Sometimes in life, the cup is half-empty, sometimes it is half-full, sometimes it runneth-over, and sometimes it is bone dry. I’d like to say it is all in a person’s perspective, but I don’t really believe that. I do, however, believe that sometimes, life hands a person a set of circumstances and those circumstances define themselves and all the person can do is deal with the cup they are dealt. That is not always a negative thing, but it is not always positive either. It all depends on what is in the cup and what you do with it.

Tag: love

Post #26: 9/26/26: Approach With Caution

Cup Status: Varies by the Day

So, you know those “Proceed with Caution” signs that someone puts up whenever there is a situation that might be dangerous if a person were to drive too fast, or not wear protective gear, or not hide fast enough when Auntie Margie approaches during a holiday gathering? Well, lately, I have been the person who needs to wear an “Approach with Caution” sign.

There are some days when I am a ray of sunshine. I am well-balanced and am handling life well, and then there are days when I am overwhelmed by everything. And when I say everything, I mean EVERYTHING!!! That piece of hair that will not stay out of my eye. That weird sound that keeps coming from…somewhere. The glare from the window in my classroom that keeps temporarily blinding me when I bend my head a certain way. The way my shoes fit today, and my bra, and why did I pick this shirt? Yes, I have a pencil for you, and no, you don’t have to ask to go to the restroom; just fill out a pass and go. Of course, I will repeat the directions again. I will respond to your e-mail even though I already answered your question three different ways. Why is the soda machine out of Diet Coke, and what the heck is that smell????

Breathe! Remember your mindfulness reading that you did this summer. “Breathing in, I calm myself. Breathing out, I feel at ease.”

Bologne.

Some days.

Other days, it works and helps to calm me down and bring me back to the moment.

I really do love the beginning of the school year. Everything is new and fresh. It is the time to get to know my new students, to establish routines, to reacquaint myself with my coworkers, to breathe in the smell of new books, to open packages of new office supplies; it is Teacher Spring! But then, I come home, and I am exhausted. My husband is exhausted. My kids are exhausted. I try my best to meal prep and prepare crockpot meals and sheet pan dinners and make a breakfast casserole for the week, etc. I try to do all of the laundry over the weekend and get outfits set out and ready for the whole week. I try to make time at night to talk to each of my kids about their day and to my husband about his. Then, when I can squeeze it in, I clean up bits of the house here and there, doing my best to get the rest of the house involved and seeing how much I failed to establish home routines in my attempts to make the week easier (I’ll just do it myself, it will be quicker! What a lie we tell ourselves). Then I spend my weekend doing all of the chores and eventually resenting my family, who are enjoying their weekend. So, it builds and builds inside until I blow up. The caution sign goes on in bright flashing neon, and no one can come near mama for a few hours because she has gone nuclear-level angry. It isn’t fair to me, and it isn’t fair to them.

I have sat down countless times and tried to apply my teacher skills to my home. I have made chore wheels and sticker charts and lists of necessary tasks to keep the household running and then matched them with the ages and abilities of the people in the house, but no matter what program I try to start, it always falls flat because I am the only one enforcing it. Then, I am extra tired from trying to enforce systems that are made by me, taught by me, coached by me, enforced by me, and rewarded by me. I guess the bottom line for me is this: when do I get a break? When do I get the backup and support that I need so that I don’t blow up and fall apart and break? Because if I break, how will the house run without me? My rational brain knows that it will continue. Everything will be a mess. We will get ants and a rodent infestation and possibly roaches from the lack of cleaning. No one will ever have clean clothes. Dinner every night will be frozen pizza. No one will get to school on time because no one will go to bed at a reasonable hour. Things for school will fall through the cracks because no one will check backpacks or emails or respond to parent-teacher conference sign-ups or read library books and log them or set up IEP meetings and 3-year re-evaluations. School picture day will be just another day. No one will ever make it to a doctor or dental checkup. Vaccines will be out of date, and fluoride rinses will be a thing of the past. All will be mayhem and madness. Holidays will go undecorated and uncelebrated. No presents, and bright wrapping paper or bows. No cookies with frosting and sprinkles everywhere. No Halloween chili, Thanksgiving pies, Christmas Eve charcuterie, New Year appetizer spread, or Easter tapioca dessert. All will be sadness and plain.

Some days I wonder if they even realize how much I do and how much weight it all puts on me. Some of the weight is light (decorating for holidays and carving pumpkins, for example), but it still has a time cost, and I am broke. I just wish, for once, that while I am making this thing called life happen, someone would see that I am slowly losing inches on my stature from all of the pressure to just survive. How will I make ends meet this week? How will we afford to fill our gas tanks? What will I put on the menu this week and how will we afford the grocery bill? And I am so tired of being a short-order cook. I don’t want to keep making three dinners every freaking night. Just eat what I make!!! (See, approach with caution). What do you mean we are out of chips for lunch? I bought the huge box. You ate 5 bags after school? That is not what those are for! (Approach with caution). You spilled red juice drink on my bed? Why were you drinking anything but water in a bedroom and why in MY BEDROOM??? What, was that? And the cat peed on my bed, again? ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME??? (Approach with caution). I am so tired of cleaning up after other creatures. I love my kids and my cat with my whole heart, but I am not a maid for hire. Why are you so messy? Cat, there is no reason for you to pee on my bed. I am really sorry that summer is over and that I went back to work. I miss you too, but peeing on my bed is not a good way to work on our relationship.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

You are calm.

You are calm.

You are calm.

You are not calm.

You are about to lose your ever-loving mind.

I wish that I could find some way to get all members of my house to see that we are a team and that we all live here, but it has proven so difficult. I am steering a ship with one oar, and I am tired, so for now, I guess people will have to continue to approach me with caution because I never know how I will respond to a situation despite my best efforts to be calm.

