Joy, Grief, Anger

 Recently I decided to get some stuff out of the guest room closet I knew I didn't need. I came across this framed quote:

I knew I should remember who said this, but I had to search it up. It was Julian of Norwich.

In case you don't know her, this is a general description: Julian of Norwich (1342-c.1416) is known to us almost only through her book, The Revelations of Divine Love, which is widely acknowledged as one of the great classics of the spiritual life. She is thought to have been the first woman to write a book in English which has survived.

She is quoted most often for her comforting words: All will be well, all will be well, in all manner of things will be well.

I  have been reading the framed quote aloud to myself since I discovered it. I do it to remind myself that all is, indeed, well in the general scheme of things. But, of course, I'm not exactly feeling that.

Here is a journal entry I wrote.

**

Today I had quite a journey while doing my daily reading/journaling. It began when I was reading Parker Palmer's essay called "Confessing My Complicity." Here is my entry for today:

I haven't finished reading yet but BAM -- these words hit:

Anger isn't the problem. The problem is getting hooked on anger -- addicted to an emotion that gives you a fleeting high but leaves you feeling worse, all the while robbing you of well-being and creating desire for the next hit. Being hooked saps me of energy and harms my health...it diverts me from taking personal responsibility for what is going on right now.

I had all the signs that anger was lurking and I ignored them. Yesterday it evolved into a crying jag and yelling and giving in to my deepest fears.

And to what end? Only felt a little better, but doubt it actually helped.

I AM ANGRY JIM IS ILL.

Yes, I am. I never say that, do I?

I AM ANGRY MY LIFE IS CHANGING IN WAYS I CAN'T CONTROL.

I AM ANGRY THERE ARE SO MANY THINGS TO ATTEND TO ALL THE TIME AND I AM NOW ON MY OWN WITH THEM.

I AM ANGRY ABOUT WHAT IS COMING NEXT SCHOOL YEAR.

