This has been a humbling month. My father, who is healing cancer in his throat, has completed his 7th week of chemo and radiation. For two weeks he effectively stopped eating because the burns in his throat from the radiation made it too painful, and with a strong push from the doctor he agreed to have a feeding tube put in so that he can get the nourishment he needs to heal in the next couple of months.
The same week that happened, my closest friend in the world found out her mom has cancer. Uterine probably. Her dad was just planning to start round two of treatment on his cancer when they found out. To complicate matters, they just sold their house after four years of trying and were looking forward to moving across the country to be in the same place as their children and grandchildren. They had planned to finish up her dad’s radiation treatment and then hit the road. Her mom’s body had another plan.
Other friends of mine gave over their infant son over to the trust of a heart surgeon. The doctor sewed up five tiny holes in his heart. He is off his breathing tube, recovering like a champ, and going home tomorrow. What a tsunami of fear, hope, dread and relief to survive.
In the last month, a friend at work lost her nephew to a car accident, one of my students lost her father to lung cancer, and another student's father died suddenly in his sleep. I also found out one of the most heartbreaking stories I've ever heard about a new student who recently joined my class. This young woman, fifteen in 7th grade, has faced more trauma than any human should ever have to bear. Because of that, she lacks the emotional, social or academic skills to be successful in middle school.
While holding space for all of these dear people, I also can't escape financial fears at home, as our school board fights to drastically reduce my pay next year. I will be embarking on the experience of picketing at 7:10 am next week. To add to the disappointment, the Nia class that I teach on Wednesdays is being cancelled due to lack of attendance. It was the class I chose to keep a couple of months ago when I decided that teaching two classes was too much for me right now. I gave the other class to a friend. Oh yeah, and both of our cars died this month. One required the replacement of the entire engine.
It's not too often that I feel completely overwhelmed. In fact it hardly ever happens. But lately, it seems it's been one dumping of horrible after another. I'm starting to feel the pull toward a generally bleak outlook.
I've been throwing a raging pity party, but the chips are all gone and it's getting a bit boring with no one else in attendance. So, I'm in search of a new attitude. Normally in this situation, I remind myself to look for the positive. Only, I gotta throw myself into it now. Really make an effort. I'm scrounging for the joy hiding in the cracks of all of this rubble. I've got to get in the garden. Moist dirt and green leaves are one of the most soothing combinations on the planet for me. I've got to keep making stuff. Lately, it has been bags and felt flowers and headbands and stuffed critters. I've always found comfort in cutting, stitching, gluing, painting, designing. Making stuff makes me feel better. I've also got to remember to love the people around me and get out of my head. After all, there will always be tragedy around me. Maybe just not so front and center. And there will always be time that passes and perspective that shifts. Yesterday, I wallowed in it. Today, the best I can do is this: my dad is on the path to healing, I'm four and a half weeks from summer vacation, and I am so thankful for the people who can sew up the holes in our babies' hearts.
In the last month, a friend at work lost her nephew to a car accident, one of my students lost her father to lung cancer, and another student's father died suddenly in his sleep. I also found out one of the most heartbreaking stories I've ever heard about a new student who recently joined my class. This young woman, fifteen in 7th grade, has faced more trauma than any human should ever have to bear. Because of that, she lacks the emotional, social or academic skills to be successful in middle school.
While holding space for all of these dear people, I also can't escape financial fears at home, as our school board fights to drastically reduce my pay next year. I will be embarking on the experience of picketing at 7:10 am next week. To add to the disappointment, the Nia class that I teach on Wednesdays is being cancelled due to lack of attendance. It was the class I chose to keep a couple of months ago when I decided that teaching two classes was too much for me right now. I gave the other class to a friend. Oh yeah, and both of our cars died this month. One required the replacement of the entire engine.
It's not too often that I feel completely overwhelmed. In fact it hardly ever happens. But lately, it seems it's been one dumping of horrible after another. I'm starting to feel the pull toward a generally bleak outlook.
I've been throwing a raging pity party, but the chips are all gone and it's getting a bit boring with no one else in attendance. So, I'm in search of a new attitude. Normally in this situation, I remind myself to look for the positive. Only, I gotta throw myself into it now. Really make an effort. I'm scrounging for the joy hiding in the cracks of all of this rubble. I've got to get in the garden. Moist dirt and green leaves are one of the most soothing combinations on the planet for me. I've got to keep making stuff. Lately, it has been bags and felt flowers and headbands and stuffed critters. I've always found comfort in cutting, stitching, gluing, painting, designing. Making stuff makes me feel better. I've also got to remember to love the people around me and get out of my head. After all, there will always be tragedy around me. Maybe just not so front and center. And there will always be time that passes and perspective that shifts. Yesterday, I wallowed in it. Today, the best I can do is this: my dad is on the path to healing, I'm four and a half weeks from summer vacation, and I am so thankful for the people who can sew up the holes in our babies' hearts.
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Hang in there Erin, something good will eventually come from all you've gone through lately. It's always darkest right before dawn.....things will get better, promise!
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