Author: Cassie

Today was a good day

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Today was actually a good day.  It’s hard to pinpoint what made it a good day, it just was.  And the funniest part?  School actually contributed to my good mood (somewhat).

The morning started out like any other with the millions of children (I have 34) coming into the classroom for breakfast.  We did our thing like always; we ate breakfast, changed to our leveled reading classes and continued about our morning.  Nothing remarkable, nothing mood altering, just typical Wednesday.  For the most part, everyone worked hard, everyone was respectful, and everyone walked out with a little bit more understanding of why character traits are important in a narrative.

Then it was time to change back to our homeroom classes.  This is usually a busy and loud time of day where I just feel like screaming “SIT DOWN AND BE QUIET FOR 5 MINUTES!” I stepped in the hall to talk to another teacher about a student when I slipped on something and went down hard.  There were a quite a few students in the hall, but it was pretty anticlimactic.   It didn’t hurt (though I have a giant bruise now).  But what happened next did.

Someone laughed.  And not just someone.  A child.  An 8 year old laughed at me.  And then I cried.  I wasn’t crying because I fell, I was crying because an 8 year old was mean to me.  Yes.  I am 34 years old.  Yes, this kind of disrespect happens at my school daily.  Yes, I realize that kid’s opinion of me means nothing, but in that moment, my feelings were hurt.  By a child.

But then a funny thing happened.  My entire class crowded around me.  Through the chorus of “what’s wrong” and the many, many hugs I was able to tell them I fell and that while I wasn’t hurt, my feelings were hurt by another student.  And they were upset.  They were upset that someone would hurt me, even if it was just my feelings.

And in that moment I felt truly loved by these little people, in a way I don’t think most teachers get to feel, at least not in my school.  In the 11 weeks that I’ve been with my 35 little friends I’ve questioned how much of a difference I’ve actually made in their lives.  Some days I feel like we’re getting somewhere, but most days I want to throw up my hands and walk out.  The fights, petty bickering, and whining and arguing get to me on a daily basis (Seriously, why can’t you just keep your hands to yourself?!?!?!  How is that so hard?????)

But not today.  I heard their concern.  I saw their love.  And for the first time I thought maybe I can do this for the next 100 days.  Maybe we actually are getting somewhere.  Maybe we actually are going to be OK.

A Numbers Game

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My life has revolved around numbers lately.  The littlest one moving on from eight months to nine months, the numbers in my back account slowly dwindling, the numbers on the scale slowly rising.  I’m trying my hardest to get control of them all but it seems that every time I make strides in one area I wind up taking two steps back in another.

I was thinking of all these things that I want to do: vacations I want to take, races I want to run, experiences I simply want to have and I never really feel like I have enough money to do any of them.  So I decided I would look over my back account and (multiple) credit card statements and add up all the extraneous money I spent for one month: liquor store, eating out, morning coffee purchases, late fees for certain things.  I didn’t think it would be that much, but when the number stared stared back at me on my calculator I almost died.

$900

Yes, you read that right NINE HUNDRED DOLLARS.  Not nine, not ninety, but nine hundred freaking dollars.  No wonder I am not taking an vacations to Charleston or making a dent in my credit card payments.  It’s because I’m too busy buying Chinese food and wine.  Which would also explain why I’ve gained 20 pounds in the last 8 months.  Because apparently all I do is eat and drink calorie laden shit.

But I’ve noticed little things lately: the pants getting a little tighter, my energy waning, more guilt over food choices I am making.  And who has time for this.  I don’t.  Not at (almost) 35.  Not with three kids.  Not with the goals and hopes I have.

The scale has become my nemesis, staring at me with her skinny, glassy body every time I enter the bathroom.  I step on.  Close my eyes.  And pray.  I pray that I don’t see a certain number.  Or that it didn’t go up AGAIN.  But ever since I stopped really running in the fall and ever since stopped training for my marathon it has been creeping up ever so slowly.  I’m not going to list the number, but lets just say my middle number has changed twice and if I don’t get a handle on it soon, my first number will as well.  And I can’t have that.  I can’t go back to that first number.  I’ve worked too damn hard.

