Finding Your Way in the Wilderness- Lessons on Creating a Life You Want to Live

Recently, I’ve been making my way back through Brené Brown’s work. A big change in the way I spend my days has invited me back to a place of reflection on how I am and who I want to be in this world.

This week, I re-read Braving the Wilderness. A look at belonging based on a Maya Angelou quote discussing how “belonging” is not to a place or to a people- but to yourself. And when you truly belong to you, that’s when you belong wherever it is you find yourself. Even in the wilderness.

Who are you? What do you believe?

These are big questions.

Simultaneously, I was a guest on a podcast. A local IG- turning to real life friend- Nina McGoff started a podcast called “Making Fit Work” and tapped me to discuss how I make fitness work in my life.

For a podcast junkie like myself, this was such a fun opportunity! 

As the release date of the podcast crept closer, I started to panic a little.

Was I reinforcing diet culture with my comments?

Was I going to make other listeners lean to the obsessive snd compulsive behaviors I had spent so much time healing?

Was I saying too much?

And while I’m sure much of this was a vulnerability hang over, there was something else there too.

During our conversation, Nina and I never spoke of my disordered past with eating and exercise. It just didn’t come up because it’s not my reality anymore.

Instead, we talked about the habits I have created and cultivated that have left me feeling fitter and more fabulous at 41 then I have ever felt (ya know, mostly). And mom-guilt  and giving yourself permission to take time for you. 

We talked about my now. 

As I thought about all this I realized, I finally belong to me in this one, tender piece of life. I have forged a path through the wilderness away from disordered eating, away from obsessive compulsion and comparison, away from sickness and toward healing, away from restriction and toward ease.

I have stood alone in the wilderness building resistance against the constant cry of companies wanting to sell me their shakes and powders and meal plans, learning to say “good for them but not for me” when I hear my friends jumping on a ban wagon “health” trend. I have learned to be silent or walk away from diet conversations that I know will trigger me. I don’t identify with diet culture.

But neither do I identify with the anti- diet rhetoric I clung so tightly to at the beginning of my healing journey. Was I chewing gum because I was suppressing my appetite? No, I just really love gum. Was I eating protein because I am scared of carbs? No, protein satiates me more and feels better to my belly. 

All of this questioning and reflection, this deciding means that sometimes  I am, in fact, standing alone. But what I realized is, I am standing with me. 

I am working on cultivating a life I really like to live. At this moment that includes lots of movement, some exercise, some Crossfit, eating nourishing (and easy!) foods. 

It involves listening to this body of mine and giving her what She needs. Be it rest or chocolate or sweat or protein. Turns out She knows what She needs.

And if I hadn’t made my way out to the wilderness, where it’s quiet, I may not have ever learned to hear Her.

So here I am today, on a podcast, talking about how I wake up at 4:44 am to get my workout in. And I’m good here, because here is a place I’ve uncovered. Here is a place where I belong to me. Here is where I find my joy.

Getting older gets a bad rap, and sure my knees hurt when I run but I know myself and I’m willing to be myself in a way I never was before. 

And that’s pretty good too.

So, my wish for you is to have the courage to wander into the wilderness and find your true belonging.And then talk about it on a podcast :) 

What is mental health anyway?

In order for me to truly understand a concept, a word, an idea- I need to know it fully. In order to apply it, I need repeated exposures and concrete examples. This is how I learn. 

This past spring, I walked into the school counselors office (aka my friend and therapist for whom I don’t have a co-pay) and asked her “What does mental health mean?”. 

For a phrase that’s used so much, in so many ways, it was an illusive concept to me.

We chatted about the word along with related concepts such as social-emotional and self-care and mental illness. But I still wasn’t at a true place of understanding.

Fast forward a few months when said counselor-free therapist- friend recommended I watch Oprah Winfrey’s special “The Me You Can’t See”. 

This is a brilliant series co-hosted by Prince Harry (is that still his title?) about mental health. It made the concept so much more concrete for me so I thought I’d share what I have learned.

