To Whom It May Concern:
I'm letting you go. I loved you. You were my best friend, and I would have done anything for you. I did do anything for you. We were young once and things were good between us, but the darkness overtook you. And you loved that goddamn bottle more than anything else on this earth. The worst part is, you loved me too. You believed you were keeping me safe, and at times you actually did. But you could never keep me safe from you. You became the man you always said you'd never be. You acted like your father, the very man you despised. And the things you did to me had once been done to you. I forgive you for that. I forgive you for being so destroyed by your own sickness and for falling into a vicious cycle of hate. I almost want to believe it's not your fault, but you are such a broken man. If you loved me, like you always told me you did, then why did you hurt me? I was at your mercy. You kept all my secrets locked up and you made sure they didn't get out, but you created even darker secrets for us to keep; ones that I still struggle to let leave my lips. You were always drowning and gasping for air, and sometimes I could give you that moment of relief, but I could never give you enough. You always demanded more of me. You knew what you were doing was wrong, but you had no problem closing your eyes each night to fall asleep. Maybe the alcohol helped that pain too. I've spent too many sleepless nights because of you. For years, I was afraid you'd do it again. But now, I'm no longer afraid of you. I'm afraid for you. I'm afraid that you might fall back into that dark place again. I'm afraid you might take your own life, feeling hopeless and afraid, and I won't be there to stop you this time. I am no hero of yours. Eventually, I had nothing left to give you. You took everything from me, and you made me believe I deserved the Hell you put me through. And it took me now to realize, I deserve so much goddamn more. For years, you kept me captive. For years, I believed all of the nasty lies you told me. For years, I thought I didn't deserve happiness. And finally, after all these years, I'm letting you go. I loved you once and I'd do anything to protect you, but I won't do that any longer. You don't deserve that.
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It was Ray Bradbury who said, "Life begins again when it gets crisp in the fall." Fall has always been a favorite of mine, and lately I've truly been contemplating why this is. Other than the obvious celebrations fall brings (Halloween, my birthday, Thanksgiving), this time of the year is always packed full of the festivities I like best (fairs, Oktoberfest, orchards, corn mazes). But I've also always enjoyed this time of year when the leaves change color on the trees and the temperature is just perfect enough to wear jeans and a cozy sweater. For those of you who haven't had the opportunity to experience fall in the Northeastern United States, you're seriously missing out on something beautiful. But fall also is the most symbolic of life itself. It's the time of year when life has finally begins the beautiful process of death. You see, that's the reason why I love fall so much. While it's beautiful to see the colors and admire the weather of fall, it's also lovely to enjoy the last fleeting moments of a great year before we hunker down for the winter. Fall reminds us that there are still things to be enjoyed, despite the days with waning sunlight and the chillier weather to come. "Autumn [is] the year's last, loveliest smile." Imagine if we actually lived our lives were like this: moments gathered, marked to be the final ones before our demise. These moments become extraordinary, beautiful, special, and treasured because we know we won't get to experience them again. For once, we're aware that death is what makes life so special. The question I have is: Why aren't we treating life like this? Aren't we living in one perpetual moment of autumn? So here's my proposition: Embrace it. Enjoy it. Because these fleeting moment are the only ones we have.
Walking around to the old air strip with the sun setting in the west, my heart raced in my chest and I nearly skipped my way down the dark path only lit with small red lights. Finally, I had returned to Cherry Springs State Park, a place I visited last with my best friend a year ago. If you haven't been yet, you need to go. It's worth the hike out there and the freezing temperatures you may have to endure. The whole experience will change your perspective, if you allow it. First, let me set the scene: I'm wearing three shirts beneath my winter coat. I'm also donning three pairs of pants (which says a lot for someone who so adamantly hates pants). I've easily gained ten pounds in clothing alone. Yet, my outfit isn't complete without my mittens and my knit hat. I carry out an outdoor mat and a lawn chair. I sit. I wait. My eyes adjust to the darkness. One star, then ten, now a hundred. Next, I lose count. I've never seen so many stars. Overhead, there's a dust cloud beginning to appear in the sky. It spans from the north to south horizons. That's the Milky Way. Right over my head, there it is, staring right back at me.
