My Wish...
On Monday, I officially set my alarm clock and began my first week back on the job after almost a three month break. I'd been in and out of school all summer, but this was the first time the alarm clock was set for the 2016-2017 school year. For educators, the first day back to school is not the same as it is for students for we have "Workshop Week." Filled with meetings and trainings and collaboration sessions and even a few hours to actually prep lessons and classrooms, the start of the school year is a blur of information and directives.
For people like me, it is also time in which I present. A lot. On this first day of school, I gave a presentation on Work/Life Balance. I spent hours creating a presentation, finding appropriate images, and planning the humor I would work hard to inject to keep the atmosphere friendly and light. I like to present. I like to share great ideas and concepts with other people. I like doing what I can to create a mindset and atmosphere that is student-centered, optimistic, hopeful, and supportive of my colleagues.
This topic was a little tricky because helping people learn how to carve out space to nurture their minds, bodies, and souls means having to talk about hard things like shame, vulnerability, and imperfection. I've tried every which way to discuss this topic without touching on those emotionally charged ideas, but it just doesn't work. In order to teach others to embrace vulnerability, I have to model vulnerability in the session. Which is scary. Really scary.
This topic was a little tricky because helping people learn how to carve out space to nurture their minds, bodies, and souls means having to talk about hard things like shame, vulnerability, and imperfection. I've tried every which way to discuss this topic without touching on those emotionally charged ideas, but it just doesn't work. In order to teach others to embrace vulnerability, I have to model vulnerability in the session. Which is scary. Really scary.
One year ago, I would not have been able to give that presentation. One year ago, I was steeped in shame and pain and laying my broken heart upon the carpet before colleagues would just not have been possible. The thought at that time would have caused me to crumble. One year ago I was wearing a disguise to purchase milk. One year ago, I was afraid to buy my kids a pizza and have it delivered to my house. One year ago, just having to attend workshops caused me to have a panic attack in the high school lounge and to cry racking sobs that shook my entire body with the soft hum of the vending machine in the background. I have so much empathy for that Sara. She was so strong in so many ways, but she was a complete disaster in many more ways.
When I compare the Sara that existed one year ago today to the woman I am now, I barely recognize that woman who attended workshops last year. I am still fragile. I am still broken. I still cry every day. But... the fragility is slowly being replaced with a warm glow of confidence and strength. My chest still tightens with the pain of intense heartbreak, but I can feel the seams of those broken, frayed edges slowly beginning to heal. There will always be a scar, but that just serves as a reminder of the many lessons learned in the past year and a half. And those tears? They occur daily, but not in the all consuming, panicky fashion that would come out of my body in gasping breaths. The road to recovery, while windy and rocky and really scary sometimes, is a road I am currently traveling along.
Today, I was given an opportunity to really become aware of how far I've come. I stopped in to visit with a former colleague who is still a friend and a someone I sort of knew, but not really, was visiting with her already. This semi-stranger greeted me and told me that she had attended my presentation yesterday. She complimented me and said that it was good and... She told me that before she went to the presentation, she had misgivings. She only knew me from headlines and gossip. Before she even met me, she felt she had enough information with which to form an opinion about who I was and what value I had to offer to the world. She went on to say that by the end of the presentation, she had changed her opinion. She thanked me for that.
One year ago, that conversation would have been the.worst.ever. for she voiced one of my greatest fears - that the very worst thing to ever happen to me would become what defined me as a human. One year ago, I would have not been able to have the conversation that followed where we talked about the danger of making judgments based on limited information, the beauty of empathy, and the need for a lens that is more grey than black and white. I was able to have that conversation with, I hope, grace and dignity. I was able to stand proud and strong. I was able to be vulnerable and say the things that are hard to say. And then I went out to my car and I cried...because I'm still at the beginning of this road, my friends.
