Keeping It Real: Part 3- On Being Enough
I went to jot my thoughts down & came to this old blog to do so, and of course the next Keeping It Real post was to be "On Being Enough". Seriously, so so fitting for what I need to get down. So here goes...
Long story shorter, I resigned from my teaching position. Yup, I'm the person that got recognized in a district-wide "Welcome to our New Staff" email on the same day that I submitted my resignation. 😓Not cool. Do I feel stupid and like a failure? Obviously. But that's okay... I learned about this position back in June. Mind you, our plan all along was for me to stay home until Teagan was in kindergarten and then explore other employment options for me. But when this came up, it seemed "too good to be true" and in many, many ways...it was/is the perfect position ...a mile down the road, in the building where the girls will go to elementary school and with people who I really admire and respect. I also was really excited about the idea of having an identity outside of the home again...beyond "just a stay at home mom" or "just teaching English to kids in China". Because for whatever reason, I had it in my head that those things weren't enough... As my girls liked to tell everyone all summer, "mommy is going to be a real teacher now". Haaa. I spent the summer truly invested in this -- either in actually getting the job, preparing, classroom set up, induction round 2.0, etc, etc....so a lot of time, energy and thought went into this. Sure, I doubted some along the way, but I figured that was because I've been home for 6 years (and out of the classroom for 8) so I kept on truckin'.
It was pretty early on on the first day of school that I knew I made a pretty big mistake. :-( I figured at that point that I'd keep putting one foot in front of the other, and figure it out. But I actually suck at faking it, and I am one to just tell it like it is. The reality is that this isn't a "just stick with it" kind of thing... It's not my students...I actually adore the kids in my class, and while they can be a handful (what class can't?), it will be extremely sad to walk away from them. It's that ...somewhere in that span of time between being in the classroom the last time (in my twenties, pre-children) and now, I lost that desire and spark to actually teach 20 some kiddos at one time. I recognize that sounds horrible, but it's just true. If I could have predicted that is how I would feel actually back at it again, I obviously would have never gone out for the position. It doesn't feel like the normal "oh my goodness, summer is over and they don't know how to walk in a straight line in the hall" or that more time would have allowed my feelings to change...I truly just think this part of my life is over. And that's okay.
Of course, so many people had encouraged me when I said I was heading back to teaching. And told me what a good teacher I was or how lucky the kids were, etc, etc. And sure, those things helped me feel ready for the position. But at the end of the day, this is not what I want. I can set up a classroom, or assess a class full of kids, grade, and write plans or prepare materials or any of all.the.things that are required of teachers....except that I don't want to actually teach. And that's okay.
I'm enough as "just" a mom. I'm enough as "just" an online English teacher. I'm enough as whatever else lies ahead for me job wise.
And so I needed to face that in following my heart and what I felt was right to do, I was and am obviously letting down a lot of people. I realize and recognize the weight of this. I know I'll never work in M-burg again. I get it. And that's okay... As I let people know that unfortunately I decided to step down, and walk away, overwhelmingly the response has been "Good for you"... or "I wish I could do that".............and really, truly....if you're not happy doing what you are doing, and if you don't feel like you are where you are supposed to be, you are able to make a different choice for your own life. Is there sacrifice? UMM, yes. We are heading into year 7 of one income & me fumbling to try to make-shift a second one. Clearly, I have minimal retirement at the moment... Obviously, there are things we can't or don't do because of $. Have you seen our vehicles?! 😜But there are also lots of things we can do based on saving or cutting somewhere else. And at the end of the day, you figure it out and $ doesn't really matter anyway. You can find 83286124498 ways to make ends meet. You get one life to live...Live it.
So yes, 100%, I am sorry that it took doing this to figure it out. And of course, I'm sorry I'm leaving, and that I am disappointing so many people, most importantly to me, my students, and their families...and it was a hard thing to break to my own girls, too...But this is the right choice for me. And after they find a replacement and I transition out, I feel like I'll be on a bit of a journey to actually accepting that I'm enough right now...just as is. Nothing else. Nothing more, nothing less. Just me. And that's okay.
P.S. And one more thing... I've said it before & I'll say it again...I have the utmost respect (now even more..) for working parents/moms. But especially teacher mamas. Seriously, you are incredible. You clearly have way more strength, energy, courage, and drive than I do.
