One Year... Almost

In someone's overall existence, one year can seem insignificant. One year is just a fraction of time. A small part of a lifetime. In one year, someone can celebrate birthdays, holidays, births, deaths, accomplishments, failure, joy, anger, and countless other moments and emotions that mark the passage of time. One year in a lifetime that spans 31 years is so small. 

But one year can mark so much if you look at it in a different light...

Look at one year from the point of view of a one year old (and by default, the parents of a one year old). One year is so much for that little baby. In one year there are first breaths, first smiles, first tears, first words, first doctor's appointments, first time meeting loved ones, first celebrations; it's momentous and joyous and there is so much to celebrate that one year is truly a lifetime. One year for someone who is just one is infinitely more significant than those who have multiple years of life.

But one year can be marked in just as much significance if you look at it from a point of loss...

Look at one year from the point of view of someone who has lost anyone who was a significant part of their life. One year is so much for that one person. In one year, there are tears, celebrations and holidays with one more empty chair, losing touch with people who represent a time that is simply no more, heartaches that seize a seemingly insignificant moment, reaches for the phone that won't find anyone at the other end, joys that were once special but are now overshadowed with a heaviness that cannot be explain, and memories that are either so sweet they refuse to let go or so painful that they cannot even be graced with the lightest of touches. One year of loss is infinitely more significant than one can imagine.

And here we are, approaching the one year of living after experiencing the loss of someone I knew my entire life.

I look back on this year and remember so much. The first nephew's birthday without his uncle there cheering him on while he blows out his candles. The first holiday (Christmas) without a complete family picture. The first new year crippled by undeniable and overwhelming grief and depression that made me push away loved ones, quit school, and reevaluate my life. The first birthday where we didn't celebrate with your lavish choices in food and with desserts that I didn't get a chance to bake. The first summer where I wasn't able to splash you with water from the pool or hang out with you in the air conditioning. The first Halloween where I couldn't show you my kids costumes. The first Thanksgiving where I wasn't able to say I am grateful for one more year with you (when we weren't promised too many to begin with). The first year where there were missed opportunities to joke about you being Fat Head, to share all the ridiculous things that John said, to laugh over stupid YouTube videos where people make huge versions of normal food, and to discuss all the awesome things that happened in the Marvel Universe (there were so many good movies you missed and I really want to talk about them all with you). 

Yeah, so much happens in the first year of loss and subsequent grief...

And yet, it did pass. One whole year passed right by. We all made it through with lots of tears and lots of laughs. I was promoted to a Lead Teacher and even though it's amazingly hard, I feel really accomplished. Amelia's soccer team kicked ass on the field and she made it through fourth grade beautifully even though she faced a lot of academic and emotional challenges. John is now a kindergartner, and while he doesn't know most of his alphabet by sight, he is the class clown and provides endless laughter through stories that are too good to be true. I went to New Hampshire this summer and breathed in fresh mountain air and was surrounded by the most amazing people. There were so many babies born, including two by my best friends and one by my cousin; new life always brings new love and a renewed sense of growth. I discovered self-care and while sometimes, I forget to practice, I feel much stronger and healthier than I did in January. I faced enormous health issues and amaze myself daily on making it through endless amounts of pain; I get that strength from my brother. He was strong for such a long time and that kind of strength leaves an impression on everyone you know. It was a difficult year, but also a really good launching point for some beautiful moments.

But some days, I find it so hard to move on when someone I knew my whole life isn't there to share it with me.

With grief and loss comes an endless amount of guilt. Guilt over living when someone else cannot. Guilt over feeling sad when there is so much to be happy about. Guilt about sharing and expressing your sadness when others already are burdened by so much in their own lives. Guilt over playing the "girl who lost her brother" card when it used to be the "girl with a sick brother" card, even though it's not a game. Guilt over pushing away some people in my life because I know life is too short to be burdened by others shortcomings. Guilt for living a longer life and reminding whoever might be in "charge" that "life isn't fair". Guilt over not visiting with people because they hold memories that are too sad to be around sometimes. Guilt over moving on.

Yeah, a year is insignificant. Just a small amount of time. But it sure makes you think about what has happened and how one year can pass by so slowly, and yet so quickly all at once...

With almost one year since the passing of my brother, I want to share that it's okay to not be okay. It's okay to harbor guilt and to wonder about all the "what ifs". It's okay to change directions and slow down. It's okay to take time for yourself. It's okay to be that person who wants to share stories of their lost loved one. It's okay to want to talk about death and grief and loss. It's okay to hate the passage of time and love it all at once. It's okay to stop talking to someone for a while and to set boundaries. It's okay to not be okay.

It's okay because your feelings are valid. Loss is loss whether it is one minute, one day, one month, one year, or ten years. Loss is significant and felt every single day. Loss doesn't change you. It simply makes you approach the days of the year in a very different manner.

So here's to you F.H. Here's to the moments from the past, the moments from the future lost, and the moments when your strength and the memories of your character helped me get where I am today. I love you and miss you more than words can say. 

One year is a lot to endure and in a lifetime of moments, it can mean so much. There is no such thing as an insignificant year.

Words that You Need to Hear...

A few months ago, I participated in a professional development workshop within my program. In the workshop, we discussed "Love Languages". Although originally outlined in terms of building a stronger relationship with a spouse or other one, the love languages refer to the ways in which an individual feels affirmed and/or secure in a relationship; essentially, how they want to be treated. While at the time, I thought the workshop was a little odd and, to be honest, a "waste of my time", it later had me thinking...

At work, what is the best way to make me feel appreciated? When I am at home with my loved ones, what makes me feel comforted and secure? When I am feeling down, what are the words that help lift me up or make me feel not so alone? What do I need to hear and feel as a person to reaffirm that I am on the "right track"?

It got me thinking...

Then shortly before (or maybe shortly after), I went to another workshop with my program. This workshop was about the Circle of Security. This workshop is for parents, guardians, caregivers, educators, and basically anyone who is around young children. It discussed the traumas that affect children's lives, how children react to situations, and how to help them through difficult moments through building trust and establishing secure relationships. While this was a LONG workshop, I found extreme value in it. But the moment that really made me think was when the presenter showed a cartoon of two people: one was feel really down and sitting by themselves and the other was a "friend" who came to sit beside them in the dark. Within the caption, the friend said, "When you can't look on the bright side, I will sit with you in the dark". This got me to thinking too...

What are the right words to say to someone when they are going through a difficult time? What would I want someone to say to me when I am stressed out or frustrated or feeling anxious? What would I want someone to do to comfort me in my darkest of times? Or when there are no clear solutions?

