Happy New Year!

52,275

(I’ll get to the significance of this number in a minute.)

Spoiler alert: I have crippling anxiety. This might be a shock to some, but those closest to me know my journey. I’ve been battling anxiety and an official postpartum anxiety diagnosis since my pregnancy with Amelia eight years ago, and for the most part, I handle day-to-day life pretty well. The “crippling” part comes in waves, usually when I least expect it. When it does, I fall into my default mode. They are my typical character traits- I’m not blaming anxiety for my shortfalls- but the undercurrent of it amps these traits to the max. I can’t focus on one thing at a time- jack of all trades, master of none. I have chronic indecisiveness- analysis to paralysis. I withdraw. I PROCRASTINATE. I become easily overwhelmed over the most mundane circumstances. I get in my head and stay there (does anyone else have dialogues with themselves, or is that just me?). I don’t return texts or phone calls. I try to become the ultimate people pleaser and fail miserably and fail myself. I become easily distracted, excitable, emotional. I say stupid shit. I become obsessed with helping others and ignore the three people that I adore most in the world that are in my household. This list goes on and on, and my to-do list increases exponentially, bringing on more anxiety and stress. All I need is trusty Canvas to remind me that I have *290* assignments to grade (that’s a real number, I know you’re jealous 😬😳) to have my heart pounding in my chest. My watch has reminded me to breathe three times just typing these words and putting it all out there.

Mix the above with Covid, autism, a neurotic dog, remote teaching, learning new tech and becoming proficient enough to teach it to others, learning 3rd-grade math, constantly worrying about those around me, worrying about if I’m doing enough for my family/friends/students, worrying about thank you notes that I forgot to send back in September, perseverating over if I should order New Year’s cards or not since I completely missed sending Christmas cards, reminding myself that I still haven’t put together photo calendars for the grandparents, we never made Christmas cookies, my house is in shambles, I feel like a bad mom/wife/daughter/sister/friend, I still have to make hybrid seating charts and plan for synchronous/ asynchronous learning, need to make sure all of my childcare is set for next week, etc. Anyone else out there with the same mental overload? I feel you.

(Note: I need to interrupt this message to mention that I have an amazing partner in crime that helps me with everything. This is not a “my husband does nothing to help me” rant. He is always amazingly helpful— this is just what anxiety does to my brain, even with all the help in the universe.)

Why am I sharing all of this with my social media world?

I know I’m simply one of the masses saying that mental health needs to be discussed and mainstreamed, but mental health needs to be discussed and mainstreamed. It should not be considered taboo to admit that you have mental health issues, or that you need help. Several of my students and former students have reminded me of this recently, and I need to set an example for them. We need to talk more and speak truthfully, find outlets to channel our frenetic, anxious energy, or find outlets to stimulate our minds when that energy simply does not exist. This is not something easily attainable, especially for people that feel trapped in their minds or trapped in their circumstances. My inner monologue tells me to get over myself, to pick myself up by the bootstraps, mind over matter, yadayadayada. None of it works when my brain is hardwired to scramble and race.

One of the things Joe and I have laughed about the most since March is the whole “practice self-care” mindset. And I’m not poking fun, I swear; it just isn’t our life. I would love to sit and read a book uninterrupted while sipping tea, or take my friend’s amazing virtual yoga class, or even ride the exercise bike that’s mocking me in my living room. Only these are hard to do when my 14-year-old is having a tantrum and is self-injuring or punching me in the face. (I'm currently nursing a leg injury because I wouldn’t let her eat an entire container of chip dip. Fun times.) Autism and routine self-care don’t mix, at least in our crazy household.

However, the more we thought about it, we realized that the tiniest things mean the most and can count as self-care. Even if it’s Joe taking a 10-minute drive to grab Tim Hortons, or me delivering Christmas gifts to friends as I blast Joshua Radin or old school rap and belt lyrics at the top of my lungs - having a few minutes to rest and regroup speaks volumes. Regardless of our circumstances, we have to make a better, more conscious effort to have these moments for our sanity. It might not be perfect, but it’s something. We all need to find our something. Lately, my something has been bingeing Schitt’s Creek, sending memes and funny videos/articles to friends, and becoming scarily obsessed with TikTok, but hey, whatever works, right?

