Alas, I think I'm ready to return to work. 💪
It's been a long four months. A long four months of soul searching. A long four months of ups and downs, taking steps forward and taking steps backwards. A long four months of being on an emotional rollercoaster.
I finally feel confident enough that I am well enough to return to work and continue on this upward spiral. I know there will be bumps in the road going forward, but I think I have conquered my anxiety, panic, and PTSD enough that I have the tools and strategies to work through them without falling apart.
There are still a few unknowns. I am waiting on a few other people to confirm that I can return to work. My doctor and I created a timeline that we believe will keep me on a steady path moving forward. I am confident enough that I will be able to continue making steady progress. I am no where near 100% yet, and honestly, I think it will be a year or more before that happens, if ever. Maybe this is my new normal; my new 100%. Time will tell.
I feel the good anxious feeling...the good feeling of butterflies in my stomach. Slightly anxious but an excited anxious. It feels like the first day of school, and honestly, it kind of is. The first seven or eight weeks I was at school is all such a blur. A blur of emotions. I will need the next few weeks to reconnect and connect with my students.
I am nervous to see my co-workers. I worry about being judged. Judged by the very people that know exactly of what it feels like to be a teacher. To have a challenging class. To feel the pressure of report cards. To be pressed for time in meetings. To be up at night worrying about other peoples' children. I have learned reading my latest Brené Brown book that I cannot control how other people perceive me.
I look forward to this journal of spiralling upward. The light is there. I am at the edge of the tunnel looking out. I look forward to the rest of my healing journey. 💓
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Wednesday, 13 February 2019
Wednesday, 2 January 2019
Mindful Moments
One thing that I feel I have always been good at is being mindful. I literally stop to smell the roses. Notice the shape and delicacy of snowflakes. Pay attention to the shapes clouds make and remake. Listen to the breeze. Now that we are in Florida, I feel like my senses are on overdrive. My therapist told me awhile back or maybe I read it in one of the many self help books I have been reading, wherever I found it, I have decided to give it a try on this trip. Write my mindful moments down. Honestly, this is something that I can and will refer back to when I am feeling anxious and worried.
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One of my favourite things to do is to get up before my family, make a lovely dark roast coffee, and go on the patio of our condo. It's my favourite way to start my day, even though I feel that it's a bit selfish (like I should be making a five course breakfast with fresh squeezed juice for my family). I love those few moments of calm. This morning the breeze was exceptionally calm, the blue sky clear. It was chillier than it has been (maybe 21C/70F). The palm fronds were gently swaying and making a "swoosh" sound that I know I have heard before but too often don't pay attention to. It was that moment that I watched the palm in front our condo for several mixtures. Listening to the gentle breeze, watching the swaying just as a small bird landed on its frond, and then as quick as it came, it left. The fronds splitting at the ends almost hair-like. The sun was just coming up over the fence, and I could already feel its warmth.
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Even as I write this now in the late afternoon, with the sun shining just above that same palm, it is not as quiet as this morning. But to be aware, to be thankful, to see the beauty of nature is to be mindful.
*Please excuse my crappy photography capabilities with my iPhone from inside my lanai. I would like to note the orb in the top pic...no matter how I positioned my iPhone, it was there, meant to be.
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My family I came from the beach, one of my most favourite places. The sensations are powerful. The heat of the sun, the wind in the air, the gentle crash of the waves, the tinkle of the shells hitting each other, the taste of the salt in the air. After going on a lengthy adventure with my son looking for sea glass, to which we did not find a single piece, I lay on the blanket with my husband while our kids play in the surf. We embrace the moments when they actually enjoy each other's company and are not arguing. They stand together on the sand in the surf. My daughter grabs her brother's hand every now and again when a big wave comes to hit them, her mermaid-like hair swaying in the breeze. It's moments like these that make my heart melt and today, is my favourite mindful moment from the day. I love those kids to pieces. Like I have said many times, I am so blessed for these kids and my husband. 💓💓 Embrace the moment.
