That's Me!

Yep.  That's me.  Hypersensitive.  Oversensitive.  Emotionally excessive.  Call it what you want.  

Just make sure that from now on, you call me an Empathetic Badass.

OverReacting

I don't know about you, but I'm really, really masterful when it comes to overreacting.  Like, I could have a PhD in overreacting.

Take today, for example.

The midwest got pummeled with snow.  I mean lots and lots of snow.  We're talking 12 inches (or more, in some areas!)  So Monday's therapy session was cancelled as the roads were impassable.  Totally and completely.   (I will add that school was cancelled, too!)

Then today comes along and brings sub-zero temperatures with even colder wind chills.
No worries, though, therapy was scheduled for this morning, the roads were clear, all good, right?

Wrong.


My car decided it didn't want to start.  Not even a slight roar of the engine.  So therapy was cancelled again.

What did I do?  Burst in to tears, sobbing uncontrollably, for quite a while, actually.  I was such a wreck, I couldn't even call my therapist.  We communicated by text, which is usually a rare occurrence, reserved solely for schedule changes.  Today?  I broke that rule.  I whined and cried and essentially threw a temper tantrum.  All via text.  Not cool on my part.  Missing therapy two days in a row?  In the state I've been in?  Not cool.  So not cool.

However.
Neither was my reaction.
I mean, in the grand scheme of things, missing therapy here and there is really no big deal.  It's a small blip in life.  As my therapist said "Missing your therapy appointment is a survivable event."  And she's right.  Except I didn't handle it well this morning.

And as I sit here, nine hours later, still waiting for the tow truck to come get my dead car, the horrible headache is still lingering from my morning breakdown.

Guess I know what I need to add to my "to learn" list this year.........

Saturday Smiles

This one's called "Perpetual Emotion" from Shirt Woot.... Kinda fitting for today!

I am a huge fan of Shirt Woot.  I'd say about 60% of my t-shirts are from them. 
What can I say, I do have an odd sense of humor, you know?!

The A Word Revisited

A little over a year ago, I had a rather unpleasant encounter with the A word.  Probably not the word you are thinking right now!

Anger.

At the time, I was in a very frustrating situation involving people close to me.  (I purposely avoided even using the A word!!)  Off the top of my head I don't remember what triggered the situation, though I do remember how horrible I felt:

Engulfed with sadness (that was covering the anger.)  

Swimming in fears (which were masking the anger.) 

Swallowed by a tremendous inner turmoil (that was disguising the anger.)

And extremely, extremely, self-destructive (which was the anger turned inward.)

At the time, anger was not allowed in my vocabulary.  It was evicted from my body (or so I thought) and sent permanently away.  Not only was anger not in my vocabulary, it was NEVER an emotion I experienced (or so I thought.)

Well, seems that I've been revisited by the anger train.  Except this time, instead of burying it, ignoring it, pretending it didn't exist, all the things I have done my whole life..... I felt it.

I felt anger.  

I.  Felt.  Angry.

And I didn't explode.

(Yeah, I'll admit it, I imploded a bit,
but even that was not nearly as destructive as a year ago.) 

This time, my first reaction was not a helpful one.  My second reaction was not a helpful one.  My third reaction was not a helpful one.  But I allowed (unconsciously) each of those reactions to come into view, dangle for a few minutes, and pass, without grabbing on to one of them and acting on what could have been rather quite self-destructive.

While my chosen coping tool wasn't the most positive, no one got hurt.  (Had I gone with either of my first three reactions... yeah, things would have gotten really ugly.)  And after using my words to journal about the situation and talk and process the situation, I found that I didn't feel angry anymore.

I survived, what one year ago would have been a catastrophic set-back, that this time, left me relatively unscathed.  Yes, it ruined my entire weekend.  Yes, I felt extremely miserable for a few days.  Yes, I thought I would never escape the angst that enveloped me.