It got me thinking...

Around the same time, I also went to my first ever (and last) grief group. It was in May around the time of my brother's birthday and I was feeling especially sad and lost. It was also during a time of great depression and anxiety for me and I honestly didn't know what to do with myself. My mom found the group and had been a few times, so I thought "why not?". While it was sad to hear the stories of loss and incredibly awkward because many of the people there were parents grieving the death of their children, it was powerful for one reason; a man named Alan Pederson came to speak that night. Alan is a world-renown speaker and member of the Compassionate Friends, as well as a musician and songwriter. He is also the father of a daughter who died at 18. Alan had a lot of powerful things to say, but the highlight of his speech came with how he spoke about what comes after a death; the words that people say to "console". He spoke about how people say, "He/She are with the Lord now", "They are in a better place", "He/she are no longer suffering", or "God gained another angel". Then he said, people in grief often DO NOT want to hear that; they want validation. They want people to know they are grieving, to know that they are sad and they cannot understand why the world moves on when they are hurting so much, they want to be acknowledged. Alan Pederson is right. Grief requires acknowledgement and not a band-aid or "move on" moment.

It got me thinking...

Between these three learning experiences, I thought a lot about all the things that people have said to me regarding my brother's death. All the things that I have said to others when their loved ones passed away. All the things that I wanted supervisors to say to me to make me feel like an appreciated employee. All the things that I could have said to my fellow coworkers to make them feel valued. All the things I have said and done with my family to make them feel loved and supported.

What was/is the right thing to say?

Then I realized that I already knew. In your times of great need or great stress or great sadness, you know exactly what you want from others. You know how you would like to feel valued and appreciated and supported and loved and secure. And I think some of the answers rely on these two workshops that I had gone to and some personal reflection...

Here are the 5 Love Languages:

• Words of Affirmation
• Quality Time
• Gifts
• Acts of Service
• Physical Touching

Most of these are self-explanatory and each are personalized for individuals because we all require different sentiments or actions to feel secure and valued. My strongest languages were "words of affirmation" and "quality time". Which made complete sense to me and it got me thinking about how I would like people to approach situations and how I would speak or act with others in their time of need...

Here's what I came up with:

Affirmations at Work:

Any employee, regardless of where you are on the chain of command, wants to be acknowledged for the hard work they have done day in and day out. They want to feel valued for the time and dedication that they put into a project, a partnership, or with their daily tasks. It affirms that those who are guiding us are acknowledging the work we do and the time we spend. We want to feel like we are on the right track. Or at least that's how I assume most individuals operate; it's why companies give bonuses, yearly reviews, awards, and hold special dinners. They want their employees to feel valued and recognized.

Personally, I like "words of affirmation". I am a huge self-doubter and I am constantly questioning how I handle a situation or manage my classroom. I know deep down that I made the best decision in the moment and I constantly on my practices to become a better person. But, it's still nice to hear that I did a good job or that I handled a situation well or to hear a family say, "We appreciate your time and dedication".

I also want those around me to hear those things too. Because being a teacher is an incredibly tough job. The really good teachers, the dedicated teachers, often go home thinking about their students and continually change their strategies to reach all students academically and emotionally. They work long hours, often going in 15 to 20 minutes before the start of their shift and leaving several minutes after to get just a few more things done. They are sometimes hit and kicked and yelled at by students. They manage difficult family interactions. They fight for the well-being of children through joining PTAs, spirit committees, after-school enrichment programs, or fighting for policy change through attending meetings and making things happen. And most importantly, they do all this for measly pay and often without expecting recognition. It's often a thankless job, especially for us preschool teachers, but for many teachers, it's about the outcome. The smiles and laughs and academic strides. The emotional-well being and the progress and the diagnosis and the strides to make a better tomorrow.

But, it's still nice to be acknowledged and recognized and affirmed.

Affirmations about Personal Struggles:

This is a tough one. One that is very personal but still important. When experiencing a loss, whether recent or several months after a loved one is gone, individuals want their grief to be acknowledged. They want others to know that despite the fact that the funeral has been planned and done, despite the fact that all the sympathy cards have stopped, despite the fact that several weeks or months have passed (or maybe even years), despite the fact that people no longer ask "How are you holding up?", people are still constantly grieving. They are still feeling the loss of their loved one EVERY SINGLE DAY. They still cry and miss someone. They still randomly remember a moment in time and a single scent can bring you back. Individuals want to be acknowledged instead of brushed off. It's so easy to say, "They are in a better place and you can start to move on now" or "Don't cry. Time will heal all wounds". But that's not what someone is looking for; in fact, that often hurts more.

It's just as easy to say, "Wow. I didn't realize how much you are still hurting" or "Go ahead and cry and remember, I will be here" or "I don't know how you feel, but thank you for sharing" or "I can just be with you whenever you need". It's just as easy to listen to a story that you have heard a thousand times before, because in that moment, the individual grieving just wants to relive it again. It's just as easy to just let someone cry when they are sad or grieve when they need to. It's just as easy to be in the moment and so very appreciated.

Or perhaps, someone is struggling personally with anxiety or depression (or any other mental health issue)...

This is a hard one for people to understand, especially when they are not anxious or depressed themselves. When someone expresses their spiraling thoughts, or upsetting moods, or acknowledges how they are having a difficult time, people often react with "Just stop thinking about it" or "Let's do something to make you happy" or "Just be happy. Your life is great". Often, but not always, an individual can acknowledge that they have a great like and there are people who care whether they live to tomorrow. They comprehend the fact that they are lucky to have a job or food or clothes on their backs. But often, and especially in my case, it's incredibly hard to overcome anxiety and depression despite having amazing people and things in your life. The brain is a powerful entity; the thoughts and processes that occur there can greatly affect an individual's life and personal affect. The brain can be taught, and also untaught, how to psyche itself out and how to twist thoughts into a never-ending stream of worries and dread. It is so very hard to undo years and years of negative thoughts and simple "stop thinking" or "be happy".

Instead, when someone expresses their anxious or depressed state, think about what they might be going through and what can lift them up. Maybe someone is looking for companionship, but most of the time, people are looking for a sense of unburden; it is incredibly helpful to express your overwhelming thoughts. It is incredibly helpful to hear, "I can't imagine what that must be like, but I can sit with you when you need me to" or "What can I do to help?". Sometimes, the best anecdote is to send a random quote or affirmation or small token to someone who needs it most; I know that anxiety comes and goes or sometimes stays for days and sometimes, just knowing someone else can relate or is here, can make a world of difference. Just being in the moment with someone might be enough.

It got me thinking...

