Category Archives: Reflections

Happy? Valentine’s Day

💜 It’s February 14th, Valentine’s Day. At least in the US – I don’t know if other countries celebrate it too. While the day is shown to be full of love and flowers and candy and romantic gestures, I know that many aren’t feeling the love today.  It can be a really hard day for many; I know because I was single for a long time, not wanting to be single, and the day was a stark reminder of not having something I wanted so badly.

I never enjoyed being single. I wanted a partner for as long as I can remember. Dating was intimidating for me because I was so painfully shy. Online dating made me sadder as those that would initiate contact to me, I didn’t feel interested in…and those that I liked rarely responded back. It took so much out of me to show up or go out and then to repeatedly have this mismatched interest was frustrating. And from what I’ve heard, online dating has only gotten harder. TV shows and movies make dating look fun, and maybe some people have fun with it. For me, first dates were torturous and I really hope I never have to deal with that all ever again!

Maybe it’s just me… While this all sounds good, I know quite a few gals that found love without loving themselves first.

But back to Valentine’s Day… The hubs and I do not exchange gifts. That was on me. Another fun part of my anxiety: gifts are stress inducing. And I’m talking both parts of it, giving and receiving. Some years, I will decorate with a few red heart things around our home. I might wear red this day or make us a special treat – this year, I’m just not feeling it so there is only one heart decoration up and it’s a black heart. Not sure if I did that in a symbolic way or if it was just the easiest decoration to hang up (likely the latter…)

When I was single, I wanted someone special to celebrate things like this with. I would see people sharing all sorts of things online that made the yearning for someone that much more severe, almost desperate (I said almost!) Those in relationships who would tell me that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, marriage is hard, I was lucky I didn’t have to put up with anyone…it was all advice I never asked to hear…and truth is, they were wrong. Admittedly, I don’t know any marriage that I truly envy. But I am beyond grateful for mine. Ours works for us – others likely wouldn’t envy us either. I think what I’m trying to get to is don’t give a single person advice like that; it’s hurtful. It’s dismissing their desires solely based on your experience. They don’t want your experience; they want to have their own.

And to those still in that place where you want a partner, I know it isn’t easy, and not even always fun, but the only way to find someone…is make some sort of effort. I waited for years and Mr. Wonderful never came knocking on my door. And of course, if I’m being completely truthful here, even if he did, I’d hide behind the couch until he left and then only crack open the door when I was certain he’d gone to see if anything was left behind. Showing up and making some bit of effort is the only way. Several times I tried to show up for a date, and while I’m embarrassed to admit it, my anxiety became overwhelming and I had to turn around and go home, leaving him with a gal that never showed up. (I did email one afterwards, apologizing profusely about being such an asshole, explained my anxiety and nerves were too much for me…and we dated for over a year. So some will get it and be understanding…) The hardest part for me was to show up and learn to be comfortable being myself, sharing myself, getting to know someone else. I’m still in that space as I try to make friends as an adult (newsflash: meeting new friends is very similar to dating!)

Today is one day. Do what you need to get through it. When I was alone, I used to watch rom-coms and eat comfort food and let myself cry as much as I needed to. Now that I’m married, I still watch the rom-coms and snack by myself (life is hardly as romantic as portrayed in chick lit.) Tomorrow, I’m looking forward to hitting up the candy aisle and finding the Easter candy out! I am in desperate need of some Mini Eggs!

Love Jenny

To subscribe or not to subscribe

Are you a fan of subscription boxes? You know, the ones where you get a “mystery box of goodies” each month? I feel like I’m a unicorn here…like I’m a rando who really, really does not like them.

I fully believe that my younger self would have been a fan of those. That was the younger version of me that bought a lot of stuff I didn’t need. She liked to go out and just buy things (yes, she was trying to solve inner issues with material things and it didn’t help…but she didn’t really know any better at the time.) The other day, I got a phone call from a friend who was at Shoppers’ World in Framingham, MA and thought of me. I spent many an hour at SW, especially at DSW. But also Barnes and Noble and Old Navy, then I’d make the trek across route 9 to Dick’s. I charged a lot of things in that area over the years… Younger me liked shopping; I was compensating for something with it. I had a bunch of clothes, cute shoes, various purses – basically, I had a lot of stuff.