I felt anger, and my world didn't end.  It didn't come crashing down around me.  It didn't cause me physical harm.  I didn't allow that anger to put me in a space of self harm.

I felt anger..... and I survived.

Progress.

Reality Check

I realized that the last few weeks, most of the posts on the blog have been a bit evasive, and somewhat fluffy.  I think that's because that's where I am.  I'm working my darndest to avoid the reality that surrounds me, and am trying to keep things as light and fluffy as I can.

But reality is setting in, which usually happens after a day of isolation and introspection.  And I'm going to give you a rare glimpse into my mind with the hope that maybe, just maybe, someone out there can relate and won't feel as alone as I do right now.

Last week I found out that the episodes I've been experiencing were actually related to PTSD.  I didn't take the news well.  As nice as it was to find out that there is a name for what has been happening all these years, it was also rather disturbing. 

I found myself really having to think *so* hard all week.  Everything I did took intense effort.  All the little things that are usually so simple - making lunch, getting out the door, setting up the classroom for the day - everything that I've done without huge effort for years was an insurmountable mountain this week.  Monday and Tuesday were manageable, but by Wednesday, I was losing it.  Seriously.  Being a holiday week, ironically, made things easier.  Because of the celebration scheduled for Thursday, and a presentation scheduled for Friday, I was able to coast through those extremely painful days.

My therapist read the criteria for PTSD of which I meet nearly every single one. I think that what is hardest for me to digest is the fact that though my siblings and I grew up in the same house, with the same parents, I am the lucky one who is dealing with this.  I'm the one riddled with mental and physical health challenges.  The one who hyperventilates walking into my parents house.

And in some ways, I am lucky.  For years and years I've stuffed my emotions, avoided feeling anything, resisted letting myself get attached to anyone, and ignored my feelings until they exploded.  The last few months I've been working to avoid learning to feel feelings, and be with myself while they wash over me.  It's finally sinking in that in order to move through, and past, these PTSD episodes, the only way to do so is to let those feelings be felt. 

Let the feelings be felt.  Just typing that terrifies me.  But the blessing in finally coming to terms with this diagnosis is that now I have no choice.  It is time.  Time to start feeling my way through this hell, cause what is on the other side has got to be better than this.

Protection?

Right now, I'm working my @$$ off to protect myself from sinking deeper into the sadness that has been my world lately.  Everything feels like another reason to be depressed, sad, frustrated....

I didn't think about the fact that when I protect, or shield myself from sadness, I'm also shielding myself from the rest of the feelings out there, including happiness.  Happiness.... Reminds me of another quote, the one that says that happiness is not a destination, it's a way of life.

My way of living life has been in the depressive fog of my situation.  I'd like to change that...

As if.....

A lot has happened in the last seven days.  A LOT.  I love my job, I love where I work, but this year has been a real roller coaster in terms of expectation shifts.  And in terms of good old basic respect of one another.  Recent news has required me to act as if what has been said is no bother, has no impact, and does not even enter my zone of concern.  On the inside, though, with every bit of news, a part of me feels like it's dying. 

Part of recovery has meant trying things that I am not comfortable with.  It's meant stretching out of my comfort zone on so many occasions.  It's meant doing what feels impossible.  It's meant doctor's appointments and therapy appointments and dietitian appointments that are painful as painful gets.

But nothing hurts as much as having to pretend everything is fine, even though everyone around you knows it's not.  Pretending that the announcement that was just made isn't going to cause a major recovery setback.  Pretending that you're going to be just fine, when inside, you're ready to give up, and everyone around you is watching for your reaction. 

I've gotten quite good at acting over the years, it's part of my job, and it's usually useful.  I am so appreciative that today all that practice acting paid off.

Challenge 8, Part 2: Learning

The other night I was invited to a friend's for dinner.  It had been a really long day, part of this crazy long week, and I was exhausted.  I knew that if I went to dinner, I'd not be good company, as I'd likely be slowly slipping into that place that I land in when I'm overtired.  The friend who invited me is one who I can lean on, and actually have in past emotional overload situations.