In life it's so easy to think about the could've/should've/might've been moments. It's so easy to get lost in personal thought and lose sight of what others truly might need from us. And it's often so hard to "walk a mile in someone else's shoes", but what happens if you think about the words that you need to hear.

Think about what you might want someone to say to you at work or how someone might offer assistance when you are struggling to get through the day. Think about the most helpful comments and actions that occurred after a deep loss. Think about your hardest days and strongest struggles and what pulled you out of those dark moments. Think about what you value in terms of words to build you up or actions to reaffirm that you are doing okay.

And use that knowledge to build up those around you. Because we can't change what people say or do to us; we cannot change their attitudes or reactions. But we can change how we act and speak towards others.

Three Favorites

"Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes... including you." - Anne Lamott

Often people, and more often women than men, are made to feel extreme guilt when they pause for a moment to take time for themselves. If a mother sits down while her kids are playing, she is asked why she isn't playing with her kids. If a woman stops to get her hair or nails done, she is made to question why she is spending money on her appearance. If a man ends his day by playing video games with his friends, he is made to wonder why he isn't doing household chores. If a celebrity takes a vacation, they are accused of being irresponsible and not working. Each and every individual is constantly put under a microscope by society and those around them, the second they stop and take time for themselves. But instead of judging, perhaps we should be thinking of the alternative to each situation.

Perhaps the mom who sat down while her kids are playing had just finished cleaning the house, serving dinner, and helping the kids with their homework; maybe it was the first time she sat down all day. Or maybe the woman who got her hair or nails done, finds that these simple pampering moments are the only times she is truly able to have quiet. The man who sat down to play video games? Maybe he worked all day in the hot sun, came home and did the dishes, and made sure the kids were in bed and that moment of playing video games was his way of destressing at the end of the night. And the celebrity who took a luxurious vacation just finished filming for 30 days straight and has just a few days off before resuming a busy schedule. What happens if we took a moment to think of the possibilities of each situation before passing judgement?

On my journey of finding true moments of self-care, I have realized the importance of taking time to recharge and "unplug"; how important it is to refuel my tank before filling anothers'. I have also realized how incredibly hard it is to stop feeling guilty for taking time for myself.

I am that mom who sits down while my kids are playing and who takes a trip to the nail salon every 2-3 weeks. And each time, I find myself "justifying" all the things that I did for that day or that week, to earn my time to sit and get my nails done. I calculate in my head how much housework I have done each day, how much time I have spent playing with my children and helping them work through their problems (both academically and emotionally), and how much I have done for others. I still feel incredibly guilty for spending $30 on getting my nails done because that $30 could go towards buying new clothes for my kids, adding a few extra school snacks to the grocery cart, or towards a savings account for a family vacation (or most importantly, paying for a bill). It makes me cringe each time I take a moment for myself because I know there is so much else that I can be doing with my time and my money...

BUT, aren't I worth it too? Isn't important for me to realize I am a KICKASS mom who supports her children every second of the day, regardless of whether I am physically playing with them at the moment or not. Isn't it important for me to realize I am an INCREDIBLE teacher who is constantly adapting my teaching style and implementing new strategies to help the students in my class succeed each day. Isn't it important for me to realize I am a HARD WORKING mama who makes sure the lunches are prepped and packed-up each day, who organizes and cooks family meals, and cleans the house each weekend on my "days off". Isn't it important for me to realize that I am capable and worthy of a moment of "unplugging" because I cannot constantly give without taking?

That is what self-care is all about; realizing your self-worth through moments of loving yourself and recognizing it's okay to take time to enjoy the things that give you peace, that help you work on becoming a "better" you. 

While it can be challenging, and while I still feel guilty for taking time for myself, I still try each day to engage in something that is just for me; something that allows me to destress and learn to love myself.

"Always go with your passions. Never ask yourself if it's realistic or not." - Deepak Chopra

"Always go with your passions". Although this quote most likely refers to career and personal life choices and journeys, I feel as though it is very fitting when applied to self-care. I think it is truly important to find something you are passionate about when finding time to pause and learn what you love and what makes you feel recharged. Why not take time doing something you love; something that makes you feel relaxed or takes you to a different place and time? 

This is where I started and lucky for me, I have "Three Favorites" that help me take time to myself and help me pause life for a little bit.

Reading:

There is something about the English language and the possibilities that are concealed inside a book that has always driven me to be a passionate reader. Starting from R.L. Stines' Goosebumps series to Ann M. Martin's Babysitter's Club and following through to my teenage years with Lurlene McDaniel's One Last Wish series and, again, R.L. Stine's Fear Street and continuing to my adult years where I have found suspense with Ruth Ware, love with Colleen Hoover, and twisted humor with Tarryn Fisher. Reading allows me to escape to a time and place that are not my own, or perhaps it is my own...

I found that my reading choices often reflect my current interests or moods. When I was younger I desperately wanted to be a teacher and babysitter; I always knew I loved being around children and working with them. Similarly, I read a lot of the Babysitter's Club books around this time and can now reflect, that these stories helped fuel my passion for pursuing my dreams. Additionally, I found Lurlene McDaniel when I was a bit older and struggled with the harshness of my brother's disease; McDaniel wrote incredibly moving stories about teens and children facing life-threatening medical issues, which I found relatable. None of my friends knew what I was going through but those books made me feel like my emotions and reactions were justifiable. A few months ago, I was battling with extreme anxiety and depression, and ended up reading several stories (Four Weeks, Five People and Turtles All the Way Down) that reflected how I felt when no one else was talking about mental health. There are also some days where I read suspense, thrillers, and love novels and perhaps there is or is not a reflection of what I feel in those, but they still help me escape my reality.

Reading is something that helps me sort through my own emotions, makes me feel like I am not alone in the way I deal with situations, and allows me to de-clutter my mind. 

Blogging:

Writing has always been a huge passion of mine. All of my school papers were always 2-3 pages over the "expected limit". I kept journals growing up, from the time I was a little girl just learning to write all the way through high school. As I got older, I realized typing was a lot faster (even though I love the smell of paper and the feeling of putting a pen to paper) and turned to Myspace (#throwback here) and eventually Blogger to write down all my thoughts. I liked the idea of being able to translate my feelings as fast as they came to my head and the idea of sharing those feelings with the world (or at least my small group of friends on social media sites). Hearing the outpouring of support for my writing and learning that I wasn't the only one who felt a certain way was such a relief.