Then, I reflected and I realized that one of the more painful aspects of my experience has been being misunderstood and mischaracterized. This woman was only voicing what many people "out there" already think and believe and feel. I am not a fool. I know that people feel that they can read some things posted here or there out in the land of the Internet and can make some sort of judgment about the character of the people involved. I know this, because I have been that person. I have judged. Man, I hate that part of my soul. The one that can take someone's worst thing and use it as an opportunity to elevate myself and feel superior. It's yucky and gross and mean-spirited.
If I had one wish... Although I'd really like several... But if I just had one, I would want for people to love more than they hate. I would want for grace to be given even when it doesn't seem to be deserved. I would want empathy to replace judgement. I would want people to just see that everyone they encounter are just people too - complex, messed up, hurting, sinning people. I would want them to mind their own business unless they felt their business was to be kind and caring and compassionate. I would want them to stop asserting that they know what they would do and just rest on knowing that there is no right or wrong answer most of the time...all of the time... That the millions of answers are all right and wrong and in between all at the same time.
Friends, if we learn nothing else from the yuckiness of life, I hope we can learn to just love. Without exception. With boundaries for safety and accountability, but still with love. All the time. Even when it's hard.
"We can do hard things." ~Glennon Doyle Melton
When I compare the Sara that existed one year ago today to the woman I am now, I barely recognize that woman who attended workshops last year. I am still fragile. I am still broken. I still cry every day. But... the fragility is slowly being replaced with a warm glow of confidence and strength. My chest still tightens with the pain of intense heartbreak, but I can feel the seams of those broken, frayed edges slowly beginning to heal. There will always be a scar, but that just serves as a reminder of the many lessons learned in the past year and a half. And those tears? They occur daily, but not in the all consuming, panicky fashion that would come out of my body in gasping breaths. The road to recovery, while windy and rocky and really scary sometimes, is a road I am currently traveling along.
Today, I was given an opportunity to really become aware of how far I've come. I stopped in to visit with a former colleague who is still a friend and a someone I sort of knew, but not really, was visiting with her already. This semi-stranger greeted me and told me that she had attended my presentation yesterday. She complimented me and said that it was good and... She told me that before she went to the presentation, she had misgivings. She only knew me from headlines and gossip. Before she even met me, she felt she had enough information with which to form an opinion about who I was and what value I had to offer to the world. She went on to say that by the end of the presentation, she had changed her opinion. She thanked me for that.
One year ago, that conversation would have been the.worst.ever. for she voiced one of my greatest fears - that the very worst thing to ever happen to me would become what defined me as a human. One year ago, I would have not been able to have the conversation that followed where we talked about the danger of making judgments based on limited information, the beauty of empathy, and the need for a lens that is more grey than black and white. I was able to have that conversation with, I hope, grace and dignity. I was able to stand proud and strong. I was able to be vulnerable and say the things that are hard to say. And then I went out to my car and I cried...because I'm still at the beginning of this road, my friends.
Then, I reflected and I realized that one of the more painful aspects of my experience has been being misunderstood and mischaracterized. This woman was only voicing what many people "out there" already think and believe and feel. I am not a fool. I know that people feel that they can read some things posted here or there out in the land of the Internet and can make some sort of judgment about the character of the people involved. I know this, because I have been that person. I have judged. Man, I hate that part of my soul. The one that can take someone's worst thing and use it as an opportunity to elevate myself and feel superior. It's yucky and gross and mean-spirited.
If I had one wish... Although I'd really like several... But if I just had one, I would want for people to love more than they hate. I would want for grace to be given even when it doesn't seem to be deserved. I would want empathy to replace judgement. I would want people to just see that everyone they encounter are just people too - complex, messed up, hurting, sinning people. I would want them to mind their own business unless they felt their business was to be kind and caring and compassionate. I would want them to stop asserting that they know what they would do and just rest on knowing that there is no right or wrong answer most of the time...all of the time... That the millions of answers are all right and wrong and in between all at the same time.
Friends, if we learn nothing else from the yuckiness of life, I hope we can learn to just love. Without exception. With boundaries for safety and accountability, but still with love. All the time. Even when it's hard.
"We can do hard things." ~Glennon Doyle Melton
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