Day 5: April 5, 2019

Extremely Tired, Angry, and Anxious. 

When people find out that I teach middle school, they always give me a variation of the same response: "Oh my god! I could never do that." Even the guys my boyfriend works with, who are Nuclear Engineers, say this. I giggle to myself and smile because what they don't know is that I can barely do it, either.

This is year two of teaching ELA and writing for 7th graders and it is killing me. I don't sleep through the night. My head is constantly filled with anxious thoughts about behavior, lesson plans, parents, meetings, and how the hell to survive until June 7. When I began teaching, I loved it. Sure, I had rough kids, but the good outweighed the bad by so much. Then, everything shifted. I was hired at a Title 1 school and was warned about the behavior and the fights. I thought, surely it's not that bad.

It's not as bad as they said. It's worse. It's "I panic about getting out of bed and having to go back there." bad. It's "waking up in the middle of the night sweating from nightmares about classroom fights" bad. It's "curling into myself on the floor of another teacher's classroom and bawling my eyes out" bad.

When we dismiss for the final time on the last day of school, I'll hang up my work badge and say goodbye to being a teacher. It's a noble career but it's one that I simply cannot do anymore. Not at the expense of my soul and mind. People always joke about teaching being rough, about bad kids, and having to buy your own supplies (I've probably spent over $500 out of pocket on my students). Yet, it never seems as bad as it is once you're knee deep in kids cursing you out and throwing chairs at each other.

After today, we have 40 more school days. Just 40 more.

Day 4: April 2, 2019

Journey to Niagara Falls

I'm not sure how obvious it is to outsiders but my job makes me miserable. I was just about counting down the seconds until Spring Break would begin. Sebastian and I had planned out a trip to see Niagara Falls, the Canada side.

We flew out in the very early hours of the 26th and stayed in Niagara, Ontario until the morning of the 30th. Even better, we were be there for Sebastian's birthday, eating dessert with a view of the falls.

 After checking into our hotel, we immediately went down to the Table Rock Welcome Center. This is where you go to get up close and personal with the Falls on the Canada side. Before we were even all the way there, we were amazed. The sheer size and noise of the water was intense.

There are two falls, one smaller and then the famous Horseshoe Falls. It was a chilly 40* out so the mist flying off the water was a bit unpleasant but it was so beautiful that it didn't even matter.

We wandered a lot in Niagara, taking everything in, especially through cheesy gift shops. I was hard-pressed not to buy everything with a cute moose on it. And yes, maple syrup is in abundance.

We paid $32 CAD to go 120 feet below ground and travel through tunnels to stand behind the falling water of the Horseshoe Falls. The sound enveloped us in these dark and dank tunnels. Everyone had cameras out. We were freaking behind Niagara Falls.

We spent a whole day in Niagara-On-The-Lake bouncing between wineries and distilleries, tasting the loveliest wines. We both discovered we have a love for the horrifically expensive Icewines. We sipped and gave each other sad looks when we realized we could absolutely not spend $98 (Canadian or US) for a 7oz bottle. But, damn, we wanted to.

We saw the Falls from every angle - right up front, above in the Clifton Hills Skywheel, and lit up under the night sky from Skylon Tower. Every time was just as breath-taking and unreal. We took photos of the water like we take pictures of our pup.

Some of the best parts were the down time spent in the hotel. Just being together. Whether under blankets watching Hulu or relaxing in the hot tub. We got to just be with each other and enjoy the simplicity of that.

I got lucky. My travel partner is the best one I could have ever hoped for.


Here's to every trip we take in the future. 

Day 3: March 18, 2019

This post will be a response to the article, published by CNN, entitled "Tattoo therapy: How ink helps sexual assault survivors heal" by Nina Avramova. Read it here.




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On my body, you will find 5 tattoos, of varying sizes...

