Back in the Saddle
Wow! It's been a long time since I've written. It's been a busy summer so far. I taught elementary creative writing at the summer institute for gifted students (SIGS) this year. It was definitely a challenge because I'm not used to working with such little kids! I've been doing a lot of curriculum writing and keeping busy with tasks around the house too. It's amazing how much got put on the back burner over during the last year or so. It feels good to go room-by-room, checking off "to-dos" on the list.
I've been thinking a lot lately about the journey I've traveled this year. Last night - the 4th of July - we met up with our neighbors and had a good meal and conversation. After dinner we walked down to the end of the street to watch fireworks. They set them off just down the about a tenth of a mile away, so it's a perk of living in our neighborhood. Close enough to enjoy without parking headaches, but far enough away to not have to worry about a misguided firework setting our roof on fire.
As we were sitting down there, my neighbors were asking if we had come down last year, and I remembered that last year, I was sitting in my hospital room watching fireworks on TV. It made me think about the last year and a half. Jan 2011, I was diagnosed. By June 2011, I was in my third hospitalization with brain swelling and life-threatening infections. In July 2011, I couldn't walk down the street. I couldn't step up on a curb. I had become so weak that walking up the slight incline of our driveway from the mailbox to our front door took my breath away.
When the school year started in August 2011, I was petrified. I always looked forward to the start of a new school year. It's my favorite part of teaching - the possibilities of a new year. And I was scared. I was fearful of not being strong enough... of not being able to get my strength back... of not living.
But slowly, one day at a time, I put one foot in front of the other and took the next step. Before I knew it, the first semester had passed. I remember walking down to turn in my grades and hearing the theme from Rocky in my head. I was so proud to be "back in the saddle". The second semester went even better. Aside from a sinus infection, I stayed well and finished the year strong. Instead of crashing and burning, like I had in the summer of 2011, I rested for a couple of days and then got started on summer school.
This past Tuesday was the last day of summer school, and now I'm excited to stay at home with my dogs and "nest" for a couple of weeks before I have my second cataract surgery and head to the writing academy with our district.
For so many years, I - like so many people - took my health for granted. I never realized how hard just going about your daily life can be when you have limited strength. Now I'm working out with a trainer and am able to get in a solid 40 minutes on an elliptical. A year ago, I was doing physical therapy and couldn't climb 3 stairs without my legs giving out beneath me. It's been quite a journey.
I think the thing I find so astonishing is how this whole experience has changed my outlook on so many aspects of my life. I've never really been one to mince words, but I find that now - more than ever - I have become more resolved in my beliefs, and I feel more confident standing up for what I feel is right. Perhaps it's maturity or getting more set in my ways. But I don't think so.
I think when you experience "really big" stuff, it just puts everything in perspective. So I'm trying to remember to operate by these principles:
1. Don't let anyone rain on your parade. So many "negative Nellys" out there can't wait to bring you down. I refuse to participate. I will do anything to avoid those long, involved b**ch fests where people can't do anything but complain.
Case in point: I went to lunch with a group of women from my school district a few weeks ago. I was hesitant to go because I knew that several of the women in attendance were pretty bitter and negative about school politics. I decided to go, thought, and I thought I'd try a little social experiment. At the beginning of the lunch, most everyone was complaining about school. Now, I understand the need to vent from time to time, but come on! It's summer! Sheesh! So I was rude. Flat out rude. I pulled out my phone, and every time they would get into a cycle of complaining, I would just read the news on my phone. It physically hurt to be so painfully rude to women I respect and admire, and I kept thinking, "Jennifer, your mama taught you better!" But as soon as the conversation came back around to friendlier topics like summer plans, kids, retirement, etc., I put the phone away and engaged in conversation. You know what? It worked! Pretty soon, a few people seemed to sub-consciously catch on, and the conversation shifted to fun positive topics... and it didn't shift back. It was beautiful!
2. Don't judge the journeys of others. I recently saw a posting on Facebook about this, and it really resonated with me because this illness showed me that you NEVER know what's going on in someone's life, so we really must avoid judging others and how they are dealing with their own journey. We all have crosses to bear, and I can never fully understand yours, just as you can never fully understand mine. We can have empathy, but there's only one person who can manage the thoughts running through my mind at night right before I go to sleep, and that's me.