Scurge from movie Ragnarok, saying

In recent years, I haven’t shopped like I used to. Part of that could be that over the last 8ish years, I have put on some weight. I don’t like how a lot of clothes fit me, and I blame myself not the clothes. My feet can’t handle “cute” shoes anymore; a developing bunion and recurring plantar fasciitis require solid support and wide toe boxes, which unfortunately are the farthest things from cute. There is also the fact that I don’t “go out” like I did before the pandemic and don’t always feel compelled to look cute. I dress for comfort to run errands or take the dog to the park. The few times Matt and I have gone out, I pretty much wear the same well-worn-in jeans and loose navy top. Buying clothes when you are dissatisfied with your body shape isn’t as fun as when you have a body that came wear almost anything. (This is an issue for another day…)

Mel Robbins on her podcast answering "I hate how I look. What do I do?"

So yes, I have a hunch younger me would have enjoyed random “gifts” each month. But older me, not so much. First off, I am a bit picky about things that I like, products I am interested in using. Growing up, I wasn’t too concerned about what products I put in or on my body. Ah to be young and carefree… But older me is selective. I am much more willing to invest in a better quality product as opposed to getting a whole bunch of things at a fraction of the price that may not be as good. And I try to stick with a routine. I’m learning about the importance of consistency over time in the efficacy of product results. It is hard for the body to keep up when you are constantly changing things up on it! And then, what if they send you something you try but don’t like? That’s a waste of money, a waste of product, and creating more waste for an already overflowing landfill of plastic trash.

Shopper buying a fish asks for a plastic bag. The seller, holding the fish, says it is already inside.

But perhaps one of the biggest issues I have with subscriptions is being  a person living with anxiety. I am not an overly controlling person; I’m really not. But if I can do something to curb the anxiety, then yes I will do what I can to control it. Getting a box of unknown things isn’t fun for me. I worry I won’t like what is inside, that I’ll already have some things and not need more, that more will make me concerned about where to put it, that not liking something will make me feel like I’m wasting money or creating unnecessary waste. To put this in a bit of perspective, gifts make me anxious; I do not really enjoy presents. So getting a “surprise” box each month isn’t really a good time for me.

That being said, subscribing to things I choose, things I will use, and save a few bucks on…well, those are subscriptions I’m not completely against. But I advise not over-subscribing as you might find yourself spending more than you are actually saving. Know how often you use things so that you don’t over-order and have a lot on hand. Set reminders on your calendar when something is set to renew; don’t count on the company to send a reminder email. Many do, and I really appreciate those. But some don’t. I have one that claims they don’t want to bother customers with an abundance of emails. One reminder a few days before something is set to ship is hardly a bother. And I had to set up personal reminders for that one because they won’t give me a heads up.

There are quite the variety of subscription types out there. First off, if you are at all struggling with finances or paying down debt, let me assure you that you don’t need to subscribe to ANYthing. If you like monthly surprises, there a many different box-types out there. Personally, they just aren’t my thing. I’m focused on choosing what I like and consistency of product use.

Images from google search on subscription boxes

Holy sh*t! There are a LOT of subscription companies out there…for every subject you can come up and then some.

Are you a subscriber to any boxes? Share in the Comments below.

Flat feet future

I am a little heartbroken. I cannot wear heels anymore…

My right foot isn’t able to handle the angle and my weight and so I have to make the tough decision to not wear heels anymore. I wasn’t even wearing a high heel this weekend but it was high enough.

At 5’2″, I have found a fondness for shoes that elevate me a bit. Platforms were never my thing; I preferred a cute shoe with a heel. I’m not talking stilettos either; I wanted my shoes cute but comfy. And over the decades, I have been fortunate to find some that suited my style, my comfort requirements, and my budget. They made me feel powerful and feminine. Since moving to San Francisco, I didn’t wear them as much (heels and hills were not for me!) But I still taught in them. Then the pandemic came, and I barely wore shoes at all!

As a result, I developed plantar fasciitis. I began to shop for specific support, and gave up my cute shoes for practical ones. Because let’s face it, foot pain is AWFUL. I remember in my 20s getting advice from an older woman to take care of my feet. I was young and invincible so I continued to wear whatever I wanted. But oh how I wish I had truly heard her words that day. I understand it now…I live with the pain.