September 27, 2026
Post 25: 8/9/26 Knowing Versus Doing

Cup Status: Empty

Knowing something versus doing something are two different things. I know I need to eat fewer carbs to help keep my diabetes under control, but actually doing so requires me to consume less bread, fewer items that contain processed sugar, and fewer foods that are high on the glycemic index, etc. Just knowing that I should do so does not help my health. I can know that I should exercise in order to have a strong body, but if I never do something about it, then my treadmill will sit in the corner of the room gathering dust. I can know that I should not stick a fork in the electrical outlet, but if I do that very thing, I am likely to injure myself or even die. Knowing that I should not drink gasoline because it will poison me and then not doing so are…not the same thing. So, knowing something and doing something are not the same. See a pattern? I can know or understand something, and I can take that knowledge and understanding and take action based on it and do something, and then there is a connection between the two. However, until the action is taken, the knowledge is, in essence, ineffective, impotent, moot.

So much of my life I battled feelings of self-worth. I have fought with my internal demons telling me that I wasn’t good enough or that I wasn’t pretty enough. That no matter how hard I worked or tried, I would not amount to anything. It didn’t help that I had a horrible stepdad who said similar things to me or said them loud enough during fights with my mom that I could hear them. My personal favorite was, “She is so fat and ugly that no one will ever love her.” That was a real gem that still rolls around in my brain from time to time. I may be a bit on the chubby side, but I am not ugly, and I am loved, so he can suck it. Then there was the principal at my first teaching job, who, rather than support me during a difficult time, told me that some people weren’t cut out to be teachers and that he knew of one who quit teaching after the first semester and went to be a dishwasher in a restaurant. Guess who left his job as principal at semester? Him. Guess who is still teaching? Me. Anywho…Then there was the horrible department head who never supported me and accused me of not grading essays, but just assigning grades to them without actually reading them, and many other false accusations, none of which were true. She told administration that I was a terrible teacher and needed to be let go. I wasn’t fired, btw. Funny how, when put into a supportive environment with good leadership, I was able to shine. I give these somewhat petty examples to say that I battle with feeling like I am not lovable and like I am not a good teacher, etc. I know that that is not true, but these are falsehoods that I fight internally every day, and these three examples aren’t the only ones that I could give. There are more private ones that I am keeping to myself. So, when someone knows ways to love me and take care of me and chooses to do little about it, it brings up these feelings all over again. Am I worthy? Am I loved? Do I matter? To them…

You see, my love language is acts of service. This is how I show love. I take care of people. I want to be taken care of. But when I am stressed, I hide under a rock in my cave of solitude and pretend life doesn’t exist. It’s a very healthy way to deal with stress, actually. Just binge-watch TV and eat Cheetos and tell the stress to go away. Right? Right. No, really, when I get stressed, I push off all responsibility except what is necessary for survival and go into lockdown mode. It isn’t a pretty sight. I am functioning on the outside, but on the inside I am frozen, and I need help to make me function again, but when I see no “doing” going on around me and that it is all me again…I throw in the towel. What is the point in trying when it is just me…again…pick up the dirty clothes. The socks. The plates. The empty soda cans. The shoes. The dirty shirts flung over chairs. Do the dishes that didn’t get done last night. Make the menu. Go grocery shopping. Make dinner. Make the kids’ lunches. Set out their clothes. Do the laundry. Fold the laundry. Put the laundry away. Sweep the floor. Mop the floor. Vacuum the floor. Bathe the kids. Brush the kids’ teeth. Check their backpacks. Sign the school forms. Pay the bills. Faculty meeting after school. Make sure the grass gets cut (at least we pay someone to do that). Take care of other yard maintenance. Make sure the kids have clothes and shoes that fit. Buy a present for the birthday party they have to go to. Get treats for the class party. Everyone needs costumes for Halloween. Cat needs flea medicine refilled. Can’t miss the bus again. Trash can to the curb on Monday. We are out of chicken nuggets again? Yes, I’ll read a book before bed. Must complete that curriculum thing for work. Oh, don’t forget parent-teacher conferences. Shit! I forgot to get a Christmas present for the teachers! I guess it will be a New Year present. Must fill out Valentine’s cards. Gotta grade that stack of essays. When is the last time I changed the sheets on the beds? Schedule dentist appointments and doctor checkups and vaccinations. Wait, have I been to the doctor or the dentist this year? How many months have I been wearing these contacts? Oh, hell, I don’t know. I can wait. Is this a panic attack or a heart attack? I don’t have time for this…

Please, if you know that a person needs help, please DO something and help them because knowing and doing are not the same thing.

August 10, 2026
Post #24 8/3/26: Memories-My Greatest Inheritance

Cup Status: Running Over

I am currently reading Inheritance by Dani Shapiro. While I am not finished with it, I am 3/4 of the way through it; it has brought to mind so many thoughts about where I have come from and the importance of family. Specifically, reading Shapiro talk about the importance of her DNA and her family lineage upon discovering that the man she knew to be her father is actually not her biological father, I began to think about my own family and the important place they have in my life as well. While I personally do not have any crazy moments like this that I have experienced, my grandpa was adopted, and thanks to Ancestry, he was able to find several members of his biological family when he was well into his 70’s. It is this grandpa and my grandma that Inheritance has brought to mind page after page. Shapiro talks about how the walls of her home are covered in the images of her ancestors and how her son wore the prayer shawl of her father for his bar mitzvah. My home is also filled with pictures of family, and I wore jewelry that belonged to my grandma on the day of my wedding.

I lost my grandparents within one day of each other in 2019. I will never forget getting the phone call about my grandpa’s death. I was teaching, and my husband called me at school. He rarely called me during the school day unless there was an emergency. He had called me on the school phone and not on my cell, which was even more concerning. We had planned to go the very next day to visit my grandpa and grandma because my grandma was not doing well. We had made the drive the weekend before to visit because we did not know how much time she had left. Little did we know that my grandpa was far worse than he had let on, though his health was not great. When I answered the phone and heard Jamie’s voice, I just knew that my grandma had passed and that I had missed my final chance to say goodbye, but when he told me he was sorry and that my grandpa had died, I felt the world tilt. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I fell to my knees in shock. I remember saying into the phone that he wasn’t that bad off and that he was fine last weekend, as Jamie kept saying, “I know. I’m so sorry.” I remember telling him that I needed to go. I told my students to excuse me for a minute. I called my principal and asked if she could come to my classroom. I told her at the door what happened, and I went to the library to one of the study rooms for some privacy to process the news I had just received. This was the man who was there for so many of the major events of my life. He was there after the birth of my children to hold them. He danced with me at my wedding after suffering a major stroke. He said that he would recover so that we could share that dance, and it was the most special dance of my life.