Although my blogging has been relatively inconsistent in the past, I have always written down how I felt. I am not good at expressing my emotions, at letting others know when something is bothering me, or articulating how I process my thoughts. In fact, I am really good at keeping things bottled up inside until I either break-down or blow-up. But, writing is a great release for me; it is the only thing that I do when I feel anxious or when I feel as though something is weighing on my mind. It helps me process my emotions, it helps me understand the world around me, and it helps me learn. Through writing, I have adapted my language and literacy skills and have become a better writer, as well as a better communicator. 

Writing is my ultimate escape and if I could earn a living writing about myself, I would sign-up for that career in a heartbeat.

Make-Up/YouTube:

Okay, this one is an odd passion and one that I rarely discuss. But, growing up, I always watched my mom apply make-up; I was fascinated by what she kept in her make-up case and I used to lock myself in the bathroom and "experiment" with mixing the colors and creating new make-up (sorry mom!). Then I grew up and got acne and realized that make-up was much more than creating colors....

Somewhere in middle and high school, I developed a terrible self-image of myself; I constantly thought I was too fat, I thought my pimples were all anyone could see, and I thought others were  judging me for what I was wearing. I started wearing make-up to hide my flaws and I used to spend oodles of my money on clothes, pocketbooks, and shoes so I could feel better about what I portrayed to the world. I liked to hide behind all the things I put on myself. And eventually that just made me feel worse.

While I am still working on my self-image (hence some of the self-care stuff), I realized that make-up can be fun and it can make me feel good about myself because I like the idea of "playing with make-up". This is how I found YouTube and the beauty community. Over the past several months, I have immersed myself in the YouTube channels of Jeffree Star, Jaclyn Hill, Manny MUA, Laure Lee (Los Angeles), Tati Westbrook, James Charles, and Thomas Halbert. I learned that beauty can be fun and beautiful and purposeful and these personalities made me laugh and de-stress each day. I recently learned how to sculpt my eyebrows and do a "cut crease" eye look and I am thrilled that I find fun in experimenting with different beauty looks.

Make-up and YouTube have shown me that I can still have a body-positive image while having fun and reducing the negativity, which has helped me grow as a person.

"So many years of education, yet nobody every taught us how to love ourselves and why it's so important."

Over coming the guilt of self-care is incredibly hard; it's a habit that we force upon ourselves and which society constantly reinforced upon us. However, it is also incredibly rewarding and important. It is essential to recognize that loving yourself and taking time to "unplug" is the only way you can recharge and refuel for those around you. It is simply not possible to be a mom who teaches her children to be strong, to be a supportive father who works hard for his family, or to be a working individual who enjoys those around themselves, without being able to love themselves first. Find your "Three Favorites" and stick with them.

Learn to stop the guilt, reinforce the love, and practice caring. It is so worth it and you are worth it too.

It's So Easy to Think of All the "I Don'ts"...

"Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It turns a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow."  - Melody Beattie

In a world where technology is at our fingertips, where wants and demands are turned into reality with the click of a button, and where results are expected before the work, it's easy to lose sight of the right now. It's so easy to think of all the "I don'ts..."

"I don't have enough money"

"I don't have enough time"

"I don't have enough supplies for my teaching budget"

"I don't have any plans this weekend"

"I don't have a boyfriend/girlfriend/wife/husband"

"I don't have enough healthy days"

But, what about all the "I dos..."

"I do have enough money to put food on the table"

"I do have enough time to work and spend part of my day with my family"

"I do have a job that provides me with a career and an income"

"I do have time to relax and learn to enjoy life"

"I do have friends and people around me that bring joy to my life"

"I do have enough healthy days where I can walk and breathe without assistance"

In a world where there is a huge push to get the bigger and better luxuries in life, it's so easy to lose sight of all the pieces of life that are often taken for granted. And I have to admit, I am one of those people who is constantly focused on what I don't have.

I always think if I had more money, then I can take a vacation with my family. If I had more time, then I could get another five tasks accomplished. If I had more supplies and support for my classroom, then I can provide a better education for my students. If I had plans for the weekend, then I could keep myself busy and entertain my children with amazing sights. If I had a perfect relationship with my husband, then we could have date nights all the time. If I had a better immune system, them I wouldn't feel so crappy all the time and I could do so much more. 

It's so easy for me to think of all my flaws; all the imperfections that could be improved upon with just the slightest of changes.

I am the type of person who automatically assumes the worst when my boss calls me in for a meeting ("Oh great, I am going to be fired"). I am the type of person who thinks all my friends hate me when they don't text back right away (when I am literally the worst communicator in the world). I am the type of person who walks into a quiet room and I feel like the room went silent because they were all talking about me. I have an ingrained sense of negativity in my head and that habit is so hard to break.

But it is a habit that I am working on everyday to change.

That's why this year I have tried different methods for self-care; to change my perspective. I have tried floating (a sensory-deprivation experience that is a natural detoxification for your mind and body). I have tried blogging more regularly (an ongoing process). I have tried bullet journals (an oddly therapeutic form of writing and drawing that keeps track of your daily habits and mental well-being). And I have tried therapy (which is a difficult process for many reasons). But most importantly, I have tried to counteract my thoughts with positive ones.

"Never let the things you want, make you forget the things you have."

Instead of thinking of all the negative aspects of my life, I have learned to incorporate a little bit of gratitude into my life. I use in-the-moment techniques to change my thought process, along with grounding techniques to make myself stop and think of the reality of the moment. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. Like I said, I am trying and turning negative behavior into a positive is really hard.

But here are 3 things I am grateful for and my gratitude moment of the day. Because life is full of too much hate and sadness. Because it's so easy to lose sight of the moment. And because it's so easy to think of all the "I Donts..."

I Am Grateful For...