Slowly getting back into exercising, and strength training specifically, I found the pain diminishing. Focusing on PF exercises and stretches alone didn’t help it go away; building strength in my leg muscles did. So this past weekend, I decided to break out the comfy chunky heel I still had in my closet for our trip to see Les Miz. We planned to take an Uber so there would be minimal walking. I tried on the shoe in our closet and they were as comfy as I remembered them being. These were from BetaBrand, and the shoe has a bit of stretch along with a sneaker-like insole. Amazingly, there was no pain when I put them on or wore them. I felt like a bit of myself again! Then I woke up the next morning…

When I woke up, I felt fine in the bed. I did my morning stretches that I always do before putting bodyweight onto my feet. As I stood up, I was still fine. But my first steps told me otherwise. My right big toe wouldn’t move. It felt paralyzed. Fortunately it was my exercise rest day so I wasn’t going to exacerbate things…but the reality was there. I couldn’t wear heels anymore. If a comfy shoe that had me barely on my feet (house to Uber, Uber into theater and up to seat, standing through intermission and then the reverse trip back home) could cause such a painful reaction, I wouldn’t put myself through that again. I am not one to suffer for vanity; I like being comfortable too much.

Fortunately, a bit more stretching throughout a restful day fixed the issue. My toe moves now, even if there is a slight twinge on occasion. The heels that I still have in my closet will be making their way into a donation bag. And the quest for the most supportive cute flat is underway.

The last 365

The eve of forty-one has arrived.  I remember this day was very hard for me last year: the last day of my thirties.  And now, I’m sitting here looking back on the year that was forty.  I don’t know where the year has gone.

Admittedly, much of it was a blur.  I feel like a lot of time was spent working; even if I wasn’t at work, I was still working.  That’s something I’m trying to get better with: the work-life balance.  And in recent weeks, I’m already doing better there.  Nothing comes home with me on the weekends. Sunday is a much more enjoyable day when it isn’t being used to prep for the day and week ahead work-wise.

In many ways, I don’t see that much has really changed over the last 365 days.  I still don’t feel my age and, from what most people say, I don’t really look it either.  I still get asked to show ID when I buy liquor from time to time.  To see myself in my forties just doesn’t seem real. Maybe it’s just some kind of alternative fact… 😉 No, I know it’s true.  I’ve seen the birth certificate.  And I do have the white hairs showing my aging self.

I’ve been doing a lot of reading and audiobook listening and thinking lately.  The plan is to try to make a few changes (not a HUGE amount where I get overwhelmed and end up doing nothing…just a few important changes) this year so that 365 days from now, I don’t feel like I’ve again gotten nowhere.  February begins the experiment. I’m going to try to do what I know because truth is, I know all this stuff.  I know what’s good for me but like so many of us, even though I know it, I get lazy or want to remain comfortable or it’s just too much effort… I haven’t quite uncovered my excuses exactly but I do know that I haven’t really been in control of myself, of my life. I’ve always been in reaction. I’ve always allowed the thoughts of others to really direct my actions.  But I know I’m better than I’ve been demonstrating. I’m stronger than my food cravings.  I’m tougher than my anxieties.  I’m braver than my fears.  And I’m a smart girl who can think for herself and take responsibility for her actions (and inactions).  At forty-one, it’s about time this Peter Pan grows up.

Perspective

It’s a cold, rainy day here in the Bay Area.  My sister had given BBE and I theater tickets for a musical tonight in the city.  I love musicals and am always up for a show! I don’t know anything about the Finding Neverland musical but had seen the movie years ago.  Looking out my window, I was a little grumbly about having to head out in this weather on a Sunday night.  But, then I caught myself and how negative I was being.

Here’s really how my Sunday looks: I got to eat delicious beef stew leftovers. We get to watch the Patriots game from the comfort of our own living room as the power stayed on. I’ve got laundry going so I can have clean clothes for the week ahead. We get to go watch a live performance of feel-good singing and dancing. We get to go from our warm home to the theater in warm, dry clothes.  If we get wet, there are dry options for us.

A brief remembrance of those outside in the rain with nowhere to escape the dampness, no hot meals to warm up their insides, no dry clothes to put on afterwards, no joyful football game or theater performance to entertain them made me realize how I was not focused on the right things. Sometimes, we just don’t realize how truly fortunate and blessed we are…

Setbacks

One step forward, two (or more) steps back has become the dance of my life.  And it SUCKS!  After yesterday’s post, I was getting myself ready to stay focused on the big picture.  I went in to bed around 9:45p last night and read until 10:30p. I knew that’d mean less than seven hours of sleep but I wanted to finish a few things before going to bed and really wanted to read for a bit before turning out the light.  I figured I’d take the six hours, get up at 4:30a, drink my green drink, meditate for 10 then shake my bum bum. I woke a few times during the night; around two a.m., I thought I should get up to use the bathroom but the feeling soon subsided and I fell back asleep. I woke next to thinking it must be around time to get up but a quick peek at the clock said I could have one more hour of sleep.  My next glance at the clock was a few minutes before my Fitbit was set to buzz on my wrist.

