"I'm Okay" is NOT Okay

 

      Here is how many conversations go with my peers and students at school: 

"Hey, haven't seen you in awhile. How are you?"

"I was out for two weeks.  Two in my family had the virus. Everyone is better now, so I'm okay, how are you?"  Her eyes were surrounded with heavy bags and she seemed smaller.  Her answer of okay or fine brought a halt to any further exchange.

"Wow.  Glad they're getting better......" 

    It was on a Monday, when I am excited to see my peers and students, that a similar exchange happened.  I had this urge to follow this student and ask again how she is doing.  So, I did.   

    "Wait. I don't feel like you really told me how you are doing.   I ask because I care.  I know you've been in quarantine and I know that can't have been easy.  So, how are you doing now that you are back at school?" 

    We had a lovely conversation about what she had been through, quarantining in her home where she stayed in her room, trying to safely help with house work, and feeding her younger siblings.  Plus she had schoolwork of her own as well as the work her siblings needed to complete.  

    Missing this much time in our regular daily routine is not easy.  Even if you maybe don't enjoy all of you classes, or your peers, or your work in general, the disruption of repetition within your schedule negatively impacts our own social and emotional health.  

    I think many of us are carrying around a lot of stress, anxiety, loss, and fear.   There are so many unanswerable questions in our daily lives, that there is a pervasive feeling of  uncertainty.  Because of this, I believe we need to practice truly checking in with the beautiful people around us.  

    According to Anna Goldfarb, in her New York Times article, we need to be using more open ended questions, such as: "How are things?" or "Is anything on your mind?"  One of my current favorites, "what is making you smile today?"

    Not only do we need to ask open ended questions, we also need to know why we say we are okay or fine when we really aren't.  It's so easy to keep the veneer up and shine people on when we really aren't okay.  Really aren't fine.   We're sad, scared, anxious, or a myriad of other emotions that mean we are not okay.   But keeping that invisible mask on makes us feel safe somehow, or even protected.  For me, it is easier to dismiss what I am feeling or going through, if I don't talk about it.   Then I store it away.  That is a recipe for being even less okay.  

    It's okay to say I am not okay, but I am working on it. But I am learning to let myself cry. But I am trying.  But I see the beauty in everyday.  But I know that this storm will pass.  But.... It’s also okay to say, “thank you for  asking, but I can’t talk about it right now.  Check in on me later today.”  

    We already have so many things separating us; I believe it is time to open up and work through our struggles together.   We all have something we are dealing with and maybe we can share the load.   Every day the focus needs to be on how to lift and shore ourself and others up. 

    Rachael had her emergency diverticulitis surgery six months ago.  We have been holding our breath since her surgeon said that they may have to postpone her surgery until sometime in the spring.  The local hospitals are struggling to meet the needs of the COVID cases as well as the need for scheduled and elective surgeries.   As of today, 11/14, her surgery is still a GO for Wednesday, 11/18.  Praying and hoping that she can get the last of the infection removed and get everything in her belly safely connected once again. She will have to be alone while in surgery and afterward.  Please lift the doctors, nurses, and all of our wonderful hospital staff and Rachael up as this will be a tough week for her.  

    Praying that you can all see the beauty in sharing and lifting each other up.  Be kind and stay safe.  You are loved.  

https://blogs.psychcentral.com/imperfect/2020/07/why-we-say-im-fine-when-we-arent/

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/28/smarter-living/coronavirus-how-to-check-in-with-a-friend.html?auth=link-dismiss-google1tap

It's not A lot, but it is Enough (Or, Maslow was Hellaciously Right)

Lesson Three from the Big Q: Not a lot, but enough 

(Or Maslow was Right)

In my world today, Maslow is completely right.  

I could could go professional if worrying was a 

sport. I think many of could. We know it’s 

useless, but it’s something our brain can do 

while so much is out of our control. It’s 

difficult to be able to think through paying the 

bills when I know we are low on toilet paper, 

and I’ve gone to three stores over two days to 

visit the empty shelves. (We're good now.) I can't 

seem to grade when I'm worrying about my 

students and their well being. It is almost 

impossible to concentrate on lesson plans 

when it's time to change Libby’s pull up and 

give her meds while I’m worrying about whether 

or not the supplies for her feeding tube will arrive 

this week. (The supplies didn’t arrive yet, but we’re 

alright for awhile.) I can clean, paint and reorganize 

instead of dwelling on my worries about family 

during the Q.  I admit I spent two full days worrying 

about the amount of wipes we have for Libby.

  (We had three unopened wipe packages, not a lot, 

but we have enough.) 

