Trying to find a socially acceptable way to discharge negative emotions has been a lifelong quest for me.
As a high schooler, after watching the 1989 movie Dead Poets Society, I would regularly yawp out in nature when things got to be too much.
Since then, I’ve discovered swimming, live music, and waterfalls. All of those things are weather- and location-dependent, or “subject to availability.”
Sometimes I can let it all out in a meditation. I can’t plan an outcome for a meditation and expect success. That isn’t how it works for me. Often, when I’m at my most stressed, I’m also at my lowest functioning, and it’s really hard to be clear-headed about my options for de-escalation.
Have you been there?
Something magical happened today. I slept in. When I got up, the Chaplain left with the five middle kids for the strawberry fields. Our oldest was already at school taking a test, and I was left with the baby.
The baby and I read a story over and over (Tickle, Tickle, by Helen Oxenbury), then he described the pictures to me. (He pointed to one baby’s butt and said the longest string of intelligible words I’ve ever heard from him: “Poop diaper yuck sorry.”) After storytime, he played happily by himself and stayed out of trouble so I could sew.
When the truck pulled in later in the morning and everyone poured out of it, arms full of clementine boxes brimming with strawberries, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to set aside my sewing to start jam.
It turns out I didn’t have to.
We fall asleep reading the classics at our house. Why this matters may make more sense if you keep reading.
I’m in a little tussle with my school district right now.
The way it stands, I provided the same end-of-year information in 2018 to my school district as I did the year before, and this time, they said it wasn’t enough.
Feelings of nostalgia usually come up in the spring as grad season comes upon us. For me, both the end of high school and the end of college felt a little traumatic, so the memories are bittersweet.
The year I graduated from high school, my dad accepted a job on Long Island. While my classmates were making plans to hang out for one last summer, I was packing my belongings and saying goodbye to my childhood home. We pulled out of our driveway and headed south two days after my graduation.
That summer felt like a lost opportunity. The friendships that had suddenly become so meaningful and intense were abruptly cut off and I found myself in a new place, surrounded by new people who were friendly… but it would be starting over only to leave in the fall for college and start over again. I wasn’t keen.
Good Friday. The two challenging kids who are usually in school were home. I was scheduled for a night shift. I was dreading the anticipated lost sleep that night, and wondering how I was going to get through the next week with all my little kids home, my oldest home, and my two big girls away visiting family friends.