Grandpa and Grandma were there for me at marching band banquets and band concerts and plays, and when I was baptized and when I needed to learn how to drive a stick shift, and no one else had the patience to teach me, and when I needed a last-minute babysitter because I was sick or when my parents were fighting, and I needed to get away. I spent whole summers at their house and brought my friends for week-long slumber parties. What made this loss even worse was that I wasn’t able to say goodbye. I had hugged him and kissed him the weekend before and told him I would see him in a few days, but I didn’t hug him long enough. I didn’t treasure that moment enough because we had more time. If only I had known. With my grandma, I was preparing my heart as best I could, but Grandpa was a shock. The next day, we drove to see Grandma and the rest of the family who had gathered to be around her and to console each other over the loss of Grandpa. I hugged my mom and my aunts and uncles. Relatives had come from far and wide to say goodbye. It was almost like the old days when we had so many people at holiday gatherings that it was standing room only. We shared grandpa stories and took turns holding grandma’s hand and sitting by her bedside. She was not aware of her surroundings anymore, and our vigil was more for us than for her. When it was my turn, I talked to her and thanked her for everything she had done for me throughout my life. She had sewn beautiful dresses for me. She altered my wedding dress; she is the only one I would trust with something so precious. She embroidered my initials onto a handkerchief for me to carry at my wedding, for the inevitable tears. She taught me how to make the best biscuits and gravy and bread pudding anyone has ever had. Her pumpkin pie is the only one that I will eat. I hate all other pumpkin pie. Every Thanksgiving and Christmas, she made a pie for each grandchild, and mine was always a custard pie. I miss those pies so much, but I miss her more. I remember when she took her last breath. Those of us who stayed through the late hour made a circle around her and told her it was ok to let go. She had lived well and loved us all, and we will all be ok because of her. We touched a part of her body and said I love you. Then, it was as if on cue, she took her last breath. My aunt, who is a nurse, took her stethoscope and checked her pulse in several places on her body. When she was certain her pulse was gone, she wrote down her time of death, and we all held each other and cried. Then, she called hospice, and the workers came, and my uncle, who is also a nurse, helped to put her body into a body bag. I think that is the strangest sight I have ever seen. I knew that the body wasn’t my grandma anymore, but those arms had hugged me so many times that to see them in a zipped-up bag was just so surreal. Never again would I watch her dexterously cross-stitch or roll out the flakiest pie dough or rock a new grandchild or great-grandchild. Never again would I call her and talk to her on the phone and ask her advice about some mundane thing.

When I pass the road where they used to live as I fly down the interstate going from place to place, I am so tempted to get off at the exit and drive the familiar path to the house where so many memories were made. What I wouldn’t give to own that house and make memories there again. Grief is a strange emotion. I will go days and days without thinking about them, and then I read a few lines in a book, and they are all I can think about. I see a cardinal out my window while I am cooking, and I think of them (the Saint Louis Cardinals were their favorite team, and they loved cardinal birds, and cardinal birds are said to be the souls of lost loved ones). Tears are streaming down my face as I type this because the pain of their loss is as real today as it was the days they died. So, I am going to write about a few memories of two of my favorite people who loved me fiercely and with their whole hearts despite having over 100 grandchildren (we have a bit of a large family…).

One of my favorite things my grandpa would do when he would stop by our house was leave a note. The note was always oddly specific and completely made up. He would say something like, “Dear Family, I stopped by at 1:08 pm and knocked on the door 7 times, but no one answered, so I let myself in. Since I was here, I did 2.5 loads of laundry using 6.25 ounces of laundry soap. I was hungry while doing the laundry, so I went into your fridge and heated up 4.75 ounces of spaghetti and drank 8.6 ounces of milk. I will pay you back for these items the next time I am in town. For now, add them to my tab. -Love, Grandpa.” The number of times he stopped in and did some chores around our house and ate some strange amount of leftovers cannot be calculated, but the notes always made me laugh. When he taught me to drive a stick shift, he gave me a report card with interesting grades as well…Grandpa is also the man who installed a sidewalk in our backyard using highway-grade rebar. Good luck to whoever tries to remove that in the future…When he built something, it was to last. Grandpa would build anything for anyone if he had the materials, and if he didn’t, he could scavenge almost anything he needed. My siblings and I wanted a playhouse. So, he got together some random materials and built us one in an afternoon. We came home from school, and there was the most perfectly built playhouse that had the oddest-looking exterior. All of the boards were different colors and textures and sizes, but when you stood back, it was the perfect little house. We loved it! When I was moving into my first apartment during college, I mentioned that I needed some furniture and asked if he could keep an eye out for me. Two weeks later, I had everything I needed, and he would not accept a dime from me. Since I was graduating in December, they even brought me a Christmas tree and a box of vintage ornaments. Grandpa and Grandma said it was a graduation present. I cried. I now had a dining table, a couch, a recliner, a desk, a washer and dryer, and a dresser. My first apartment on my own was ready!

Other favorite memories involved spending time with my two favorite people. Grandpa was a Trekie for sure. We would sit together on the couch and eat popcorn that we made in the air popper and watch Star Trek for hours. It was so much fun. I like to think it is because of Grandpa that I enjoy sci-fi as much as I do. With Grandma, it was scrapbooking. Grandpa had built a garage with an apartment above it that sat behind their main house and was connected by a breezeway. One of the bedrooms was a scrapbooking room (This later was expanded into the main area as the collection of supplies grew and grew). Grandma and I would gather our pictures and supplies, and we would scrapbook with each other, and we would talk about life and everything that was going on. I did this mostly during college and some during the summer when I began teaching. I wish that it had continued as I got older, but as I had children, life got busier and this tradition fell away, but they are some of my most treasured memories. Now, when I scrapbook or at least when I look at my scrapbooking supplies…because busy, I think of her and wish she was sitting across from me telling me about the pictures she is scrapping and the history of the people in them.

