One Important Lesson from the Summer

It's funny the things you learn when you least expect it. Unassuming, sometimes life lessons can just appear out of thin air and smack you in the face. Especially from places where you least expect them to come. 

I've always been a fan of young adult literature; I mean, I am an elementary teacher. I love the depth of characters and lessons learned that so many amazing books provide our youngsters with today. And one amazing book that I read this summer taught this adult woman a life lesson that I've been needing to internalize. 

This summer I set out to read books. For me, for relaxation, for my soul. So many summers I try to plan too much--housework, projects, school work, etc. For some reason I think that having the summer off means that I can get everything I've ever wanted to in life done in a matter of three months. That, however, has never worked out for me. My anxiety brain starts screaming at me about a month into summer, "Oh my god! You are NEVER going to get any of this done!" I start panicking that I'm not going to accomplish what I need to accomplish (more likely what I want to) in the three months I am not teaching. 

Each summer I was putting undue stress on myself. I felt like a failure if I wasn't getting all the items checked off my to-do list, and I would feel drained once school started. This summer I decided to do a lot of "me" things to help rejuvenate me for the next school year and to keep my to-do list anxiety checker at bay. This included reading a lot of books.

Checking out stacks of books from the library, I would grab what spoke to me from the shelves. I did have a small to-read list, so I picked those books up too. One of the amazing books I read this summer based on teacher friends' recommendations was Counting Thyme by Melanie Conklin.

This young adult book boats a dynamic, young lead character, with whom I fell in love. Eleven-year-old Thyme Owen's family is facing a crisis. Thyme's little brother, Val, has been accepted into a new cancer trail in New York, so their family needs to move cross-country to save her brother. Thyme misses everything about her home: her house, her grandmother, her friends. The city is not a welcoming place to her, and Thyme is certain that her family will be moving back to their old home in a matter of months. As the family starts to see positive changes from Val's treatment, Thyme realizes that her family may be sticking around in New York for good. Confused by her new situation and feelings about moving, Thyme faces new life moments that she is afraid to embrace: a new school, new friends, her first crush, and a grumpy neighbor with a sweet singing bird. She is uncertain if the emotional pull she feels to New York and these new experiences are what she wants in her life. All Thyme can do is count the minutes, hours, days, and months in hopes that her brother can be cured and that her family can find their way back home.

One of my favorite reads, I related so much to this story. Eight years ago my family was in crisis. Granted I wasn't eleven years old, I believe that anyone who's ever been in a battle with cancer can understand Thyme's feelings of not wanting her life to change, yet wanting to do anything you can to help your family member in trouble. 

Eight years ago my dad passed away from a rare form of brain cancer: glioblastoma. When my dad was diagnosed, I knew that our lives would never be the same. In my 20's, I didn't that my life could change in an instant. I knew they could, but I didn't expect it to happen to me. 

After my dad passed, I really struggled understanding my new life without my dad. I didn't expect my dad to be gone before I got married. I never thought my dad would never meet my niece. I never imagined my dad would not see my sister graduate college with a degree in statistics--a math-brained person just like him. This was a life I never imagined, and nothing felt "normal" to me for a long time. 

This summer after reading a passage from Counting Thyme, something clicked with me, and it helped me to accept the fact that my life has changed. 

In New York, Thyme feels awkward in her new surroundings and doesn't feel like she fits in. She isn't fitting in with the "normal" New York kids. When things don't go Thyme's way, she wonders why her life in New York can't just be normal like they were in San Diego. In this instance, Thyme remembers an important lesson her grandmother once shared with her:

Thyme's grandmother's advice is just what I needed to hear. Of course, as an adult, I know there is no normal. I give my students this advice all the time. But I needed to hear it from someone else to allow it to resonate in my heart and soul. 

My dad may not physically be here with me, and my life may be different than it was when he was around, but this is my new normal. 

My life is normal for now, and I'm okay with that. 

Life changes, and it will continue to change. It's okay to have a new normal. You may not like it at first, but you have to embrace the happiness and joy in the moment and expect the unexpected. Of course, I wish my dad were still with me today, but it's okay to embrace my new normal and enjoy life.

Thank you for Thyme, Melanie. 

Love and happiness <3 Holly

Don't Get Too Comfortable

Anxiety is a funny thing. You think you've got it together, and then BAM! No warning comes with it--no alarm bells, flashing lights, interruptions of regularly scheduled programming. Just a lightning bolt shock through your body. Or a rumbling up from your gut, like a dormant volcano making it's debut after years of stagnancy. It starts and then it fills your entire body. 

To this day, a lot of my anxiety comes on for no reason. I can be sitting on the couch reading a book and get flooded with emotion--unrelenting, anxious rumblings. My heart starts racing. I feel like I can jump right out of my skin. For no apparent reason other than I am just biologically prone to anxiety. My body goes into survival mode for no reason, and it is a very uncontrollable and uncomfortable feeling. 

I have been working on my anxiety for years. I have had anxiety my whole life, but it wasn't until my early 20's that I realized I needed to do something about it. It was affecting my life and how I lived my life. I struggled to talk to new people in college. Back then I'd rather hang out in my dorm by myself, in Bjorn's room by myself, or take a weekend trip home. I felt like the world was imploding on me. Sitting in the dining hall by myself felt like the end of the world. I never felt like there was a place to sit where no one would notice me, so I ate in my room a lot. Sometimes I couldn't eat. My anxiety was so bad that I just couldn't stomach food, and eventually lost a lot of weight, not because of the stress of college, but because my anxiety was out of control. For real. 