I think “mental health” should just be called “health” or better yet “wellness”. But not the kind of wellness you buy from a direct sales company that comes in a tube. 

Wellness- are you well? 

As I look back at my own life, hindsight clearly shows me when I’ve been well and what I’ve not. 

When I became orthorexic, it was about control. I lacked control in my life so as a remedy to that I attempted to assert control over my food. My mind was unwell but it was my body that suffered.

And when I struggled with binge eating disorder, it was in an attempt to numb strong emotions that were causing me so much pain. My mind was unwell but it was my body that suffered. 

For too long I thought my issues were with food not understanding it was about my mental health. 

For me- maybe for all of us-  that mind/ body connection is so strong that any separation seems fictional. 

So all this time, I thought the habits and routines I had in place kept my body healthy but truly they are keeping my mind healthy too.

Consistent exercise, walking, sleep, rest, routines, nourishing foods, solitude and connection.  These are the keys to my health and wellness- mind and body. 

There are others, of course. Gratitude practices, podcasts, writing and singing. Also books, so many books.  It all works in harmony to keep me balanced.

Some would say that all of these things I have learned to do to take care of me would be called “self care”. It’s how I care for myself. It’s how I care for me mind. How I maintain my wellness.

Another big take away from this series is normalizing that every single person struggles with their mental health on some level. None of us are immune whether we recognize it or not. 

Lately I’ve been leaning into the notion that it’s not an on/ off switch. It’s not wellness or illness. It’s a spectrum. A pain scale like they give you in the hospital.

How do you feel today? How are you functioning? On a scale of 1-10. 

And then I guess it’s our job to respond given the data we receive. I guess that’s how wellness is maintained.

I finally get it. I have a deep understanding of “mental health”. I just think we are using too many words to talk about the same thing. Not to mention the stigma associated with it all. 

If I could offer you anything it’s this- watch the Oprah and Harry special and be well. 

When Hope Floats Up

Last time I wrote, in November, I came from a dark place. I thought I had hit rock bottom and was on my way up. Little did I know...

The winter has been hard, much harder than the fall. January was dark and long and cold. I wasn’t sure I would make it through.

But if this last year, living in these COVID times has taught me anything, it is that no matter how often I sink to the bottom or how long I stay there, I can trust my reflexes to push my way back up to the surface to breathe. I am grateful for that reflex.

So now it is February. And I feel...different. Maybe it’s just because we sit on the precipice of a vacation week, or that we are rounding the bend of trimester 2. Maybe it just the increased daylight. But I feel...better. 

I’m almost afraid to say it out loud but a flame needs oxygen  to grow so I will breathe into these words in hopes of growing this spark.

Infection rates are dropping, there are less teachers quarantined or sick, the vaccine is rolling out and we’ve had almost 100 days of practice with the new routines of this school year. While I refuse the “new normal” narrative, I do believe that our practice with this school year is building up our resilience and coping muscles. 

I know for sure that by Thursday night I will be completely exhausted. I know for sure that there is a chance we will be “remote” on just hours notice. I know for sure that the “schedule” I have for my childcare can change in an instant. 

I’ve become certain of the uncertainty.

I also know for sure that reaching out and connecting with colleagues is crucial to my mental health. I know for sure that rest is key. I know for sure that the kids I’m lucky enough to work with will be the best part of my day. I know that showing up is the best thing I can do, for me and for them. 

And perhaps most importantly, I know that I can survive it all. Hard as all fuck as it may be. 

In my darkest days, I flirted with the idea of leaving public education for good. Such bullshit exists in this system, I’m just not sure I can be a part of it anymore. But in the end- I want too much to be part of the solution to leave the problems behind. These issues that have festered under the surface for years are now front and center. 

It’s becoming increasingly evident that the affects of this Pandemic on education is not a 180 day problem to solve. Educators will be dealing with shifting expectations for decades to come. We’ve only just begun...

And while in November that felt like an impossible task, in February that hope floats up and it suddenly it feels like a call to action. An invitation for truth telling. A promise of change. 

