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.

Judgments

It's been a while, but lately something has been weighing on my shoulders and I need to push some of the weight off... And I say it's been weighing on my shoulders because the usual phrase "weighing on my mind" doesn't quite fit. I honestly feel a tremendous pressure is on my shoulders and not admitting what I am about to say has been dragging me down with the discomfort and conflicting feelings that are figurative weights on my shoulders.

Maybe this post won't be the same sentiments that you have. Maybe this post will upset you. Or cause you to judge me. Maybe it will resonate with something deep inside of you. Or maybe it will be a waste of your time. I cannot tell you how to feel, but I can say "Don't be a dick". Keep your comments of hurt and unwanted advice to yourself, especially after reading the content of this page.

As a woman, I am judged for everything I do or do not do. If I have children, I am judged for how many I have and how I raise them. If I do not have children, I am judged for not having a nurturing personality. If I get married, then I am judged for how quickly it came about, how extravagant my wedding was, and how much I pamper my husband. If I do not get married, then I am judged for being single or neglecting what is expected of me in a relationship.

As a woman, I am judged for how curvy I am, how skinny I look, or my lack/abundance of my chest size. I am judged for what I wear; how much of it, how little of it, or how much I spent on it. I am judged for my work performance; what my role should be, how much I am paid, and where I choose to work. I am judged for being jealous, needy, proud, aggressive, or meek. I am judged for my chemical make-up; if I am angry, sad, happy, or touchy, then I am on my period. I am judged for every single thing that I do or do not do.

Being a woman is hard. But, genes, right? I am a woman so I go on living my life. I have curves (or rather bumps and stretch marks). I have a less than stellar chest size. I chose to get married to an older man at a young age. I chose to become a mom at a young age and I chose to have two children. I chose to become a preschool teacher and become a perpetual student. I am much more confident than I was in the past, but still get emotional over commercials and words people say to me. I have a small group of friends I adore and a family who loves me. I can be a bitch. I can be sweet. I am a woman... hear me roar and all that comes with it.

However, thanks to unspoken societal rules and unfair judgments by the powers that be, being a woman can be hard. Which is why I think it is excruciating to admit when I need help. It physically hurts and gives me so much anxiety to admit that my life isn't perfect and that I cannot do something. And I know so many other women feel the same way, especially mothers.

Let's talk about motherhood. I became a mom at the ripe old age of 21. I was married and excited and instantly fell in love with my daughter. I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and it was just like the movies and stories describe; every sound she made caused me to smile, every breath she took was carefully measured by my eyes, and there are still no words to describe the joy of hearing a first cry, laugh, or coo. I was over the moon! But, no one talks about the other side of becoming a mom.

Physically and emotionally, it is DRAINING. Physically, your body immediately begins to try and "right" itself from pregnancy; the hormones come flooding with a vengeance, your body is left flabby and stretched out and everything hurts regardless of whether you had a vaginal or c-section birth. Your sleep schedule changes; you get little to no sleep and are left dragging yourself around in a constant state of confusion. Emotionally, you are drained because it hits you that you are fully responsible for the care and well-being of a tiny, helpless human being. While it is joyous and beautiful, it is also overwhelming; there are now doctor visits to think about, bathing routines that need to be adjusted, feeding schedules, and thoughts about head positioning during carrying and sleeping hours.

But life still goes on.

There are bills to be paid, maternity leave (if you are EXTREMELY lucky to have it) to calculate, dishes to be washed, and laundry to fold and put away. Houses that need to be dusted and cleaned. Dinners that need to be cooked and family visits to be made.

It is horribly overwhelming.

And because society believes that new moms are perfect creatures and should cherish every moment, many moms find it so HARD to ask for help or say that every moment it not perfect. It is hard to admit that you don't fit the perfect mold as a mom. That while you love your child, life with a baby and as a family is hard to adjust to. Which is why I spent the first few weeks of motherhood crying my eyes out.

It was the most beautiful and most awful time of my life. I found it difficult to adjust to the lack of sleep, I was scared to death to be left alone with a baby that a few days before I didn't know how to burp or feed or change. I was terrified that hiccups would be the end of the world. Or that I wasn't holding my baby in the right position and she would end up with a flat spot. I caught the baby blues really bad. And it was because it's taboo to talk about not being perfect...it's taboo to ask for help because becoming a mother should be the most precious thing to happen in your life.

