All the Feels

It's been a whirlwind July and start to August.  I saw a meme the other day that joked about June and July only feeling like it lasted 5 seconds.  True story!

I stayed pretty close to home this summer, aside from some trips to the future in-laws (Gainesville), my parents' (Stuart), and my second home (Disney World).  We became Annual Passholders and I couldn't be more thrilled.  We can pop down to O-town for dinner and fireworks if we want.  That makes me insanely happy.

P surprised me in mid-July with having my best friend of 29 years flown in from L.A. She and I have been friends since second grade.  That always leaves me in awe. She stayed for 10 days and we had a wonderful time.  We did all 4 Disney parks with P and I've not felt that relaxed and comfortable in a long, long time. But alas, the time came for her to fly back to California and my heart started aching the moment we left our house to go to the airport.  I hate living so far away from her.  I hate that we can't just have brunch together on the weekend.  I'll see her again in November for the wedding, but right now, it feels like it's eons away.  And I'll be so busy during that time, I don't know how much time we'll get together.

I worked on teaching myself to knit.  Everything I read said that casting on is SO HARD.  I nailed it within a few hours.  At the beginning, I wished everything was casting on.  I felt so accomplished!  Fi (aforementioned BFF) helped me strengthen my skills and I bought a set of circular needles.  I'm working on a scarf right now in my school's colors and it's going well.  Next up is a baby blanket x3 for the new babies that are coming in my life.  Fingers crossed!  I'm hopeful they'll turn out as sweet as the babies themselves.

I'm back in my classroom.  It's a new classroom, with a new shape that required a new layout.  That was a challenge.  I like my reading corner to be the focal point of my classroom, and I don't feel I've done it justice, yet. Once I get all of the 18 little bodies in there with me, I'm sure I'll rearrange again and again.

I'm teaching a new grade level - second grade.  Someone has told me that they were in a similar situation to me, feeling like they were created to teach the grade-level they were in previously.  She shared that after being switched to second grade, she felt like she stumbled upon teaching's best kept secret, and that second grade is the best.  I'm praying for a similar experience.  I'm not worried about teaching the curricula or loving the kids.  Let's face it, loving my students is God's absolute calling on my life, no matter the grade level.  I'm not even worried about my new team, per se.  They're wonderful teachers and even better people.  What I'm worried about is that the heart pangs I feel every time I see my "old" team together will never go away.  At our back to school breakfast, I had to sit with my back to them because it was heartbreaking to me.  I felt like I wasn't where I belonged.  I know that these feelings will fade, but right now, they're fresh.  Thankfully, my "old" teams' classrooms surround mine, so I can see their faces, laugh with them, get hugs, and love them just like before.  If you're not a teacher, I can't explain this.  If you're not me, I can't explain this.  I have feelings really deeply.  About everything.  It's just that in this situation, I can't help feeling like my feelings are wrong, too much, unwarranted.  I've forged relationships with my team over the past 14 years I spent in 3rd grade.  The closest I can come to explaining is that I'm mourning.  I know that sounds dramatic.  I hate sounding dramatic.  (I'm using that word my mom dislikes so strongly a lot in this post.  Sorry, Momma.)

I'm struggling with liking myself right now.  My trainer has me working on a gratitude journal that P and I share.  I write on one page, 3 things I'm grateful for and 3 things I like about myself, along with 3 goals each week.  P writes the same things on another page.  She says that our brains control our bodies, and I agree 100%.  My problem is that my brain is really hard on myself.  Like, crazy hard.  Like, I go to negative thoughts about myself as a default.  It's not easy to break that cycle.  I'm working hard to get back on track.  I food prepped and menu planned today.  I laid out my workouts for the week.  I set my 3 goals.  I'm optimistic about being able to meet all 3 of them.  We'll see how I feel tomorrow when the alarm goes off at 5:15 AM.  I'm historically awful at getting up for morning workouts.

This post has been filled with all the feels.  I know that because I counted them.  There are at least 16 different feelings in this post.  Having all the feels can be a burden at times.  I can't always shut out the feels of the people who surround me and then their feels become my feels.  It's a bit like being a really weak X-Men with a weird emotional absorbing power.  Although it bothers me to no end that I cry so frequently, I don't know if I'd trade it for not feeling.  Because I'd much rather have all the feels than none of the feels.  My life is enriched by my feelings and emotions.  I can honestly say I feel everything all the way.  I don't give my feelings and emotions to others halfway.  If you know I care about you, you know I care with every bit of me I can.  Is it exhausting?  Yes, at times.  But it's so much better than the alternative.

Anxiety Girl!

I have anxiety.  I didn't have anxiety (or at least it didn't affect me in any real way) until I became a teacher.  During my second year of teaching, I would lie awake in bed at night (I shared a room with my best friend because we could afford a super cute condo with another friend that way) and my heart would race and race.  I was terrified that I was having a heart attack at 23 years old.  I went to my PCP at the time and was sent to a cardiologist, etc, etc.  I was fit as a fiddle (well, as fit as you can be toting around an extra 5th grader's worth of weight).  My heart was great.  Everything looked good.  We discussed my symptoms again and...he suggested it might be anxiety.