So when I was invited, I really, really wanted to go.  I knew that if I went, I'd get good food, and good friendship... which is great.  But I knew that I'd also probably lose it.  I don't want to do that.  I know how sensitive I am at the moment.  I know that I'm emotionally spent, and just want someone to wrap their arms around me and comfort me while I cry.  And this friend would have done that.  But I just couldn't do it.

This is one of those times when loneliness kicks in, and I wish that I had a significant other... Cause if I were in a healthy relationship, I'd have someone there for me when I need that kind of comfort.  And if I were in a healthy relationship, it'd mean that I'd have that kind of relationship with myself, too.  The one where I'd have learned how to comfort myself appropriately.  Where I've learned how to sit with and feel my emotions.  Where I'd have learned to let anger out without explosions and rage.  Where I'd have learned to feel the whole range of feelings, and not let them suffocate me.

Cause I know all of that needs to be present in my relationship with myself before I'll ever be able to have a healthy relationship with someone else.

I have a lot to learn...  I am willing to do the work.... I just don't think I'm there yet...

Hitting the Wall

Figuratively, of course.  But that's where I am.  I've finally hit the wall.

I've made it three whole days (which I know in the grand scheme of things, isn't very long) at school, busying myself as best as I can helping others get things done and get rooms ready, all the while, patiently waiting for my room to be ready.  And I have been VERY patient.

But today, I reached my limit.  I am a very emotional person, but I have been very proud of the fact that I haven't once cried at school over the situation.  Other teachers in somewhat similar situations as mine, have been in tears multiple times.  I'm the only one who still isn't in my classroom.  And had this been last year, the year before, heck, had this happened any other year, I'd have been in tears at school.

This year, instead, I'm holding it together at school.  All day long I'm able to stay upbeat and positive, and truly enjoying having time to be helping others.  Then I get in my car, and cry my way home.  I have cried my way to therapy twice this week, and cried my way home.  I cried my way to my nutritionist's office, and cried my way home.  And it's only Wednesday.

I have finally hit my breaking point, and tonight has been a tear-filled, messy, messy night.  I crashed into that wall hard.  And it hurts.

I know that by the time my students walk in on that first day (only 5 short days away) my room will be presentable.  It might not be up to my standards, but it will work, and when those smiling faces walk in, I will be smiling right back at them.

Week 30: Three Words

Three words.  That's it.  Just three words.

Which three words best describe me?  Argh!

More decisions to make!  Too many choices!

(Temper tantrum over, sorry you had to witness that!)

OK.  So Three words.  Hmmm..... This is for sure a challenge!  BUT, at this moment, I will say that the following three words best describe me:

emotional               thinker              sensitive

I am a very emotional person.  For years and years I kept my emotions inside, locked up, and only released them when there was no more room in my body to hold them.  That, or sometimes they snuck out, late at night, alone, as tears in my pillow.  I get very emotionally invested in things - work, students, projects, and so on.  That can be a good thing, but sometimes it turns into a major-one-track-mind deal, and the emotions become so imbedded in what I'm doing, that the task becomes more than what it really is.  And that leaves me so exhausted from feeling so much, that I have nothing left, and just fall apart.  At least that's what happens more and more frequently, since I've stopped trying to keep my emotions inside.  That stupid ed really helped with the emotional numbing, and since that's not my go-to coping mechanism anymore, there's a heck of a lot more frequent emotional releases... and (unfortunately) they aren't always alone as tears in my pillow anymore!