Our education system will not go back to “normal” next school year. “Normal” will not exist. We will face a continued evolution. 

And it won’t be because DESE or the Department of Ed or even Dr. Jill mandates it so. 

The change will come because of the teachers, special educators, therapists, counselors, administrators and paraprofessionals in the classrooms, offices and hallways across this country will do what they need to do for the students in front of them. 

We will be the change. We will be the voice. 

Ya know how in March the air outside is still cold but if the sun is warm enough, you feel like you can catch some rays? You roll up your sleeves and pull up your pants legs and let that chapped, dry winter skin enjoy the warmth.

That’s a little bit what this feels like. This budding hope. So even if it’s fleeting, I will enjoy it while it lasts. Trusting the promise of longer, warmer, sunnier days ahead. Trusting that I will push myself up to the top and breathe again. 

The Trap Door

I’m writing a blog post- that’s how you know things are bad...

For a few weeks, I’ve been keeping a secret. I applied and interviewed for an administrator job in another district. After 15 years in the trenches, I was ready to hang up my CCC’s, give away all materials and set sail. I visualized it, I felt the heartache of leaving my students and my colleagues and I had conversations with my husband about what our lives would look like when I took this job. Except, I didn’t get the job....

So I felt all the feelings associated with that news. Rejection, sadness and a bit of relief, too, for not having to make that hard choice. But there was something more under that, a nagging “else”, that I couldn’t quite name. Why did I feel so bad?

And then it hit me, as it usually does when I take the time to listen, this job was my way out. It was my trap door.

School year 20-21 has been a lot and every day, it seems to get more and more complicated.

Let me rewind. This summer as plans for the school year were being made, I was on team Go Back To School. All I wanted was to see kids in person. I am not afraid of COVID, I feel safe with all my PPE, I am not high risk. This is not about fear. 

This is about the weight of teaching in a pandemic. This is about trying to close gaps created by 6 months of no school. This is about juggling an every other day schedule from 6 feet away with masks on. This is about cleaning between groups of children. This is about making sure kids aren’t sharing materials, are washing their hands, are socially distanced. This is about the expectation of fitting 180 days of curriculum into 70 days of school. Fitting 45 day evaluation timelines into Tuesdays and Thursdays. Servicing a growing number of students in need without the time in your schedule or the space in your room. This is about the constant problem solving that takes place every day. This is about wondering how to provide services and education to the growing number of students who are quarantined for weeks on end. This is about the constant criticism and side line commentary from parents and the public in general. 

Nothing has changed with our expectations- of students, of teachers and yet, everything has changed. How can it be that we are expected to do the same job in completely different circumstances? 

And what I realized, just today, approximately 1/3 of the way into the school year, is I am looking for that trap door. A way out. I’m tired and I want to go home. 

Now, please understand, I have every single support in place a person needs. I have friends to talk to, colleagues who lift me up, building administrators who care so much. I have outlets- like my CrossFit, podcasts and books. I sleep at night and I don’t work on the weekends. I use every healthy coping skill in my tool belt. So, if I’m feeling this way- then I imagine that there are legions of educators and support staff and therapists and nurses and even administrators who are looking for a way out too.

So now that my trap door has been cemented shut, now what? Now, it seems, I have no choice but to keep on going.

To continue to show up, every day, and do my job. To eat that elephant, one bite at a time. To look for the good, and laugh with the kids. 

I can’t escape the challenge that is the 20-21 school year, I am in it, now. It’s not how I imagined. The burdens are so, so heavy. But I suppose it’s time to put down the expectations of myself and do my best, whatever that looks like on any given day.

This is hard stuff. If you know an educator, if you love an educator, please know how hard this is. If you’re inclined to pray for doctors and nurses who fight this pandemic, pray for us too. The fight we show up to each day may not be life or death, but boy it feels that way.

To the educators  I love, we will only get through this together. And I’d you’ve found your own trap door- no judgment. I hope you land softly and with grace. 

Thank you for your service.

Be Impeccable with Your Word...or, not...

