I don't know who said that. Someone famous and wise and all that. I could Google it and find the source, but I don't feel like it.
That said, it's been a hard year.
And I am not talking about this insane, ridiculous, farce of an election season, although one could say that plays into it.
First, going back to work full time while caring for an infant was hard. It was hard a decade ago, too, but this time it was super duper hard. I handled the pregnancy itself with flying colors. It was the whole "I have to be up all hours breastfeeding a baby" thing that got in the way of my ability to do just about everything. I literally typed letters of recommendation while breastfeeding. I sat attached to a breast pump while grading essays. I spent all my lunch periods down in daycare feeding the baby. I love that baby. I also realized that 41 is too old to be a full time working mother of a newborn. I started to fall into a postpartum funk. I tried hard to float on the surface of it.
Couple this with the fact that I had been telling my spouse for at least a year that I suspected my boss was looking for a reason to get rid of me. In April, my boss proved me right. After months of making me jump through all kinds of hoops and watching me sail through every one of them, the only excuse he could come up with to can me and give my job to a Jewish teacher was this: "I think your personal life is getting in the way of your ability to do your job." Yeah, he went there. Mind you, this was after I spent all semester doing a "Composition Bootcamp" with my AP students, where they wrote like a billion essays and I graded like 30 billion essays and all while I had a baby attached to my boob. It wasn't that much of a shocker, given that those of us who were general education teachers always knew that if a Jewish teacher came along and could do our job, we'd be on the street. The lady who covered my maternity leave was Jewish and had a kid or two in the school. So yeah, I pretty much saw that one coming, but it didn't make it any easier. Anyway, that boss wrote this letter that assured me that if I kept my mouth shut about the school, I would receive all of my contracted pay and benefits and I could leave right then and there. I love that letter. It makes it look like I have deep, juicy, nefarious intel on the school and that I was being paid to keep my mouth shut about it. To be fair, I loved my co-workers there and I loved my students and I certainly have nothing against Jews as a result of all of this. I do, however, have a bad taste in my mouth for schools where the parents who have the most money and donate a lot of it to the school get to call all the shots, and so do their kids. Here's the stems word of the week, kids: Plutocracy.
So there I was, a teacher with 19 years experience and a master's degree trying to get a job in the state of Ohio, where our governor has made it hard for anyone with my credentials to get a job. Yes, I was told by many a public school that I was "overqualified" (code word for "we need to hire someone straight out of college because you are too expensive"). By the grace of God, I found one, which I still consider a miracle given that when I had the interview, I pulled no punches and told the panel of administrators, 100%, with complete and unabated honestly, exactly what I really thought about everything. I figured that this was either going to get me the right job or it wasn't; I was tired of working for the wrong bosses. Ends up they liked it.
And I was excited to get the job. I am still excited to have the job. What didn't excite me was that I had to move away from Cleveland. Dave had been pretty much trying to push me back to NW Ohio for the better part of two years. Losing the private school job was just the final sign from God that I was supposed to move "home" and that I was needed somewhere else. The problem was that once I got "home," it wasn't really home, because it was Napoleon, Ohio and I am not a country girl and I am not accustomed to living in a "red county." As Dave would say, "I ain't from around here," and it is painfully obvious. I had every anxiety known to man about leaving city life. On top of the typical fears and stresses of selling a house (the beautiful house that I loved dearly) and finding a new place to live, I had to leave my flaky liberal friends and my super awesome progressive community behind. Everything was annoying to me--from having to travel over 30 minutes to the nearest Target store to seeing Donald Effing Trump signs everywhere I drove. I couldn't find anywhere nearby to practice yoga, which didn't help my emotional stability any. Moving was hard. It still is hard to be here. But I am getting used to it.
In July, I left my home in Lakewood and moved into a rental, and the place is cute and not too bad, but it isn't exactly my dream home or my dream neighborhood. I couldn't find joy in my work once I got back to it and even though I found a new yoga studio nearby, I couldn't get into my practice. I found myself always unhappy and getting on the nerves of everyone in my household, mostly my husband, and I finally went to the doctor and asked for the one thing I didn't want to need, which was meds for depression, because let's face it--I was pretty much never happy, really, after the baby was born, even though I am happy the baby was born and all that jazz, but nothing was ever really JOYFUL anymore. Because I was always stressed and I had to roll with a lot of changes that I didn't really want to roll with. But here I am.
Joseph Campbell said, and I paraphrase, that we must be willing to leave behind the life we have planned so that we can make way for the life that is waiting for us. I feel like I can do that now. I am once again a hot firey ball of ideas in the classroom and I roll out my yoga mat without having to be practically dragged to it. I read for pleasure the Artemis Fowl books that my son checks out of his school library and insists that I read. I snuggle my super sweet baby and I have more patience with my beautiful, but prepubescent daughter whose own life and bodily changes are trying hard to make me lose my cool on a daily basis. And I can get through a whole day without seeing my spouse without feeling as if I am going to have a panic attack (for the first time since we moved here... I swear to God there was a long time after we moved here when I couldn't manage an entire Saturday morning alone without being a complete wreck of co-dependence issues). So anyway, universe, I let go of that life I wanted in Cleveland and now I'm here, so do what you will with me. I can take it.
As long as Donald Trump doesn't get us blown up by the Chinese, anyway.
As a post script, I shall say, in the spirit of Christmas, that I am super thankful for the following things:
(1) I get to enjoy Christmas again because I don't have to work according to the Jewish calendar anymore.
(2) I am appreciated where I work again. And I appreciate where I work.
(3) I love being in a "real school" again where there are pep rallies and dances and football games; I love working with "real people" who have to go to work for a living.
(4) I can be a fully attentive mother again to my children.
(5) I found good yoga. I even found a couple of people who might just be "my people."
(6) I have found that being in my 40's has given me an "I don't give a shit what you think" attitude when I need it, but as also given me a "when it is and isn't appropriate to say I don't give a shit" kind of wisdom.
(7) I have the most bestest husband ever, my soul mate and my best friend, and I love him with every fiber of my being.
Namaste, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Blessed Yule, Happy Hannukah, and all that other stuff.