Then someone said, "Is something going to happen already?" and I let out an audible chuckle. Something is happening, I thought. They just couldn't see it. It was everywhere. We were surrounded by it. I began to feel sorry for this person who was waiting for something that was so clearly laid out in front of him, yet he couldn't see. And then of course, I began to think how much life was like that. We're often one step ahead, waiting for something to happen, and rarely do we focus on what's right here in front of us.
So, stop right now and count your blessings, each and every one of them. And then stop to take a deep breath. Do you feel your lungs expanding with air as you inhale? Now consider the fact that you are just as remarkable and unique as the stars that hang above us every single night. Enough. Many of us struggle with the idea of being good enough, or pretty enough, or smart enough, or rich enough, or, or, or... The list goes on. For me, it's all of the above. If I was better in some way, maybe I could please more people. If I was prettier in some way, maybe more people would like me. If I was smarter in some way, maybe I'd have more opportunities. And what a waste of time I just spent on wondering about those What Ifs. Here's how the Merriam Webster Dictionary defines "enough": ENOUGH : adjective: "equal to what is needed" I'm enough, and I've even had it validated by people that care for me, so then why is it that I'm still afraid of not being good enough? This is something I rack my brain for. Maybe it's because of the people that have said I wasn't good enough. Maybe it's because of the people who told me I was less than someone else. Maybe it's because of the people who left me for someone better. Maybe, maybe, maybe... But wait... what about all of the people that have told me I'm plenty good enough? Why haven't I listened to them? (God, I hate that the voices of a few bad people are louder than the voices of the hundreds of good people.) Dammit, it's tiring listening to the bad ones. This needs to change. I'm choosing, and yes it is a choice I must consciously make, to listen to only the good ones. This will take effort. I'll have to choose to ignore the ones I know are not true, and I will have to believe the ones I know are true. It is defined as "equal to what is needed," and for all of the people that said I wasn't good enough, I obviously was not what they needed. But for all the people that have said I am enough, I'm just that. More importantly, I am exactly what I need. It's human nature to doubt our value of being "good enough." We've had people tell us we're not. But we have also had people in our lives who have validated this exact value for us. I'm telling you now: you are enough, though maybe not for every person. We all have different needs, and just because your "good enough" value isn't what one person demanded of you, this doesn't automatically deny the tons of people who have lined up to tell you you're good enough. Listen to them. Repeat them. Believe them.
Ask anyone my age and we'll all tell you that things we miss most about our childhoods are the things that separate us from the generation that came after us. We all feel the pull of nostalgia wanting to transport us back to the lives we led before technology weaseled its way into every aspect of our lives. Life was simple then, and when life gets too overwhelming now, we want nothing more than to revert back to simpler days. Don't get me wrong: I love technology. The possibility of this blog was something I hadn't fathomed while I sat in 1998 writing feverishly in my Lisa Frank notebook with my multitude of gel pens. Today, I receive world news instantaneously on my iPhone and I can talk to people all over the world within just a few seconds. But there are (many) days when I want to throw my technological devices into a canyon and return to days spent only admiring the life actually in front of me, and not the one on the screen in the palm of my hand. I don't know much. I'm 90s kid, though no longer a kid; I'm grown; I've graduated from college years ago; I've been working and I'm saving away for a 401(k) plan that I might get to cash in one day; I've got a home of my own, but I live alone; I'm on the downward slope to my 30s. There's still a lot I don't know and a lot I'm still learning. I'm still an in-betweener. So maybe because I'm still in a phase of in-between, I feel the strong pull of nostalgia back to simpler days.
Focusing on the present can be a difficult task, but it becomes easier with every second of practice. I think too often we get caught up in our own heads and our own over-thinking, and that doesn't do anything, but distract us from the present. Instead of getting so caught up in every possible "what if," we need to train and refocus our minds to the "what now." For the majority of us, we don't appreciate what we have right in front of us. We don't appreciate the sunrise because we're too caught up in the realization that 5 AM is just too early for most of us (even for me, the self-proclaimed morning person). We don't stop to admire the sunset because dinner has to be cooked, dishes need to be washed, and kids need to be chauffeured around. But if we begin to recognize that every moment we have is a gift, we will begin to notice the millions of small things our day is composed of. Find these moments. Appreciate them. They could be torn from our lives at any second. Recognize these moments as something you don't want to lose. This philosophy is simple. Turn the "I have to" into "I get to." I don't have to love anything in this world, but I get the opportunity to do so. Love is something that takes hard work and dedication. Love is choosing to say "yes" each and every time. Love is recognizing something you don't want to lose. Say yes to love more. Allow me to compare this is our love of the sun: It's something we get to experience each and every day. But this isn't something we appreciate until it's gone. The clouds move in and only then after days of the sun's absence do we realize we miss it. We've forgotten to appreciate the things right in front of us. These are things we can't lose.