This is one of the first of Four Agreements written by don Miguel Ruiz based on ancient Toltec wisdom. It's an amazing and simple (yet not) book about how to live a good life. Recently though, I have not been - even a little bit- Impeccable with My Word.

Let's rewind....

I've always had a thing for gossip. It's been a hobby of mine, a vice is probably a more accurate term. I like to communicate and connect and with my sharp tongue, sometimes keeping in the jabs feels like locking a vault with a toothpick.

But still, I recognize this is a very negative habit and I've tried my best to reel in my gossiping.
Now, I preface any comments with "I shouldn't be saying this, but..".
Because that's better?? Probably not, but alas, I am a work in progress.

Last week though, last week, the universe handed me quite a lesson and I was forced to attention.

Last week, a friend sent me an Instagram story by an author we both follow. This woman has been an inspiration to me and her autobiography truly changed me. I mean, I have one of her quotes hanging one the wall of my bedroom...

So this author is someone I respect.

The story was about her husband and it was a little...odd. (But who am I to judge what's odd in the first place!?!) So, I sent my friend a DM in response to the video, making fun of this author's husband.

Except.

I didn't send it to my friend. I sent my jab directly to the author.
And she responded, much to my dismay.

At first, I was mortified. But, laughing, because it was just so ridiculous.

But as the night wore on and I thought about my words and I pictured this woman reading them. I was beside myself.

What had I done? This is a woman who I respect and admire and I basically made fun of her husband to her face!

However, what I realized was, the only reason I felt so bad was because I got CAUGHT gossiping.

I got caught. I was heard. And suddenly I realized how un-Impeccable I was being with my words. So, so many of them. How judgey I was being, not just on social media in this instance, but in my day to day life. Man, that made me feel such shame.

In the click of a button, I became an internet troll. Is that who I want to be?? Not even close.

We teach children to use "positive language", to be kind, to fill people's buckets  and I turn around and forget all that. I don't walk the walk or practice what I preach.

Instead, I engage in low-vibe gossiping for the sake of a laugh.

Uugh, it pains me to even admit it.

I can't undo what's been done. I thought of emailing said author (because obviously now I'm blocked on IG) and apologizing. But she won't unhear my awful comments, so really, what's the point in that.

All I can do is move on and do better.

I can use my words to lift up others and breathe through those moments that trigger Judgey-Laurie to the surface. I can fill buckets and make positive choices.

I can walk the walk and talk the kind talk.

I can be Impeccable with My Word.

So next time you see me, and I say "I shouldn't be gossiping but...." just walk away. Let's make it easier for the both of us!

Down the rabbit hole

So I went down a bit of a rabbit hole this week.

I stumbled across my old journals in a box of keepsakes, and something made me open them.

 And then I proceeded to read them obsessively, in chronological order.

It was like reading a novel that I just couldn't put down, waiting to see what would happen next. Except these chapters were (long-forgotten) memories and the main character was...me!

The journals went as far back as high school and continued on through college, and graduate school. Almost a decade of my life's recorded history.

Many of the entries made me cringe, many more made me laugh. But I learned a few things along the way.

First, I learned that I haven't changed much. As much as I like to think I've become a whole new person; wiser and more self-actualized. What I realized is, at the core, I'm the same person I've always been.  A person who feels first, speaks second, and thinks last. A person with a big heart and an even bigger mouth. And while I'd like to believe I now use this power for good, I know that's not always true.

Another constant are my struggles. The struggles I had then, I still have now. (Food included, my goodness, how many pages did I waste documenting everything I ate and how many times can a person join Weight Watchers!?!?!). Maybe now I handle them better. Maybe now I have more effective strategies and coping mechanisms but my struggles and faults remain a constant.  It reminded me of "A Wrinkle In Time" when one of the Mrs. tells Meg to use her faults and they will help her defeat the IT. Now I can see that these struggles have helped me, and continue to help me. They give me perspective and ground me. They allow me to grow.

