Holding On & Letting Go

Isn't it strange and unusual that nearly every relationship in our lives is an exercise in learning to love and let go? As a parent, it's my job to teach my daughter to be independent. As a daughter and sister, it's my job not to be reliant on those who are always there for me. And as a wife, a lover, I need to learn not to let another person define or complete me. Weird, huh?

So much of what we do in our lives is interconnected with our relationships with others. But at the end of the day (the year, the road, the light...), it seems that we're here to learn how to be okay alone. So it's a relief that I have just a few role models to show me the way at being exactly who you are. For instance?

My big brother has always been unashamedly exactly who he is. Whether that meant listening to "scary" music or watching pro wrestling or learning all the ins-and-outs of the comic book world, Jeremy has never hesitated to raise a glass (or a specific finger) in the direction of those who judge him. And the best part? He does it with a quirky-cool flair all his own.

Mom and Pop followed the same rules; that's to say, they didn't follow rules. Her second marriage, his third, they found each other right at their 50th spin around the sun. Though they only had ten short years together, they did it their way, traveling through Sanibel and Chincoteague with their bassets and grand babies close to their hearts. And if anyone dared to interfere with their happiness? Too bad, because they were determined to simply be happy together...so that's exactly what they were, against all judgment.

 

And I can't leave out this girlie, right? Grace is three -- a precocious yet socially awkward three -- and she seems to have a firmer grasp on her independence than I ever have. She balances traditional expectations of boy/girl toys by using water guns to clean the windows and water the flowers. She wears her decidedly uncool stretch pants low on her hips because "I just don't like them higher." And she does it all in her own time and way. She's assertive and direct and confident, all while remembering to say "please" and "thank you" as a nod of appreciation to those around her.

So I'm trying to follow those examples, to step into both the darkness and the lightness with a self-assuredness I've yet to genuinely feel. In the meantime, though? The world really is a beautiful place and, until I can learn to let go, I'm pretty happy holding on to what I have.

Like A Girl

I've never really thought myself delicate, and I've certainly never considered myself a girly-girl. I haven't mastered a quiet laugh OR sneeze, I sit with my legs propped up on the nearest person or piece of furniture in a solidly butch manner, and it might be accurate to say that I occasionally say things that would make a trucker blush. Acting like a girl, like a lady? By the most traditional constructs...nah, not for me. i.e. I'm pretty sure I'm a dude...

It wasn't entirely shocking, then (by the laws of karma), that when I became pregnant in the winter of 2012, I was certain that I was carrying a little girl. (SIDE NOTE: There were some blood test irregularities that caused docs to tell me I'd likely miscarry; I dug in my heels and said I knew I was carrying my tough girl who'd endure. Ha, ha, bitches...told ya!) A 3D scan at 20ish weeks proved me right.

From there, I've come to see, feel, and outright embrace the power of amazing women. I've always had at least one tremendous woman in my life (hey, Mom!), but I never really planned on acquiring a group, a squad, if you will, of amazing women who inspire me. Even more peculiar? Some of the most amazing and influential women in my life are those with whom I share the daily grind, the ones who've similarly chosen to devote their lives to learning, the pursuit of knowledge, and the potential to build the future through each new class of students. These are just some of my girls:

We encourage and support and absolutely love one another, a self-selected family built on shared values and problems through our overlapping life choices. Date nights at The Melting Pot? Check. Half-hearted attempts at healthy living through fitness classes? Yep. Mutual corruption via wine and Cards Against Humanity? Oh, you know it.

These are women who are teachers, wives, mothers...women who are doing it all to have it all. And what's incredible? They let me run with them. I hope I can keep pace, ladies, and I hope that someday I can be half as awesome as all of you. Much love to you all.

Worth 1000 Words

It's been a week since I've published a post, the longest I've gone since starting the blog a few months ago. It isn't that I didn't want to write or was too busy to write; rather, the ideas just weren't rolling out like they usually do (and not for lack of effort...there are several sad attempts languishing in my Drafts folder). Rather than maintaining radio silence, though, I have a lot on my mind (life and death, for instance...you know, the easy stuff) so I'm going to let some memories, some pictures speak for me....

(The. Most. Important. Revelation. Of. My. Life.)