How on earth can these students focus on any 

lessons when they aren’t sure about their parents’ 

jobs, if they can stay in their house since they 

are the only one working, what the status of their 

scholarship is, loss of time with their friends, not to 

mention the insanely important connection to their 

boy/girl friend.  There are also students who 

are sequestered in a house which is negative, 

toxic, or abusive.  These and so many other things 

are racing through my brain and theirs, meanwhile 

I’m supposed to be sharing a wealth of knowledge 

about poetry analysis and prepping them for an AP 

exam.   Yep.   That fits.  

Hand in hand with all of these worries there is 

the loss we are dealing with, loss of the life we 

had in so many ways. A new version of our lives

is on the way, but we do need to acknowledge 

this loss.

We know that it is terribly hard to think anything 

through when we are worried about our physiological 

status and our safety. Here is a real picture of me 

trying to follow a single thought and get something 

done just about every day during the Big Q. 

 Here’s part of my plan since I need a plan.  And

a list.  An actual LIST- geez.   Okay, three lists.

  (I know my over-functioning anxiety response

is in full swing here. Just let me have my lists.) 

And feel free to completely ignore these lists.

1. I started making a blessing list every morning 

of at least three things.   This is helping me focus 

on what is good and that helps open some space 

for everything else. It’s not a lot, but it is usually 

enough to help me focus a bit.

2. I also list UP TO three things I am worried about. 

Then I ask myself if I have any control over whatever 

I am worrying about. If the answer is no, then I do  

two things:  Ask myself if I can help in any way and 

ask my Higher Power to take that on for me.  This 

has allowed me to find some focus.  Not a lot, 

but enough.    

3. I also list three things I can do that day that 

will make me feel better about myself or my 

surroundings.   For me, this usually involves 

physical movement and sweat.  OR putting 

up the laundry or the dishes once they're clean.   

It doesn’t have to be a lot, because we are all 

in a prolonged stress response.  Think about 

the fight or flight response that continues for 

weeks and weeks due to uncertainty and fear 

of the unknown.  What positive steps we make 

for ourselves or our surroundings don’t have to 

be a lot as they are enough.    

https://www.vice.com/en_ca/article/n7jap8/allostatic-load-is-the-reason-you-feel-anxious-stressed-from-isolation?utm_campaign=sharebutton

You are doing an amazing job of coping in this 

changed world.  I cannot tell what is coming in our 

future, but I can tell you that we will be okay.  The

one thing I know is that there is plenty of love.  

WE can make sure there is enough LOVE to go 

around for ourselves, our family, our chosen tribes, 

and those who challenge us.    May not think it is a 

lot, but it is enough.

(Soon enough it will be time for action, but first 

let's stay safe during the Q and focus on loving.)

Lessons from the Big Q: Part One

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.  

Leaving the Shore

       For years after Liberty's health tanked I was afraid to go and do anything that took us out of cell phone range, away from hospitals, and anything that took me away from her.    I didn't want to do activities that might wear my body out or risk injury.   I lived in fear of breaking an arm or rolling an ankle.    Didn't want to go the doctor because what if I ever got news that I wouldn't be able to continue taking care of Libby?  I would change anything at all, so I didn't go to the doc.   

 

In retrospect I realize that I was making choices with a guilt and grief clouded mind.  The past few years I have gone to the doctor and  allowed myself to let go of some of the fears. Started working out and pushing my body last year.   This alone was a huge step.   I can't be too tired to take care of the Liberty, but as I get older I have to strengthen and push my body so I CAN  keep taking care of the Liberty.    I had to leave the shore and let go.   Never thought I would want to run, but turns out I love it.  I've completed one official half marathon- at 46- and have several more on the horizon.  Look what was waiting for me when I let go of the fear.

 

Mariah needs me to be a strong woman for her as well.    She needs to know that the more that Libby requires the tougher we will all become.  It is terribly important that I show her that growth happens when we choose to embrace it.  

I have adopted this concept in several other areas of my life and even if nothing comes from the multitude of ways in which I have put myself out there, professionally, I know I will be further along that if I had never tried.   It is scary, and that is good for me.   I believe it is when we push ourselves past that fear that we grow.   I've got to shine the light on the things that hold me back and move on.  It is for my own growth that doing so is now necessary.     

 

Once I let go of the shore and started taking better care of myself by working out, I knew I couldn't let myself go back to the safety and be restricted by fear.   So, here we go.   Leaving the shore and crossing the ocean of our life.   I am blessed that I have a great support system that accepts my goals and endeavors.    I can't wait to see what the future holds as we all live healthier and more adventurous lives with Liberty.   For Liberty.  For us all. 

 

**Whatever it is that you wish you could do and never have, please make a plan to do it.   Leap with me.  I have faith that there are amazing things waiting for all of us.