I’ve decided to use January as kind of a cleanse.  Shedding off the old mistakes that I made in December (and month’s prior) and trying to change my behavior into more positive choices.

  1. Make coffee at home.  Sure, it’s not my venti iced skinny vanilla latte, but it also costs way less than $6.00.
  2. No alcohol.  At least for January.  I want to see how I feel without it.  And my wallet needs to see how it feels without it as well.
  3. Healthy, non-processed food.  I want to train for the AirBnB Brooklyn Half Marathon (more on this later) and I need to do it right this time.  Healthy nutrition in…positive energy out.
  4. Stop eating out.  In December we were sick, I was stressed, we were tired.  And most nights I would come home and just not want to cook.  So I didn’t.  Of course, this affects everyone in the family, and I need to be setting a better example for the littles in my life.

Hopefully with these four changes I can begin to see a difference: more energy, better sleep, focused running and exercise, and more real life experiences.

I’m tired of simply wishing I could do and be more.

Let’s do this, January.

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Brave

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It’s almost that time.  My favorite time of the year.  The day we all get a blank slate to begin again.
I’m so excited.  I’ve been looking forward to this for a while now.  The last couple years have been marred by big events, both good and bad.  From new relationships and friendships, to break ups and new babies.  New houses and old baggage, and starting and stopping many times over.
I know the calendar has nothing to do with this, but there is something about the last number of the year changing that signifies a baptism.  The past is put aside so new experiences can emerge.  With the change in number so comes a change in attitude, purpose and resolve, almost as if the year is shedding off it’s old coat in order have renewed sparkle and shine.
In the past I’ve spent time coming up with strict, structured, and concrete resolutions; run this much, weigh this much, eat this food, be the person.  But not this year.  Instead I’ve decided to come up with a word, a theme if you will, that will drive the way I live my life.  My word this year will be brave.
In the past few weeks I have flirting with this concept, almost as if I’m simply tasting it to see if it’s something that my palate can agree with.  I’ve been more honest, stood up for myself, engaged in mild confrontations, and spoke truths that I’ve been too scared to address in over two years.
And I’ve never felt better.
Some of my braveries will be small (I’ve never tried steamed mussels) and some will be life changing.
I started this blog as a way to express myself and and make sense of my soul.  But in a way, I’m still hidden.  I speak the truth, but only a part of it.  I add sprinkles to items I’m not ready to completely address, like a way to liven up a bland sugar cookie.  I leave out details I’m sure will get judged.  But not anymore.  I’m ready to be open and honest about certain elements.  I’m ready to embrace who I am; the good and bad, the ugly and awesome.
I’ll probably be judged.  I’ll probably lose friends.  But that’s ok.  I’m almost 35 years old and life is short, dammit.  Why be someone I’m not?  It’s getting too hard.
I’m read to embrace 2016 and all of it’s amazingness.  And I’m ready for me to be amazing as well.
In 2016 we should resolve to be who we really are.
Be brave.  Be fearless.  Be you.

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The time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things