Silly smiles with silly animals before she fell asleep at the zoo.

My momma and me, my hero, my soulmate.

Strong women + amazing babies = life goals. 

Pop-Pop and Gracie and a puppy dog: some of life's absolutes.

Pure, utter, absolute joy and wonder. #boom

Pure, utter, absolute joy and wonder, take 2.

Sometimes the simplest moments are the best; this was one of the rare times I was able to not only recognize it but to capture it, as well.

Gracie, meet the ocean! No hesitation, no fear (except from her Momma!). My girl has the world by the balls, and I will forever encourage her to hold tight...and twist, if need be. 

Pop-Pop and his grand babies: priceless.

My best friend, my selfless angel, my hetero life mate. Don't we look so wide-eyed and sober?! 😍

My blonde beauties having story time together. A few of my favorite things, all in one place.

It's not always about tremendous depth; sometimes happiness just because (this was a snow day!) is the best.

My best girls love each other across time and distance. What a beautiful relationship between godmother and goddaughter.

My boyfriend!!! Jeremy always said he'd never have kids...😂😂😂! You done good, big brother (and you lucked out with your amazing wife!).

My other best girls. This is what it's all about.

There's no rhyme or reason, no linear order to these photos. They're moments, most of them very simple, that bring me joy and, for now, traces of sadness. But they say exactly what I can't right now. Thank God those pictures are worth so very many words.

The Five Stages

I've always held an appreciation for the five stages of grief: denial, bargaining, depression, anger, and acceptance. There seems to be a certain simple logic to it, a road map for managing the impossibility of dealing with loss. It gives easy answers to the most difficult of problems. Yet, as I navigate through (another) loss of (another) father, I kinda realize that it's bullshit. Yeah, I don't doubt those parts of the process, but I notice that they leave out numb, hysterical, and exhausted, all stages I've managed to hit early in. Because, you see, this...this is something I only get to see in pictures from now on:

Only in my memories, my dreams, my convoluted mind will I get to see Gracie and Pop reveling in the joy of their beautiful relationship. And that takes me a half-step beyond the stage of anger to outright pissed off. So in my bitter & immature knee-jerk reactions, I try to find the silver-lining which, thank God, actually shines pretty brightly right now. The most basic reminder to keep on keepin' on?

And it does. ("So it goes," right, Mr. Vonnegut?) I am one of the lucky ones. I have near-constant reminders that, though I've lost a lot, I still have so much. For starters, check out the lady bold enough to birth me with the child sprung (surgically & pre-planned...she was hearty, man!) from my loins:

These girls are where it's at...and they're both a part of me. Pretty sweet, right? And they're not the only amazing women in my life. I'm fortunate enough to have a BFF who knows that nothing will comfort me more than food (thanks, Katie!)...

...or booze & black humor (#squadgoals...my God, I feel ancient trying to use that phrase!...)...

And if neither of those prescriptions suffice? Good old-fashioned pampering should do the trick.

Dealing with an irreplaceable loss, a death, is so tough as a bystander because there is truly nothing you can do to make it better. Only time makes it manageable; nothing will ever make it easy. But the effort, good God, the genuine effort makes such a difference. So the drinks, the meals, the cards and flowers ( dropped off "anonymously" by current students!)...they mean everything.

Because when life seems hopeless, anything from anyone means everything. And I hope you all know how very much your gestures mean to me...because even in loss, so very many of you make me feel found.

We Don't Need No Education

I would never say that spending eight hours a day with hundreds of adolescents is the stuff dreams are made of. Just the snippets of conversation I'm privy to are enough to make me question my career choice. In the last week alone, I've heard the following gems:

"I set her weave on fire. I couldn't hit her 'cause she be pregnant."

"Speaking of tampons, my uncle's a prison guard..."

"Why does the hallway smell like ass?"

"She's only 11, but still, why's that bitch in my seat?"

"So then the one shrew gave the other one a nut punch."

Ah, yes, the halls of academia, the place where the brightest minds discuss the most enlightening topics. But yet...I'm not sure there's any other job I'd rather have. For one thing, I'm one of the lucky ones who often gets to be in on the jokes with the kids. For instance? Students sometimes leave notes and sketches and little gifts for me. The gestures are simple, silly, and utterly sincere.

