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My Latent Love (an old post about Oliver)

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

Here is a post a wrote about Ollie in January 2012 on an older blog.  I loved it so much I felt like I needed to share it again…

My little O is about to turn one in just twelve short days.  I have really been reflecting on this lately because, as I look back, I can’t believe how far we’ve come and what we’ve overcome together.

M has always been considered and probably always will be considered my little miracle baby.  Born after 2 losses, arriving almost six weeks early, it was hard not to love him at first sight.  This was something I had worked so hard to obtain, not just for for nine months, but for the three years before he was born as well.  He looked exactly like me and we were inseparable since our first day together.   And, in all honesty, we still are.  We are two peas in a pod, cut from the same cloth.  Our personalities are so in sync that at times it is hard to figure out where I end and he begins.  There is, of course, a bond between father and son, but not quite like the one we share.

In opposition, being pregnant with O felt like a chore.  I know it had  a lot to do with having a toddler already, having to keep it a secret because we lived with my in laws at the time, and spending all my time worrying about where we were going to live, how we were going to pay for things, etc, but still I wanted it to be over.  I was ready for him to be born and ready to get the “parenting two under two” show going.

When he was born, he was absolutely perfect in every way a baby could be, but I was still worried.  Not about him because he was everyone’s favorite, but about M and how we would take it.  I know I should have been more worried about O, trying to spend more time with him, but I felt like, for some reason, he didn’t need me as much.  He had daddy, and the grandparents, everyone fawning all over him and all I could think about was how to make sure M was included in all of the newness and excitement.

I know moms that will sugar coat things and say that bringing a new baby into the fold was easy and natural, but I’m not going to lie.  From the minute we walked in that door and we were all left alone it was hard.  Taking care of two in a tiny house was insane.  Having no income at all while on maternity leave was a nightmare.  O was sick a lot and in turn we were all sick.  My sleep suffered.  My marriage suffered, everything seemed to be changing and I really wasn’t ready for it to.

My siblings and I are completely different, so I don’t know why I thought that O would be easy just like his brother.  There were/are so many differences, even from the beginning.  O wanted a lot of attention.  He loved to be held and be around people, especially his brother.  He was noisy and cried a lot and ate a lot, and was a terrible sleeper (still is!)

But with all of that came his smile, his huge blue eyes, and his ability to find joy and laugh at everything.  My day doesn’t feel complete if O isn’t up to say goodbye to me in the morning.  No matter what kind of day I am having, seeing him run to greet me when I come home with that huge smile on his face is all I need to change my day around completely.  He is definitely daddy’s boy, through and through, but I know we have something too, a connection that only a mom and son could have.  It may have taken a little while, but now I realize that I would not be able to function if he were not here with us.  He is the puzzle piece in the middle…the one without which you have no idea what the picture actually is, the one that keeps everyone together.

At first I felt guilty about these feelings I had, like I wasn’t a good enough mother for some reason because my heart did not burst full of love the minute I conceived, but I know that I shouldn’t.  My love for O grew a little bit each day and I know that even now it is not done growing.  Today I can say I love him to the moon and back, but that’s just because we don’t know what they will discover past the moon in the future.

What the hell am I doing?

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“Bottom line is, even if you see ’em coming, you’re not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So what are we, helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are gonna come. You can’t help that. It’s what you do afterwards that counts. That’s when you find out who you are.” ~Joss Whedon

I had my formal observation at school today.  Normally I am nervous and fret about it for days on end.  I can’t sleep the night before, I stay late in my classroom every night cleaning and getting ready, I spend hours writing my lesson plan.  Not this time.  I spent maybe 20 minutes on my lesson plan, stayed maybe an hour later the night before cleaning up and slept like drunk (though I was not) last night.

You might think it was because in the four years I have been working in public schools I have learned a lot, gained more confidence, and understand the value of growing as a teacher.  You might think it is because I have a complete understanding of my students and their needs, and what I, as their teacher, need to do to meet those needs.  You might even think that I’m simply amazing at my job so there was never a need to worry in the first place.

None of this is true.  Not one bit of it.