• A Person
• In this case, I am grateful for my daughter. Although I love everyone in my life and I value who is around me, it is my daughter who reminds me of what being a warrior looks like. This past year, my daughter was diagnosed with ADD and social anxiety and I was devastated. Not because she had two diagnosis-es, but because I had to watch her struggle. I listened to tears over homework and watched her fidget without absorbing any information. I heard her silence and watched her seclusion into her room. I witnessed her refusing to talk about difficult situations; being bullied, my brother's death, and adjusting to school routines. I watched her change her entire personality and it made me so sad; I felt like I was to blame because I had my own anxieties and because I couldn't help her. But despite her pain, she still found moments to smile. She still went to school each day. She still got help from the school social worker. She still went to therapy. She still played with her family. She still tried. Day after day, she tried. I am so grateful to have a resilient child who can overcome so much in such a short period of time.
• Opportunity
•  I am grateful for the opportunity to get promoted at work and earn equitable pay. I am a hugely passionate teacher. All teachers say this, but honestly, I felt like I was meant to be a teacher in the exact location where I work. I feel as though early childhood education is both incredibly rewarding and incredibly heartbreaking. You face the criticism of being a "babysitter", the stigma of not having certification like "real teachers", and you deal with tiny humans who have never experienced school before. Young children have so many emotions that they are incapable of handling without understanding adults to nurture who they are and to show them how to react to situations. Furthermore, the rates at which young children are being diagnosed with learning disabilities and delays is terrifying. But, over the course of my (albeit short) career, I have learned how to establish a social-emotional curriculum, how to tone-down the loud environmental colors and sounds to create a soothing environment, and to find my voice to be an advocate for young children. This was one of my toughest teaching years yet; I faced moving classrooms, children who were struggling with personal and educational difficulties, and unstable working conditions. But, it was also my most rewarding. I was able to apply for a Lead Teacher position and accept that role with the promise of equitable pay. I was able to use my degree to show how much I have accomplished academically and I was able to use my past accomplishments to showcase how I have grown as a teacher. I am so grateful to have found a career I am passionate about and to have been recognized for my hard work.
• Experience
• I am grateful for the fact that each year, my family has experienced breath-taking vacations. This past year, I was incredibly fortunate to go to Disney with my little family and my nephew (along with a few other cherished family members). Driving through the gates of Magic Kingdom and hearing the cheers and sounds of elation from my children and nephew brought tears to my eyes. To see and hear their joy was a moment that I will cherish forever. I am a Disney person at heart and I would gladly visit there every single year as a solo adult or with my family. But to live first moments with children at Disney is magical; to see them meet their crushes (Minnie Mouse for my son), their heroes (BB8 for my daughter), and their childhood favorites (Mickey Mouse for my nephew) was incredible. To hear them talk about how special each ride was or how interesting each show was or to hear about the "best trick-or-treating" ever is hard to describe and impossible to forget. I was also lucky enough to visit the fresh mountain air of New Hampshire through the incredibly kindness of my aunt. We were able to see breath-taking mountain views, wander through dark mountain roads, and hike through lush, green landscapes. And through it all, we also got to watch the joy of exploring Christmas in July and enjoyed the pleasure of watching fairy tales and nursery rhymes come to life. A short weekend was full of a lifetime of memories and unforgettable firsts. I am so grateful for moments with my family and for the ability to explore new places.

"Interrupt anxiety with gratitude."

It's so easy to get lost in the "I Don'ts". It's so easy to let the negative thoughts take residence inside your head. And it's so easy to forget about all the perfects. But it takes just one positive thought to change your outlook. And it takes just one moment of gratitude to make the tough times seem easier.

Stigmas

"The only thing more exhausting than having a mental illness is pretending like you don't."

Reactive and proactive. Reactive measures occur after an event or catalyst; they are the responsive results of something that came before. Proactive is the act of taking responsibility or acting before an event or situation occurs. Although there are pros and cons to each strategy, sometimes the more direct route is the scariest, and yet, more sensible one to take on. Reactive or proactive. It is what our world leaders consider before placing laws into effect. Reactive or proactive. It is what parents consider before they make a decision about their child's well-being. Reactive or proactive. It is what educators consider before they implement a lesson that is pre-planned for them. Reactive or proactive.

Unfortunately I fear that we are living in a reactive society. And that breaks my heart and makes my mind race.

We react to gun violence. There are protests, marches, and petitions. There are little girls who make passionate speeches and Kindergarten teachers who create poems about hiding when there is an active shooter in the school. There are cries and tears and looting as young (mostly) men and women bleed out on the street from a seemingly unprovoked attack by a police officer. There are red faces and press conferences about what went wrong and how we can get men in professional sports to stop kneeling. We are being reactive.

While gun violence is horrible and the number of lives lost is inconceivable, this is not the topic I choose to address in detail today. Instead I choose to speak about mental illness...the subject that instills fear in my heart and catches the stigmatized drama of a majority of our society.

We are a reactive society to mental illness. And that breaks my heart and makes my mind race too.

In the media, especially over the course of these past weeks, we have been inundated with the losses of celebrities who have taken their own life. Society has been especially reactive to these losses...

There is the "normal" talk of, "I remember when...". We remember when we first watched a celebrity explore the world, the first time we heard them speak, or (if we were really lucky), the first time we saw them live. Then come the condolence. The heartbreak for a young life lost too soon. The sadness of losing someone who brought joy to so many others. The prayers for family and friends who were left behind. And then comes the very worst part. The inevitable chatter that always turns the conversation from one of loss to one of stigmatization.

This is the part of the conversation that makes a loss seem negative in the worst possible way. The part that makes the individual who committed suicide seem like the "bad guy".

The very worst parts are the judgments.

The hateful people who say, "Why would they give up their life if they had everything?" The ignorant people who state, "They seemed so happy. Why would they take their own life?". The hurtful people who say, "They took the coward's way out. There is no reason to take your own life. There is always hope". The arrogant people who say, "If I had that much money, I would never be depressed".

The very worst part are the judgments. The hate. The harm. The ignorance. From words that cut like a knife.

Now, unfortunately, I feel as though I have to defend myself at this point. Which is entirely frustrating and negates the whole purpose of this stance, but still, it must be said.

Suicide is a horrible death. It is painful for those who were affected and for those who loved the individual who is no longer walking this earth. It sucks and this is such a sensitive subject because who knows the reasoning behind each death. But, I just want people to understand the other side of supporting the hateful, ignorant comments that usually follow a suicide.

Mental illness is such a taboo subject to discuss. Those who face anxiety, depression, obsessive compulsive disorder, schizophrenia, biopolar disorder, and every other mental disorder in between are pegged into teeny, tiny holes. They are thought of to be unstable, crazy, incapable of leading "normal lives", and thrown onto a pedestal that negates their human livelihood.

The individuals facing mental illness each and everyday are made to feel like perpetrators. Individuals who should feel "shamed" to be living with a constant battle in their head. Their thoughts are suddenly put on display and picked apart by people who do not truly understand what is happening to someone deeply affected by mental illness.

The truth is, mental illness has nothing to do with someone's ability to perform their job. It has nothing to do with someone's wealth, education status, parenthood, upraising, neighborhood or economic status. It has nothing to do with their lifestyle choice or circumstances they have tried (or not tried) to change. Although all these areas are affected, mental illness is not a choice. It is very much like having a genetic heart disease. It is something that occurs to someone's body; it is an imbalance that must be talked about and treated just like a physical illness.

But, in our reactive society, that does not happen.