It was that moment when you wake up and feel awake, like you could get up, but then you figure, I might as well take the last few minutes of sleep that I get. Then when you’re alarm does go off five minutes later, there’s no way you feel like dragging your butt out of the bed.

My alarm was set for 4:30a so I could spend an hour on my me-time tasks – in truth, I could’ve gone back to sleep for another hour or so and still had plenty of time to get to work but I’m striving for growth this year which means change… So, I pulled my knees up to my chest for a little stretch, then let them fall to my right while the rest of me rolls along after them out of bed.  The morning seemed to go fine and I was about ready to leave at 6:30am (goal time to leave) when I thought I should use the restroom one last time before my 30+ minute commute.  Potential TMI warning!  I had already had my morning BM (which always makes for a better day ahead personally) but I apparently hadn’t gotten it all out and had more to evacuate.  I felt a little off this morning and thought some Immodium would fix the funny feelings and get me on my way.  I’m backing out of the garage at 6:40am and still feeling off.  This time, it was more upper GI – I was nauseous. I paused before closing the garage door and finishing backing into the street, wondering if instead I should pull back into the garage and go back to the comfort of my yellow-tiled bathroom (it’s a rental). I’ve had a history with nausea.  I think most people, feeling what I felt in that moment, would’ve gone back in no question.  I didn’t.  I chalked it up to getting up early, trying to get a new morning routine going, unconscious stress about not really wanting to go to work, and the hard-boiled egg I’d eaten post-workout.  I figured the feeling would pass.  So I pushed the button to close the garage and continued on my commute.

The commute was AWFUL! It became a game of at what point am I willing to turn around and at what point am I committed to fully going.  I tried to distract myself with favorite tunes on Spotify.  When I have GI ailments, there is a perfect temperature that my body likes to be at – not too hot or too cold – so there was the challenge of figuring out what that temp would be today.  Mental challenges of trying to get myself to think about ANYTHING other than how I felt.  Trying to remember where I might have stashed a small plastic bag was a frequent thought. Looking at the shoulder and being grateful it was wide enough to fit my car if I needed to pull over quickly.  Deep breaths from the morning meditation were attempted again to calm my insides.  It was a rough ride but I made it to work.  A quick jaunt to the restroom proved very unproductive from both ends and yet I still felt sick.

I walked out to my classroom, which is quite a distance from the nearest adult bathroom.  The cool morning air felt wonderful on my face; my hands were so cold that I couldn’t feel them at all.  I turned on the small electric kettle to make some mint green tea. I knew eating breakfast was out but hoped tea would help me feel human enough to be okay about coming in to work.  Nope.  Before the kettle even whistled, I was headed back to the bathroom.  It was 7 minutes before I had to open the door to the students.  Again, nothing happened in the bathroom, and again, I felt much better walking outside.  Most morning tummy ailments I have had do pass after a short while and I figured I just had to wait it out. At this point, it’d been over an hour and a half so it must be almost over.  At 8:20am, I decided I would let fate choose my day: if a sub was available, I was going home.  And home I went.

I thought a lot on the ride home (because there was god awful traffic so lots of time for reflection…)  The lower GI discomfort subsided relatively soon after getting in the car; the nausea has continued to flare up since leaving school.  Pure exhaustion set in when I got home; it was the kind of tired where you’re too tired to sleep unfortunately. I watched a little TV, ate some white rice, and read a book.

All I want is to better myself, my life.  It is beyond frustrating when you try to do something to better yourself and feeling like this is a result. I don’t know what happened today: maybe it was something I ate, maybe I’m just lacking sleep, maybe the morning routine was a little too jarring for my sensitive system. I haven’t a clue what it was or how to fix it. It was a huge setback to me mentally because now I wonder: should I make sleep my priority over morning workouts, maybe morning workouts are too taxing for my body, maybe the hard-boiled egg is a bad post-workout snack for my body (for reference: I brought 2 for lunch to work once, an hour later got wicked food poisoning that resulted in the “going & throwing” for 17 hours straight!) I’m probably just mentally over-reacting right now because I’m tired and seeking an answer. But I hope that this will finally be a time when I push through setbacks – not in a way where I suffer through feeling like crap at work (that’s what sick days are for) but rather, when shit happens, I just acknowledge it and try again tomorrow.