Grandpa and Grandma’s house was also for celebrations. Christmas and the Fourth of July were the big holidays that we celebrated there. Thanksgiving and Easter were celebrated at my auntie’s house. I loved going to their house for holidays. There were so many cousins to play with and so much chaos and so much good food to eat. I remember one Christmas, before they sold the Farm (as we called it), there were so many people that it was standing room only, and as people unwrapped their presents, the wrapping paper was waist-high on me (I was an adult in my early 30’s at the time), and it was over the heads of many of the smaller children. It was so much fun! I wish that we could go back to the days of Grandpa and Grandma holding court on the couch while a few of the grandchildren play elf and pass presents out to everyone, and we are all smiles and laughter, and there isn’t a care in the world. I also miss the days of the Fourth of July when the bottle rockets were as endless as the barbecue pork steaks that my uncles were grilling on the barrel grills. We saved our pennies for weeks so that we could buy as many fireworks as possible at the tents that sprang up at the beginning of July, begging our parents for more money when we inevitably put more in our baskets than we could afford. Then, the hoards of cousins blew up as much as possible while trying not to light themselves on fire, while adults were off playing horseshoes, not concerning themselves with us at all. We would play in the “galvanized pool,” aka horse trough, and have a grand time until the food was finished. Then we would go into the air-conditioned garage where we held many of our celebrations (my own engagement party and many of the birthday parties for my firstborn were held in this garage as well) to load up our plates. The day ended with a huge fireworks display set off by the uncles and the braver of the cousins while we sat on blankets or in lawn chairs saying, “OOOHHHH AAAAHHHH!!!!!” Then we would go home or stay the night with Grandpa and Grandma.

These are the days that I dream of. I can close my eyes and still feel my bare feet walking on the night-cool grass, my eyes adjusting from the dark night to the brighter lights of the garage/apartment as I approach Grandpa and Grandma’s house after the amazing fireworks. I can hear the sounds of bugs and frogs in the night air. I can smell the sulfur wafting on the wind and the sweet smell of summer. Then I feel the cool of the air conditioning as I enter the garage, and then the crushing embrace of my grandma with her telltale smell of perfume, something slightly powdery and floral at the same time, mixed with the sweet sweat of summer. “Did you have a good day?” She asks. “Do I have to go home?” I ask as usual. But the truth is, home is always where she is and where he is. I think that’s why I miss them so much. I feel unmoored without them. Homeless almost. Like, my heart doesn’t know where to land some days. Because if home is wherever I am with you, what happens when you are gone?

August 4, 2026
Post #22: 7/30/26: Do Whatever People Do In Maine

Cup Status: 3/4 Full

Summer is winding down, and it is time to begin finishing up projects and preparing for the beginning of the next school year. I am both ready for routine and not excited to lose my freedom. I am enjoying sleeping as much as my body needs it, reading tons of books, and spending time with my family, although occasional breaks do us all some good. I am enjoying working in my garden and getting housework done in a reasonable time frame. But August first is just around the corner, and that is my self-imposed school prep time. So, for the next day, I will allow myself to continue working on the things for myself and my family that I want to. But after August first, I will begin working on curriculum planning again and prepping for the first few weeks of school. I like to have my ducks in a row so that I can walk into the building knowing what I need to copy and prep there, but not freaking out because I can’t remember my first unit. Lol! I think that part of my brain thrives on work and truly enjoys it. Even though the procrastination part of me will put things off during the school year to avoid the pain and suffering that it perceives the work will bring, in reality, it brings satisfaction and a reduction in stress. Brains are crazy.

So, for now, as a reminder to myself, I have a passage from How to Be a Woman by Caitlin Moran that talks about the importance of living. By the way, if you haven’t read this book, it was so incredible, insightful, funny, and many more adjectives that won’t do it justice. Of all the books that I have read this summer by female authors, this one is at the top. Towards the end of the book, she talks about the importance of truly living. She says, “The real cost of living is dying, and we’re spending days like millionaires: a week here, a month there, casually spunked until all you have left are the two pennies on your eyes…Personally, I like the fact that we’re going to die. There’s nothing more exhilarating than waking up every morning and going, ‘WOW! THIS IS IT! THIS IS REALLY IT!’ It focuses the mind wonderfully. It makes you love vividly, work intensely, and realize that in the scheme of things, you really don’t have time to sit on the sofa in your undies watching Homes Under the Hammer.” When I read this section, it really struck home with me how much of my life I drag myself out of bed, exhausted, and I go about my daily routine as if I am just trying to get back to my bed. If by some miracle I take a nap or get time to sit watching mindless TV, then I feel happy for some downtime to take care of me. I feel guilty for these moments of “nothing” because there is so much “something” out there that I need to be doing or that I should be grateful for. I should be living loud and large and sucking the marrow from life and taking all it has to give, but sometimes I just don’t have the drive. So, while each day is closer to death, and I know that I am spending days like I have an infinite supply, I don’t know any other way it seems. With summer, I wile away the time doing not much and yet so much. When school starts, I accomplish more in one day than I do in an entire week during the summer. I am not sure which feels better to me. Which is more of an accomplishment? Does it matter? This summer I have been binge-watching Maine Cabin Masters, though not in my undies, just in my around-the-house clothes. I am dreaming of a road trip to see their HQ and to see Niagara Falls on the way. Our family would get their passports so that they can see the American and the Canadian side. My husband has friends in Montreal, and we would catch up with them and get to see the city they describe so lovingly. We will taste-test maple syrup and eat lobster, or whatever you do in Maine as a visitor in the summer. We are midwesterners, so this will be a whole new experience for us! I watch, and I dream. Then my daughter says she wants to go to Las Vegas because the Spy Ninjas HQ is there and she is a huge fan, so we Google Maps how long it would take to drive there. We then begin planning a dream trip to Las Vegas, complete with a visit to Spy Ninjas HQ, riding the gondolas at The Venetian, seeing the neon light museum, and other must-do Vegas things. Then, I think about how much I would love a condo on the water in Galveston, TX, my favorite place to vacation. Owning a piece of paradise on this island has been a dream of ours. My husband wants to own and run a radio station in Galveston, and we would have a condo, and we could stay whenever we wanted to. It would be awesome. When I mention these dreams to others, they say, ” So, go for it!” I say, “With what money?” They say, “If you want it bad enough, you will find a way.” I think life is short. How can we make this work? But I look at the bank account and the month and the money left, and I sigh. Today may be the day that I have, but it will be filled with travel dreams for now and curriculum planning for tomorrow. Maybe we will get to fulfill these dreams soon. One never knows. Till then, I will keep planning and dreaming.

