My Story Matters Because I Matter: Part 2
“When we numb the Dark, we numb the Light.”
A book that my therapist recommended to me (before I could no longer afford seeing a therapist) was Dr. Brené Brown’s The Gifts of Imperfection. I recently finished reading it and it has helped me understand and process this journey an incredible amount.
Dr. Brown, or Brené, as I like to call her, taught me that shame loves secrecy. This was something I had begun to figure out on my own while living through my trauma. Learning that helped me understand why the LOVE I felt after this experience was so incredibly potent to me.
“Love is the mirror image of shame.”
The love that was showered upon me by family, friends, students, and coworkers during my last year at school was absolutely crucial to my survival. It cut through the guilt and shame that was forced upon me and helped me find my courage and to speak my truth.
In retrospect, my week-long suspension was the ultimate blessing in disguise. For obvious reasons it didn’t feel that way at the time, but after reflecting on that time I see that it was.
Time stopped for me. I took the kids to school and daycare and activities like normal, but that time during the school day was mine to fill–or not.
I spent time crying.
I spent time questioning and thinking.
I think there was an entire day when I just laid on the couch doing all of those things together.
I spent time driving around.
I drove 45 minutes to a coffee shop I wanted to check out.
I took a pilgrimage to the place where Fr. E died and as I was driving away saw a Bald Eagle standing on the gravel road.
I took my son hiking with my sister and niece.
But mostly, I got to spend a lot of time in calm and stillness.
“If we stop long enough to create a quiet emotional clearing, the truth of our lives will invariably catch up with us. ”
It was in that space that I decided to start therapy. It was in that space that I asked myself the ultimate question: “How do I go back?” It was in that space that I decided to be as honest and open as possible and just hope that helped me heal.
I’m still a little amazed that there was a part of me that just knew without a doubt that when I returned to school after my suspension I had to tell students what happened. One part of that is that I have always had a policy of complete honesty with my students. They can sniff out falsehoods and false selves so easily, and if I want them to be open and honest with me then I need to model that. I also wanted them to hear my story from me–not anyone else. And they had already been hearing the story from everyone else that entire week I was gone.
So I practiced authenticity–before I even had learned from my new best friend Brené about how that is a crucial part of living a whole-hearted life. I even went so far as to INSIST that they be kind to the children of the parents who spear-headed the personal attack on me. Why? When it seems that the rest of the world (or country) loves living in a blame culture–I strive to continue to separate people from their behaviors (and certainly the behaviors of the adults who out of their control) because NO ONE deserves to be judged by their worst day. One mistake shouldn’t cost you everything. (I do realize this is highly ironic because my life outlook is the polar opposite of those who did this.)
Being honest and loving one another (i.e. the Golden Rule) have been core tenants of my classroom. They’ve been core tenants of my life.
The hardest part of all of that wasn’t telling my story or asking these very angry students, who loved me, to be kind. The hardest part was finding it in myself to offer forgiveness for the harm that was done to me.
Full disclosure: I couldn’t. Not right away. It was only once I got to a better place and realized that my future was what I made it–it wasn’t made by this event–that I was able to forgive. I had to also let go of some certainty of the future and start listening to that intuitive voice within me. I had to let go of what I thought my future was “supposed to” look like and open myself up to infinite possibilities.
Once I started asking myself these questions and opening myself up to possibilities, I started asking myself different questions like, “ Do I even want to continue teaching?” or “What are my real priorities?” and so many more. So many questions came to the surface. It led me to realize and accept that even if I love my students and love my coworkers, do I need to put that all above my children, our family, and my life? Should I be prioritizing this long commute every day or could we take that hour and spend it differently? Time is precious and I started to really evaluate how exhausted I was all the time. How little we were home and how hard that was on my kids and on me. The more questions I asked, the more the future opened up. The more possibilities came into being.
In the time since then I have found myself able to (mostly) own my story and love myself and that through doing that is just another way of being brave.
I’ve found it interesting that so many people tell me that what I did and how I responded was “Brave” or “Courageous”. To me, I was just doing what I needed to in order to Survive. This all forced me to find myself again. I knew better than to hide from the trauma. I knew I had to confront it–as painful as it is. I can’t say I am fully healed. My body has a very physical reaction if I see certain people who played a role in this story of mine (I get hot and sweaty, my heart starts to race, my thoughts go at a mile a minute), but it is getting better, my reaction more manageable–less like a panic attack and more like a brief shock or scare.
The more fun and enjoyment I have in my new venture, the more time I get to spend with my kids, the more creative I get to be, and the more music that I get to make the more I come back to myself.
I recognize myself again, and that is the ultimate blessing.
“To be nobody-but-yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody but yourself–means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight–and never stop fighting.”
Life is beautiful and full of possibilities again. I am savoring every second of it. Leaning into the blessings, full of gratitude.