Instead, we learn to fear those with mental illness. We, as a society, state they are more likely to commit a school shooting and they should be institutionalized. We say they are crazy and should not be trusted with children. We say they should be talked about, but not heard. We ignore the physical symptoms and allow the manifestations of this horrible disease to become a living, breathing entity that society fears and reacts to instead of being proactive towards.

Well, I am tired of being reactive and instead decide to be proactive.

I am actively finding a way to overcome the stigmas of mental illness and finding a way to be comfortable with my diagnosis and finding a positive way to help myself overcome the negative stigmas.

Having a mental illness is horrible, especially when it is ignored or mistreated. I grew up not understanding that my balance of having to chew on both sides of mouth, of arranging my pictures and knick-knacks on my dresser in even numbers, of obsessively washing my feet were not normal reactions to my physical life. I grew up avoiding social situations because the thought of being the center of attention was enough to send my mind racing to possible outcomes of sentences someone else might say and formulating complex scenarios to prepare myself for in order to have a two-way conversation. I went away to college and became incredibly depressed and isolated myself from friends I had known for years because I was completely miserable and couldn't adapt to my new situation.

Then I grew up and everything magnified in response to situations I couldn't control. I developed insomnia because I could not stop the thoughts that raced through my mind; I thought of things I said to friends from ten years before and thought of ways I could have improved the situation, I thought of dying and pictured all the things I had to do the next day. During my waking hours, I filled my life with endless tasks just to keep myself from thinking; I went to school and did 50 plus hours of homework each week in addition to working my full time job, taking care of my children, selling children's books, and managing a household. I added on rituals to make myself feel safe; I constantly checked the light in my closet to make sure it was shut off, I opened and closed the locks on my front door, I ran back home on multiple occasions to check to make sure my hair straightener was unplugged, and I obsessively turned my alarm clock on and off and readjusted my phone volume each night.

I constantly felt like crying. I would sit in my bed and tears would spring to my eyes for no apparently reason. I called out of work multiple times because the thought of getting out of bed was unbearable. I avoided friends. I stopped returning phone calls. And my mind would still not quiet; I was mentally and physically exhausted from my "rituals" and thoughts.

I now understand that I did many of those things because I never learned positive coping methods when I was younger; I did not learn how to self soothe in positive ways. I did not get the help I needed when I was younger and as life became harder, so did my thinking. I now understand that mental illness is biological; those who have mental illness in their family are more likely to develop their own mental health issues. My genetics are severely against me in this case. But I now understand that it can get better if I learn to face the stigmas set forth by our society.

Stigmas and our reactive society are what forces those who are facing anxiety, depression, and numerous other issues to become quiet and to live a life others know nothing about. It is so hard to hide who you are; it is mentally and physically exhausting to pretend to have normal thoughts (instead of spiraling ones), it is mentally and physically exhausting to be worried about not only yourself but every possible situation that could come to pass, and it is mentally and physically exhausting to battle against individuals who suppress the ideas, thoughts, and feelings of those of us who are facing mental illness.

So next time a celebrity commits suicide, or an actress discusses Postpartum Depression, or when your friend tells you that they think too much, don't brush them off. Don't say, "Oh, but they always seemed so happy" or "They have everything they could possibly want, why would they be depressed?" or "Just stop thinking". Instead say, "Thank you for sharing your story with me" or "I don't know what to say, but I am here for you" or say, "I never knew you were struggling. It must have been hard for you to tell me that. I appreciate your bravery". Offer support, understanding, and the option of just standing/sitting beside someone who is struggling.

Remember that you wouldn't say, "Just get a new heart" to someone with heart disease and you wouldn't say, "Just get up and walk" to someone in a wheelchair. So why tell someone with a mental illness to "Just get over it"?

Let's be a proactive society instead of a reactive society. Let's knock down stigmas. Let's learn some compassion. You never know when your words have the power to bring someone up or knock someone down.

"I don't want you to save me. I want you to stand by my side as I save myself."

Like a Sucker Punch

The hardest part of someone passing is not what people traditionally think. It is hard to not be able to hug that person, to kiss them again, to speak to them, or just be in their presence. The idea of not being able to do any of those things is incredibly disheartening to think about and even harder to accept. However, that is not the hardest part of losing someone you love. The hardest part is simply not knowing...

Not knowing why this was their time. Not knowing that the last time you spoke to them was the last thing you would ever say to them. Not knowing why they died. Not knowing what happens to them after this life...

Not knowing is definitely the hardest part.

I know that there are some people who are unwavering in their faith. They believe that when a person passes they will be delivered to God or Allah or to some pearly gate. They know and believe that their life dictated where they end up in the afterlife. I know that there are some people who do not believe in the afterlife. They believe that once we are gone, that is it. We simply cease to exist and they are comfortable knowing that. There are others, like my father (whom I don't speak of or to often), who believe that we are already living in our own dimension of the afterlife. Earth is simply purgatory and we are forever in limbo. Still others believe that we are reincarnated into a better or worse life depending on how we lived this one. There are so many thoughts and beliefs surrounding what happens after this...

I envy those people who are so strong in their beliefs that death is like a homecoming. Or that the afterlife is already decided or simply nothing. They already know.

But I don't. I don't know what comes next. So the hardest part of someone passing is not knowing.

I don't know where you went or that you are okay. I don't know that you aren't hurting anymore. I don't know if you can see me. I don't know if you are reunited with Grandma and Grandpa and all the ones that came before. I don't know if you are simply ceasing to exist because you died the moment you took your last breath. I don't know if you are happy or sad or hurting or in limbo. I don't know if you were reincarnated into a body that lets you walk, or run, or fly. I simple don't know.

And that not knowing knocks the air out of me and tortures me in the weirdest moments.

A few days ago I was straightening my hair. I was listening to music. I was just about to start my day. And then I felt it.

Like a sucker punch.

I felt that you weren't here anymore. I remembered that I wouldn't be able to talk to you about the upcoming Avengers movie or Deadpool Two because you wouldn't be able to answer. I remembered that in a week I wouldn't be able to spend Easter with you and watch as you laughed as the kids found eggs. I remembered that I wouldn't be able to be there to help feed you dinner or lunch or a snack. I remembered that I couldn't argue with you over the fact that you talked too much during a movie. I felt that you weren't here anymore.

It knocked the wind out of me and I was paralyzed in this moment of a sucker punch. The sucker punch of life and death and the unknown.

These past few weeks have been incredibly hard for me. I subconsciously refuse to go to mom's house because I know you won't be there. Your things are slowly moving out of the house. Mom is moving on and you won't be at the new house. Jess is moving on and she won't be living with you anymore. And I thought I was moving on too, but some days are really hard....

