What do you say when the apology comes.
And what they did to you is not ok?
When forgiveness isn’t so easily given
What do you say when the apology never comes–
When you’re the one who gets to write the narrative.
When you need to dig deep and learn how to write your way from survival to freedom.

Dear whomever;

I became a teacher to shift the paradigm and break the chains of toxic tradition. My childhood education experience paralleled that of Matilda. Most all my teachers were more Trunchbull and less Honey with the exception of 2 up through high school graduation and gaining another 4 up through my masters program. When I decided to become a teacher, I wanted to be a Ms. Honey, I wanted to be what I so desperately needed as a child—And I did. My biggest flex is that I became the adult I needed, the teacher, the mom, the neighbor. But here’s what they don’t tell you: the cost of becoming a chain breaker, a paradigm shifter, a warrior, a Ms. Honey is expensive. Its loneliness, its heartbreak, its rage, frustration, anxiety, and despair.

As an educator, you often hear: “Know your why”, “remember your why”, “it’s for the kids.” And while this is absolutely the truth and it does help keep focus; it does nothing to shield the abuse hurled from those satisfied, or even winning, with the mediocrity of tradition. My fellow educators are overwhelmed, defeated, and burnt out. This leaves no energy for change because change is hard work and dedication. I have found that very few admin appreciate growth as well. The worse abuse I have ever faced in education, is from principals and assistant principals. Those in power, when there is perceived threat of losing control or power become the most dangerous. It takes an unusual strength to stand in an abusive environment and feel unscathed. I don’t think I have this strength.

I feel guilty because I think about leaving the education career. Yes I have thought about changing districts and schools- unfortunately, in my experience toxicity is everywhere and the unknown of new administration is scary. I don’t have much self or energy to give left. I never know when entering a new school environment if when they say things like they are “student centered” or “wanting student advocates” if they actually mean it. My experience has shown that more often these are tokens administration throws out to entice teachers with little to no intention of follow through.

I look at the other Honey’s scattered throughout the US knowing they face similar treatment and I think of how brave and strong they are. I have my master’s degree, I am trauma informed, I’ve completed my national board certification- for absolutely nothing. I don’t have the skin to be unaffected by ill-treatment. I’m not a Trunchbull. But I’m not a Ms. Honey either. I don’t know what I am; I think I’m just finished.

Dear whoever needs a reminder,

At this point in time, you’ve probably heard the term “Gratitude Practice” in pop culture. It centers on looking at the things in your life through a lens of appreciation. It requires an ability to shift your focus and play up the parts of life that we often overlook. Gratitude practice for me has been a long developing perspective shift, but the benefits have been unparalleled. Practicing gratitude in my daily life allows me to stay present, but it also helps me reflect on bigger moments with an appreciation for the work I’ve done. From a bird’s-eye view, I am able to solidify the reality of all I have to be grateful for.

Graduating with my bachelor’s in psychology at the beginning of the pandemic scared me into thinking that I would never get to do the type of work I had been dreaming of. Schools were closed. Volunteer programs halted. And I felt that I would be stuck working in restaurants for the rest of my life.

It’s hard to see the path forward when your head is down.

But being grateful for all that I did have around me, recognizing the efforts I put in to get there, being coupled with people assuring me that my degree wasn’t going to waste helped me see that a bump in the road or a change of plans doesn’t mean you should throw your life course out the window. So as soon as I could, I started substituting in classrooms again. And during one of my subbing escapades, I stumbled upon an open position in a classroom that felt like exactly what I had been working towards.

Now Monday through Friday, for 7 hours a day, I get to connect with a small group of high school students in an Emotional Disturbance class.

I get to teach them in ways no one ever took the time to. I get to expose them to ways of thinking and opportunities that they don’t typically have access to. I get to be a witness to real growth. And I get to learn more about myself through their own special personalities. I have never woken up consistently excited to go to work until this past year. I feel gratitude every day I drive to work, every time I see my students faces, and every time I think of how much I wanted this.

“Stop and smell the roses.” It’s one of the best things you can do for yourself. Certainly not every day with my students is a magical transformation. Some days feel like quite the opposite. But in the grand scheme of things, I know that I am exactly where I want to be. Connecting and guiding. At the intersection of growth and patience.

My students remind me that life is not an uphill battle, as much as it may feel that way sometimes. By being grateful for your progress, you can acknowledge that what you have now is what you once wanted. Use this as fuel for the present as much as you use it as fuel for your future.

Dear World,

I will admit sometimes I complain. Some days, I am grumpy and exhausted and feel the world’s weight on my shoulders. When I am knee-deep in those moments, I often go for a walk or rollerblade by the beach, where I look around and take a breath, and I am quickly reminded of how lucky I am. There are so many reasons I have to possess tremendous gratitude for my life.

I live in one of the most beautiful cities in the country, with a roof over my head and food for every meal. A few years ago, I discovered my purpose and was able to start and pursue a business that speaks to my soul. I am, knock on wood, healthy and happy. Also, I have the most amazing people in my life.