Even when I'm part of the punchline, I get to join in the laughter. Two of my favorite students ever (because yes, we're human...of course we have favorites) have been begging to babysit my daughter. They've upped the ante, though, and now want me to buy a puppy so they can play with it when they babysit. And yes, yes they have sent me links to some desirable puppies (and a pot-bellied pig?...) for sale in the area.

Then there are the kids who know how to laugh with me even at their own expense. It might mean that they're adding to my extensive classroom meme/walls of sarcasm selection:

It might also mean that, even when they're so completely over whatever assignment I've given them, they're not afraid to do the work while letting me know they're utterly done. (The student who submitted the paper below? She hangs out in my classroom nearly every morning before school, and the day after she turned this in, she greeted me with, "So, my outline? Sorry about that shit." I kinda dig the honesty. 😂)

I've long held the belief that teaching isn't about the course content, but about developing real-life skills and building relationships. I encountered a (major, overwhelming, humbling) first yesterday. A current senior that I'd had as a sophomore and worked with in an extracurricular club since then came to me for advice about choosing her college. I gave her very honest input on my experiences, regrets and all, while talking her through her choices. We caught up yesterday, she let me know her choice (her dream school since forever--attagirl!!!), and before I walked away, she said, "Thank you so much. I love you." Rare, unexpected, and absolutely reciprocated. (Psst...I love you, too, kid!)

And then for the purists, the traditionalists who value school purely for the scholarly benefit, it turns out...I can even manage to reach out on that level. My 1st period Advanced Composition class begins at 7:30am. After the bell rang this morning, I was caught up in conversation with a coworker and walked into my classroom one minute late. At 7:31am on a Wednesday morning, in an elective class with more than a dozen teenagers, this was what awaited me:

Every single one of them at work before I'd offered so much as a "Good morning." And had I so chosen? I could've taken a nearly-identical photo at 8:20am when class officially ended. Once more, this is what I have to offer regarding "kids these days." Nope, they're not all diamonds. But (flaming weaves and nut-punching shrews notwithstanding), they're pretty great. Maybe they don't need "no education," but I do, and my kids are some of the greatest teachers.

Only in the Darkness

I talk to my mom every single day, usually just to chit-chat & touch base. This past Wednesday, she told me what I've been dreading and awaiting for some time: she and Bob made the choice for him to stop treatment and begin hospice care. I have not, of course, gone through the particulars with Gracie...she is only three, after all. Her solution has been to "get Pop-Pop healthy fruit to make him feel better." She even has the shopping lists with just the right items:

If only it were that easy. I'm struggling with my own cluster of emotions, all while trying to navigate the waters of life-and-death with my beautiful baby girl. And what I keep coming back to, for better or worse, is the matter of choice.

See, I can appreciate that there are some things in life in which we have no input. By the same token, I'm becoming increasingly aware that, no matter what the circumstances, we always  have a choice. And what has been the greatest joy to me is that there are people who choose me. It sounds simple, I suppose, but it matters to be chosen. I have family & friends & assorted loved ones who want me. For instance?

Grace chooses me with fervor. She had no input, no choice, no decision in me being her momma. And yet, when we ask her who she wants, she invariably says, "Mommy!". I can't quite figure how I've earned such a confidence, but it is one I hold precious and vow to keep sacred.

Then there's my best friend Katie. (Sorry for the picture, doll, but you're thinner than I am...turnabout's fair play!). Katie drove the hour-and-a-half to be with me, just because I needed her. I'm not used to people being there for me unwaveringly...and she was, and she always is. 

And most importantly, there's the person who has been the single biggest influence in my life: my brother. Our bloodlines are fucked (sorry, but there's seriously no other word for it) and twisted...and yet my brother is my hero, my soulmate, my savior. Sometimes, life gives you exactly what you need. And from the first moment of my life right up until now...my brother has always been exactly what I need, the only one who really understands me. Life handed him directly to me; how many people get so lucky?!!?

I'm not an easy person to love (or like or even tolerate), and I know that. Which is all the more reason that I value those who seem to find some, well, value in me. And that is all the more reason I can appreciate: 

And man...those stars are just beautiful (and I'm a bit partial to the Little Dipper...just sayin').