When the dust settles and you are past the wake and funeral and sympathy cards, life goes on. You return back to work. You become a mom again. You become a student again. You become a part of society again. And everyone else stops asking. They stop asking how you are doing. They stop remembering that a part of you is missing. Which is comforting in a way, because I know you would want us to live our life as normal as possible. And who wants to be remembered as the girl who lost her brother? Who wants to be reminded of that?

But then there are days where it is so hard. So hard to be positive. So hard to move on. So hard to remember that you won't be there for holidays. Or parties. Or everyday moments.

It is so hard to not know... It feels like a sucker punch.

Self-Care

"Fall in love with taking care of yourself"

Perfection. Such a simple word with a heady presence. Perfection in today's society can be viewed from a variety of different ways. Women are seen to be perfect when they have flawless bodies; smooth skin, an hour glass figure, a full pout, luxurious, hair that is flowing down her shoulders, a sexy laugh. Men are perfect when they provide for their families, have full six-pack abs, sharp jaw lines, and relaxed smiles. Families are perceived to be perfect when they have exactly 2.5 children, a white picket fence, parents who are married, work white-collar jobs that provide for one family vacation per year, and send out picture-perfect Christmas cards. But who decides these definitions? Who tells us to be perfect? When do we get forced into lifestyles that match up with the Joneses next door?

Perfection is a societal ideal that is forced upon each and everyone of us from a young age. We have parents who failed at the ideal and jolt us into lifestyles that they missed out on. Magazines show us pictures of who we should be and how we should act and talk to get there. And entertainment perpetuates lyrics and dialogues that show unrealistic expectations of what our careers, personalities, and bodies should look like. Perfection is truly an illusion.

But, somewhere along the line I fell for it...hook, line and sinker.

In school, I had to be the best I can be. An an undergraduate I took two courses at a time to finish my degree by a deadline set forth by my work place. I worked late nights (and early mornings) reading and writing extensive papers. I went above participation requirements and I cried when my grades were less than an A-. And do you know what people said when I earned my high grades, my President's list standing, and my degree in less than two years? They gave me the highest praise. They said, "Wow! I want to be like you when I grow up" or "I don't know how you do it! You are super woman" or "Jen, you are always so perfect and good at the school thing". And while their intentions meant well, it reinforced this perfection ideal. I felt the need to continue to be the BEST ME I COULD BE! And I killed myself for it.

I was perpetually exhausted. I was on edge trying to complete assignments. I cried when I was one minute late handing a paper into a professor. I literally found it impossible to relax when I had no school work due; I was antsy and I struggled to find purpose with "free time". I was slowly burning myself raw; mentally and emotionally I was exhausted to live up to the ideal of a perfect student.

But, I sought perfection in all aspects of my life. As a mom, I had to fill my children's days with countless activities; after dinner I made sure to coach my daughter on all her assignments and did further research just so I could teach it like they do at school. I planned game nights and weekend excursions and taught my son even though he wasn't in school. I pushed myself to be super mom. I know much of these are "normal" aspects of being a mom, but I honestly took it to the extreme. As a wife, I had a strict cleaning schedule to the point that I was frantic if people came over; I would clean tables that had hardly any crumbs, I would vacuum floors that had been cleaned the day before, and I would change tablecloths that were fresh. I planned family meals perfectly and rotated them so we weren't eating the same foods each week.

Again, I was constantly pushing myself to fulfill this unrealistic expectation of being a perfect mom, of being a perfect wife, of being a perfect person. I lived in a constant state of scheduled actions and planned experiences so everyone would never want for anything. These ideals were placed in my head, not by my husband or my family or society to the fullest extent, I perpetuated them myself. I somehow got this idea in my head that perfection was the only state to achieve and I had to push myself until everything fit to this mold that I created.

Until I pushed myself too far. Until I reached the point where I could barely get together with friends. Until I reached the point where I took whole semesters off from school because I couldn't concentrate on the words on a screen. Until I reached the point where I came home from work and sat on the couch and barely did anything else. Until I reached the point where I was either sad or anxious or uncomfortable because I wasn't able to achieve my ideals of "perfection". Until I reached the point where I questioned who I had become.

Although I always had these ideals, it was this past year where I pushed myself the hardest to mask the feelings that I didn't want anyone else to see. Which is a discussion for another time....

But I had finally reached this point where I was tired of the scheduling, where I was exhausted from being "on" all the time, and where I just wanted to "find myself", as cliche as that might sound.

"Be purposeful and unapologetic about refueling your oil. You light cannot shine if your lamp is empty."

So, I did some research and I began therapy. I wanted desperately to make this sense of perfection fade away and to escape the overwhelming emotions that I felt all the time. And the first thing I learned was the importance of self-care.

Self-care is a concept that I clearly forgot about in my quest for perfection. I was so busy taking care of other people and trying to fit this ideal mold of who I should be, that I forgot how important it was to take care of myself. I forgot that I cannot help my children, I cannot teach my students, I cannot manage a household, and I cannot be a friend if I cannot learn to value the importance of myself. I had to remind myself that I am also a valuable aspect of my life and I deserve to be taken care of.

My journey to self-care was a difficult one though. How do I become different than this image I spent so long building? How do I get beyond the guilt I feel for taking time to take care of myself? How do I get beyond multi-tasking and take time to just breathe? 

The answer is, I am still struggling with this task. I am still finding my own acceptance of realizing taking time for me is okay. I am beginning small though. 

I started with just taking the time to paint my nails each week with no distractions. Then I added on doing a face mask for 5 to 10 minutes in the shower uninterrupted. Then I made a plan. I am not sure how often I am going to hold myself accountable to this plan, but I do know that I am going to try. Because I realize how important it is for me to refuel. To take time to become a more focused me by recharging my batteries for 10 minutes each day (or more if I can). Because I cannot be perfect. No one can. No one should strive for that.

What I can strive for is to find balance. A balance between the roles that I value and a balance between caring for myself without overwhelming guilt.

"If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete." - Jack Kornfield

2018: Heal

Many people make New Year's Resolutions each year. They promise to be skinnier, to be smarter, to be nicer. They put so much stock into a New Year saying it will bring new joys, new luck, or new opportunities. But within weeks or months those resolutions are broken. They are made with the best of intentions, but forgotten with the daily ins and outs of life. These broken resolutions are not broken by everyone, but by most people. It's hard to hold ourselves accountable for "big ticket items" because they are goals that require hard work, unattainable feats, or feeble reaches at something we really don't want or need.