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Tis the season.  For families, and holidays, and presents, and cheer.  Like most, I love this time of year.  The chill in the air, the twinkle lights everywhere, the break from work and school (and many annoying responsibilities).  But I’d have to say, Christmas is not my favorite holiday.  If I had to pick one, it would definitely be New Years.
Honestly, I am big fan of New Years Resolutions.  While I agree that you can begin a resolution at any time and you should never wait to change something you truly believe in, there is something so wonderful about the year ticking over to a new new number. It’s almost as if New Years Day is a form baptism.  With the change of a number, the mistakes and regrets and uncomfortable feelings cease to exist, making it that much easier to start fresh and anew.  With the rip of a calendar page the whole world can begin again. You can set goals, make new decisions, basically become the person you have been waiting to become.
2015 has been a roller coaster of a year.  I don’t think any other year has accomplished so much amazingness and turmoil all at once.  From babies had, houses moved, friends gained and friends lost, races run and races quit, and love found and then rescinded, I’ve been undeniably busy and just living.
In so many ways I know who I am. I tend to have too many emotions and too often, the way I express them is over the top.  I cry too much, feel too much, love too hard, get jealous when I shouldn’t, and have a terrible temper. I’m loyal, but cautious.  I don’t always believe the best in people, and I’ve been proven right.  These are simply things I am not going to apologize for anymore.  I shouldn’t have to apologize for my feelings because they are real and a part of who I am, and the way I feel is important.
Very recently I’ve become more honest with myself which has allowed me to be more honest with those around me.  Often I would avoid conflict or confrontation at any cost simply because it made me uncomfortable.  But now, I’ve learned that the discomfort does go away and after speaking your mind openly and honestly, you feel so much better.  Just a few days ago I said good bye to a friend, not because of anything they did wrong, per se, but because the relationship we had built over the past 3 years was not working for me anymore.  I wanted a change and the other person didn’t.  And for three years I let someone elses wants and needs trump my own.  But not anymore.  Walking away was so hard.  But not as hard as staying in an unhealthy friendship.
Long story short, what I’m learning is that it’s ok to care about your own wants and needs…and to do what you have to do to meet them.
I’m allowed to try hard.  I’m allowed to be good at things. Hell, I’m allowed to be bad at things.  I’m allowed to love you too much and tell you about it.  I’m also allowed to tell you why you are hurting my feelings if you are.  I’m allowed to take a break from people who aren’t letting me be me and are constantly trying to put me down to make themselves feel better.  I’m allowed to be who I am, and if someone doesn’t like it, it’s their loss.  I actually think I’m pretty awesome sometimes.
I’m ready  to take some time in 2016 to focus on me, what I want, who I am and who I want to be.

There’s something I’m missing

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“Things which matter most must never be at the mercy of things which matter least.” ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Today is September 19th.  On September 7th, my littlest one turned 5 months old.  And I didn’t even blink an eye.  As a matter of fact, I didn’t even notice the milestone until today when a friend of mine, who had her baby 2 weeks after me, posted that her son was 5 months old today.  My first thought was “Oh!  How cute!”  My next thought was “Shit!  That means Charlie is already 5 months…and I missed it.”

We could blame this conundrum on the fact that she’s number three in a line of little people.  But that’s not the case at all.  It’s not a case of “these milestones don’t mean as much with #3”.  As a matter of fact, it’s the exact opposite.  I should be cherishing these milestones even more BECAUSE she’s number three, and more likely than not, the last of the littles.

But I didn’t.  Because it passed by me unnoticed.  Because once again, life got in the way.

There’s running practice.  And team meetings.  And leadership duties.  And teaching.  And lesson planning.  And mentoring.  And.  And.  And. The list never stops.

I spend more quality time with the students I teach than my own children.  Maybe that’s why this school year seems to suck so much.  I resent these little five year olds for no fault of there own.  I resent them simply because they get my time and MY little ones do not.

There are currently 50 pictures of running practice on my phone.  There are 37 pictures of my students.  There are 2 of my children.  On average I see my children awake for three hours a day.  Three.  And let’s be honest.  These are not quality hours.  During this time I am also making dinner, answering work related texts and emails, packing lunches, giving baths and showers, and trying to divide my already scattered time between 4 people who want my undivided love and attention the minute I walk through the door.

And there are times, I’m not proud to admit, that I pray for an earlier bedtime simple because I have still MORE work to do and I want to start it as soon as possible so I can go to bed before midnight.

Then, there’s the things that I need to do to keep my sanity about all this that I simply haven’t done.  I haven’t run more than once a week since school started.  I just paid for an entire month of the gym without going once.  Ritz crackers are becoming bad habit to break as I snack while I work.  I haven’t read a new book in forever.

I feel like there’s got to be a better way.  There must be something I’m doing wrong.  There HAS to be a way to do it all.

If not, I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do.

Happy 5 month, Charlie bear. Here's hoping I don't miss 6.

Happy 5 months, Charlie bear. Here’s hoping I don’t miss 6.