2016 Year in Review

In reading back over past posts, “fizzled ambition” seems like the perfect title for my autobiography. Or perhaps the overarching theme of 2016.  Yes, I know I’m starting out in a very negative way of looking back over the last year…but I’m not feeling super proud of myself at the moment. I see constant restarts and failed attempts at sticking with positive changes. My resolutions weren’t overly challenging and yet, I still couldn’t achieve them.  Sitting here this foggy Sunday morning, reflecting on the previous twelve months…I’m feeling like crap.

January 2016: I turned 40. Not sure I can claim that as an accomplishment as it sort of just happened; I didn’t really have anything to do with that. Went to Outdoor Ed with my students: it rained most of the week but they amazingly never complained.  BBE and I went to Tahoe for the first time so I could see the snow I thought I missed so much.  The snow was beautiful…the cold temps, yeah I didn’t miss those at all! It was nice to escape the low temps in the warm casinos (which were unfortunately smokey…) I didn’t stick with my attempted Happiness Project (which I only recalled attempting by rereading over past blog posts…) but all in all, a rather nice start to the year.

 

 

 

 

 

February 2016: In revisiting my Passion Planner and looking at old blog posts, February was a rather quiet month. I went to the dentist and I went to 1 yoga class. I did set a goal to get my weight down to 120#, which in looking at my Withings app, I did actually get close to:

 

 

 

 

 

The rest of the year left much to be desired in the weight department but I was pleasantly surprised to see that I did lose weight consistently (slow as it may have been) during the first two months of 2016.  Which makes me wonder…what happened from then on??? What made the amibition fizzle out???

March (spring) 2016 The highlights of March were going to see Wicked (again) and spring break. I really enjoyed the group of students I had during this school year but being “on” all the time wears me out.  So after three months of school, a two week break was much needed! I’m also seeing this is when I stopped using my Passion Planner so I’ll have to rely on my memory for stand out moments… So on to June.

Summer 2016 Just like I mentioned above, I need my school breaks to re-energize.  This summer, I discovered more about why I personally require those breaks.  I stumbled on to Elaine Aron and highly sensitive people (HSPs)…and quickly attached that label to myself.  I don’t know why I hadn’t heard it ever before during my 40 years but I am one for certain.  I read voraciously everything I could find on the topic. To understand yourself is an amazing moment: the tears made sense, the fatigue made sense, I knew now why I have these seemingly random moments of overwhelm and mental exhaustion.  I thought I was just aging and unable to handle things – turns out I’m just wired a little differently. There were two quick trips over the summer: to a wedding in New England and to see the fam in Florida.  Miles were ran and relaxation achieved.

Fall 2016 It was amazing to me how quickly I went from a happy “ahh” place to a frustrated “argh” one. Back to school in August and day one found me already frazzled.  The year didn’t start off on a good footing.  I’m not sure why: I was prepped thoroughly, I had everything well-planned (or so I thought) but at the end of that first week, I was seriously questioning my career choice.  And the frustration continued for months.  There was no joy to be found for me in the initial trimester. BBE and I took a quick trip to Disneyland in search of joy. I struggled to stick with an exercise program. Juicing wasn’t keeping me going like it did back in June. I was tired all the time. I complained a lot. I pretty much had decided that I would be looking for a new job for when this school year ends, that I would utilize my technical and/or writing talents in a position that better suited me as an HSP.  I volunteered during the fall to be a running coach with a program called Girls on the Run.  We trained for 10 weeks and then the girls completed their 5K race in December.  A week before winter break, I got sick.  It was the kind of sick that takes everything out of you, that gives you the sexy, raspy voice while you constantly cough up thick, green mucus, that takes a minimum of 2 weeks before you start to feel human again. So mentally and physically, I felt like crap.

Winter break 2016 This three week reprieve was so needed by the time it arrived. The first week, I rested A LOT.  I read a book a day (except for when I got to The Book Thief, which took me about 4 or 5 days to fully get through). I hadn’t read that much in a long time and I missed it. I really hope to keep that habit going!  Instead of spending the holidays alone like last year (which was such a dumb thing to do…), I went back East with BBE. Interestingly, it sparked thoughts of family in me that I thought were long gone, thoughts that could give shape to the year ahead.  I started morning workouts again, which were god awful at first but after only a week, I saw myself already getting stronger and making improvements.

I know what I hope for myself in the year ahead and hope that it won’t be yet another year (like the past 40) where I find myself next December saying the same. exact. thing.  I’m tired of starting over so I need to stop quitting. I hope to figure out why the ambition fizzles, when I know I want to improve things in our lives but lose focus or fail to act. I’m better than I’ve displayed over the last 12 months. I just did a google of “ambition fizzles” and found nothing related to what I’m talking about…so clearly, I have some work ahead of me in 2017.