When my parents divorced when I was 17, I had gone to see a therapist a few times, mostly because my wonderfully caring mother wanted to make sure there was someone unbiased I could talk to about everything.  It was a positive experience, but I've never felt that I have a lot of lasting concerns/effects from their divorce.  If I'm being honest, I think it was the absolute best decision my mother has ever made, for herself and for my sister and I.  She removed the toxicity from our lives and God has since replaced it with so much positivism that there's no doubt in my mind all of His plans are for good.  But...I digress.  Through that time with the therapist (and I was honest with her) we never came to the conclusion that I had anxiety.  

In college, I was pretty at-ease with myself, as much as you can be when you've lived your life overweight.  Some people are loud, boisterous, and funny when they carry extra pounds.  Some are painfully shy.  I'm somewhere in the middle.  If anything, teaching has forced me to become more extroverted, even though at times it can be incredibly draining.  At other times, I can't stand to be alone.  I'm a walking contradiction.  A beautiful mess!

The PCP prescribed Zoloft at the lowest dose for me and I started seeing a therapist in St. Augustine.  I filled out the paperwork, none of the check boxes applying to me at all.  After two visits the therapist looked at me and said (I'm paraphrasing since it was 10+ years ago), "There's nothing wrong with you.  You have normal human worries.  I think you solely have a chemical imbalance, and therefore the Zoloft is going to be your best bet.  If you have concerns that you want to talk about, you're welcome to come back..."  I was surprised, but okay with that arrangement.  After all, this whole anxiety thing was new to me.

I tried again to go to therapy (two different therapists after that one) and only ever made it through one to two sessions before they were having a similar conversation with me.  Then my fabulous nurse practitioner obgyn increased my Zoloft dose.  The anxiety subsided. (WOOT!)

Now, I know that my case of anxiety is mild.  I'm not debilitated and even though it may delay me from certain activities, I still end up going/participating, because I've learned that if I can overcome that initial fear of what people think of me, I'll end up having a great time.  It has prevented me from going to a few events in my life, but nothing formal/really important, and nothing where I had already said I would go and then cancelled.  Mostly situations where the thought of attending gave me anxiety and so when asked, I said, "Maybe."  (I learned from my mother that maybe is a much nicer way of saying "probably not."  For example: "Can I have a sleepover with so and so next weekend?"  "Maybe.")

I did notice, however, that as more birthdays passed, my anxiety intensified.  The thing about anxiety is that you get ridonkulously frustrated with yourself because you know that the thoughts you're having are irrational but you cannot stop having them.  In fact, the more you try not to have them, the more you have them.  The inside of my brain, subconsciously, says things like, "She didn't respond to your text right away because you offended her and now she's mad." or "Those people whispering over there are talking about me.  I knew I shouldn't have worn this!"  or the dreaded response to, "We/I need to talk to you." "Oh no.  I'm fired/she hates me/I made a huge mistake/my life is over!"

Even just reading that is embarrassing because I consider myself a relatively intelligent person and it just sounds so...silly.  The aftermath of that is is that you beat yourself up because you can't believe you let your emotions get the best of you like that.  Because 9 times out of 10, all of those things that my mind perceives and convinces me of...they turn out not to be true.  But that 1 time out of 10, well it's worth more than all those other 9.  Because it feeds the anxiety monster.  It reminds me that 10% of the time, my fears are justified.  10% of the time, I hate being right.  

In this past year, my anxiety has had its ups and downs.  New situations sometimes make it worse, and I've had a bunch of those this year.  When I saw my obgyn* this year, she and I decided to go back up to the highest dose of Zoloft I had been on.  We had cut it down to half before because things were good.  But you know...wedding planning and all.  I thought I'd be more disappointed in myself for needing it, but I'm actually not, and that in itself is a miraculous gift.  I've also found a therapist I really like.  She gets that my anxieties are not just "normal" worries.  She challenges me to to stop the negative self-talk.  That, my friends, is a HUGE challenge for me.  Some other time I'll tell you about some other stuff she's taught me.  For now, I'll leave you with something that I found endlessly fascinating.  Emphasis in the article is mine.  The original article can be found here. 

An influential study conducted 100 years ago by two Harvard psychologists, Robert M. Yerkes and John Dillingham Dodson, laid the foundation for the idea that moderate levels of anxiety improve performance: too much anxiety, obviously, and performance is impaired, but too little anxiety also impairs performance. “Without anxiety, little would be accomplished,” David Barlow, the founder and director emeritus of the Center for Anxiety and Related Disorders at Boston University, has written.

The performance of athletes, entertainers, executives, artisans, and students would suffer; creativity would diminish; crops might not be planted. And we would all achieve that idyllic state long sought after in our fast-paced society of whiling away our lives under a shade tree. This would be as deadly for the species as nuclear war.