Self Absorption at it’s Finest

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“I’m selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I’m out of control, and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.” ~Marilyn Monroe

As you may have read before, I gave up Facebook…for a day.  I deleted my account last night and I’ll be reactivating it tonight…but not for reasons you might think.  I thought I was getting too obsessed with Facebook; checking it all the time, always posting, wasting time that I could have been doing other things. I figured that without it I would barely pick up my phone.  Instead you know what happened?  I checked Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, and my email all day.  I have an app that tracks phone usage and I used it the same amount of time as I had been…without Facebook.

What I realized (besides the fact that I’m addicted to my phone itself and probably should do something about it) is that I’m completely self-absorbed and I do have my tiny Facebook break to thank for that a little bit.  Because of this all the time I spend on my phone, you’d think I’d be the most awesome friend ever, always knowing what is going on in the lives of others.  Engaging, relating, conversing. The reality is less than admirable.

I simply use the damn social medial tools to tell everyone all about me.  I over post assuming that everyone wants to hear all the random crap I have to say.  I over scroll because I can’t seem to be left out of anything and need to know what everyone else it do (and even more embarrassingly, why I’m not included).

In a nutshell, it’s all about me.  I’m as self-absorbed as they come.  And it’s downright shameful.

A while ago I lost a friend.  There’s an amazingly long and heartbreaking story behind the whole ordeal that I won’t bore you with now, but essentially we were friends and now we’re not.  I have spent a large amount of time fixated on this friendship wondering what I did to get to this place, wondering what I could do to make it better.  Me, me, me, I, I, I.  During this time other friendships have come and gone and I’ve barely noticed.  How crappy is that?  People sent messages, tried to make plans, were legitimately interested in the goings on in my life.  And yet, here I was making all kinds of effort for someone who basically didn’t give a shit about me.

Which basically equates to me being a giant tool.

I know I tend to push people away.  Yet, I don’t think this is necessarily about that.  I just know I need to be a better friend to the ones I have. And while Facebook is good for the superficial aspect, I need to do a better job of being a friend in “real life”.   I need to engage, work, try, and make an effort.

If not, I may not have anyone left.

What I mean to say is…

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“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them – that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.” ~Lao Tzu

Life has a way

Sometimes, wanting to change

When you don’t know where to start, just start.

Charlie has become obsessed with my phone.  Sometimes I flip through random crap while I’m feeding her because, while I know this is a perfect bonding time, this is also one of the few times I have when more than one kid is not climbing all over my body.  When it started she would simply turn her head towards the light.  Now, she stops eating and begins grabbing at it.  She’s not even four months old yet and already she is falling into the technology trap.

I’ll be the first to admit, I’m addicted to my phone. I’d like say that I mostly use it for music, my running apps, and looking up random crap on Google when my kids need to know something that I don’t know (life span of a cicada anyone?).  But in the interest of full disclosure, that’s a load of crap.  Most of my time is spent checking Facebook.  And I’m pretty ashamed to admit it.

Half the time I don’t even realize I’m doing it.  It’s like my finger is drawn to that little blue icon of its own free will.  I’ll start scrolling through and randomly liking pictures and statues without even realizing what I’m doing.  There’s also the posting, as if I feel that I need to share every little thing with all my “friends”.

And if we’re being really, really honest there’s the Facebook stalking: the checking of statuses, pictures, profiles of people I’m “friends” with (and even those I’m not “friends” with).  What, oh what, have I become?

I compare.  I judge.  I check.  I get depressed by things I learn.  And all of this is ridiculous. It’s Facebook.  Facebook.  I’m getting worked up and sad over freaking Facebook.  I’m a 34 year old high schooler.

I read this great article the other day.  Ironically, it popped up on Facebook.  And three days later I’ve read it 10 times.  I know this is what I need to do.  For me.  For my family.  And even for my marathon training.

The sad thing is, pretty much everyone I interact with on Facebook, I also interact with in the “real world”.  We text, we chat, we hang out.  And yet, I feel like I need the validation of this friendship online as well…and I shouldn’t.