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| January 2, 2019, our fave beach in Florida. |
Thursday, 13 December 2018
Idling...but Making Progress
Roughly two months ago I hit rock bottom in a mental breakdown. I don't like the term "rock bottom," preferring metaphors like "spiralling out of control," "falling to the bottom of a well so deep there was no light," "my pot simmering and boiling over putting out my pilot light," or "treading water while holding my breath trying desperately to keep my nostrils above water." Each of these metaphors have been extremely helpful for me during different parts of my healing process. Currently, I am "idling." I am not revving, but I am not in reverse. Progress.
Looking back, the breakdown was bound to happen eventually. I knew I was spread way too thin, although I wish I could say I was literally thin 🙄(I had gained nearly 20 pounds over the course of two years...and at barely 5'2 that's like two sizes 🙄). I had way too much on my plate for way too long. I knew my pot was on simmer for quite a few months and was bound to boil over. It was just a matter of time. I did not pay attention and/or choose to ignore the consistent panicky feelings and constant anxiety as just "my mind being my mind" whenever I thought about work. I should have listened, but then again, knowing me, I would still be "high functioning" and doing too much, had I listened. Or worse yet, playing the "what if" game or listing the "pros and cons" in my own head, which can go on for seemingly hours.
I am not in the mood to go into details as to the events that led up to my pot boiling over, but I am sure I'll eventually get there. However, I think it is important to note that this was not the first time I have had to deal with anxiety and panic. It had been nearly two decades since I had dealt with the severity of these issues previously. Although, do not assume I was all peachy for the last two decades...anxiety is a demon that crops up sometimes when you least expect it.
The feelings of despair, shame, hopelessness, and guilt were so overwhelming and intense at the time, I never thought I'd find my way out of the downward spiral. The physical symptoms from anxiety and panic attacks were so skewed that, at times, I have to look back at my journal to remember the exact sensations my body and mind were going through. I guess that is how our minds protect us from "trauma." Or at least, how my mind helped me glaze over the severity of my situation at that time, like I was looking through a opaque glass. Perhaps if I'd kept a journal over the last few years, I could have referred back to those feelings and realize I was crashing. Now I refer back to my journal when I crashed a few months ago; it gives me perspective as to how far I've come. It also gives me credit for the progress I have made so far.
Coming across A Simple Mental Health Pain Scale while mindlessly scrolling Pinterest a few weeks after my meltdown was incredibly helpful. It was an "aha" moment of sorts because it really helped me identify the severity of where I was, where I had already come about three weeks after going on sick leave from my teaching job, and where I am now. Daily fluctuations are a part of my "new normal," but nearly two months later, my present self has come so far. I am also hopeful that I will get out of that well; I can finally see a glimpse of light at the very tippy top. I understand that it likely won't be anytime soon, but it will be eventually--considering I was at a level 9 (minus the self harm part) but am now functioning at a consistent level 6 with moments of a level 7. I am okay with that. I know now that this will take time to get back to a healthy mindset. It's kind of like gaining that 20 pounds...I didn't gain it overnight so I can't expect it to leave overnight. However, this turmoil I've been through over the last two months I did lose ten pounds, so I guess it's only ten pounds to go...or not. 😏
A Simple Mental Health Pain Scale
Looking back, the breakdown was bound to happen eventually. I knew I was spread way too thin, although I wish I could say I was literally thin 🙄(I had gained nearly 20 pounds over the course of two years...and at barely 5'2 that's like two sizes 🙄). I had way too much on my plate for way too long. I knew my pot was on simmer for quite a few months and was bound to boil over. It was just a matter of time. I did not pay attention and/or choose to ignore the consistent panicky feelings and constant anxiety as just "my mind being my mind" whenever I thought about work. I should have listened, but then again, knowing me, I would still be "high functioning" and doing too much, had I listened. Or worse yet, playing the "what if" game or listing the "pros and cons" in my own head, which can go on for seemingly hours.
I am not in the mood to go into details as to the events that led up to my pot boiling over, but I am sure I'll eventually get there. However, I think it is important to note that this was not the first time I have had to deal with anxiety and panic. It had been nearly two decades since I had dealt with the severity of these issues previously. Although, do not assume I was all peachy for the last two decades...anxiety is a demon that crops up sometimes when you least expect it.