As the year progresses, people get so upset when those resolutions and goals are broken. But, they forget that tomorrow is a new day and just because the clock struck midnight on December 31st doesn't mean that this year or this day is any different from the one that came before. In theory our resolutions can be made at any time; they can be amended into more obtainable goals, they can be modified to reflect new paths we lead, or they can be forgotten for smaller tasks that are easier to achieve gratification. Resolutions do not have to come as the new year dawns; they can be made at any point.

However, what the New Year is good for is to reflect upon all the moments that came before it. We are ending our year with big holiday celebrations, more time with family and friends, and nostalgia for what once was. This is the perfect time to look back at the previous year by ourselves or with our loved ones and celebrate our successes or weep for our losses. We often forget to do this as the days pass, but this is the one time where we crave a new start, a reflection for old times, or a reevaluation of where we are headed.

2017 was an eye opening year for me. It was one where I realized my limits and where I finally realized just how far I have to go on my journey in life.

I began 2017 with a huge change to my professional life; I realized how horrible certain situations can be when you have the courage to look a little deeper, I swapped classrooms, and found an amazing teaching partner. Through the hardships that followed, I came to the sound conclusion that situations define who we are as people and I was worth so much more than I was given credit for. I learned that my instincts cannot be overlooked and that certain people are put in our lives to reaffirm that we are on the right path. It was a challenge, but one that I met and one that made me a better person and teacher.

2017 was also the year that I faced an unexpected medical situation. I spent time in the hospital, hating my body and my luck. I felt pain that was beyond anything that I could have imagined and faced days where I could barely get out of bed. I saw doctor after doctor, had test after test, and finally found relief. I realized that genetics are awful in more ways than one and that my body can only handle so much. I am still healing and facing each day with unexpected challenges but I came out of a horrible situation with a new outlook on what I can and cannot do. I learned that health is more important than pushing yourself to limits you cannot reach.

But more importantly, 2017 presented my personal life with something that I could never have imagined. On December 12, 2017, my brother died. Typing those words is truly excruciating and I do so with blurry vision. Tomorrow, it will be one month since he passed away and I find it so incredibly hard to believe. I guess I am still floating in the denial stage of grief. But it is best summed up by words from an incredible friend:

"I cannot believe I am writing a sympathy card for Charlie because I always thought he was invincible."

Those words are on constant repeat inside my head because they sum up everything I feel whenever I think about my brother. I knew the logistics of his disease growing up. I memorized the statistics regarding mortality rates for people who had his disease. I saw the progressiveness of his muscles deteriorating over the past year from his dependency on his breathing machine to the way his body slowly wasted away as it loss muscle mass. I heard the defeat in his voice when the pain was too much. In theory, I knew what was coming, but I never fully came to terms of what it would be like when he passed away.

I didn't think about how hard I would cry when my mom called me on the phone to deliver the news. I didn't think about how awful it would be to see his body no longer breathing as we visited him one last time in Hospice. I didn't think about the irrational thoughts that I would think as we walked into his room; how I would want to reach out and put the breathing mask back on his face because he couldn't breath without it or how I thought maybe the doctors were wrong and they just couldn't wake him up. I didn't think about how extremely hard it would be to plan a cremation or a memorial service. I didn't about reading a eulogy remembering the good and bad times of a life that once was. I didn't think about how after I wouldn't want to look at sympathy cards or how tired I would be to hear people say "I'm sorry for your loss". I didn't think about how a death doesn't end at the memorial; how there are possession to be sorted through and empty spaces to be filled. I didn't think about how I burst into tears at the most inane tasks, such as putting on my makeup or shopping for Christmas gifts. I didn't about how a death around the holidays would be so hard because family gatherings show just how much everything has changed and how noticeable it is if someone is missing.

I didn't think about how my mental health would be affected. I didn't realize that everyday would be a struggle to get out of bed. I didn't think about how loss could take your breath away and steal your energy. I didn't think about how many thoughts can race through your mind to create a fear of "down time". I didn't consider how crippling it would be to hear about your loved ones grief or how death would affect them.

I never spent the time thinking about how I would react to the loss of such an influential person in life. Death affects everyone differently and I never realized how hard it would be to grieve and to move on when everything is different.

But with loss of my brother, I realized that life and health are really too short. I realized that sometimes the standards that we hold ourselves to, or the standards that others hold us to, can tear us down when we least expect it. I realized that my brother's death was the point in my life where I would acknowledged how much I took myself for granted.

I have always been a perfectionist. In school, I wanted, and had, to get the best grades and as I continued through college and now graduate school, that need to have exemplary grades has only magnified. I have always wanted to be a mom: an extraordinary mom. I unconsciously scheduled myself to have as much meaningful time with my children as possible and I made sure that they got all the opportunities I did not have as a child, even if it killed me financially. I strived to be the best teacher I could be by continuing my schooling, attending every professional development opportunity I could get my hands on, and planning stellar learning activities. I wanted to contribute more to my family, so I joined a company as an independent consultant and began selling with all my leftover energy; I became obsessed with making the best party templates, with booking as many parties as I could, and throwing myself into my group page on social media. I had to do it all and be all for everyone and everything.

And in doing so, I broke myself. I replaced my fear with new challenges to mask what I was hiding and denying. I became driven to escape the complicated realities of living with the knowledge of loving someone who was gravely ill. I pushed myself and kept pushing because I thought I could do it all and people kept saying "Wow! You're so good at that!" or "I don't know how you do it! You are a super mom!". And while their comments were well-intended, they also helped me build this unrealistic facade of who I should be and how high of a standard I needed to hold myself to.

In the weeks following my brother's death, I was able to realize I was broken. That I piled too many responsibilities on myself and forget to just be myself. Self-care took a back seat to all my responsibilities and I forgot to acknowledge that I was only human.

Then I talked with a wise friend who always knows just what to say when I feel low. She said that instead of making a New Year's resolution, she was going to focus on a word. And as she said that, I couldn't help but think that my word for 2018 would be: Heal. Which was coincidentally her word too, proving that this is the right path to pursue right now.

In 2017, I learned a lot, but I also lost a lot. I lost a piece of myself with my brother. But I also lost the ability to care for myself. I took on a lot of responsibility, developed a lot of horrible habits, and fell down the rabbit hole into a place where I was too harsh on myself. So, 2018 will be the year where I HEAL.

2018 will be the year that I admit I need help. It will be the year that I live in the moment. It will be the year where I take on no extra responsibility. It will be the year where I learn what self-care truly means. It will be the year that I become a better me; not a better teacher, not a better wife, not a better mom, not a better sister, not a better daughter. But a better ME.

This will be the year that I heal myself from the inside out.