Now this next word?  It was a tricky one to select, because I wanted to pick something that talked about how much I love being a teacher, and how much I love being a learner, too.  I figured that in order to do each of those, I need to be a thinker.  I like to spend time thinking about what I've read, what I've learned, what I've observed, and lately, thanks to my team, I even spend some time thinking about how I'm feeling (not my favorite kind of thinking!)  Sometimes this is a good thing to be, as I can find multiple perspectives to different scenarios (as long as they don't involve my personal life) which can be fun and helpful.  Sometimes this is not the greatest, because I do have a tendency to over-think things..... which can lead to some emotional distress.... but for the most part, being a thinker is a pretty good thing, I think!

This last word, sensitive, kind of fits well with emotional, and I almost didn't use it because of that.  But it's a really fitting word, because I am sensitive in every possible definition.  I have this tendency to "feel" the room, as someone once put it.  If I walk into a room where people are agitated or stressed or happy or excited, I'll feel it.  That level of sensitivity can be good, but it is often very draining.  I'm pretty sensitive to people's needs in the sense that I am good at figuring out what someone might need, and helping them get that.  I can tell if people are upset and hiding it, which can be good, if I am willing to address it, but it can be rough, if I instead just think about it endlessly.... I'm also sensitive in the literal term - I'm allergic to way too many things - foods, medicines, products in general.  My skin is super sensitive, so is my stomach.  So are my feelings, which are easily hurt, which make me a little more emotional....!

(BONUS! Since I was never good at following rules, here is one bonus word that describes me.  I am observant.  I notice everything.  That little flower growing through the crack in the sidewalk that wasn't there yesterday?  I notice that.  That you wear the same outfit every Friday?  Yep, I notice that too.  That you've started biting your nails again?  That the pillows were rearranged?  That the kids are always a little more talkative on pizza day?  Yup.  I notice all of it.  Like the other adjectives I selected, this too, has it's positives and negatives.  It's nice to notice the little things, as people appreciate compliments on those little things.  But sometimes it's tiring, because too many little changes make me really anxious!)

So, in summary, I am an (observant and) emotionally sensitive thinker!

Challenge 2, Part 2: Care vs. Neglect

I'm going to use the term "care" for positive, and "neglect" for negative, as I think the highlighted words have a more hopeful notion to them.  I mean, I can neglect to get the trash to the street on time, and that doesn't sound horrible.  I can handle a glass with care so it doesn't break (thereby ending up in the trash/recycling!)  Just sounds a bit more hopeful, at least to me.

When it comes to responding to events in my life, I tend to respond with anxiety and discomfort, whether the events are positive or negative.  I prefer to care about others involved in the event, whether it's celebrating accomplishments or milestones, or something as simple as being at a concert - I am very careful to make sure they are enjoying themselves, sometimes neglecting my own needs in the process.  When a negative event occurs, I respond the same way, in reverse.  I get mad at myself for whatever my part was, even if I truly didn't cause it whatsoever.  I'm not good at going with the flow, and I feel like I tend to create that hiccup that causes the situation to change.

Care looks like the way I treat others - with respect.  With dignity.  With kindness and compassion.  Care means I want to make sure that people around me are well taken care of, and sometimes when they're not happy (which happens!) it means being a good listener and offering a hug or a shoulder.  Care is celebrating accomplishments, whether it's winning an award, or finally learning to multiply.  Care is growing.  Care is finding inner peace within the storm of life.  Except for me, it's meant helping others do all of the above.

Neglect?  You want to know what neglect is?  What it looks like?  Take a look at me.  Take a look at the way I live.  Actually, I take that back.  I survive, I don't live.  I'm getting closer to living every day, and a bit further from that survival mode, but I'm not quite in the land of the living yet.  Neglect means the only reason I eat is because an alarm goes off reminding me I have to.  Not because I want to nourish my body.  Neglect is pulling the good ole college trick and buying new undergarments, instead of doing laundry.  Neglect is letting the house get so messy, that you'd be ashamed to have anyone stop by unexpectedly.  Neglect is waiting until the last minute to do anything, even if your job depends on it.  Neglect means I spend more hours asleep than awake.  Multiple days in a row.  Neglect?  I'm a pro. 

