December

1. Maybe I don't shed compliments because "I am humble". Maybe I push back on the giver to test them. Will they dig their heels in and insist that I am wonderful? Or will they step back and let me say yes, everyone is special, and I'm just another face in the crowd.

"I have quite the reputation to live up to now."
"It's just who you are so I wouldn't stress too much."

2. Feelings aren't facts. This is really hard for me.

3. Be more interested in understanding people than being understood.

4. "A bird sitting on a tree is never afraid of the branch breaking, because her trust is not on the branch but on her own wings."  / "Real maturity in a relationship is letting your partner know when your mind feels heavy/turbulent before your thoughts find a way to make a story that blames your tension on them; naming it allows you to know that it is there and your partner to know that it is time to support you/hold space."

Where is the line between finding someone to lean on, but not leaning on them "too much"?

Unfinished/11:11

Have I loved well? I have loved often, and responsibly, and tenderly, and steadily. I have supported, and thought of, and worried about. I have moved in, I have traveled hand in hand, I have cried and laughed and written love letters and celebrated anniversaries. I have done all these things more than most people my age, I think.

Have I ever fallen deeply and madly? Have I ever let my walls down far enough that I could be devastated? And...will I ever be able to answer that question? How do you know how badly your heart can be broken if you don't have anything to compare it to.

Poor you, they roll their eyes. Poor girl who wonders if she has ever been shattered. I have cried, and I have been lonely. I have felt those things while in relationships. Does that make them different? No matter what title you put on it, they are relational (or not) feelings. Or they are feelings that happen because of what is inside of you, and it doesn't matter whether or not you have another person - you insulate yourself or you don't, you let yourself be brave or you don't.

I am working on walking into rooms on my own. I like to follow behind my partner. I like people to introduce me, rather than having to do it myself. I am working on loving without looking for validation. I am working on finding confidence within myself and seeing others in a human way when I put love out and don't receive it back in the way I was hoping to.

Should I strive to let my walls down far enough that I could be devastated? Is loving without thought or without reservation the goal? The goal...like there is one goal. Like we all want the same love, like we all define love the same way.

Love is when you care about someone more than their "things" bother you. Or love shouldn't be defined by pros and cons. Or...

country love songs

"What are you doing?"
"Thinking."

"So many things," I said when he asked what I was thinking about.

"Do you ever stop thinking?"
"Not really."

But what if instead of thinking, I called it dreaming? Why does it have to have a point or a backbone? I'm not thinking...I'm letting my heart float out and feel the space around me.

moonrise

I wonder how other people pray.

Do you ask for things - a list of what you need?
Do you listen - quietly waiting to be told what to do, what to think, what comes next?
Do you vent?
Do you complain?
Do you share what you're grateful for?

And does it matter, what other people do? Isn't it more important what I do...what fits for me? And maybe it's not the same every time.

And what is praying, really? Is it praying when we call a friend? Is it only praying if you're kneeling with folded hands? When I run and let my mind free, is that praying? When I sit in the car after a long day and feel the sun pouring down on me and I close my eyes and listen to my thoughts? When I stand by the water and breath in so deeply that I can feel my heart change...

brain drain 9/20/2019

The impulse to do “good” / to make the world “better”. Heavy on the quotes because I understand that I need to view these words critically, but I don't have a good enough understanding to say them any other way. Teaching as a “philanthropic vocation or romantic calling,” "schools as secular churches,” things that make my skin crawl because they feel wrong, but also because I'm not different.

I allow the myth that I know exactly what I want to persist. I thrive on being seen as driven, passionate, purposeful. I want the gold star that people give me with their eyes when I say I'm a teacher. "We need more people like you." It's not why I do what I do, but it matters to me. Is that wrong?

Selfless/selfish

If we see ourselves a certain way, that encourages others to see us that way. If we question that, is it wrong to want people to still see us that way? Should my flaws be public, to be more human? Or should I hide them, because by putting them out into the world I burden others with complications?

“This notion of giving voice to the voiceless - that’s, to me, very flawed. They’ve always been talking. No one’s been listening.” - America Ferrera

Highway Queen

When I talk about my students, I talk about starting each day fresh. I preach about a student who struggled and was labeled as a bad kid, I (humbly?) tell about how we changed his course together. "There were still bad days - we all have them," I say. "But the next day I always made sure to tell him that he's not a bad person, we just needed to figure out better strategies and practice them. Everyone needs chances." In this story, I'm wise and compassionate. "We need more people like you," they say.

In another story, I come home and I'm still mad at you. I've been mad at you for days. For weeks. For years. I like the other story better.

When I explain why I'm frustrated (/upset/sad/hurt/scared/sad/annoyed/hurt/hurt...never "mad") I tell you that what you did plays into my fears. I can explain it so clearly. If I wasn't healed, how could I communicate so well? I told you from day one what I was afraid of, and shed responsibility then. We sat on your bed and I told you what I needed, and there in that humid dorm room I decided without deciding that I didn't need to work on it anymore. He's here now, he'll listen, he'll fix me.

I know. I know, I knew, and I will always know. Why do we do things when we know better? Why does it take 6 years to realize that we knew better? Why do I have to break open to go back and start again when I knew? We played it out so many times - I came home, I sat in my anger, you came home and pretended you didn't notice. I lash out. You know. you knew! You KNEW and you still did it. Proof that everything I felt and thought and conjured and projected was true, because you knew better, and you didn't break open and you didn't go back and you didn't start again.

You had so many chances. You didn't get any chances. Your bad days made you a bad person and I believed to my core that I should be scared of you. I waited for you to prove me wrong, but I was the only one who could change my own mind.

Gaze

"I don't regret things." And then I look back, and I re-read my writing, and I realize that years ago I told myself what I was doing. And promptly buried that concern in doing all those things. I feel shame, but not regret. Because I don't regret things.

I excel at the 5 paragraph essay. Tell what you are going to say, say it, tell what you said. It's so clean. I created a version of myself that is so clean. I created a version of myself that gets up at 4am to work, that reads non-fiction, that arrives to things on time...that breaks down and falls apart because it's not me, and I feel "lost" "lonely" "confused" "_______". I CAN do it all, I tell myself. I can. "I need to be right and I will make it that way," I tell myself, my soft heart hidden below all my walls and to do lists.

"Write for yourself." Me writing for myself is self-flagellation. The voice in my head tears apart each thing I write until there is nothing there. It's a strength and a weakness, I tell myself...the stories I tell myself. I am critical and thoughtful and reflective.

You overthink, he told me. You're too deep.

How long did it take to build this wall? How long does it take to break it down?