Case in point: I was at summer school and saw a teacher who had taken classes with me when I was doing my master's degree I hadn't seen her in several years, so when I saw her, she said, "Hi, Jennifer! I love your new haircut! It's so cute short!" I smiled and said, "Why, thank you!" If it hadn't been a passing conversation, I would've gladly caught her up on the situation, but as it was, I walked away and smiled to myself for a couple of reasons. 1) I was delighted to be seen as a woman with a short haircut, instead of "that poor sick lady" with no hair. 2) I realized that she had no idea what had gone on the last few years with me, and I had no idea what had gone on with her. For a moment, it was actually really nice to have someone who just saw me as a person, instead of a sick person. But it also reminded me that we are often so caught up in our own lives that we forget that everyone around us is embarking on their own life journey. That's such a POWERFUL and amazing thing to consider. All of these amazing lives intersecting in one way or another. So we have to relish those intersections with moments of empathy, not judgment.
3. Live fiercely. Life's too short to spend time doing things you don't care about doing. If I don't like a book, I won't finish it. If I don't feel like going out, I won't. We all have those obligatory tasks and events, but I try to make sure that everything I'm doing, I'm doing because I want to do it.
Last weekend, we had a fundraising walk for my father's scleroderma support group. My husband and I went, and we went to breakfast afterwards with my parents and their best friend from college. He and his wife and their two daughters were our closest friends while we were growing up. His youngest daughter, April, was about my age. She had Cystic Fibrosis, and she struggled through her adolescent years. She had two double lung transplants and passed away while I was in college. I was always inspired by her positive attitude and generous heart. This past weekend, I told her father that looking back, having been through all that our family has been through this last year, I couldn't imagine what it must have been like for April to go through that at such a young age. She was just so incredibly strong. I pull a lot of inspiration from her and think of her often. I consider her my "medical muse", and I think about how she would have handled these situations. Here I am, in my 30s, pulling inspiration from a girl that was handling so much more at less than half my age. As he told me, it doesn't matter when it hits. It's hard to deal with no matter your age. I always thought that age made you stronger, and I guess in some respects it does. But I also know that she lived with a fierceness that I can only hope to emulate, recognizing that every moment could be the last, so she savored it.
So I'm curious.... what are your defining principles?
I've been thinking a lot lately about the journey I've traveled this year. Last night - the 4th of July - we met up with our neighbors and had a good meal and conversation. After dinner we walked down to the end of the street to watch fireworks. They set them off just down the about a tenth of a mile away, so it's a perk of living in our neighborhood. Close enough to enjoy without parking headaches, but far enough away to not have to worry about a misguided firework setting our roof on fire.
As we were sitting down there, my neighbors were asking if we had come down last year, and I remembered that last year, I was sitting in my hospital room watching fireworks on TV. It made me think about the last year and a half. Jan 2011, I was diagnosed. By June 2011, I was in my third hospitalization with brain swelling and life-threatening infections. In July 2011, I couldn't walk down the street. I couldn't step up on a curb. I had become so weak that walking up the slight incline of our driveway from the mailbox to our front door took my breath away.
When the school year started in August 2011, I was petrified. I always looked forward to the start of a new school year. It's my favorite part of teaching - the possibilities of a new year. And I was scared. I was fearful of not being strong enough... of not being able to get my strength back... of not living.
But slowly, one day at a time, I put one foot in front of the other and took the next step. Before I knew it, the first semester had passed. I remember walking down to turn in my grades and hearing the theme from Rocky in my head. I was so proud to be "back in the saddle". The second semester went even better. Aside from a sinus infection, I stayed well and finished the year strong. Instead of crashing and burning, like I had in the summer of 2011, I rested for a couple of days and then got started on summer school.
This past Tuesday was the last day of summer school, and now I'm excited to stay at home with my dogs and "nest" for a couple of weeks before I have my second cataract surgery and head to the writing academy with our district.
For so many years, I - like so many people - took my health for granted. I never realized how hard just going about your daily life can be when you have limited strength. Now I'm working out with a trainer and am able to get in a solid 40 minutes on an elliptical. A year ago, I was doing physical therapy and couldn't climb 3 stairs without my legs giving out beneath me. It's been quite a journey.