The fact of the matter is I simply don’t care.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I am pretty good at my job.  My children learn.  Everyone is alive at the end of the day.  I still continue to go above and beyond what is expected of me.  But really, I think it’s because those things are ingrained in me.  I have a strong work ethic.  I will never just quit and walk away when other people are counting on me, nor will I simply not do what I am getting paid to do.  But I just don’t care anymore.  I don’t really like teaching.

I was at an Arts Everyday meeting with a friend the other day (on my own time, not getting paid) and we were listening to this person behind us who was obviously new, or at least relatively new, to teaching.  He was going on and on about all these programs he wanted to start, how he’s in it for the kids, basically that this job and the children in his class are his reason for getting up every morning; his reason for living.  All I could think was that this is a clear sign that I shouldn’t be doing this job anymore.  None of these things applied to me.  Yes, I used to be that idealistic and love my job and love my kids.  Pretty much as recently as last year I knew (thought) that this is what I was meant to be doing and I couldn’t see myself doing anything else ever.

But things have changed.  Something in me has changed.

I don’t like waking up every morning spending my day with this eager little people.  In fact, most days I loathe it.  I hate the fact that I spend more time with (and on) these children than I do my own.  I hate the fact that my children get the brunt of my bad days because I’ve listened to whining and tattling all day so when I get home I literally explode when my own children do it.  I’m upset over the fact that I used to have so much idealism, used to believe I could “be the change you wish to see in the world” and now I’m just happy if I make it through the day without having to call a parent and pray none of them text me for some insane reason.

But mostly, I simply hate the fact that I don’t care.  I wish I liked my job.  But not liking it has lead to not caring and really, it’s not fair.  It’s not fair to me because I am miserable.  It’s not fair to the people around me who I make miserable because they have to deal with me being miserable.  It’s not fair to the kids who really, for the most part, didn’t do anything wrong.  It’s not fair to the teachers who don’t have a job, because I’m selfishly taking this one and I don’t even want it.

So, really, what does all this mean?  I means I need to look for a new job.  I mean really and truly look for a new job.  No more thinking I’m going to and then getting lazy because I make pretty good money and have great benefits.  Frankly, it’s not worth it anymore.  I have to stop sacrificing my happiness.  Ever since the end of last year, ever since the summer, I feel like I have been simply going through the motions, not being completely here or there.  It’s like I’ve been holding on to something I shouldn’t have, been waiting for someone or something else to come along and make this decision or change for me. And I have to stop.  I have to let go.  I have to move on from whatever it is.

I have to grow up, put on my big girl panties, and make some real choices.

How am I going to be an optomist about this?

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“That inner voice has both gentleness and clarity.  So to get to authenticity, you really keep going down to the bone, to the honesty, and the inevitability of something.” ~Meredith Monk
 
I almost started this blog post with “Let me preface this with” but I feel like I’m always starting each post with that.  As if I need to have a preemptive explanation for each of my actions.  When, in actuality, what you see is what you get and that should be good enough for anyone.
 
In the spirit of staying consistent though, let me preface this post by saying that I’m pretty drunk.  And I don’t mean glass of wine drunk, I mean bottle of wine drunk.  So, really, I should probably reread this in the morning because in all actuality I have no idea what I am actually writing. I have so many thoughts running my through my head that I don’t even know what I am thinking right now.  This is so different from my usual “wine-drunk” self where I get giddy-excited and then sleepy.    Right now I am a jumble of emotions and feelings, and frankly, they are somewhat clarifying. 
 
I hate to do things in lists an bullet points, but I think, at this stage of the game, that’s what I need to do.
 