So I'm going to take my moderate anxiety and keep using it to be a superhero...getting stuff done and done well, loving myself and sharing that love with others, even if I'm second guessing myself part of the time.  

I truly believe the second graph about myself.  Anxiety does NOT define me. 

*She's seriously one of the top 10 people I know...we hugged in Target once and she squealed and jumped up and down and was so excited about my engagement that the cashier asked if it was a close friend I hadn't seen for awhile.  Imagine that cashier's face when I told her it was my gynecologist!  I wish it wasn't so weird (for her AND I, we've discussed this) to hang out outside of the doctor's office.  

Not Just Sweating for the Wedding

So ya'll, I've tried to start a blog many times.  I had a teacher/craft/life blog.  Ain't nobody got time for that.  Thoughts that go through my head about blogging are things like this:
"No one wants to read what I write."
"My blog is no different than a million other blogs out there."
"Blogging, the way I would do it, would make me vulnerable, exposed.  Who wants that?"
"Time.  Once school starts up again, will I even have the time?"
"What will my friends and family think?" (This one pops up in my head...all. the. time.)

Then I respond to those thoughts:
"Even if JUST ONE, just ONE! person reads what I write and doesn't feel alone, or feels validated, or feels loved, or considered, or anything, then isn't my writing worthwhile?"
"True, there are a million other blogs out there.  But those million other people are NOT ME.  There's only one me.  So therefore, my blog is different because it's me!"
"Again, there's the potential to help just one person.  Vulnerable and exposed can let it negative stuff, but it also opens the door for positive stuff.  And who doesn't love positive stuff?"
"I'll worry about the time thing when school starts up again.  Maybe posts will be less frequent.  Maybe not."
"What WILL they think?  Most likely they'll be proud and share my blog and tell me how much they love me even when I write silly/crazy/funny/stupid/embarrassing posts.  Because they're my tribe.  And if they don't love me in spite of the aforementioned posts, it's ok.  It doesn't change who I am."

A dear, sweet, wonderful, encouraging, adjectives-haven't-even-been-made-for-her-yet friend of mine told me to absolutely start this blog.  I asked her if writing this blog would make me seem pretentious.  Her reply was, "NO!  It will allow others to know you are there for them and they are not alone!  It will help so many people!!"  She sold me.  I have a heart for helping.  Also, the original post that inspired this blog got 87 likes on Facebook.  That's a lot of likes for little old me.  It also got 16+ comments.  For a simple Facebook post on my private page, I feel that garnered a lot of attention.  Like, maybe even people who don't struggle with their weight but have value for the human struggle in general will read this.  As one of the most incredible human beings I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting wrote, "Life is Brutiful."  (Brutal + Beautful.)  That human being is Glennon Doyle Melton, and you can read her blog +Momastery.  Just be prepared to clear your calendar.  Her writing is...breathtaking.

So this blog will be many things.  I don't want to pigeonhole it from the get-go.  I want to give it life. But the basic principle behind the comes from this original post (with a few edits), the one I talked about from Facebook:

A couple of months ago, these adorable workout pants appeared on my Facebook feed with the slogan down the side, "Sweating for the Wedding!"  "How cute!" I thought, "I need those!" (I didn't buy them.  Because hello?  Saving money for a wedding!)  But the more I thought about it, the more it kinda bugged me.  I mean, I'm all about looking amazing on my wedding day, but the reality is that I don't want to sweat for the WEDDING.  I want to sweat and get healthier for my LIFE.  So that I can live a lot longer, healthier, and happier AFTER the wedding.  Today I got up when Patrick left for work (I'm a teacher and it's summer) and restarted my Zombies, Run 5k app and then after that workout was done finished it up with about half of a mission in the regular Zombies, Run! app. All in all, about an hour's time spent moving.  Spent sweating.  Holy cannoli, Batman, was it hot, even at 8AM.  And it begins. #sweatingforlife #NOTjustsweatingforthewedding

I won't lie.  It's taken me 36 years to reach this mindset. (I like to think I was a very thoughtful child from birth, contemplating life issues from the crib.)  I still struggle with this mindset EVERY. DAY.  Everyday, people.  I want to lose weight.  I always have.  Seriously, like since 2nd grade.  It took me a long time to realize, though, that I don't want to JUST lose weight, that's secondary.  I don't want to look good for my family or friends or Patrick because I'm afraid I embarrass them - that's tertiary.  I want to FEEL good for life and live it.  That's my new goal!

If you have that same goal, welcome to my tribe.  If you don't, but you love reading about someone who is human and makes many mistakes but also has many triumphs on the way to her goal, welcome to my tribe.  If you, like me, believe that love is amazing, the only weapon we have, and never ever ever meant to be mediocre, welcome to my tribe.  If you think glitter is amazing and that God made sweat look like glitter so we can think we're fancy when we're burning calories and fat, then welcome to my tribe and...leave a little sparkle wherever you go.

XOXO