I think the thing I find so astonishing is how this whole experience has changed my outlook on so many aspects of my life. I've never really been one to mince words, but I find that now - more than ever - I have become more resolved in my beliefs, and I feel more confident standing up for what I feel is right. Perhaps it's maturity or getting more set in my ways. But I don't think so.
I think when you experience "really big" stuff, it just puts everything in perspective. So I'm trying to remember to operate by these principles:
1. Don't let anyone rain on your parade. So many "negative Nellys" out there can't wait to bring you down. I refuse to participate. I will do anything to avoid those long, involved b**ch fests where people can't do anything but complain.
Case in point: I went to lunch with a group of women from my school district a few weeks ago. I was hesitant to go because I knew that several of the women in attendance were pretty bitter and negative about school politics. I decided to go, thought, and I thought I'd try a little social experiment. At the beginning of the lunch, most everyone was complaining about school. Now, I understand the need to vent from time to time, but come on! It's summer! Sheesh! So I was rude. Flat out rude. I pulled out my phone, and every time they would get into a cycle of complaining, I would just read the news on my phone. It physically hurt to be so painfully rude to women I respect and admire, and I kept thinking, "Jennifer, your mama taught you better!" But as soon as the conversation came back around to friendlier topics like summer plans, kids, retirement, etc., I put the phone away and engaged in conversation. You know what? It worked! Pretty soon, a few people seemed to sub-consciously catch on, and the conversation shifted to fun positive topics... and it didn't shift back. It was beautiful!
2. Don't judge the journeys of others. I recently saw a posting on Facebook about this, and it really resonated with me because this illness showed me that you NEVER know what's going on in someone's life, so we really must avoid judging others and how they are dealing with their own journey. We all have crosses to bear, and I can never fully understand yours, just as you can never fully understand mine. We can have empathy, but there's only one person who can manage the thoughts running through my mind at night right before I go to sleep, and that's me.
Case in point: I was at summer school and saw a teacher who had taken classes with me when I was doing my master's degree I hadn't seen her in several years, so when I saw her, she said, "Hi, Jennifer! I love your new haircut! It's so cute short!" I smiled and said, "Why, thank you!" If it hadn't been a passing conversation, I would've gladly caught her up on the situation, but as it was, I walked away and smiled to myself for a couple of reasons. 1) I was delighted to be seen as a woman with a short haircut, instead of "that poor sick lady" with no hair. 2) I realized that she had no idea what had gone on the last few years with me, and I had no idea what had gone on with her. For a moment, it was actually really nice to have someone who just saw me as a person, instead of a sick person. But it also reminded me that we are often so caught up in our own lives that we forget that everyone around us is embarking on their own life journey. That's such a POWERFUL and amazing thing to consider. All of these amazing lives intersecting in one way or another. So we have to relish those intersections with moments of empathy, not judgment.
3. Live fiercely. Life's too short to spend time doing things you don't care about doing. If I don't like a book, I won't finish it. If I don't feel like going out, I won't. We all have those obligatory tasks and events, but I try to make sure that everything I'm doing, I'm doing because I want to do it.
Last weekend, we had a fundraising walk for my father's scleroderma support group. My husband and I went, and we went to breakfast afterwards with my parents and their best friend from college. He and his wife and their two daughters were our closest friends while we were growing up. His youngest daughter, April, was about my age. She had Cystic Fibrosis, and she struggled through her adolescent years. She had two double lung transplants and passed away while I was in college. I was always inspired by her positive attitude and generous heart. This past weekend, I told her father that looking back, having been through all that our family has been through this last year, I couldn't imagine what it must have been like for April to go through that at such a young age. She was just so incredibly strong. I pull a lot of inspiration from her and think of her often. I consider her my "medical muse", and I think about how she would have handled these situations. Here I am, in my 30s, pulling inspiration from a girl that was handling so much more at less than half my age. As he told me, it doesn't matter when it hits. It's hard to deal with no matter your age. I always thought that age made you stronger, and I guess in some respects it does. But I also know that she lived with a fierceness that I can only hope to emulate, recognizing that every moment could be the last, so she savored it.
So I'm curious.... what are your defining principles?
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