The feelings of despair, shame, hopelessness, and guilt were so overwhelming and intense at the time, I never thought I'd find my way out of the downward spiral. The physical symptoms from anxiety and panic attacks were so skewed that, at times, I have to look back at my journal to remember the exact sensations my body and mind were going through. I guess that is how our minds protect us from "trauma." Or at least, how my mind helped me glaze over the severity of my situation at that time, like I was looking through a opaque glass. Perhaps if I'd kept a journal over the last few years, I could have referred back to those feelings and realize I was crashing. Now I refer back to my journal when I crashed a few months ago; it gives me perspective as to how far I've come. It also gives me credit for the progress I have made so far.
Coming across A Simple Mental Health Pain Scale while mindlessly scrolling Pinterest a few weeks after my meltdown was incredibly helpful. It was an "aha" moment of sorts because it really helped me identify the severity of where I was, where I had already come about three weeks after going on sick leave from my teaching job, and where I am now. Daily fluctuations are a part of my "new normal," but nearly two months later, my present self has come so far. I am also hopeful that I will get out of that well; I can finally see a glimpse of light at the very tippy top. I understand that it likely won't be anytime soon, but it will be eventually--considering I was at a level 9 (minus the self harm part) but am now functioning at a consistent level 6 with moments of a level 7. I am okay with that. I know now that this will take time to get back to a healthy mindset. It's kind of like gaining that 20 pounds...I didn't gain it overnight so I can't expect it to leave overnight. However, this turmoil I've been through over the last two months I did lose ten pounds, so I guess it's only ten pounds to go...or not. 😏
A Simple Mental Health Pain Scale
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Now to get back on track...this is kind of my style...drifting from topic to topic or thing to thing. My wonderful husband often calls me "Sally" as in "Sidetrack Sally." This pain scale is something I have forwarded to several friends and family who have struggled with mental health. I find solace in knowing that I am NOT alone in this struggle and that if I can be a face for mental health and it can help others, then so be it. I'm over the self consciousness of the stigma of mental health. --Sally a.k.a. SeekingCalm |
Tuesday, 11 December 2018
Parenting Sucks Sometimes!
I swear parenting is the hardest job on Earth!
I love my kids to absolute pieces, like so much sometimes it hurts. Parenting is like the "best of times, the worst of times." At this moment, I cannot remember which novel that quote comes from?! Anyone?
My son has had issues at school since about...kindergarten; he's now in grade four (or as my American side of me says, 4th grade). He can be introverted at times yet a social butterfly other times. He's always had friends at school, usually one or two that he is closest too. He just often seems so sad. He doesn't struggle academically, and honestly, has always been about a grade level higher than his peers. He's also one of the oldest students in the class. Most of the kids in his class he has known since kindergarten and even a few much longer than that. He just seems to struggle socially sometimes. He is quite sensitive and easily upset. Did I mention he is sad nearly everyday?! It breaks my heart that I can't "fix it."
So now for two days in a row (and most days prior to this week), he gets off the bus and just sort of falls apart. It's like he keeps it together (or at least I think he does) all day, then gets home, in his "safe zone," and just falls apart. Today, he literally collapsed in the driveway walking back to our house crying, which is about a third of a kilometre from the bus (again, for my American friends, that is like one lap around a standard track). It just breaks my heart and makes me feel like such a failure as a parent.
He is often not "flexible." Not flexible like as in like "he's good at gymnastics" but mentally flexible. The teacher side of me knows what to do in a classroom setting (at least I think I do), but as a parent, it is NOT easy! He easily gets upset if his friends or his sister do not want to play "his game" or if we want to do something as a family but he just wants to draw. It can be a battle to get him to cooperate or "be flexible." When he does not like an activity (for example, gym is a big trigger) or finds something difficult (anything athletic), he is quite reluctant to try it again sometimes even reluctant to try it to begin with. As a young child, many things came easily to him. We seemed to skip over the "spelling out words so we could talk in front of him phase" because he started reading so early. He is artistically gifted, creating drawings that blow the minds of everyone that sees them. Yet his mindset and self esteem can be so poor.
I worry so much that he has inherited my mental health fucked-up-ness and unlike me at his age, feels very comfortable to share his thoughts with me. I don't know if I "fell apart" this much at his age, but I do know that I was bullied A LOT in elementary and middle school. I struggled silently, maybe saying a few things to my mom here and there growing up, but certainly never to a teacher. BTW, the advice of "just ignore them" DOES NOT WORK! I am pretty sure he has anxiety and probably panic disorder as well. Symptoms have been present for a few years now, and he was in counselling for few months. Then he was deemed "normal" and comparable to his peers. Ugh. He would fall apart as soon as we got to the car in the counsellor's parking lot!
