have now and the loss of the child we had. I wouldn’t face the guilt of what I could’ve done or not done to keep Libby healthier. What I could’ve done or not done to be better for Mariah while she mourned for the sister she had and the different sister she has. Staying busy may have saved me in some ways as I’ve been able to continue the work I love and love the people I have.
Until this quarantine I didn’t realize how much I have built myself around teaching. On being productive. On giving and doing. Didn’t realize how important my time with students and peers is to keep my armor on. So one thing I’ve had to answer is who am I if I’m not teaching?
From the beginning of spring break to three weeks in I was a manic house painter, cleaner outer, organizer and stay busier. I was hiding again from the big sad. I prefer to be outside when it’s warm. I like working outside. Relish it. I was especially busy. Too busy.
After spring week I set a schedule for myself and the house. Schedules keep me sane. Instead of getting up at 4:00 am I get up around 5:00. Got into the habit of being in my new “school” space by 8:00. Rachael lovingly calls me a Labrador puppy: 100 miles per hour in all directions. I know my business is annoying.
I didn’t break down until four weeks into the Big Q.
I cried for my students and for myself. It hurt so much because I rarely cry. If I even actually let it all out I wouldn’t stop for an ugly long time. Definitely a leak in my iron clad armor. And it’s okay.
Gratefully, I get to see most of my students through video conferencing once a week. I’m still teaching albeit differently. Many things will be different after this quarantine is over. Including parts of myself.
The morning after my “cry fest” and during my run I knew this amazing fact: I can be still. And it’s okay. It’s going to be okay if I’m not productive in the myriad of ways that I expect for myself.
In my attempts at stillness I’m learning that we’re okay. Libby is okay and mostly spectacular. Mariah is wonderful and solid in her loving. We’re okay.
And it’s going to be okay.
And I can give myself permission to just be still. I am giving myself that permission.
Being at home for the first time in my life for this long is showing me that admitting the sad is there, with guilt as a side kick, doesn’t mean I’m embracing them. It means that sad things happen and we’re ALLOWED to be sad and find lots of beautiful as well.
Lesson one: be still, admit the ugly and embrace the blessings.
I’m trying. I’m a work in progress.
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