Eventually, though, I hope to become a pro at self-care, too.... after all, you can have multiple areas of expertise, and I think caring about myself would be a nice addition to my world...

Week 28: Where Would I Be....

If you know where this image came from, please let me know
so I can give credit to the original source.

Where would I be without my arch nemesis and former best friend, ed? I'm not really sure.  I know that despite hating having to battle this disorder, I've learned a lot about myself in the process, things that I might never have learned otherwise.  While working through this nasty little situation, I have gotten in touch with my emotions and feelings in ways I never would have been able to do otherwise.

I hate this ed.  I hate how it's turned food into a mortal enemy.  I hate how it's sucked the joy out of eating.  I hate how self-conscious it's made me.  I wouldn't wish an ed on anyone.  It sucks the will to live from every fiber of your being.  Only because I am working my @$$ off with a kick @$$ team am I making the progress (however slow at times) I'm making.

So where would I be without it?  A heck of a lot happier, that's for sure.

Week 24: Overcoming Challenges

I've faced a lot of challenges in my life. No biggie, you get kinda used to them after a while.  Doesn't make it any easier, but I'm no longer surprised when faced with what feels like an impossible or uncomfortable or painful situation, since they happen to appear on a fairly regular basis.

The 2010-2011 school year started off challenging, with multiple funerals of friends and family all within a short time frame.  I had a great class, and as much as I enjoyed being their teacher, I was not able to bounce back from the depression of the funerals.  I spiraled further into depression, and my doctor decided that I needed to return to therapy.  This was in December.  I was fine once I got to school because I loved my job and my students, but it was really hard to get going in the morning.  I was maintaining professionalism and fulfilling all my job responsibilities and then some.

Things changed in February.  I was still struggling to get out of bed, but now preparing for work and getting myself there had become even more challenging.  I was always exhausted.  I had been through 4 different meds, none of which helped.  By April I was ready to quit my job and sleep full time.  As much as I loved my job, I just wasn't motivated to do anything, even at school.  I was on auto-pilot.  I still fulfilled my basic job requirements, but I was barely holding on.  I felt like the worst teacher ever, despite the fact that my class still loved coming to school and their parents were thrilled with the school year.  I got home every day and slept for two hours, got up long enough to eat something, and then went to bed. I was hardly eating, always tired, and often on the verge of tears.

By June, I wanted to quit everything.  Parents raved about the school year, kids were happy, looking forward to summer, and all the while, I felt terrible.  I felt so bad for short changing my students.  They didn't get the *best* me that I could be.  They got a shadow of me, which was, in my mind, not good enough, even though it was fine with everyone else.  I'm honestly surprised I didn't get put on notice or something, I mean, I was running in late for everything at work, hardly participating, leaving as soon as the bell rang.  I was truly a shadow of myself.

Summer arrived and gave me much needed down time.  In addition to working with my therapist multiple times weekly, my dietitian joined the team.  The amount of support I had that summer, and still have today, is what helped me overcome the intense lethargy that had taken over my life.

By the time the 2011-2012 school year started, I was able to tackle school more like the old me.  I finally had a much needed support system, and with their help, the 2011-2012 school year was my best year yet.  I'm still working closely with my team, and am still battling ed and depression on a daily basis, but because of the support I have, things are better balanced - I am able to concentrate on school when I'm there, and on life when I'm not.

Don't get me wrong, things are not all sunshine and roses, and there is still a dark cloud that likes to follow me around.  I'm just better equipped to handle the ups and downs of life that will always be there.  But now I have people that toss out the life preserver before I get too far from the ship.

Week 22: Harboring Emtions

Hmm.... Where do I hold my emotions.  I guess a better question is where don't I hold them?  My emotions like to get stuffed into my stomach, creating a mess in the digestion department.  They like to hide in my heart and chest, trying to convince me I'm having a heart attack (I'm smarter than those darn emotions, though!)  They like to hang out in my neck, and they hate when I see my chiropractor, because he crashes their party there.  Same with my low back.  My emotions pretty much hate my chiropractor, because he tries to crash any party they've planned in any part of my body.