In July of 2012, I sat left with little options of where my future was headed. And so I took a chance. I applied at random to school districts all over the country figuring I had nothing to lose. I didn't have anything to lose. My family would support me. My friends would understand. I had no good reason to stay here, in Pennsylvania, in the only place I've ever known. So I applied myself without any second doubts. And then the phone rang and in an instant, my whole life was shifting gears. I interviewed and accepted a job in the middle of Arizona. I had never been west of the Mississippi. I had never lived more than an hour away from my family and friends. Yet here I was shipping myself out to Arizona for a job I didn't know I could even actually do. Was I crazy? Hell yeah. Looking back on it, it seems like an asinine idea. Frankly, who the hell packs up all of their stuff into their Subaru, drives 2,400 miles across the country to a town she's never heard of, to start life all over again? I didn't know where I was going to live. I didn't know a single soul there. I went solely because I had a job. Who the hell does that? Apparently I do. Arizona didn't work out in the end. It was beautiful and special while it lasted. It still is. But it wasn't meant to be, and in fact, I see now how I needed Arizona to get me to where I am in life. Arizona made me reevaluate everything. Arizona changed me. I'm still changing. Most of you know, I'm not someone who takes risks. I'm someone who lives peacefully inside my comfort zone because it's safe here. Yet when I moved to Arizona people praised me and said how brave I was. I honestly didn't understand that until just recently. I moved to Arizona because I loved teaching and I'd do whatever it took to be able to teach. Arizona just happened to be the answer. I wasn't being brave when I went there, I was following my heart. This is something I didn't understand until now. The heart is a weird mess of feelings. For me, moving to Arizona was an easy decision. I literally agreed to it without question. Because my heart knew it was what it wanted. And my brain was in agreement because I would be the one in control. You see, I stay inside my little comfort zone because I'm the one who makes it safe here. I have control. But what kind of life is that? I'm really good at having an open heart and accepting lots of new people and friends into my life. But there are few that I actually allow to get close enough to me. I'm the kind of person that'll be your best friend and back you up through thick and thicker, but when the time comes, I don't expect you to be able to do that for me. And recently, when I thought about just how far I keep most people away, I realized there's nothing comforting about this shitty comfort zone. In fact, it's lonely here. I know how the comfort zone works. I know the outcome of any new friendships or relationships that come my way because I'm not quick to let the walls I've built around my comfort zone down. I don't want to be the kind of person who does that anymore. And so, I decided to take a risk. I decided to free myself from the chains only I had created. I decided to let go of the past and the people that have hurt me before. I decided it was the goddamn time to be brave. Being brave meant I had to listen to my heart. And frankly, that's terrifying.
Last Thursday in class, I assigned a journal prompt to my students. Typically when I assign journals, I write alongside of them. It's not only good practice to show them they're just as capable, but it's equally as therapeutic for me. I wanted to share with you our most recent prompt. I encourage you to generate your own response. I'd also love for you to share with some (or all!) of your list. Our journal prompt simply asked: Create a list of 100 Things You Love.Here's mine:
Over the past two weeks I've been harboring a Swede in my home. It's been an awesome 16 days getting to know and spending time with my exchange student, but there has been some very noticable differences between us. Most of which, I've realized about myself, as an American. So I've asked her if she would help me write this blog post. Glutton for punishment, I asked her to tell me what we, as Americans, do that appear to be weird to the Europeans. (Don't worry, I've embarrassed myself enough in front of her for all of you.) Here are the observations she's made of us Americans, and has made me noticeably more aware of myself, over the past two weeks:
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"I have no special talent.
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