This all brings me to my magic number above.

A few months ago, I reached out to one of my favorite authors via Instagram; she writes for a website that I’ve been a huge fan of for decades. We chatted back and forth for a bit, and then we continued the conversation through email, where she introduced me to another of my favorite writers. These two women are the sweetest, most inspiring people, and they encouraged me to take a deep breath and plunge into their creative writing world. To say I was nervous was a major understatement. Yes, I know, I’m an English teacher- isn’t this kind of my thing? Well, sort of. I love to read and I love to teach reading and writing, but I haven’t written for pleasure, for myself, in a long time.

In September, to combat my anxious mind with remote learning and life in general, I set aside time to write. My goal was to participate in NaNoWriMo this year, but again, anxiety. So I didn’t set goals. I just said I’d write when I had time. It has helped me in so many ways. The funny part is that I never had time, but I made time; we won’t discuss the nights I was up until 2 am with the alarm set to go off at 6, but the exhaustion was worth it. I started writing on 9/21, and as of today, I’ve written 52,275 words, spread out over five stories. I doubt they are any good, although I’ve received positive feedback from others so I guess that’s a good sign. I didn’t do it for accolades; I did it for me. I proved to myself that I could do it, and it’s helped me clear my brain at times when I feel panicky and need to dive into my fictional world for a while. Kind of cool that my work has been viewed in nine countries (although those hits could be a bunch of bots LOL).

This writing time has also been coupled with the guilt of my own doing. Anxiety is always waiting in the wings. Why am I writing a story when I should be sending that thank you note or throwing in a load of laundry or answering a work email or, God forbid, grading some freaking papers?! All I can say is that I’m learning that I need to do something cathartic for myself before I can give to others. The papers will still be there in the morning (cue procrastination), but I can grade them with a less-anxious mind.

This experience has also forced me to reflect on my teaching practices- what I once considered important and what I consider important now. We are all in survival mode this year; will any of this shit matter in the long run? I’m trying to be more understanding, more encouraging, more creative in my approach to what “counts”. For many of my kids, showing up is about all they can do, and they are barely hanging on. Are some just lazy and playing the game (or literally playing a game while I’m teaching remotely)? Sure. But I can’t be a sound educator without considering the mental health implications of all of my students. The best I can do is continue to foster relationships and hope that will be enough to motivate them to succeed.

My fifth story that’s in the works I’ve affectionately nicknamed my albatross, and it might take me years to finish. In the meantime, I felt compelled to write about some of my struggles this year with my anxious brain. Debating starting a blog of some sort- would anyone want to read my ramblings?

So, on this New Year’s Day, I am NOT casting any resolutions. Talk about anxiety- why would I literally make myself crazy trying to adhere to a “New Year, New You” mindset? Instead, I’m sticking with the Facebook ad that hilariously and authentically trolled me all week, which led to my friend making amazing shirts for us with this slogan: “New Year, Same Hot Mess”. I will wear that shirt and mantra proudly this year as I navigate my life. I will try harder to say yes to myself and put my family first. I will continue to write, or read, or do whatever brings me peace and clarity. I will do better to reciprocate kindness. I will try to become a better time manager. I WILL ASK FOR HELP. I will find a therapist and go back on my meds. These aren’t resolutions; they are the elements of self-care I need to implement to function in my world and enjoy life instead of simply existing in it.

I want to end 2020 by sharing a list of general thank you's to the people that are forevers in my life, in no particular order: my family, my bestie, my friends and colleagues that I learn from constantly and share tons of laughs with, my group chats, our sitter (who falls into the family category at this point but deserves a special shout-out), the best neighbor-family ever, my writing buddies, my tech partner, my Girl Scout and school mom pals, my students and former students that inspire me more than they will ever know (even my feisty ones- I LIVE for feisty), my “Hot Mess Express” (you ladies know who you are), my dinner gals (and we haven’t dined together in almost a year 😭!), my Au-some family, my “Amelia-squad”- the people that take her under their wing often to give her a break from the craziness, and countless others who are such kind, giving souls.

I’m going to strive to do better in 2021. It’s not a promise, but it’s a start. Happy New Year! 🎊