July 31, 2026
Post #20: 7/3/26: Strive to be Happy

Cup Status: 3/4 Full

As I have continued with my reading of books written by women about their own lives, I picked up Mostly Sunny by Janice Dean. I will fully admit that I had no idea who Janice Dean was before I read this book. I saw it at a discount bookstore, and I liked the title. I totally choose books based on titles and covers, all the time. I found her life story about her career very interesting. She began in radio, and since my husband has been in radio since he graduated from high school, I found her beginnings to be kind of cool. She made many references to people in the radio industry who my husband has also told me about. She mentioned radio technology that is currently sitting in my basement in various stages of working order. But, it turns out that the title is in reference to both her outlook on life and her current career as a meteorologist. I would like to think that I too have a mostly sunny attitude when it comes to life, but I am certain that my outlook leans more towards partially cloudy with some sun peeking through from time to time. While I found the book to be interesting overall, it was really the poem that she included in the end that spoke to me. She said that her father had given it to her when she was a child. The poem is called “Desiderata: Words for Life” by Max Ehrmann. It was published in 1927, but in the book, Dean calls it the “Desiderata of Happiness.” Here it is:

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

The first step I took when reading this poem was to look up the definition of “Desiderata.” dictionary.com says it is, “things wanted or needed.” Merriam-Webster.com defines it as “something desired as essential.” Looking at these definitions, I see that this poem is a list of things that are essential, wanted, or needed. If I go with Dean’s title, it is for happiness. If I go with the poem’s title, it is for life. Happiness and life. Two important aspects of the human experience, and by life I don’t mean breathing and being alive. I mean truly living. Experiencing life. Loving every minute of it.

As the English teacher that I am, I will simplify this poem for myself so that I can see the bones of it, the structure, the “what” I am supposed to gain from its words.

Stanza One:

Go placidly (peacefully, calmly) though life

Remember the peace of silence

Be on good terms with all people

Do not surrender

Speak your truth

Listen to others

Stanza Two:

Avoid aggressive people

Do not compare yourself to others

Enjoy your achievements

Enjoy your plans

Stanza Three:

Be interested in your career (it has great worth in an uncertain world)

Be cautious in business

Do not be blind to virtue and high ideals (high moral standards)

There are heroes in the world

Stanza Four:

Be yourself

Do not pretend to like/love someone

Do not be cynical (distrustful) about love

Love is perennial (enduring)

Stanza Five:

Accept the wisdom of growing older

Grow strong in spirit for tough moments.

Do not imagine bad things in the future.

Fear comes from being tired and lonely.

Be disciplined in life.

Be gentle with yourself.

Stanza Six:

You have great importance.

You have a right to be alive.

Everything is happening as planned.

Stanza Seven:

Be at peace with a higher power.

Have peace in your soul.

Stanza Eight:

The world is beautiful despite all of the negative.

Be cheerful (full of good spirits).

Strive (devote great energy to) to be happy.

The Big Ideas of the Poem:

peace with others

peace with higher power

peace with self

truth

acceptance

self-acceptance

self-discipline

self-importance

wisdom

work

right to live

gentleness

beauty

love

cheerfullness

happiness

enjoyment

After breaking down the poem into these big ideas, it is a simple, yet profound list. Some seem easier than others to accomplish, but it is clear how all of these ideas fit together to form a full and happy life.

The list begins with peace, and I can think of no better way to soothe the soul than to have peace. Of the three in the list, peace with self is the most important to me. If I do not have peace with myself, then I cannot possibly have peace with anyone else. Peace with myself means accepting myself, flaws and all. It means being ok with not being perfect. It means not using the word “should” about my life. It means not comparing myself to others and finding myself lacking. So many important lessons that have been learned through so many dark moments and lots of therapy. While peace with others is important, I have also come to the point in my life where I don’t need to please others. I don’t need to be accepted by others. I don’t need the validation of others to be valuable. I have decided to only bring people into my life who love me, positively challenge me, make me better, and accept me. I will no longer suffer the people who bring me down or make my life more difficult. This is not to say that I don’t pull my own weight. That I don’t support those around me. That I am cold or closed-off. The opposite is true. I love to help others. It is in my nature to be supportive and welcoming, but if I am burned, it is forever. I don’t have time in my life for purposeful hurt and hatefulness. Life is too short. Life is also too short to deal with the frustrations of church and a fickle higher power who may or may not care about me. I have also made peace with my relationship with God, which is to say that I have walked away from church and broken ties with that higher power. There are days when I miss the feeling of belonging that church youth group used to give me, but the amount of judgement and hurt that I have faced at the hands of so-called Christians is enough to wipe away anything positive. That part of my young, impressionable life was important for teaching me many life lessons, but I have made peace with where I am now. I no longer wear the title of Christian, and I have never been happier.

Beauty is another element of the list that is so important to me. I find beauty in nature, in words, and in friendship. I love to be out in nature and am happiest when I am near water. If I could sit on the beach with the waves crashing near me and just breathe, that would be peace and paradise for me. Words swirl in my mind and jump out to me and stay with me in my soul. I read books and certain phrases stick with me. I hear songs and lines stay in mind forever. Language has always been a part of me. But the most beautiful thing in my life that I cherish on the same level as my family is my friends. I have been so lucky to meet the most amazing girls when we were in college in the early 2000’s. We met during marching band and all joined the same co-ed band fraternity, Kappa Kappa Psi. We have been, at various times, roommates, bridesmaids, therapists, adventurers, shenanigan creators, and so much more. We have a daily group chat that keeps us connected. We can text any of us at a moment’s notice, and at least one of us will be there. We have seen each other through joy and sorrow and anger and fear. These women are my family, even more so than the ones I have by blood because we chose each other. And the beautiful thing is that we continue to choose each other over and over again. That is beauty and joy and happiness all wrapped together.