***

"I can be on the couch reading a book and get flooded with emotion--unrelenting, anxious rumblings."

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Now that I have strategies under my belt to help myself, I have learned that my anxiety thoughts are irrational. I always knew they were, but it's hard, in the moment, to believe it. The thoughts are so real that it feels like the 6 o'clock news reel replaying my head and I'm the subject of every story. Can this really happen? Is this really happening? Is that what those people are really thinking about me? Is that how I really come off? It's a never-ending cycle of ugliness and untruth that is meant to throw you out of yourself. It throws you out of yourself so far that you have to crawl back on hands and knees and beg for your life back. 

These irrational thoughts--the speeding heart rate, the sweaty palms, the hot flashes, the tunnel vision--are no joke. For me, there is only one way to get rid of them. I have to move. 

When I say I have to move, I have to run up and down stairs, I have to do jumping jacks, I have to jump rope, I have to break a serious sweat. Movement pumps blood throughout my body. It pumps endorphins through my body. Ironically, it brings my anxious heart beat down and replaces it with a moving, active heart beat. A heart beat that feels alive, strong, and confident. It throws my anxiety out the window and allows me to come back down to Earth. 

Recently, I have had some of these moments where I just couldn't get my anxiety to slow down. It registered between 8 and 10 on a scale of 1-10. As a teacher, summer idleness is not an anxious person's friend. One night I had a late night sweat session because I knew I would never get to sleep. I could hardly sit still on the couch, let alone go lie in bed and feign sleep. So at 9:30 at night, I got up, put on a YouTube video, and completed a 60 minute bar session. 

Now that was a needed (but serious) workout. I'm at the point on my journey with anxiety where I know how much I need to move in order to bring myself down. Tonight I could feel my anxiety creeping up, but I caught it early. 15 to 20 minutes of push ups, sit-ups, squats, and weight lifting did the trick. 

Using my chair as my barre for the night.

I used to think getting up and moving was the last thing I wanted to do when I was anxious. I needed to relax. I needed to take a breath. Well, that doesn't work. When you have anxiety, you need to be okay with being uncomfortable. It's okay to feel this way. It's okay to need to get up and move. Even if you're at work and you need to take a lap or two around your building. You have to help yourself help your body. 

If it takes 30 laps up and down your stairs, do it. If it takes a pretend jump rope session in your house or  20 laps around your basement, do it. If you need to power walk around your company's parking lot, do it. You will feel better. Your body will thank you. You'll know when you can stop, just start moving. Once you're on the right track, you'll feel the anxiety start to dissipate and your endorphins starting to take over. It's like a big sigh of relief. Just keep going until you feel it. 

Feeling much better after my workout.

Anxiety isn't comfortable. It is not fleeting. It's hard to come to this realization, but sometimes you just have to pull yourself up, no matter how bad you're feeling, and get moving. 


Love and happiness <3 Holly

Today I Ran

I have never been a runner. I have never wanted to run. I have never even had the slightest urge to try. It is funny to me now that I reflect on my aversion to running because I have always been a dancer. I danced my whole life for hours on end: heart racing, breaths quick, side cramps, and muscles sore. Dancing is no joke; it is a serious cardio workout. I was even in Colorguard as a high-schooler, running around a football field during a 12 minute half-time show. Now that was also serious cardio. 

I don't know why I despised running so much, even though I had never really done it. 

One memory comes to mind that could explain part of my distaste for running: 

I was in 5th grade gym class, running the dreaded mile. I have had asthma my whole life, always induced by strenuous exercise (especially outside in the heat). I remember it was spring--the weather was pretty warm. The Cincinnati humidity was setting in and the sun was high in the sky. My gym teacher was never my favorite teacher. My gym teacher scared me. She did not like the face that I needed to leave gym class almost every day to use my inhaler, and she let me know it.

The day we ran the mile it was humid, muggy, and hot. I got about halfway through the mile and could feel my lungs starting to constrict. I started wheezing and stopped cold while the other kids continued to run past me. Once I felt like I could move again, I began to walk towards the gym door. I needed my inhaler in the nurse's office. As I walked holding my chest, my gym teacher yelled from across the field, "You better not think of stopping! Your grade is on the line. I am not stopping the timer!" With teary eyes I continued into the gym door. "The timer's running. You better get back out here and finish." As I pulled the door shut, I continued to the nurse's office feeling embarrassed and as small as a mouse. 

That was my experience with running. It continued through 6th grade until I moved to the middle school. I honestly never thought of trying to run after that. It's silly, but things stick with you. 

But today I ran. 

I have been toying with the idea for a week or so, and today I decided to try. It doesn't hurt to try, right? So my dog, Remy, and I went out and walked/jogged for 2.5 miles. I didn't completely enjoy it. And I didn't completely hate it. Remy felt the same way. The first time is always the hardest, but I don't plan on giving up. 

I'm going to keep it up and see how I do the next few weeks. Of course, I am not giving up my dance classes or Zumba. That's just more "me." But I like being able to just go and get out of the house with Remy. 

At first, I felt silly. I worried that I looked ridiculous running. I told Bjorn last night that I didn't think I knew how to run. I worried that I would double over halfway through and stop breathing. But, who am I kidding. I know my body. I know what I can do and what I can't do. I took my inhaler, rubbed some En-R-Gee essential oil on my wrist, drank some water, and went. Today I stopped making excuses and tried something new. 

And tonight I feel accomplished and a little sore, but I am proud of myself for kicking myself in the pants and just going for it. And so is Remy. 

Love and happiness <3 Holly