Friday, August 31, 2018
Friday, March 16, 2018
Keeping it Real: Part 2 Post Partum Depression
Over a year ago I started a series of posts called Keeping It Real....I posted one time. WHOOPS! As I had said in the original post, most of the topics I wanted to post about are already saved drafts of blog posts I'd written in years past, but never got the courage to actually publish. I'd like to finish what I started (albeit a year later)....so without further ado, here's installment 2 of Keeping it Real: Post Partum Depression...
Remember how I said year 2 at home was a story for another day...? Well, I guess today's that day. My second daughter, Lil Lil, was born in August of 2013. Her labor/delivery were amazing (although Aaron probably thinks otherwise), she latched immediately, I had no issues with transitioning her to home and she was a dream of a chill baby. We had thought that Keira was pretty relaxed, but the first few weeks of Lily's life were just awesome and she was proving to be even more relaxed. She slept insane amounts from the beginning and ate like a champ, and didn't fuss with the constant prodding and "help" of her big sister. I felt so, so blessed that she was ours.
Unfortunately, I also felt a lot of other...well, junk, that I just did not talk about. I remember she was maybe three weeks old when I first felt like something seemed "off" with me. I figured I was just still adjusting to life with two and figured if it kept up, I would, I dunno, rest or pray more. My 6 week appointment came and went, and I didn't say anything about the anxiety I was feeling about everything or how I felt like the world was caving in on me all the time. I kept trying to talk myself off a ledge and trying to talk myself down...I kept saying to myself, "You are fine. Buck up."
Well, I wasn't fine. Small, mundane tasks began to feel like marathons. Waking up and getting out of bed became a challenge every day. I didn't feel like doing anything, I didn't feel like going anywhere, I didn't feel like seeing anyone. (Side note: this was also during a nine month stretch in which we functioned as a family of four on one vehicle...I spent my days with 4 children 2 and under without the ability to leave.....NOT RECOMMENDED!!!!) I knew there was something "wrong" with me but instead of dealing with it, I decided to try to just make it go away and put on a good front. I still cared for our two girls during the day, as well as my two daycare kiddos. I always put forth my best effort with the kids, but just collapsed when my work was done. I talked about it a little bit with Aaron and a little bit with a couple close friends and my sister. But if I'm being completely honest, no one really got me. They were amazing, and supportive and listened, but also didn't understand the deep dark pit that I found myself in the bottom of. I finally went to the doctor and broke down like a bawling mess to the nurse that I felt like I was going to die (not because I wanted to but because my head was making me think I needed to) and felt the worst I'd ever felt in my life. She said the words that I was dreading to hear but that I already knew full well,
They immediately put me on an anti-depressant and sent me off to counseling. I was annoyed by both of these things. They had me do blood work, and my hormones were all kinds of out of wack, so that made me feel a *smidge* redeemed in a sense that I wasn't making this up. I knew I wasn't making it up, but I also had tried SO hard to fix it/ignore it/handle it on my own and it just wasn't going away. I had heard of PPD before, but I always assumed it wasn't *that* bad or that people didn't really suffer from it...how wrong I was.
I still didn't tell many people about what I was going through, though I did make some changes at home which helped. I would say within 3 weeks I started to feel more normal...NOT right, but more even-keeled. The counseling was helping, and apparently so were the meds. I started to care a lot more, and a friend of mine and I started working out. I made some dietary changes and I just started to feel SO much more normal. Within 5 months I had weaned myself off the med, and the counseling was down to only 1x a month. Even though it had been a complete roller coaster of a year for me (and thus my family) as Lily was getting closer to her first birthday we knew we wanted another baby. It was amazing how just being aware of this being a part of my post-partum history made me SO much wiser with baby #3. I talked to Aaron about what I was feeling and he checked in constantly throughout the pregnancy and the first few months of Teagan's life to be sure that I didn't feel like I was struggling again. Right after birth, they gave me some hormones and I went back a few times after that to help keep hormones in check, but I kept breathing deep sighs of relief when I WASN'T feeling those suffocating and awful feelings I felt when going through PPD after delivering Lil.