My faith has always been a huge part of my life. I was blown away by some of the things I wrote about God when I was younger. It took me a while to recall sneaking out of my apartment on Sunday nights to attend local churches , even after nights of too much booze and too many bad decisions. To me, my faith feels new or at least renewed, but alas, at my core, it's always been there.

Secondly, I felt such gratitude. In those pages were detailed the most "exciting" parts of my life. Adventures and late nights. Dancing until dawn and nights that I'll never remember. Heartbreak and love. Family struggles, bad grades, and difficult decisions about the future. Among those experiences; the good and the bad, were friends. Many of whom I'm blessed to still call friends today. Roommates who dealt with silent-morning Laurie. High School besties who've traveled decades with me. How blessed am I to (continue to) be surrounded by such an amazing group of women...you all know who you are.

And the most important lesson of all is a message to my 20 year old self that this 38 year old version still needs to hear....

It will all be OK

 

 

There was so much angst in those pages. So much worry. What would the future hold? Who would I marry? Would I ever find someone to love me? What I so desperately wanted that girl to know is this....
 

"It will all be OK. As a matter of fact, it will all be so much more than OK. Just go along ,have your fun ,live your life and worry not. The path will reveal itself in time. "

 

I sit here as an almost 40 year old mother of two. And although I've learned to quiet those angsty "what's next?" voices, they are still there. I worry about my kids and their future, I worry about my career. I worry I don't do enough. I worry I play life too small. And yes, I still worry about how much I eat.

 

If this almost 40 year old mother of two learned anything from that 20 year old girl, it is this...
"It will all be OK, just go along and have your fun and live your life. The path will reveal itself in time"

 

Also, stop worrying about how much you eat :)

 





Snow days, trust and progress

As a teacher, I used to hate snow days.

Like, legitimately hate them. Like be so angry about them, I'd storm about all day. Seething. I would even hate that people liked them!

I had plenty of reasons to justify my anger.

"The kids needs the consistency", "I'm loosing my summer", "I had an important meeting today!"

All valid, all true, and all feeding into that sense of injustice.

But the truth under all that anger was my lack of control. I felt best in life when I have a tight grip on what's happening around me. When I'm at the wheel and we're on cruise control. Order, control, routine. That's how I like it.

Today, we had a snow day. Unexpected, as our 1" of predicted snow turned into 5"+.

 I was awake, my morning routine had begun, lunches were made, clothes were set out. I was prepped for the meetings I had today. But instead, its a snow day.

And I realized- I wasn't angry.

I sighed (heavily, I'll admit) and went back to bed. There was no anger, no sense of injustice, no fuming or seething.

Just acceptance.

It may be because our last day is still June 15th, early summer by all accounts.

But I'd like to think it's because of the progress I've made in accepting life and reality as it comes. In being less rigid and more flexible. I'd like to think I've learn to trust, to be and to know it will all be OK.

My need to control in life has lead me down some dark paths; eating disorders, obsessive routines, stress, anxiety, anger, endless striving for perfection and people pleasing.

I used to think that my perfectionism and need to control would lead to me being a better mother, a better wife, a better SLP. If I had everything 'just so' then things would certainly turn out in my favor. Everyone would be happy under my control.

But now I see it only lead me to feel angry and upset, to snap and break when things didn't go my way. I'd even bet my husband would say I'm more pleasant to be around now that I'm a less Type- A. But don't fact check that because #creativelicense.

I can say for certain that my house (and head) is a happier place to live.

 Learning to let go a little has been an incredible relief and allowed me to feel more joy than I ever thought possible when I was white knuckling my way through my days.

Is a snow day a big problem? Nope, not at all. But if we learn to be flexible in the little things, it helps when the big things come along.

Sometimes, it takes a snow day, an unscheduled, unplanned break from life, to see how far you've come.

So today, I'll pat myself on the back for releasing some of that Type A/perfection/control, let my kids watch too much TV, and know that the lunches and the clothes are all ready to go for tomorrow.

Cheers to the journey, to loosening that grip, and to learning to adjust those sails...