The "August" Question

Wrapping up the school year is always emotionally exhausting for everyone involved, but the added pressure of leaving the coworkers and students that I love so much made completing my last year of teaching particularly trying. Many hugs were had, tears were shed, and heartfelt words were exchanged. I spent two straight weeks crying on and off (in and out of the classroom) and taking in every moment I could with the career I had worked so hard to build before setting it aside to chase a dream. I was grateful when summer officially started and I could relax and recover for a few weeks before jumping into my writing.

I'm confident that leaving teaching was the best choice for me in this phase of life, but those close to me also know how much I'll miss the parts of the job that kept me going for six years. Hence, the aforementioned emotional departure. All summer long, those same people have been asking me, "How do you think you'll feel when everyone starts going back to school in August?" I never knew how to answer that question. I knew I'd miss the students and the content that I taught. I knew I'd miss the colleagues that I had grown close to. I knew I'd miss the familiarity of a well-practiced routine. What I didn't know was how I would adjust to a new state, city, town, temple community, and schedule of my own design while watching life in Cincinnati proceed as usual. All summer long, the "August" question hung over my head impatiently awaiting an answer. Despite the amazing adventures I was having in my new home, it was often scratching at the back of my mind.

As a person with a smattering of anxiety disorders, the unknown has always felt threatening to me. I've never dealt with transitions well, and I still struggle now even with the numerous transitions (and therapy sessions) I've experienced in my life. Back in May and early June, as the school year was wrapping up, the thought of packing up the life that Ben and I had built in Cincinnati was nearly paralyzing (see first blog post for context). I pushed it out as long as I could in the name of "staying in the moment," which was admittedly seasoned with a dash of denial. All I knew for sure was that I wouldn't have a clear answer to the "August" question until I lived it out.

Now, as you hopefully know, it's the end of August. Had I stayed in Cincinnati, this week would have marked my first week of the new school year. I have officially survived the "back to school" social media posts, text exchanges, and dreaded commercials. The first couple of commercials did manage to cause a pang of anxiety, but the relief I felt upon realizing they were no longer advertising to me was profound. It's easy to focus solely upon what hurts -- the grief of missing loved ones and the community that I've been a part of my entire life. As I settle into my writing routine, however, I've been intentional about reflecting upon all that I'm gaining thanks to this transition:

• No more Sunday Scaries. I actually feel rested by the end of the weekend... wild.

• I can use the bathroom any time I want, and I don't have to speed walk to make it back in time to monitor 25+ other people. 

• I make myself a substantial breakfast every morning instead of grabbing a pathetic granola bar on my rush out the door.
• I can also take more than 10-20 minutes to eat lunch, and I don't have to pack or plan it out the night before.

• I sleep for an adequate amount of time each night, actually wake up after the sun, and have the option to sleep past my alarm if my body needs it.

• I don't have to be "on" all day, and I don't end the day feeling overstimulated by constant human interaction for 7+ hours.
• When I was working on a theater production, days were closer to 10 or 11 hours on average.

• I make my schedule and set my own goals, and I only need to report to myself to ensure that I reach them. 
• Also, the goals are manageable and not dependent upon a slew of other factors that are outside of my control.

• Most importantly, many of my physical anxiety symptoms are gradually decreasing. 
• For me, this looked like frequent hives, heartburn, headaches, stomach issues, and chronic fatigue. Some days, it was a mix of all or a lovely combination of a few. Now, I may see one or two symptoms on a particularly tough day, but never as intensely, and never all of them at once.

I have learned a great deal about myself as a writer and individual thanks to the solitude that writing requires; the mere thought of which would have sent me into an anxiety spiral less than a year ago. Having the time and energy to take care of myself has already been a remarkable reward in exchange for the heart-wrenching decision I made to leave full-time teaching. I still have moments of anxiety where I question whether or not I'm doing "enough," but I'm working through that. Thanks, therapy! I know I have to give myself grace and recognize that just because my work days were non-stop for 6 years doesn't mean my work days need to look the same now. Particularly when I've known from the start that the teaching profession requires far too much of one person.

Although I won't be teaching language arts, I'm excited to report that I have accepted a wonderful opportunity to teach part-time at our temple's religious school. This will include discussion based courses on modern judaism with 6th and 7th graders as well as a... drumroll please... drama class for 4th and 5th graders. While teaching and running a drama program full time turned out to require too much from me, part-time teaching is exactly what I need to fuel my passion for theater and education while still leaving enough time to devote to writing. Even halfway across the country, education and theater have found a way to fit into my life, and I have a feeling they always will as long as I'm willing to make space for them.

So, to answer the August question at last, I feel hopeful. I'm writing every weekday, I'm working up to all seven days, and I'm looking forward to starting my part-time teaching position in a few weeks. August taught me that it's possible to devote yourself to something without compromising your personal wellbeing. August taught me that it's possible and acceptable to hold longing and contentment in your heart simultaneously. August also reminded me that, although terrifying, taking risks is crucial to my growth as a human and professional. As a result, I am more committed than ever to learning more about myself and reflecting upon my journey here in this tiny nook of the internet. It's what inspired this post to begin with.

Whether you're joining me for this post or all of them, thank you for following along and giving my words your time. Also, you're probably my mom. Hi, mom. Regardless of whether or not we're related, I appreciate you. As we shift into fall, I hope that you can also take the time you deserve to reflect upon what the summer has meant to you. Perhaps there's a risk you took, or passed up, or are currently debating. Life presents us with alternate paths at every turn (hey, Robert Frost). The risky one may look the most fraught, but can I give you some advice? Don't let your "August" get in the way of pursuing it.