From the day I stepped out of my classroom two months ago, I hadn't been back inside my classroom or school. Simply driving by the school (we are rural and unless I take a nearly 45 minute detour, I must go by the school) caused me nausea to the point of nearly vomiting. The thought of going back caused such intense fear in me that I even skipped my kids' Christmas concert (see prior post), which caused major mom guilt. Thankfully, my amazing husband went to the concert and taped my kids' performances. These fears of being back at school overwhelmed me to the point I couldn't even pick up my kids early from school two weeks ago for dentist appointments. I ended up cancelling the appointments and rebooking for after school so my kids could just take the bus home. Avoidance is so much easier.
I had been talking to my therapist about these feelings of fear, guilt, shame, and disappointment for a few weeks now. I had been wanting to talk to my principal, but the fear was overwhelming and avoidance is my temporary medicine. What would I say? How would she react? Would she respond to my email or text? Would I be welcomed back? Would I see any of my students? Other teachers? My own kids? My brain is a professional at the "what if" game.
At my last therapy appointment, I sobbed opening up to my therapist about several traumatic events from early childhood. My earliest memory is a very traumatic one; I believe I was about three years old. My patient therapist (no pun intended) listened and empathized well over my one hour time slot. Once I started pouring my heart out, I couldn't stop. I felt relieved to get this out and have someone indeed agree and validate that these examples were traumatic and abusive. It was my normal so up until a few years ago, I just thought we were a "dysfunctional family," but then again, most families seem to have their dysfunctions. I now have confirmation from a professional that this is not the case. Even though my own personal and professional experience in the education field knew that this was "abusive," I had someone validate that for me. Had I heard some of these stories from my own students, I wouldn't have thought twice about calling Children's Aid Society. My "logical brain" knew that these were abusive and not normal experiences. My "illogical brain" made excuses for my parents.
So back to facing my fear. With the encouragement from my therapist, I emailed my principal. She answered me the next day, ending some of my "what if" scenarios, but it opened up a whole new set of "what if" scenarios. I wanted to meet her after school hours, but with the impending holiday coming up, I knew that would be difficult, if not impossible. To my surprise and then immediate worry, she asked if I could meet her during the day. It was better to just get it over with and move on with my day.
With my detailed list of things I wanted to talk to her about in hand, I headed out to my school, about a 15 minute drive. I cried nearly the whole drive there, and the closer I got, the more rapid my heart rate became. Pausing in the parking lot, doing some deep breathing, and positive self talk, I headed in the school. I pushed the buzzer to be let in...no answer. OMG, one of my "what ifs" I missed. Damn it. I probably said something a little more colourful in my head, but you get the point. After a few more attempts at the buzzer, nothing. Either I was going to sit on the floor behind the solid metal door so I remained unseen or go back to my truck to text her. I decided with the latter, and thankfully I did, because shortly after the mail lady came in....probably not the sanest thing to see at a school. I texted my principal and went back in, taking in a few more deep breaths and feeling intensely hot (temperature hot), she saw me and opened the door. I bolted right into her office.
Thankfully, she was extremely receptive and let me get out everything on my list. She was kind, empathetic, and reassured me that my students were in good hands. She was thankful and appreciative for my forward thinking so she could plan appropriately for my absence. Despite not wanting to cry, of course, I sobbed right away. Obviously, it was apparent I would need more time off to continue my healing process. Upon leaving, she gave me a hug, which touched my heart and meant a lot.
Driving back home, I cried a lot more. I felt an immense weight lifted off my shoulders and the fear of going back to my school lifted...somewhat. Being back inside the building was a huge first step, but there will be a few more first steps to go before I feel 100% ready to go back to work. Baby steps. I faced a fear, and for that, I am proud of myself. My worst fears did not come true, thankfully. Avoidance will continue to occupy me until I feel ready to face those next fears.
Anxiety is exhausting When I arrived home, my husband wanted to know how it went. I had no energy to explain to him, only mumbling that it went well. I went to my bed and wrapped myself up in my duvet and had a rest. At that point, I hadn't had a good night's sleep in a few days. Anxiety is mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausting. I needed an hour or so of just stillness.
My therapist would be proud that I faced this fear, but moreover, I am proud I faced this fear. I feel like this was a huge step in the right direction towards my healing. I still have a long way to go, but I am getting there. Avoidance is no doubt easier, but when one is ready, facing fear is necessary to heal.
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