I feel sad.

When the results of the election were known, I went numb. I couldn’t believe that I lived in a country that could vote for a man who lied constantly, who insulted people, who behaved in such a childish, defensive way with the name-calling, who couldn’t put together a coherent thought or sentence, who is clearly hiding things… His decisions and comments since being elected are exactly why I went numb when I heard the results. They haven’t been surprising; they’ve been disgusting. I can’t listen to his voice or even look at his face without having my stomach turn. However, putting that all aside, it was hearing what the Senate did this week that put me to tears. Clearly the end of many good things has begun.

Friday at lunch, I did what I usually do: prepped my food and went to CNN’s website to see what was happening in the world while I relaxed for a few moments in my quiet classroom. Inauguration information and school-stress aside, I saw a headline that I had to click on. The story told of how late on Thursday, the Senate voted to eliminate free birth control. The numbness returned but this time with tears. And all I want to know is the why.

For me, I have a very painful period. I suffered through many 24-hour stretches during my teens and early 20s where I would lay on the cold tile floor of the bathroom because it was the only thing that gave some semblance of comfort. I needed to be near the toilet because of the vomiting. Every month, it was like a knife in my lower abdomen. I had a mother that didn’t talk to me about my period so I didn’t know that wasn’t normal. I was raised Catholic so I didn’t have all the information about birth control pills and their blessed side effects. It wasn’t until I was 23 and had been dealing with this all for 10 years that I was finally brave enough to face the speculum and go to the gynecologist. That amazing woman changed my life. I no longer spent one day a month curled up in a ball; I could keep on keepin’ on. The pill wasn’t about sex for me; it gave me back the freedom to live without pain.

I’d been on the same brand for a while. After an insurance change, I ended up with a generic brand, because it was cheaper, and I was having all sorts of emotional side effects. So the doctor put me back on the Ortho Tri-cyclen brand name pack. It wasn’t cheap to keep my pain at bay every month but can you really put a price on that? For me, it was like rent or food: it was a non-negotiable fixed monthly expense – I had to have it. There was a point when, for monetary purposes I couldn’t afford to renew my prescription, so I tried going without it. I thought, I’d been on it over 10 years, maybe the pain subsides as I age. Nope! Immediately, the first day of my period without the Pill at 36 felt like it did in my teens. As a grown woman with a full-time job, I was embarrassed to lie there alone at the foot of the toilet again. Fortunately, my doctor and I found a generic brand of pill that didn’t make me crazy and was amazingly free. I felt human again and I didn’t have to stress out about the cost. When you have health insurance, that’s what I think should happen.

Two years later, I found myself without coverage. I had just finished grad school but had not yet gotten a job. I was also moving across the country. So the Cobra I could’ve gotten with my student plan was not going to cover me in California outside of emergencies. I didn’t qualify to be my boyfriend’s domestic partner so he couldn’t add me to his plan. I applied for Covered California as soon as we arrived but OMG the amount of paperwork required for all that!? I’m an educated, computer-savvy gal and it was confusing for me (it reminded me of applying for unemployment) – I can’t imagine how less knowledgeable people fare…you know, the ones who probably need and use it the most. It angered me that the system is almost set up in a way to make them be unsuccessful. Anyway, my timing was tight: I needed to renew my birth control pills as soon as we got to California but had no money or insurance to make it happen. I wouldn’t be able to get Covered California for at least a month or more. I didn’t even have enough money to cover an out-of-pocket doctor’s appointment, let alone a pill pack or two. This is where I am ever grateful to Planned Parenthood.

I always thought that Planned Parenthood was there for those truly in need, who didn’t have all that I was fortunate to have. To be honest, I felt guilty seeking out their help at first. But at the thought of going off the pill and having those cramps, I put my guilty feelings aside, acknowledged that this was my moment of need, and made an appointment. Not only did I get to speak with a medical professional at no expense, they gave me an entire year’s worth of pill packs at no expense! It was the exact brand that I’d been taking so no missed month or weaning on to a new prescription. Whatever all the Republicans try to tell you about Planned Parenthood is all bullshit. They’ve never been there; they don’t truly know. Planned Parenthood helps people in their times of need – they helped me. And it had absolutely nothing to do with an abortion. Planned Parenthood kept my pain at bay.