It used to be easy to keep my emotions in check.  I just kept stuffing them down, eating my emotions instead of food.  That worked for a long time, too.  Except for one problem.  When I ate too many emotions, and too little food, well, the emotions snuck out of my pores and created a rather uncomfortable situation upon their escape.  That, and my body needed to eat more than emotions, despite what my brain thought.

Now I'm working through this terrifying process of actually expressing emotions instead of eating them.  I should say, appropriately expressing them.  It is not easy work, though my therapist has said that it does get a little easier over time.  Right now it's such a new skill, like, say, learning how to ride a skateboard, that I've got a lot of scrapes, bumps, and bruises all over.  But I'm trying.  And waiting for the easier part to arrive!

Week 21: What I Want to Hear

For a while I wanted someone to confirm that I'm worthless.  But that hasn't, and likely won't happen.  Guess it's just my distorted perception of myself.  Hope it changes quickly!

I wished my therapist would tell me that she'd be there for me no matter what.  In my heart, I knew she couldn't say that, cause in my experience, no one sticks around long enough to get to know me enough to help me.  Or I should say, no one sticks around long enough for me to let them in so they can help me.  On more than one occasion, and in more than one way, she has told me that she's not going anywhere.  My therapist, my dietitian, the primary members of my treatment team have said, with and without words, that they are here for me, they're in it for the long haul, I can depend on them..... I think they're trying to show me that I'm worth loving.  I'm taking their word for it till I believe it myself.  Which might take years. 

What else would I like to hear?  I'm borrowing words from others as there is so much going on in my mind I don't know which way is up right now.

I think my heart would explode if this actually happened.

  I've only just learned what it feels like to miss
someone this strongly. I wonder if anyone
misses me...

Only in my dreams...

Please.  Please.  Please....

Week 18: Best Recovery Advice

The best recovery advice I've been given?  Simple.

You CAN do this.  Take one bite at a time.

It sounds trite and condescending.  But it isn't.  Because unless I eat, my brain will never be able to be coherent enough to process the other side of ed, the mental side.  I need to nourish my body so that I can work on recovering my mind.

How am I able to do that?

I don't do it for me.  I don't eat for myself.  I eat because I know if I don't, my team will not be able to help me, and I'll lose them.  I can't lose them.  They are the reason, at least for now, that I am working my @$$ off to eat and to beat this "issue."

More helpful words from my team, who have been my constant cheerleaders and guides on this journey...

Acceptance is the hardest part.  When you do- then you know who and what you are fighting. (8/3/11)

The emotions are there because you need to move forward dealing with them instead of using ED to handle things.  You have the skills, ability intelligence and drive to win this battle.  Don't quit. (11/1/11)

One. More. Week.

One week.  Just one more week until my dietitian is back.  Six days, actually.  I.  Can't.  Wait.  I am still a little nervous, and that feels kind of strange.  I mean, I've been looking forward to this for four months.  111 days.  And now there's only six days left to wait.  Six days.  What was such a painful farewell, and a tear-filled few weeks afterward... I survived.  I've just about made it.
Funny thing... I wanted to not like her fill-in, who is now going to stay on as part of my dietitian's staff.  I actually wanted to just stop seeing a dietitian all together while mine was on leave.  Turns out that my temporary one was pretty cool.  I actually ended up enjoying working with her.  She's not *my* dietitian, (no one can fill her shoes) but she did a really nice job dealing with me, and more than that... I know that she cares, not only about doing a good job, but she cares in general. And what started out dreadful and draining (at least from my perspective) ended up to be a positive, growth-filled, learning experience that I actually didn't mind.