With age has come some wisdom, but no matter how many years pass, I will still feel like a kid inside who is masquerading as an adult. How did I become an adult? How did I become the veteran teacher? How on earth did I get gray hair? Lol! But no matter how many years I have left on this earth, I will continue to strive to be happy.

So, thank you to Janice Dean for introducing me to the “Desiderata: Words for Life” by Max Ehrmann and thank you to Max Ehrman for helping me to reflect on what I need to be happy. My personal list, my Desiderata of Happiness, is this:

Accept and be at peace with myself

Compare myself to no one, because I am me.

Continue to find beauty in the little things.

Make time for nature.

Make time for friends.

Make time for family.

Make time for me.

Do the things that I enjoy.

Only allow in those things and people who make my life better.

Focus on health, not being skinny.

Block out the noise of life that is not helpful.

Sleep is beautiful.

Travel whenever possible.

Experience new things.

Always remember when trials happen, this too shall pass.

These are the things that I will hold onto with all that is in me. With the conviction that I have learned from one of my favorite writers, Annie Dillard. In one of my favorite essays, “Living Like Weasels,” she says, “We could, you know. We can live any way we want…I think it would be well, and proper, and obedient, and pure, to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you. Then even death, where you’re going no matter how you live, cannot you part.” This is a Desiderata. To live any way that we want. To live for the essential. The necessary. Life. Happiness. Me.

July 3, 2026
Post #10: 8/7/25: Thriving on Stress

Cup Status: Filling Up, But Confused About Why

So, I’ve really been thinking lately about why I feel more comfortable and like myself when I am busy and have deadlines and am, for lack of a better word, stressed. Why is it that I seem to thrive on stress? Why is my baseline for normal filled with a racing heart, shallow breathing, a pounding headache, and reminders to just breathe? The closer I get to the start of school, the closer I get to all of the deadlines, the more alive I feel. This just feels weird. I was in a therapy session recently and my therapist gave me a deck of cards that had different words that represent needs on them such as “valued” and “loved” and “respected” and others such as “creative” and “financial security”. He asked me to organize them however I wanted to in order to categorize them to show where those needs are currently being met, at least according to me. I decided on three categories: family/home, friends, and work. I started putting cards in piles and it soon became apparent that I have most of my needs met at work. When I looked closer at the needs that are being met at work, I realized that many of them could, and probably should, be met in different ways in my personal life, if only I let them. But then, I hear my therapist saying, don’t should all over your life. So instead, I will say, that I will be finding other ways to meet the needs that work is currently the only place that is meeting them. For example, “creativity.” I used to love scrapbooking, but I haven’t done it in 15 years despite having all of the supplies to enjoy the hobby. “Growth” is another need that gets met at work, but at home, I am not sure where I can grow at home. I am looking for ways to do this, besides literally growing food in my garden. The problem is, shifting my mindset and trying to live this different way seems impossible. I don’t even know where to start or how to do this. So, I do what I do best and I start researching. As a starting point, here is what I have found so far thanks to the article “CALM IS A CHOICE – STRESS IS A CHOICE”(https://martawilson.com/calm-is-a-choice/), “The brain chemicals that generate enthusiasm for a challenge are different from those that generate fear of a threat. And in many cases, whether we experience enthusiasm or fear is a matter of choice. We can choose attitudes that challenge, motivate and mobilize us, and that bring out the best in us. In other words, we can circumvent the fight or flight impulse by choosing to feel neither. How? By changing how we think.” It’s that idea of choosing how to think that confuses me. We can choose a new attitude. But, sometimes when we are in the middle of the stressful situation or the challenge facing us is so daunting, that can seem impossible. It is, however, something that I am going to actively try because I hope to get to where this next portion describes, “Eventually, we learn how to choose so our bodies don’t click into a fight or flight response at all. When we take responsibility for our assumptions, we begin to break the cycle of stress and become free to face seeming threats with energy and enthusiasm. What’s required is a conscious mental shift in how we view our world. What’s required is a change in attitude.” Not everything requires fight or flight. I need to remember that. A challenge can be exciting. It doesn’t have to soul crushing or migraine inducing, right? This will definitely be an uphill climb, but I am going to try to begin it with a positive attitude.