For me, a month later, I was able to get a job and my prescription was covered. I get my pill packs in the mail and have been fortunate to not have the monthly expense of them thanks to the Affordable Care Act. As a teacher living in San Francisco and still paying off student loans, that is a nice little savings. But my losing that savings isn’t why I teared up when I read about the Senate’s vote this week. I did replay this whole story to myself but it made me think about all the other women who aren’t as fortunate as I am. I still have my job and medical coverage so I’ll be able to continue to pay for my pill as long as that continues. But what about those who don’t have coverage from their jobs or those who are about to lose their coverage because it is now absolutely clear to me that the Republicans will not stop until the entire ACA is dismantled and people are left with nothing. They’ve talked only of repealing Obamacare quickly but not of quickly putting something in its place. I think about the other women who battled the pain that I do every month and I feel for them. I fear for how the Republicans keep attacking Planned Parenthood and am scared that they will be successful in dismantling that wonderful organization as well. And I don’t know why. Why do they dislike the poor so much? Why don’t Republicans have an ounce of human decency to try to help those in need instead of continually tearing them down and taking things away from them? Those in poverty have so little as it is. The Republicans just seem like a bunch of bullies. Or if you look back at their treatment of Obama during his presidency, they act like a bunch of children. My fifth graders have more sense than them to know that you don’t always get your way and compromise is necessary in life to act in the best interest of others.

And so, I’m left saddened and terrified of what more is to come…

 

Still hangin’ on

While in the shower this morning, I was listening to a playlist I had made of songs from my youth. More specifically, the songs were from the middle to high school phase where I wanted to be a singer. Girl groups were popular at the time and Tiffany and Debbie Gibson made it seem possible that young voices could be heard. I’ve always had a love of music and singing but being painfully shy and self-conscious makes it hard to sing often. I was fortunate to find two friends who not only were okay with my singing voice but thought it was good enough to be in a female trio with them. We were going to be superstars. Cut to fifteen years later: that didn’t happen. And sadly, the friendships were lost along the way. But the music is still there.

As I stood under the warm stream of water from the overhead shower head, the remake of “Keep Me Hangin’ On” came on. Memories came flooding back like the water droplets of the shower. My two friends and I had a karaoke cassette version of that song (i.e. just the music, no vocals) and decided to use it to try out for our high school talent show. We were in the ninth grade. Our high school was full of wildly talented kids; I went to the same school where Patti Lupone went on the north shore of Long Island to give you a taste of the type of talent I’m talking about. (Of course, this was about 10+, maybe even 20+, years after Ms. Lupone had graduated and moved on to her amazing career. I first knew her as Corky’s mom before I learned of her Broadway career.) We were three quiet girls with a dream of stardom and thought our high school auditorium would be a wonderful place to showcase ourselves. So we got to work.

After lots of practice singing together, dividing up parts of the song passed on everyone’s skillset (I can go deep, Julie can hold notes well), and choreographing our moves, it was audition day. Twenty-five years later, I don’t remember much from before our audition or the performance itself but the afterwards conversation is still very clear in my head. According to our judging panel, we needed to do a lot to strengthen the vocals and the dance would bore the audience because all our moves happened in one place instead of making use of the whole stage. We weren’t given any compliments, just criticism. Walking off the stage, we knew we wouldn’t be in the show. For the next three years of high school, we never auditioned again.

It dawned on me how wrong that was. As a teacher, I don’t necessarily subscribe to the idea of participation trophies and letting everyone be winners. But we weren’t auditioning for some major performance, like the school musical or other vocal competitions. It was the school’s talent show, which should have showcased the varying degrees and types of talents of the student body. But it didn’t. It was a place where the popular and pretty kids were allowed to shine and have a spotlight moment. Unfortunately, it was not for those of us who needed it the most. I know our vocals were not American Idol-worthy and the dance would be what you would expect choreographed by three 14 year-olds with no background in dance: cheesy and simple. But that opportunity would’ve meant the world to us. We were never going to be on the dance team (I know, I tried out and didn’t make it) and maybe none of us were destined to become the next Patti Lupone. But to have a chance to put ourselves out there and do something we love, those teachers killed a chunk of our spirits that day. My takeaways were that they, in essence, told us we weren’t good at what we wanted to do and that the others were better; they’re the chosen ones, the winners. Here I am twenty-five years later and that’s what I remember from high school.

The impact a teacher can have on a child, good or bad, is quite impactful. Something to think about as I prepare to return to the classroom next week…

2015 Year in Review

This may seem weird but I don’t remember a lot that happened in 2015. Not in that I-drank-too-much-don’t-remember-nights of my 20s (and 30s). I just spent 365 days…doing what? I worked – that I know because I had money deposited into my bank each month and I still have the same job today. Surely they would’ve let me go had I not shown up, right? All in all, it just wasn’t a very memorable year. And to be honest, that thought makes me kind of nope, it makes me quite sad.