My mom calls me daily to check in, asking, “What are you doing? How’s your day.” She always wants to make sure I am happy and at my best. Throughout the week, you can catch my father sharing all my business social media posts, bursting with pride, and doing whatever he can to support my dreams. My big brother, Andrew, is my lifeline. He gives me the best advice, personally and professionally. He has a way of looking at my life challenges through a clear and logical lens and can always guide me. My friends are loving, supportive, and just a phone call away. Some proofread my writing, give me business tips, or listen to me for hours talk about whatever I need to get off my chest. They want nothing more than to see me live my best life. And my boyfriend is the kind of partner that will surprise me and bring back my favorite meal. He will play with my dog and have dinner with my parents on nights when I know he has a ton of work to do. His thoughtfulness makes it clear that he genuinely cares about me.

All the people in my life make me feel loved, supported, and joyful. My circle is the source of my strength, as I am flooded with positive energy and kindness. I know that my family and friends will never let me fall too far or hard. So while the universe has blessed me in so many ways, what I love most about my life are the people I am fortunate enough to share it with.

Love,

It’s about to get personal here. You’ve been with me for way too long. You’ve torn down my self-confidence, you’ve creeped into the narratives that I tell myself, you have kept me grounded and not in a good way, but in a self-isolating way, you’ve even made a place for yourself in my beliefs. You have long outstayed your welcome and you need to leave now.

I was listening to a podcast recently on shame and I found the hosts definition of shame interesting. Shame was defined (on this podcast at least) as wanting to receive love, affection, and affirmation from someone, but not receiving that love in the presence of others. I remember one of my earliest memories of shame creeping in was in 4th grade. A classmate had quite a hatred towards me, though I don’t recall doing anything to her to make her hate me. Anyways, she put a death threat in my desk. I came to school that day and found it on top of my books and folders. The girl who wrote it came all too perfectly at the exact moment I found it, grabbed it out of my hands and ripped it up (a tactic she employed so she wouldn’t get in trouble). I decided to try and tell the teacher what happened, but without proof she didn’t believe me. I was depressed the whole day and she noticed and asked what was wrong and I told her again what had happened. But she didn’t believe me. I wanted and needed to hear the affirmation that it wasn’t my fault. That someone was on my side and that they were going to help me when this felt like too much for me to handle on my own. My younger self was forced to ask the question “why me?” And even though I understand now that hurt people hurt people, but I still ask “why?” 4th grade me thought the teacher would at least call my parents to let them know what had happened, but since she didn’t believe me she didn’t believe there was a reason to call my parents. Shame is what kept me from telling them. Shame thrives in secrecy and self-isolation.

It’s taken me years of hard work, therapy and tears to realize that a lot of the healing process includes grieving. I’ve realized that breaking up with you will be beneficial for me. One of my favorite pump up songs “Favorite Sound” by Echosmith says “[I] shouldn’t apologize for just existing…..shouldn’t apologize for just being me…….I’m learning how to turn around all the voices in my head I think I’ve found my favorite sound.” My favorite sound is me writing you this letter. My favorite sound is me unlearning all the lies you told me, like that I was unlovable and that there must be something wrong with me. My favorite sound is me learning that I am loveable after all. I’m learning the joy of just being me. I’m learning that I was not wrong, I was was just someone who had wrong done to them and didn’t know what to do. And I will continue putting the sound of self-love on replay over and over and over until it becomes natural for me.

But shame your soundtrack is being deleted. Hasta freaking la vista. Goodbye and good riddance shame. You don’t rule anymore.

Truthfully,

I didn’t think it would be this hard. Accepting the diagnosis of *permanently disabled* The fact is, that I have a brain injury. An invisible injury that no one but myself knows about unless we strike up a conversation. What’s the hardest part? The depression. The untreatable with medication depression. The PTSD and the pains haunt me. When I see another woman my age, so beautiful and fit, so full of energy and life, sometimes I’m hit with grief. Why is that you might ask? The days for me lately have been divided out and measured by how much, or how little energy I have that morning waking up. If my body is screaming at me or being kind to me. It all depends. I proudly carry the badge of a domestic violence survivor, but inside my invisible bruises smother my light as the depression tries to take over. My Dr told me that I was beautifully broken. My heart and my brain agree. I just want to be free from the sadness. It feels impossible. Be “mindful” they say. As the tears pour down my face. I hold on for dear life these days riding the waves. Learning to live myself again, and nurturing my invisible bruises. 🩶

I could say I’ve known you forever, but that wouldn’t seem quite right. I guess I’ve known you for as long as I can remember. But even then, I’ve only known you partially. You’ve revealed yourself in different ways over the years and given me new reasons to love you. You’ve made days worth it. You find meaning in the little things and you know how to dress up a dollar. You go out of your way to make things inclusive and memorable. Most of all, you keep trying when you feel like you have no clue what you’re doing or where you are going.

We lose contact every once in a while. Sometimes I think I’ll never be with you again. It’s not like I lost your phone number, or you moved far away. It’s just sometimes I forget you’re there. I forget how to access you. In the past, I’d retreat further and further away before I remembered you exist and how to make contact. But now, I know to reach out a little sooner. You always know what to do and how to make things better.

There’s really no difference between me and you. The separation happens when I compare parts. I look at you as the “healthy version of me” but I should just be seeing me when I’m healthy. Rather than thinking of you as the “me” that I love, I’ll just love me. I’ve learned it’s a lot easier and more genuine to love when you aren’t doing it in parts. So, one day soon, I’ll just love me. After all, “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”