But so many women let their baby blues go on for a long time or they don't admit that they have trouble adjusting and need help. They get postpartum depression. They find it hard to talk to their partner about it. They find it hard to approach the doctor. They find it hard to ask for help. Because society expects us to be perfect moms and so in love and to bounce back with a perfect figure just a few weeks later. As women we are judged for every time we ask for help and for every time we don't live up to expectations. This can be especially true for mothers.

I eventually settled into motherhood and shook off the baby blues. And by the time I had my son, I was able to adjust much better. I knew to ask for help. I knew that I couldn't be super mom and that the dishes, laundry, and cleaning could wait. I knew to cherish the little moments and ask others to step in when I just needed a break. It got better.

But, lately I have had a few conversations with friends. And I realized that being a woman is still hard... It still comes with judgment and a sense of trepidation when asking for help or when admitting that we cannot do something.

Recently I have had a lot of family issues. My brother is sick. Really sick. Sorry if you are reading this FH, but it is incredibly hard to watch someone who called you "four eyes" throughout middle and high school, who threw food at you at the dinner table, and who used to talk through every movie and t.v. show, deteriorate and change every single time you see them. It's hard to watch them sleep the whole day away, or be in so much pain that they can barely make complete sentences, that their body is an empty shell of what it has been. It sucks...

I am also facing my own health issues. I spent four days in the hospital two and a half weeks at home recuperating with a diagnosis of Lyme Disease. It attacked my nervous system and caused my neck muscles to be profoundly weak on my left side of my body, it caused my joints to swell, and it took away all of my reflexes in my foot. I am much better than those first days in the hospital, but it's been a long road.

And what hurts me the most is that people say, "You look GREAT" or "You seem like you are doing better". Ugh. I appreciate the sentiment, but it makes me cringe every time someone says that. Because right now I am battling an invisible illness. I look great on the outside, but my body is hurting on the inside where no one can see... My muscles tremble, my hands and knuckles are so swollen that I cannot hold a paperback book, my knee is retaining so much water and the pressure is so intense that I fell down the stairs last week... My body feels like it is constantly in a state of fighting off the flu....the body and muscle aches rival those that accompany a 104 fever. Sometimes I have headaches and tingling in my toes and fingers. Some nights I cry myself to sleep after tossing and turning for about an hour because my joints are so uncomfortable in every position. I can barely pick up my son or run around the yard to play with my kids.

All of this is happening and I barely complain. Because society says I have to put on a brave face...get perfect grades as a Grad student, play with my kids non-stop as a mom, cook and clean as a wife, and put in 110% as a teacher. Ugh...

I have been feeling like this for the past several months and I am scared to DEATH to push the publish button because I know that someone, somewhere is going to judge me. They are gonna say, "She is just seeking attention and wants someone to praise her" or "She is neglecting her kids because she says motherhood isn't always perfect" or "She is just milking her diagnosis. I know someone who got Lyme and they were fine in just a few days" or "No wonder why she looks like shit lately. She is ruining her life". I know that the judgments are gonna flood in because being a woman is hard... There is always someone who is dictating what I can or cannot do. What I can or cannot feel. What I can or cannot say. What I can or cannot write. What I can or cannot admit. What I can or cannot ask for help.

Or worse. People are gonna say "You are an excellent mom" or "I could never tell that you were struggling" or "Look how far you have come" or "Wow. You are so strong" or "You can pull through". Ugh. While the intentions are nice, they are sometimes just as tough to swallow as the judgments.

Because when you reach that point, you know you are a good mom. You know you have made it this far and everyone is still alive and you can make it through the day. You know that life will continue to go on and that you put your best effort forward. You know that there are circumstances beyond your control and everything happens for a reason.

But what I really want moving forward, aren't the sympathy comments. Or the judgments. What I want moving forward are the moments where you stop judging. Where it's okay for women to admit that they need help or for them to admit that right now, they don't feel as strong as they look. What I want is for women to admit that they got the baby blues or postpartum depression without feeling the guilt that accompanies such an admission. What I want is for women to say that they need a break from motherhood or life for a few hours because they need a refresh. What I want is for women to embrace their bodies and to not have to worry about their friend, lover, or a stranger saying that they aren't enough. What I want is for women to admit everything I said and more without being judged by society, by their friends, by their family members, or by their co-workers.

What I want is for everyone to breath a sigh of relief when they push that weight of judgment off their shoulders.