August 8, 2025
Post #9: 8/4/25: Procrastination of Joy

Cup Status: It’s Complicated

As the summer winds down and the days pass faster and faster, I see the beginning of another school year looming closer and closer. It isn’t that I am not excited for another year. It isn’t that I don’t want to meet my new students. It is just that this summer has been so weird for me and I am finally getting to a point where I am feeling like myself. You see, most teachers will tell you that it takes weeks before they can fully relax. The “I should be grading or planning something” reflex doesn’t just turn off like flipping a switch when I left the building for the summer. Then, we were still getting settled into our house, so I spent time working on that. Unpacking the last of the boxes and working on the yard in between crazy rainfalls. I wanted to take the kids to fun places and have a staycation of sorts, but I just couldn’t seem to get myself to follow through on any of the ideas that I came up with. I couldn’t seem to muster the energy. When we did go somewhere, I found myself having a panic attack or feeling so overwhelmed that I couldn’t enjoy myself. I am not sure if it was suppressed emotions surfacing from March and all that happened when my husband nearly died or if it was just the stresses of the school year winding down and surfacing. I don’t know if it was just the general struggles of life. I don’t know if it was all of it combined. But, this summer has felt like me walking through a fog and not being able to enjoy myself. But, now that my days of “freedom” are almost over, I am finally finding a way to enjoy the little things. Walking in my neighborhood, the beautiful weather, yoga, grilling, writing these blog entries, finding a treasure in a thrift shop. It seems like, I don’t feel fully present until I have no time left. It is a procrastination of joy. It is as if I can’t enjoy life unless there is some kind of timeline telling me when. I don’t know if I even know how to live my life without stress and deadlines in it. It is almost as if the lack of them, takes away part of my joy and that seems so wrong and backwards. I am less productive when I have more time even though accomplishing tasks usually brings me joy, the joy of a job well done. I am less energetic when I am getting more sleep and I find it near impossible to wake up early, even with setting multiple alarms. I find that I eat less healthy when I have all the time to devote to healthy eating. The same goes for physical activity. I love to walk and hike and do yoga, but this summer, I could barely make myself take a step outside. When school is in session, I find that I eat healthier because I meal prep and snack prep and can only eat what I bring with me to work or have ready. I walk after school at the park on the days when I don’t have meetings. I get up early on Saturday and hike at the park when I am able to. I have less time, so I get projects done on the weekends or at night in between making dinner or getting outfits ready for the next day, etc. I may be tired from getting up early and working all day and then being a mom when I get home, but I sleep well and feel pretty energetic. The funny thing is, I have the highest levels of stress and busyness of the full year, yet I feel the most alive and the most accomplished and dare I say…the happiest. There clearly must be something wrong with me if I feel happiest when I am at my least relaxed, right? When I am relaxed, I feel lost and confused. I don’t even recognize myself in the summer, but I do wonder if maybe she is the side of me who I need to discover more. Who is this relaxed person? How can I be more comfortable in her skin? How can I feel more alive when I am her? My goals going into this school year, for myself, are to deep breathe, continue yoga, continue these blog posts, get quality sleep, and make sure that I am taking time to relax whenever possible. I want to do my best to embrace relaxation. To be as low stress as possible. Daily would be the dream. On my laptop, I have a sticker that says, “If not now, when?” That is going to be my mantra, spoken kindly to myself and with minimal pressure. But for now, I am entering the home stretch. The phase I call “school nesting” where I finish as many projects as I can and meal prep as much as I can and wash all of the clothes and linens that I can and basically make sure that my home is in as much order as it can be before the crazy time starts. On the school side, I am prepared. I am always prepared for that, but it is so much harder to prepare your home and family for the inevitable transition back to school. But, ready or not, here it comes.

*The photo is my classroom on the first day back this summer before school starts. Before any of the boxes are unpacked or any of the drawers in my desk are refilled with supplies.

August 4, 2025
Post #2: 7/27/25: My People

Cup Status: Runneth Over

There are some people who enter our lives for a short period of time, a chapter if you will. Then there are those who are there for a lifetime, an epic poem, a series of novels that you never want to end. This is the case with my group of friends. We have been friends since roughly 2000. With some forming the core earlier and some joining slightly later. But the reality is that we have been friends for 25 years. That is amazing. We have seen each other through transitioning from high school to college. Our fledgling steps into adulthood when we learned and failed and learned some more how to pay bills and cook and date and fall in love and heal from heartbreak and hangovers and bad haircuts and dye jobs. We made midnight runs to Walmart and 3:00 am runs to Krispy Kreme doughnuts 3 hours away because that was the closest one. We shared so many firsts with each other in our 20’s and then our 30’s and now our 40’s. To say that I love this group of women is an understatement. They are my people. I never have to explain myself to them. I can be myself around them. I can say whatever I need to without a preface or an apology that diminishes me. They see me and understand me and get me. They always have my back. This weekend I got to enjoy a few hours with my people. It was exactly what I needed. It filled my cup.

We gathered together at one of the friend’s houses and ate snacks and talked. It was heavy talk at first. Several of us are going through some things. We talked about one of us moving away soon. That is going to be a difficult transition even though we are so happy for her. We talked about the beauty and sadness of preparing to send your only child off to her first year of college. The what if’s of the future and the free time in the fall that is to come. We talked about our various childhoods and the concerns we have over our aging parents, one of us in particular worried about next steps in daily care. We talked about the stresses of our jobs and wishing we could come up with a better way for things to run, but we came up short. And I talked about my recent panic attack. I had never had one before that I knew of, but I had one the night before and it struck me hard. It started with heart palpitations (I have been having them a few times a week for a month now). Then my arms and legs started going numb. Then I felt light-headed. But, I checked my pulse and my oxygen level and everything was normal, so I sat down and told myself that this was temporary. I counted five things I could see, four things I could touch, etc. until my heart rate returned to normal and the crying stopped. I sat there after it ended and felt exhausted and rung out. The weird thing is that before it started, I had been sitting down, watching my current distraction, Grey’s Anatomy and working on curriculum for the school year when it began. I had not felt stressed or anxious or worried about anything. Actually, it was quite the opposite. I was coming up with a creative idea for the lesson that I was writing and it was really exciting. But then, bam. I was panicking. What was the cause? I didn’t know.

My people understood. They were there with words of comfort and suggestions to help when another one happens because it probably will. I don’t know what has brought on the anxiety recently, but my girls had some ideas and we talked through them for the next little bit. I feel like, without them, I would be lost. Those moments of connection and understanding and most importantly, no judgement, are everything to me. We ended the night at a restaurant eating chips and salsa and enjoying margaritas and laughing until we cried tears of joy. I will never look at chimpanzees and vultures or the Great Wall of China the same again, but that is why I love these girls. They are my people and they fill my cup when it is bone dry. My wish for everyone is that they too will find their people or at least their person who can do the same for them.

July 27, 2025
Post #1: 6/9/25: Losing Myself

Status: Cup is half-full

I went walking today for the first time in months. I love to walk. Around tracks at the park. Along trails in the woods. On the streets of my neighborhood. By waterways. I love walking. When I am walking, I feel like I find myself. I do my best thinking while walking. My best epiphanies happen. Best comeback lines. Best first lines of chapters of novels I may never write. But, for the past few months I haven’t gone walking. For the past few months instead of finding myself, I have been losing myself. Slowly, but surely. I was there and then I wasn’t. It was such a gradual change that I didn’t even realize it was happening until one day, I found myself picking up a book to read and I just didn’t care about it. This is strange for me because I love to read. Or, at least, I used to. I used to devour books. I could sit down all day and read a book from cover to cover. But recently, I would read a few pages and then lay the book down and stare off at nothing. I love to plan. I love to plan a party. A vacation. An organization project. Anything. But, lately, I would start the planning phase of the project and lose interest before I had even gathered my notebook and pen. I used to love to menu plan and try new recipes, but…you see where this is going. What happened to me? Where have I gone? These have been the questions circling around in my mind for the last few months and I am no closer to answering them now than I was then. A lot has happened in my life recently, and that has contributed to these feelings, but I need to get back on track.