Parenting is the hardest job ever. There's no "quitting time;" the shift just never ends. There's no reprieve. It's just so damn difficult. Being a kid these days just seems a thousand times worse than when I was a kid....and it certainly wasn't a picnic then.
My husband is waiting for a flight tonight so we chatted via FaceTime. Often, I feel so alone and like this "parenting" thing lies solely on my shoulders. So if my kids don't end up perfect, I failed as a parent. He doesn't do a lot of the disciplining or making them really do anything (like help out with chores), so I am often the "bad guy" and he's often the "fun parent." I do understand being that he's out of town a lot for work so he doesn't want to come home to be the "bad guy." Have I mentioned that parenting fucking sucks sometimes?! End Rant.
I love my kids to absolute pieces, like so much sometimes it hurts. Parenting is like the "best of times, the worst of times." At this moment, I cannot remember which novel that quote comes from?! Anyone?
My son has had issues at school since about...kindergarten; he's now in grade four (or as my American side of me says, 4th grade). He can be introverted at times yet a social butterfly other times. He's always had friends at school, usually one or two that he is closest too. He just often seems so sad. He doesn't struggle academically, and honestly, has always been about a grade level higher than his peers. He's also one of the oldest students in the class. Most of the kids in his class he has known since kindergarten and even a few much longer than that. He just seems to struggle socially sometimes. He is quite sensitive and easily upset. Did I mention he is sad nearly everyday?! It breaks my heart that I can't "fix it."
So now for two days in a row (and most days prior to this week), he gets off the bus and just sort of falls apart. It's like he keeps it together (or at least I think he does) all day, then gets home, in his "safe zone," and just falls apart. Today, he literally collapsed in the driveway walking back to our house crying, which is about a third of a kilometre from the bus (again, for my American friends, that is like one lap around a standard track). It just breaks my heart and makes me feel like such a failure as a parent.
He is often not "flexible." Not flexible like as in like "he's good at gymnastics" but mentally flexible. The teacher side of me knows what to do in a classroom setting (at least I think I do), but as a parent, it is NOT easy! He easily gets upset if his friends or his sister do not want to play "his game" or if we want to do something as a family but he just wants to draw. It can be a battle to get him to cooperate or "be flexible." When he does not like an activity (for example, gym is a big trigger) or finds something difficult (anything athletic), he is quite reluctant to try it again sometimes even reluctant to try it to begin with. As a young child, many things came easily to him. We seemed to skip over the "spelling out words so we could talk in front of him phase" because he started reading so early. He is artistically gifted, creating drawings that blow the minds of everyone that sees them. Yet his mindset and self esteem can be so poor.
I worry so much that he has inherited my mental health fucked-up-ness and unlike me at his age, feels very comfortable to share his thoughts with me. I don't know if I "fell apart" this much at his age, but I do know that I was bullied A LOT in elementary and middle school. I struggled silently, maybe saying a few things to my mom here and there growing up, but certainly never to a teacher. BTW, the advice of "just ignore them" DOES NOT WORK! I am pretty sure he has anxiety and probably panic disorder as well. Symptoms have been present for a few years now, and he was in counselling for few months. Then he was deemed "normal" and comparable to his peers. Ugh. He would fall apart as soon as we got to the car in the counsellor's parking lot!
Parenting is the hardest job ever. There's no "quitting time;" the shift just never ends. There's no reprieve. It's just so damn difficult. Being a kid these days just seems a thousand times worse than when I was a kid....and it certainly wasn't a picnic then.
My husband is waiting for a flight tonight so we chatted via FaceTime. Often, I feel so alone and like this "parenting" thing lies solely on my shoulders. So if my kids don't end up perfect, I failed as a parent. He doesn't do a lot of the disciplining or making them really do anything (like help out with chores), so I am often the "bad guy" and he's often the "fun parent." I do understand being that he's out of town a lot for work so he doesn't want to come home to be the "bad guy." Have I mentioned that parenting fucking sucks sometimes?! End Rant.
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