I AM ANGRY AT MYSELF FOR LOSING FAITH, FOR NOT BELIEVING IN MIRACLES.

~~~~Phew~~~~

Yesterday two things came up in Facebook memories I needed. One was a quote from Carlos Santana:

If you believe in gravity and drop something a hundred times, a hundred times it's going to fall. But if you believe in grace as you believe in gravity, then a hundred out of a hundred times you're going to get a miracle.

It was followed up by this quote from Regina Brett:

Don't give up before the miracle as there may be more than one.

I read more Parker and he included a quote from Valarie Kaur (founder of the Revolutionary Love Project):

Joy is the gift of love. Grief is the price of love. Anger is the force that protects that which is loved.

This! I have focused on joy and I've acknowledged grief, but I have not allowed anger to show me its force.

I FEEL PROTECTIVE.

Getting Jim safely places. Keeping myself safe so I am there for him. Running interference on procedures and appointments. Keeping everything in the house we need. And secretly being terrified about another hurricane. How can I keep him safe?

I AM ANGRY THIS HAS HAPPENED TO HIM!

And this is why Julian keeps showing up. She is the one who said it's harder to see a loved one suffering than to suffer yourself.

I had pulled out my Julian meditation book yesterday, and now I pulled out her classic Revelations of Love. I feel it is time to read it -- perhaps all the way through. 

Thinking of this further, I can see that while school was on I could shift my anger to stuff there. I didn't have to confront it here at home. That is why these past two weeks have felt so difficult -- this anger was floating around and I didn't have a place for it.

After journaling, I spoke with Jim about this. We figured out a couple small things together and agreed that the last four years have been a barrage of devastating events: Jim's stroke, the pandemic, his eye issue that resulted in blindness, his brother Doug passing, his son Dan passing, the two cancer diagnoses and subsequent treatments, Hurricane Ian, the cancer and COPD diagnoses, and the loss of his son Wayne.

And that leads me back to Valarie's words:

Joy is the gift of love.

Grief is the price of love.

Anger is the force that protects that which is loved.

Use it wisely!

Gratitude for Journals

In cleaning up my classroom, I dug several journals out of my large drawer where I keep my purse. I brought two of them home to read.

The first one I read was from the 2021-22 school year, and it was a horror story. That was the year I started teaching Read 180 and the kids were a mess. Daily I felt abused by their constant use of the F word and their attempts to gaslight and insult me. I came close to quitting. It was horrible.

There were some hopeful things as the year went on, but when I was done reading I knew I didn't want this around me anymore. I tossed that toxin in the trash.

Then I found this notebook that Annmarie had given me. I used it as a gratitude journal starting with the 2017-18 school year.

 

After reading the other journal, this one was pure delight. I kept up with it pretty well throughout the school year, and it continues into 2018-19 and then picks up in January 2021 until the end of that school year.

I have ways of remembering these years, and this book confirmed much of what I recall. I was teaching things I believed in, including creative writing and speech & debate. I was reaching the kids with great activities, and I was keeping myself balanced in many ways. I had some successes that were noted, and I was working with my teacher friends to present at ASCD in the summer of 2019. I had a decent planning period I often was grateful for, as it allowed me to really dig in and create great lessons.

The 2021 part was a bit different, as that was the year I was hybrid teaching. I was experimenting with the Modern Classrooms method -- so different than anything I’d done in previous years -- and discovering the ups and downs with it. I didn't care for how that year sidetracked things, but at the same time, it was a tremendous learning experience.

I couldn't help comparing to this last school year, where my planning was reduced and not at the best time of day for me, and many of my plannings were spent covering other classes. I have already trained myself to NOT count of my planning. How sad is that?

Even worse, this coming year I will have another teacher in my room during planning. I will no longer have that time as a sanctuary from kids and noise. I am trying so hard not to fret about that, but I still am. Going to another room is not the answer.

I know I have to think differently about this and not make predetermination. But what I do know -- and this gratitude journal confirmed -- is that there are things that feed me as a teacher, and little by little they have been chipped away. I want to be able to see this as adventure, to tell myself a new story, to allow myself to piece it together. All I can do is promise myself to do my best.

But I am also aware, like I found with the first journal I read, that some things are just poison and may have a negative affect. I am keeping my options open. Stay tuned.

Just an Arms Length Away

Today is a dark, gloomy, rainy day. It is starting to affect me in ways I don't like.

I took Jim to the dermatologist this morning because of a concerning spot on his forehead. Doc doesn't think it is anything, but did a biopsy. We were told to make a follow-up in 6 months.

And I had this thought as they made the appointment for the day after Christmas. Will he make it to this appointment?

Once we were home, and my anxiety was rising, I knew that perhaps if I came to my old computer to write some blog posts, I would be giving myself a good opportunity to feel better. But instead, I thought of things I shouldn't be thinking, and I started to cry. I thought of talking to Jim about it, but he had already said how tired he was. He woke at 3:30 a.m. and was unable to get back to sleep.

And then, hiding behind some papers and notebooks, I found this:

