Wednesday, August 10, 2011


Divorce never stops hurting.  I can't even count the number of times that I have said this sentence or had it run through my head.  As a child, the pain of not being able to be with both my families, of never having my whole family in one place, was sometimes overwhelming.  Perhaps this is why as an adult, when I have my husband, my children, and myself all together, I feel an overwhelming peace.  Maybe that is why, as an adult, when one of my children is gone, it is like a piece of my heart is missing.
I knew when I got a divore as an adult, the guilt and pain would be infinitely worse.  I KNOW what my children go through, and I know that it sucks.  I do the best I can, I will never leave them, and I will never move them away from their father.  But I know it still hurts them.
But it hurts me too.  Today brings fresh woulnds and new tears- but wounds that must be hidden and tears that must be held in.  Because, as a parent, I cannot let my children see how I hurt because that is unfair to them. 
I have been planning to take my daughter to Taylor Swift the next time she comes.  Yesterday, my husband told me to buy tickets.  Today, I found out her stepmother is taking her.  My dream.  My daughter.  Another woman.  Divorce never stops hurting.
Just when everything is going along just fine, just when everyone is getting along, just when I am accepting a life in which my kids have two families, just as I think everything will be okay, BAM.  Divorce never stops hurting.  So, all day, I hold in the tears.  So, all day, I stifle the pain.  So, all day, I tell myself I have no right to be upset.  I have no right to be selfish with my child's time.  I have no right to let her know how I feel.  I have lost those rights.  I have lost that dream.  I have lost that moment with my child. 
I am the every day.  I am the routine.  I am the safety.  The reliability.  The one who will get her to school on time.  The one who will make sure her homework is done.  The one who does the laundry.  The one who pays for the braces.  The one who shows up to everything.  The one who lets friends come over.  The one who always has food on the table.  The one who holds it all together.  And it is expected of me.  And I am glad to do it. 
But sometimes, I want to be more than that.  But that is wrong.  And I just remind myself that this is my fault.  That this is my doing.  That as long as she is happy, I will be happy too.  But that doesn't stop the pain. 
Divorce never stops hurting.

Monday, June 6, 2011


Nostalgia- A bittersweet longing for someone, something, or somewhere from the past.

Friday, June 3, 2011

A ray of hope

I am a teacher.  It is, much of the time, a thankless, challenging, frustrating, and maddening profession.  I spend my day trying to teach children to comprehend everything they read, to analyze it, to turn it into something else, and to create new ideas based on what they learn.  I spend my day trying to teach them how to write legibly, understandably, and cleverly.  I spend my day trying to teach them to treat each other, me, and themselves with respect.  Basically, I spend my day bashing my head into the figurative wall and asking myself, "why, why, why do I do this?!?"  Because, much of the time, nobody cares about what I am trying to teach them.  Nobody cares about respect.  Nobody cares about figurative language or essays or Stephen Crane.  As school ended yesterday, all I could think of was how frustrating this year was.  All I could think about was that I didn't accomplish my goals with my students- I spent the year trying to get them to sit down and keep their hands to themselves for just ten minutes.  I felt overwhelmed.  Incompetent.  Angry.  Frustrated.  I didn't want to live through this hell again.  What did I get from it?  What good did I do?  And I remember sitting down last night thinking how thankful I was that the year was over.  I was so thankful for a respite from the difficulties.
And then today happened. 
I came home from work and found, amidst the junk mail, an envelope with just my name, and in the corner, the name of one of my students.  I recognized her unmistakable handwriting, and as I walked up my driveway, I began to read her letter.  In her letter, she told me how much she appreciated me.  How much she learned from me.  How much she enjoyed my class.  How much I helped her to understand about literature.  How I made her want to try harder.  How she wanted to come to my class.  How she will miss me.  Before I knew it, I was standing in my driveway with tears coursing down my cheeks.  Happy, beautiful tears of success and joy.
And in that few minutes, she changed my entire year.  Every bad day- erased (well, at least smudged mostly out).  Every difficult kid I couldn't reach- okay.  Because I helped one child.  Because I touched one life.  Because one person that came through my classroom left it a better person because of me.  It was all worth it.  All of it. 
And so tonight, I sit with a light soul and full heart. 
I became a teacher because I had this idealistic belief that "if I could change just one life, it will all be worth it."  After years of teaching, I realized this may not be a possibility.  Today, I  know it is.  For this student has inspired me to continue, to push on, to face the challenge.  She has taught me a lesson I tried to teach her class all year long.  Never give up.  The one thing that can never be taken from the human race is hope.  And as my own faith and belief in myself waned, this child proved to me that I had only to reach into my mailbox to find a ray of hope.

My very favorite poem comes to mind:
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
Emily Dickinson

Sunday, May 29, 2011

My daughter is talented
my son is a genius
my son is amazing
my husband is warmth
my home a safe haven
my family is growing
my job is challenging
I have everything
I ever wanted.
my life is all
I could ever
ask for.
so why
do I
like I