So, what has happened?

March 31st. I woke up and got the kids ready for school. Everything was going according to plan except that my husband was sick. He was staying home from work and had been planning on going to Urgent Care later that day. We thought he might have bronchitis because his coworker had it the week before. However, when I went to say bye to him before leaving for work, I couldn’t wake him up. This was the single most terrifying moment of my life. I shook him. I yelled his name. That’s when I noticed he had thrown up. He was sweating profusely. And, as I shook him, his breathing became very labored. He opened his eye-lids slightly and that’s when I saw how yellow the whites of his eyes were and that his eyes were rolled back in his head. I yelled for my oldest son to bring me my phone because it was in the other room. I panicked and my first thought was, “Call school because you will need a sub today.” Ok. Full stop. My husband was unresponsive and my first thought was, “I need to call work.” What is wrong with me? Why was that my first thought? I had even opened my phone app and pulled up the school’s number before I shook my head and said out loud to myself, “No, Call 911 first.” The irony is that my student’s were currently reading Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis and I had never more identified with the character of Gregor than I did at that moment. No, I had not turned into a human-sized bug, but when Gregor woke up completely transformed, his first thought was that he had missed the train to work and that he was going to miss the next one as well. He completely overlooked the fact that he was a freaking human-sized bug…with an exoskeleton and antennae, and a million legs…I feel like that would be the thing I would be worried about before work. Yet, here I was, staring at my version of a human-sized bug and all I could think about was work. At a later time, when things were more stable, I wondered what that says about us and about the conditioning that humans have undergone over the years that in our most emotionally vulnerable state, we think, not of ourselves, but of our jobs. Don’t get me wrong, I love my career. I love where I work. I’m a teacher. Are there days I question the choices of my 18 year old self? Yes. But that would be true of any career choice I had made. Are there days when I want to yell at my high school students, “Please, just trust me on this one! You will see that I am right, one of these days.” Yes, but I don’t.

But, my husband was dying in front of me, and all I could think of was work. This is partly when I began to realize that I had lost myself. When the ambulance arrived, I comforted my son, called my mother-in-law, called my mom or my sister (I can’t remember which was first), I messaged my group of best friends, and I texted my in-laws’ church prayer group. I needed my village around me because I was starting to realize that I wasn’t strong enough on my own. This was another sign that I was lost. I could always weather any storm. I am strong. I am enough. I can do anything on my own. But, I couldn’t do this. I watched as the paramedics tried to get a response from my husband. I waited anxiously with my mother-in-law and son for updates as they stabilized and prepped him in the ambulance for transport. I held it together as best I could. Like a true Hufflepuff, I got my mother-in-law a sweater. I got her coffee. I soothed my son. I answered texts and calls. People asked what I needed, as if I knew. My husband might be dead any minute. I had no idea what I needed. Usually I have all of the answers. But, I didn’t right then. And I didn’t for the next two weeks. Thankfully, my mom, dad, sisters, and brother knew what I needed more than I did. So did several members of my in-laws’ church and my best friends. Within hours, as my husband was eventually air-lifted to a hospital much further away, I was surrounded by family and friends, while more friends and family were taking care of my kiddos, and within days so many people had come together to help us with food and financial donations. I was overwhelmed with grief at the unstable status of my husband, overwhelmed with gratitude at the outpouring of love we were receiving, and overwhelmed at what the future would hold. I am not one to ask for help, so this was really hard to receive and accept, but that was another part of losing myself.

You see, my parents divorced when I was 9 and I took on quite a bit of responsibility around the house at a young age. I am not blaming or shaming them here; I understand now, as a parent, that they were doing the best they could with what they had at the time. But, this did teach me to be responsible and to be self-sufficient, sometimes to a fault. I will often, finagle things to work out in the short term (without having to ask for help) even if it is not the best idea in the long run…here’s looking at you pay-day loan that I got in my 20’s…So, when Jamie, my husband, was unresponsive, I went numb. I couldn’t function. I didn’t know what to do. You can’t finagle this. All I could do was wait and I am not a patient person.

The other reason that asking for help was so difficult is because many of the people who were so generous and giving were from my in-laws’ church. I could say from my church or Jamie’s church, but that is no longer true. Jamie went to that church from before he was born up until 2021. I know that I am the reason he no longer goes. I went with him from the time we started dating until 2021, for a total of 15 years. We hadn’t attended that church, or any church, since November of 2021. I had been trying to step away for personal reasons for quite some time and it was around my birthday in 2021, that I decided it was time. For my sake, I had to make the split. If anyone from that church reads this, I miss the people (well, most of the people) so much, but church and God and I are not on the best of terms. I won’t go into it more here, because that is a whole series of separate posts for the future, I’m sure. But, receiving help from wonderful people, who our absence had confused and hurt, was difficult and humbling. This also caused me to lose some of myself, my pride. I needed help. I accepted it. I didn’t know how to say thank you for it. I couldn’t adequately express my thankfulness. I still can’t months later.

Through this difficult process of my husband’s hospitalization, I’ve come to realize that in losing parts of myself, I’m gaining a wiser version of me. I can loosen the tie to work where it is so all-encompassing in my thoughts. I thought that I had a good work-life balance, but I think it is still a bit out of whack. I can lose some of my control and admit that I don’t know what I need and let others take the reins from time to time (here’s looking at you, Elizabeth, my amazing student teacher during this trying time). It is ok to not be in control all the time. I can lose some of my pride and ask for and receive help. I can also lose some clarity and realize that I am still a work in progress. If the vision of myself in the mirror isn’t always clear, that’s ok too, because I am an ever-growing, ever-changing person. I am continuing to battle loss of interest, but I did begin writing and I walked three miles today, so the cup is half full. Tomorrow, we will see.

BTW: Jamie was in a coma for a week. He had a perfect storm of symptoms that caused him to have heart failure, but after two weeks in the hospital and keeping up with doctor’s visits and medication, he is on the long road to recovery.

July 27, 2025