It is polished heart-shaped rock my friend Annmarie sent me when the shutdown happened and I had to suddenly teach from home. When it arrived, I put it by the computer, and that is where it has been ever since.

I picked up the stone and immediately my heart felt lifted. The tears stopped flowing. I cannot express the calm and peace I that swept over me. It had been just an arms length away.

Chemo #6

Today we went in earlier than usual for Jim’s chemo/immunotherapy treatment. There was a newbie there, reminding me of when we first started, something like 16 weeks ago.

This is how I set Jim up while they are finishing doing his labs. First, we have Jerry the dog. This is a plush my sister gave me years ago, and she was the one who mentioned that Jim needs the companion t the sessions. When I first brought it along, Jim said it reminded him of a dog they had as a kid—a Dalmatian named Jerry, who was female despite the spelling of the name. I bring Jerry for Jim, but I think I need her more. Now I’m even saying things to it like, “Wanna go for a ride in the car?” And “Good dog.”  🤣🤣

We have found hydration is one of the main keys, so we buy Gatorlyte by the case now and he drinks plenty of it. And protein is the other must-have. We have started tracking how things he eats and drinks cause reactions, like extra exhaustion or drop in blood pressure. 

His last chemo reaction lasted three days, a new record. I don’t anticipate it will get any better going forward. We are just treasuring all of our time together, and I remain committed to sitting with him every chemo session. It feels like the least I can do.

Learning to Read

I purchased this book years ago at a used book store, and every summer I vow to read it. But until Friday, I had not read a word.

I finally ventured into this novel on Friday, and returned to it yesterday. It was around page 50 when the frustration set in. Like, what the heck is going on? I considered abandoning the book, but went looking for advice instead.

This is a common problem for people reading this Nobel Prize winning novel, I discovered. Someone had encountered the same issue as me, and asked about it on a GoodReads forum. There I found a lot of useful advice:

—Don’t look for plot. This is a telling of a family through time.

—Read it like it’s a dream.

—Don’t try to keep track of the characters, many that have identical names. Just enjoy each little story.

—It’s like stream of consciousness. Relax into it. It will pay off.

—Watch how often Marquez uses the words “solitude” and “solitary.”

—If it bothers you, don’t read it. Life is too short to spend reading books you don’t like.

It’s not like I haven’t read Latin American literature or magical realism before. But this Marquez book is clearly something else. I was looking for experience like I’ve had with other literary classics, like when I finally read The Color Purple in 2020, or The Grapes of Wrath in 2022. But I didn’t expect I’d have to learn how to approach it. That’s a new one on me! 

I’ve decided to continue, but I let myself off the hook as far as how fast I will read it. Some said they had read it off and on for a year. It is that type of book for sure. 

What I’m not sure of is reading it before bed. I read several pages last night before turning off the light, and I had crazy dreams all night! I actually felt it was disruptive. So maybe I still need to learn how to read this book.

Challenge accepted.

Sunday Seeking Peace

It’s a muggy morning with zero breeze. I had vowed to get out and walk, to connect with Mother Nature, and wasn’t going to let the weather stop me.

I’m glad I kept my vow.  I walked the bridge area to the woods. The Ibis were roosting and it was obviously mating season, as there were many bright displays.

I stopped at a bench that was calling to me. I was thinking a lot about lyrics to a song from yesterday: “Peace will come.” I meditated for a short time on the bench on those words, then took this picture:

Don’t you just love cloud reflections?

I walked into the wooded area and had this thought: why am I saying peace will come? Peace is now.

Then I saw this plaque next to a bench, something I had not seen before:

I smiled at myself. What else do I need? I have the present moment. I walked, touching all the palm fronds along the path, reaching for waxy leaves and feathery vines. A cache of butterflies fluttered over my head. I was sweaty and mosquito-bitten when I returned to my car, but no matter.  I had kept my promise and was reminded once more that being one with nature is all it’s cracked up to be!

For Example, Friday

I’d been wanting to write a poem all week, and finally got inspired by David Kirby’s poem “The Rhetorical Device Known as What-Aboutery.”

…it takes a while to get from where

you are to where you want to be, especially 

if you don’t know where you’re going in the first place,

which you shouldn’t, as the scientists

 say, if you know what you’re doing, it isn’t research.

Discovery

What if I was to truly open my mind 

to what could be discovered each day 

without judgment on my part?

For example, Friday.

A routine eye appointment for Jim turned long

Hemorrhaging in the eye

Causing an afternoon at another doctor

Trying to get it under control

And I stayed focused on what mattered.

I discovered I could 

read my book 

relax into just being

I had been contemplating what fun is in my life.

So I decided picking up a book 

I’ve meant to read for years would be fun 

and making dinner — a joy.

I’m discovering a moment holds a lot of mini-happiness.

In a book I just finished there was a great line:

Happiness is circulatory.

Someone else said fun leads to happiness, not the other way around.

Fun being playfulness + communication + flow.

So there is the recipe.

Will I ever say the day Jim’s eye 

hemorrhaged was a FUN day?

No, probably not.

Will I say I flowed through it 

and discovered a calm around it?

Yes, that I can say.

It’s my own research into the 

art of being.