Recently I talked to a dear friend and somehow we got on the topic and I told her about my former struggles with this, and she said something that struck me, "I would have never known." Because of the stigma around post-partum issues, I really didn't and haven't talked about it with too many people. But here's what I've learned when I have spoken up...SO many women suffer in silence. You guys, PPD is a real actual thing. And it sucks. And it's not fun at.all. But it's treatable and curable and possible to overcome!! I had no idea the number of women out there that have gone through this. If you are someone who is struggling, or know a new mom, PLEASE reach out and check in often. It was easy for me to stuff it and hide it for 5 months, but I am beyond thankful that I finally decided to (well okay, that Aaron forced me to) see a doctor. I am thankful that this is something I overcame!
Remember how I said year 2 at home was a story for another day...? Well, I guess today's that day. My second daughter, Lil Lil, was born in August of 2013. Her labor/delivery were amazing (although Aaron probably thinks otherwise), she latched immediately, I had no issues with transitioning her to home and she was a dream of a chill baby. We had thought that Keira was pretty relaxed, but the first few weeks of Lily's life were just awesome and she was proving to be even more relaxed. She slept insane amounts from the beginning and ate like a champ, and didn't fuss with the constant prodding and "help" of her big sister. I felt so, so blessed that she was ours.
Unfortunately, I also felt a lot of other...well, junk, that I just did not talk about. I remember she was maybe three weeks old when I first felt like something seemed "off" with me. I figured I was just still adjusting to life with two and figured if it kept up, I would, I dunno, rest or pray more. My 6 week appointment came and went, and I didn't say anything about the anxiety I was feeling about everything or how I felt like the world was caving in on me all the time. I kept trying to talk myself off a ledge and trying to talk myself down...I kept saying to myself, "You are fine. Buck up."
Well, I wasn't fine. Small, mundane tasks began to feel like marathons. Waking up and getting out of bed became a challenge every day. I didn't feel like doing anything, I didn't feel like going anywhere, I didn't feel like seeing anyone. (Side note: this was also during a nine month stretch in which we functioned as a family of four on one vehicle...I spent my days with 4 children 2 and under without the ability to leave.....NOT RECOMMENDED!!!!) I knew there was something "wrong" with me but instead of dealing with it, I decided to try to just make it go away and put on a good front. I still cared for our two girls during the day, as well as my two daycare kiddos. I always put forth my best effort with the kids, but just collapsed when my work was done. I talked about it a little bit with Aaron and a little bit with a couple close friends and my sister. But if I'm being completely honest, no one really got me. They were amazing, and supportive and listened, but also didn't understand the deep dark pit that I found myself in the bottom of. I finally went to the doctor and broke down like a bawling mess to the nurse that I felt like I was going to die (not because I wanted to but because my head was making me think I needed to) and felt the worst I'd ever felt in my life. She said the words that I was dreading to hear but that I already knew full well,
"You are suffering from post-partum depression and anxiety."
I still didn't tell many people about what I was going through, though I did make some changes at home which helped. I would say within 3 weeks I started to feel more normal...NOT right, but more even-keeled. The counseling was helping, and apparently so were the meds. I started to care a lot more, and a friend of mine and I started working out. I made some dietary changes and I just started to feel SO much more normal. Within 5 months I had weaned myself off the med, and the counseling was down to only 1x a month. Even though it had been a complete roller coaster of a year for me (and thus my family) as Lily was getting closer to her first birthday we knew we wanted another baby. It was amazing how just being aware of this being a part of my post-partum history made me SO much wiser with baby #3. I talked to Aaron about what I was feeling and he checked in constantly throughout the pregnancy and the first few months of Teagan's life to be sure that I didn't feel like I was struggling again. Right after birth, they gave me some hormones and I went back a few times after that to help keep hormones in check, but I kept breathing deep sighs of relief when I WASN'T feeling those suffocating and awful feelings I felt when going through PPD after delivering Lil.
Recently I talked to a dear friend and somehow we got on the topic and I told her about my former struggles with this, and she said something that struck me, "I would have never known." Because of the stigma around post-partum issues, I really didn't and haven't talked about it with too many people. But here's what I've learned when I have spoken up...SO many women suffer in silence. You guys, PPD is a real actual thing. And it sucks. And it's not fun at.all. But it's treatable and curable and possible to overcome!! I had no idea the number of women out there that have gone through this. If you are someone who is struggling, or know a new mom, PLEASE reach out and check in often. It was easy for me to stuff it and hide it for 5 months, but I am beyond thankful that I finally decided to (well okay, that Aaron forced me to) see a doctor. I am thankful that this is something I overcame!
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