I could just delete that little icon or simply not log in.  But I know that won’t happen.  So I need it gone completely.  Just for a little while.  Just to detox.  A week, maybe two.

I’ll see you on the flip side.

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Self help

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“Remember your name. Do not lose hope – what you seek will be found.” ~Neil Gaiman

For the past couple days I haven’t been able to run and I have felt horribly cranky and awkward, short tempered and short breathed. I know that running has something to do with it.  Without running, I haven’t been myself. But what does that say about me?  Running is so ingrained in who I am that I don’t know who I am without it.  And I need to find out.

I began running as a way to cope with heart break and loss, but without it I feel like I’m right back there again, which means only one thing: I haven’t actually changed.  I’m simply a conglomeration of the old and the new;  a mixed up conundrum of personhood.

At some point down the road I lost my way.

It happened gradually rather than all at one.  A left when I should have gone right.  A zig when I should have zagged.  Staying long on the highway when I should have taken the exit.

And I’ve been here before.

I’ve made so many mistakes.  Mistakes that I know better than to dwell on, but I do anyway.  Mistakes that have made navigating certain roads impossible, almost as if my car was on autopilot.  I see myself making decisions, knowing they are bad ones, and yet I make them anyway.  I know what I am supposed to be doing and I don’t.

I need to get out of the woods.  I need to find my path.  I need to return to me.

I’m lost.  And I’m not sure if I can be found.

Being-lost

This is for all the lonely people…

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“Being alone is very difficult.” ~Yoko Ono

Marathon training is not only hard, but it’s lonely.  I don’t think it’s something you can truly understand until you go through it yourself.  I have friends that have run marathons so I thought I got it.  I most certainly did not.

I remember being out with friends, begging them to have one more drink, one more bite, one more anything, and scoffing when they said they couldn’t.  Of course they can, I thought.   They’re just being (insert word here).  And of course, that’s when you could get them out at night.  Because most times, you can’t. Now I know, though, that you can’t eat one more bite, because it might be the thing that puts you over the edge during your run that evening.  And you can’t always have another drink or go out at all because you have to get up at 4 am to run X number of miles.

I know all this now.  And it sucks.

What I need is someone to say “Let’s stay in and watch a movie tonight because I know you have a long run tomorrow.”  Or “Here, have some water with lemon to hydrate for your run in the morning.” Or how about someone to tell me to put down the fucking cupcake or smack the Ritz crackers out of my hand.

But I don’t have a person like that.  I don’t have a partner in crime for this adventure.

It’s hard to go through this alone and I wish, now, I would have been more understanding of my friends that have gone through it before me.

Balance is key, in all aspects of training, and I have to admit I’m doing a terrible job.  I’m either too serious or not serious enough.  Eating everything in the house or nothing at all.  Running all the miles or hardly any.

And now that I’m injured, I am feeling all of this times 10.  I know I need to rest, but I know I can’t not run.  And no one gets it.

It’s officially 100 days until the marathon.  I just have to make it through and then everything will go back to normal, right?

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In all seriousness

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“One must be serious about something, if one wants to have any amusement in life.” ~Oscar Wilde

I don’t know what it is, but I can’t seem to push myself.  I seem quite content at being complacent these days.

I’m supposed to be running a marathon in 5 months and I’m training for it like it’s a 5k, allowing myself to make excuses to cut runs short.  I’d probably skip them altogether if it weren’t for this run streak.

I think maybe I’m not allowing myself to be serious about it so I have a reason to fail.  That if I’m not ready for it I won’t have to do it.  If I can’t finish it it’s because I wasn’t ready for it.

I think maybe I’m not allowing myself to be serious about this because I’m too concerned about what other people think.  The whole “You’re training for a marathon?  You?” pops into my head quite frequently when I imaginarily tell people about it.

I seem to always allow my life to be dictated by the thought of these “others”, people who I’m sure are judging me because I’ve probably judged them at some point.  I try to be positive, but my thoughts are always so negative, especially the ones that I’ve directed at myself.

I need to remind myself that it’s OK to be serious about this and to take myself seriously.  Even if no one else thinks so, I have to believe that I can do this.

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