It's kind of nice that she is sticking around and will be a part of the staff, too.  It means that next time my dietitian goes on vacation or is out of the office, she will be able to fill in.  And this time, I won't be as anxious, miserable, and apprehensive cause I already know her, and I already like her!

I still can't wait till next Monday, though.... six days.  Approximately 155 hours... Boy have I missed her.  And yes, I will likely be incredibly emotional, at least for the first few minutes.  I mean, it'll have been 117 days between... well, I just hope it stays in my head!

For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, 

and for everything you gain, you lose something else.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Arielle's Word-of-the-Day: FORGIVENESS

June Blog Challenge Day 25: FORGIVENESS

I have been (trying to) participate in another blog project, which was actually the impetus for this blog in the first place.  Weekly prompts (of which I am rather far behind) have addressed all sorts of topics, similar to the June blogger challenge.




As it would so happen, I wrote about forgiveness back in March.  Here's a link to that post.  Not a whole lot has changed in my world of forgiveness.  My therapist and I still discuss the topic of self-hatred/self-care pretty regularly.  I'd say I'm an inch closer than where I was back in March?  Maybe?

Forgiveness is such an important trait to have, 

it makes things a little less painful, 

even though the process of forgiveness

 may be a painful journey in itself.

Prompt: Maybe you need to forgive yourself. Maybe you are struggling to forgive another. Maybe forgiveness feels forced. Maybe you don’t understand it.  Maybe it is religious or faith based when you consider. Maybe it’s a lesson you have not yet learned. Talk about it in your own words.

Arielle's Word-of-the-Day: TEARS

June Blog Challenge Day 19: TEARS

Tears

Why do I cry?

The constant threat
of tears

is getting old.
Fast. 

If tears are what

make rainbows

in our eyes

my world should be

filled

with color. 

Yet I often

choose

to live within the

extremes.
Black

or

white.

I want

a world

full of color.

I just wish
I could find it

with a 

few

less

tears.

© MGD, June 2012

I cry a lot.  Every emotion elicits tears - sadness, happiness, anger, excitement... The emotions have been plentiful the past few weeks, and this poem was written after a rather intense conversation one day last week.  I need frequent reminders that there really is a world full of colorful options, and I don't have to stick with extremes.  It's a good thing for me to be reminded of regularly, maybe one day soon I'll remember that my favorite color is purple, and not black or white.

Prompt: Tears can be healthy. Tears can be reminders of things past. Tears can be freeing. Beautiful. Tears can be a release. What do tears mean for you? Do you cry a lot? Not at all? What is it that makes you cry? Consider what feels right for you for this prompt.

Arielle's Word-of-the-Day: LOVE

June Blogger Challenge Day 14: LOVE

When I saw this word, I cringed.  Love is not something that is easy for me to write about, maybe because I struggle to express it, to say it, to allow it into my heart.

BUT....

There is something that I do love. 

And two quotes came to mind.

The first is a rather familiar quote by Rumi.  I like the simplicity and elegance of it.  I like it even more, because yes, I do LOVE what I do.  I love getting up for work (almost) every morning and getting my room ready for the arrival of my students.  I love hearing their voices as they eagerly descend upon the classroom, their home for seven hours a day, 180 days a year.  I love watching their eyes light up when they learn something new.  I love their laughter.  I love seeing them grow and learn.  I love teaching them new things, and watching them apply their new learning to other areas of their lives.

The second quote needs a little alteration to fit in this blog post.  If you read the quote by James Barrie (also known as the author of Peter Pan among other things) replace the "likes" with "love" and you have me and my job.  I love what I do.  I love teaching children.  I don't always love dealing with the politics that come with teaching, nor the sometimes-overbearing parents, but I do love the kids.  When I am at school is when I am the happiest.

Prompt: You knew this would be on here.  But don’t think of it as a clichéd prompt. Write about what love means for you, or something that embodies love, how you want to be more loving, or what it’s like to love yourself. It’s up to you.