January: I turned 39 in January – that one stands out. The final year of my thirties had arrived (and apparently I escaped unharmed). I remember BBE (best boyfriend ever) brought me cupcakes; I never forget sweets. My students gave me gifts, which caught me off-guard because I didn’t know they were even aware that it was my birthday. I had an observation that day from my principal (note to future self: never plan to be observed on your birthday). But the birthday came and went like the rest of the month.

February: I spent a week with my students at an outdoor educational setting. This urban gal was grateful that there was at least indoor plumbing but it was still roughing it too much for my tastes, especially as a job responsibility. It was an exhausting, uncomfortable, unsanitary, uncompensated work experience that I’m not looking forward to reliving (BTW I’m going again next Tuesday…) The students had a wonderful time; teachers…not so much. Other than that and the NE Patriots winning the Super Bowl, February was a bit of a blur.

March: Got through the month…

April: As a part of my spring vacation, BBE and I went to Florida for a few days. We visited with my 94-year old grandmother and other family then we went off to Disney where it was hot as hell and we ate way too much food but had fun.

May and June: I don’t remember much beyond working (clearly I need to improve on my social life as all I can recall is time working…) I was happy when the school year ended – not because I don’t enjoy working. I actually really enjoy working a lot.  But I needed rest. I was sick most of the school year. Thanksgiving weekend 2014 I spent on the couch and the symptoms lingered all through the winter and spring. My energy was always depleted. I wasn’t eating well and couldn’t stick with a workout program for my life. I went to work and came home; I spend much of 2015 as a homebody. There’s a dent in the couch the size of my butt to prove it.

July: Summer gave me time to find my running legs again. I had gotten picked in the lottery for the Nike Women’s Half Marathon in SF (October 2015) and began training over the summer. My sister came out for a visit. We went up to Sonoma, drank wine in a cave, hit the casino in Graton (I lost I don’t remember how much, she won $1000). I ran mostly long runs on the weekends.

August: I had joined a running group to help me socially reach my running (and new friend making) goals. I went to the first day of training, talked with a few nice folks, developed painful plantar fasciitis in my left foot, and couldn’t run again for months. The Half Marathon never happened (and sadly never will as it will no longer be held in SF). August also found me going back to work.

Fall (September to November): Work took its toll on me. Teaching can really drain the life out of you… The school year started well. I was organized; I left at the end of my contract day; I didn’t bring things home. But it shifted somewhere and I fell into a teaching hole. I couldn’t stop thinking about work; I brought assignments home to grade; I was prepping and planning on nights and weekends. I could never get my to do list to be completed because 2-3 things would be added every time I completed a task. Frustration and overwhelm began to settle in because I could only see all I still had to do and not all that I’d already accomplished. Teacher conferences were wonderful moments of having small, personal conversations with my students and their families but I was too exhausted to really enjoy them. My introverted energy was just sapped. Those moved me on to Thanksgiving weekend…where again I spent the entire weekend on the couch nursing a developing cold. I saw the beginnings of a terrible downward cycle repeating itself and stress took up permanent residence in me. Still not able to stick with a workout program due to exhaustion (mental and physical) and couldn’t get into good eating habits (which wasn’t helping the exhaustion). Thanksgiving was delicious; we had quite a lot of potatoes, which this Irish gal devoured.

December: I became the teacher I didn’t want to be: the one who counted the days until Winter Break. I want to love the work that I do but I struggled through December. I wasn’t even up for traveling over the holidays to spend time with family. Work over the past year was just one factor of my mental state; another was that I could see my 40th birthday looming on the horizon. This isn’t what I thought 40 would look like. It’s taking everything in me to keep it all together but I feel as secure as a house of cards made on a folding table; one little gust or table tap could make the whole thing collapse.

I don’t want to be so negative. I want to recognize the good moments of 2015 because I know there were some: visiting with family, connecting with old friends, weekend trip to Monterey, BBE getting a new job (the whole reason we came to CA!), the landlord not raising our rent so we could stay in our home, getting a great little car, acquiring enough credits to get a pay increase, being told my so many of my students’ parents how much their children love coming to school, running the last two days and not having any PF pain… The good is there, I know it is. I’m just feeling my way through some of the bad right now. I want 2016 to be better; I want to be better in 2016. I will make it better.

2016