1. A dream catcher with a blue rose on my calf.

2. A teal bow on my upper back.

3. A dainty chipped tea cup on my right arm.

4. A framed image of Hogwarts castle on my right leg.

5. A series of succulents and stems on my upper left arm.

As I was laying face down on the black leather chair inside a Myrtle Beach tattoo parlor, Hank (the artist)
chuckled and told me that after the first one, you get addicted to getting tattoos. I smiled through the searing burns of needle on flesh and thought, yeah right...not after how this feels! Then I passed out.

My first tattoo, at age 18, was before I had ever experienced trauma. However, I had already begun my struggle with depression. It would hit me in waves, leaving me feeling hopeless and exhausted from menial tasks or socializing. I wanted to disappear. I spent a lot of my free time reading and drawing. More specifically, drawing dream catchers. I loved this idea of something physical being able to draw out, trap, and rid me of the nightmares and demons inside my head. Then I realized I could make this a part of me, as a tattoo.

There was the unexplainable feeling of beauty and self-love that came with my first tattoo (and each one after, really). I suddenly had this part of my body that I loved when the rest was ridiculed by others or, worse, myself. However, I hadn't actually connected all of these thoughts together quite yet.

Then at the age of 18, I found myself the victim of an abusive relationship and sexual assault/rape. I lost a lot of who I was. I was sinking into this pit of anxiety and self-hatred. I blamed myself. My body felt like a stranger. Something I was only renting part-time. When I'd have panic attacks, it felt like I was trying to claw my way out of my own skin. Eventually, though, it ended. I started getting better.

I planned my next tattoo - a teal bow to signify the strength of all the people who had been pained by sexual assault, abuse, and/or rape. It was my way of starting this process of taking back parts of myself while also saying "I will not be ashamed anymore."

With each tattoo since, I have felt more and more at home in my body. It feels like it truly belongs to me. It's a home, not an Airbnb. Sure, there are still parts I want to change. I have a long way to go on that front. But when I see the art along my skin, I can't help but smile at the places I have been in life and what I have accomplished.

Day 2: March 15, 2019

Friday.

Thank God it's Friday. Because Friday, after 2:38pm, means no more screaming-children-induced headaches, no more running around trying to figure out where someone is because they left the classroom without permission, again, no more shouting to be heard, no more waiting to be allowed to teach, no more fights to break up.

Friday means I have two days to relax and restart. I can take long showers and lather myself in lavender lotion. I can curl into the couch cushions and watch Netflix until the sun goes down. I can turn off my alarms. I can socialize. Or not.

I know everyone looks forward to their weekends but I never looked forward to them like this. Not in a desperate, i-need-them-to-survive-my-job way, like I do with being a Title I Middle School Teacher. I give 110% of my being every week and get home spent and having received only about 20% of it back. The rest is failing grades due to not doing the work, cutting class, or being suspended. Parent phone calls that don't help. Begging students to just give me 30 seconds of calm in the chaos.

I never thought I would be a teacher - let alone a Middle School teacher. It all happened by chance. I thought I loved it. I thought it would get easier. Instead, I constantly realize I am losing pieces of myself as I fight to do even the simplest parts of my job. I realize now, almost 2 years in, that this isn't the permanent path for me. It has taught me 1,000,000 life lessons but after June 7, I will close the book on my career as a teacher in pursuit of something that brings joy - versus takes it away.

I have a few ideas. I'd love to write as a major part of my job. Or work with passionate people. Maybe I'll be a writer or an editor or a social media manager or a communications officer. Though, honestly, I'm really just ready to see wherever the world takes me.

Until then, Spring Break is only one week away.

Day 1: March 2, 2019

A lot is going on in life right now, while simultaneously feeling like nothing is going on. I've been missing countless hours of sleep, thought about walking out of my job and never turning back, spent evenings with wonderful friends, fallen asleep curled up next to my best friend, cried in the car, and wondered what comes next.

Life is bringing big changes this year and I want to write myself through them.

Today though, just a poem:


crackling flames lick
my lips 
and make me 
think of you -
of pain
& beauty
which always leave 
a scar