  • I’ve done many things in the past few months that I regret.  Things I shouldn’t have done, things I shouldn’t have dabbled in.  While they have made me not like certain aspects of myself, they have also brought me to where I need to be at this point, so my regrets really do have a positive outcome.  I just need to stop thinking of these things as regrets and start thinking of them as stops along the way to fulfillment.
  • Because of so many choices I have made over the past couple months, I feel like my family has been neglected.  I realize, I’ve made the choice to neglect them, but it doesn’t stop the hurt I feel about making them second in my life.  I need to do better.  There is nothing else that I need to say.  I simply need to be a better family member.
  • Jealousy, especially the jealousy I have felt over the past few months, has eaten me alive at times.  I have never really been a jealous person and I don’t know why it has been affecting me the way it does.  Is my ego bruised?  Am I feeling used?  even more so, am I just feeling unimportant?  I’m sure it is a combination of all of these factors, but I really hate feeling jealous of others.  That whole feeling of thinking that if I were simply someone else my life would be better is bullshit.  It doesn’t suit me well.
  • I’ve been feeling kind of stupid (for lack of a better word) lately because I wasted SO MUCH TIME on people who rarely made the time for me.  Why the hell did I do that?  I have no idea, but really, I can’t believe my self-esteem would be so low as to need to validate my worth through others.  Yet, that’s exactly what I did.  I spent so much time making mountains out of mole hills.  Making myself believe I was more important to people than I actually was, that I started to believe I was only as important as special as THEY made me out to be.  How sad.
  • It’s definitely time for a new job.  I love working in education.  I love working for the betterment of the families of East Baltimore (at least the ones that WANT to move forward) but I don’t know if the classroom is the place for me to be.  I feel like I need to work for a non-profit, or start a non-profit, or something!  But there has go to be something more than this.  This can not be where my career ends up.  I simply won’t let it.

I guess, except for the fact that I simply hate myself for not running this week, that’s it. 

There are no words left, I feel like I’ve said them all.  And I guess that’s better than them eating me up inside.

I guess.

Playing it safe…

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“Waiting is painful.  Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering.” ~Paulo Coelho

It’s funny.  I feel like I should write, but I’m not quite sure what to write about.  Sometimes I don’t even know that I’m thinking certain thoughts until they spill out onto the page as I type.  I finished my third 5K today and, to me, that is a pretty big accomplishment.  But still, I don’t know if that is what I want to write about.  I’m at a point where I don’t know if the problem is that I have nothing in my head or everything.

What I do know is that I’m tired of waiting.  But even then, I’m not sure what I’m waiting for.  A sign?  Something that tells me what direction I take at the fork in the road.  I’m always looking for something to tell me which direction to choose or which path to take: a certain time on a clock, finding a heads up penny, even my horoscope at times (ironically enough, my horoscope today tells me that if I have a particular issue on my mind, I shouldn’t wait for a better moment to get it out into the open). I feel like I am always at a “fork in the road”.  Each decision has it’s own set of benefits and consequences and really, you can’t know what they are until you make the decision.  So I spend time debating and agonizing and worrying so much that I create more problems and situations than there actually are.

I think one of my problems is that I don’t take enough risks and tend to not put myself “out there” as much as I could or should.  I tend to play it safe, thinking that if I don’t make a choice or a move either a. someone will make it for me, or b. nothing happens and I am no worse off than I was before.  Plus, what happens if I do put myself out there and it turns out to be the wrong decision or a mistake?  Or even worse, I am somehow rejected?  Sometimes I feel like my fragile ego just won’t be able to handle it.

I tend to write all these posts about how I need to jump in, make grand gestures, simply make choices and decisions, and yet that’s all they are…words on a page.  I don’t actually DO any of that.  I write about doing it, but never take action.  It all sounds so amazing and profound when I write it down and for a while I actually contemplate taking action, real action, within my life.  And then I get scared. And the worst part?  The really worst part?  Is that I am a giant hypocrite.  I tend to judge people for not following through when they complain about the direction of their life and yet I do the same thing.

At what point will I allow myself to make the first phone call, take the first step, or tell someone what I really want instead of going along with someone else’s plans?  At what point will I allow myself to walk away from situations instead of clinging to a hope that maybe, one day, it will get better?  At what point will I just DO SOMETHING instead of standing still?

At what point will I allow myself to jump, knowing that it’s just as likely that I land on my feet unscathed as it is I break my legs?

Fear and (self) loathing

/ Cassie / 2 Comments

“Everything happens for a reason, but sometimes the reason is because you’re stupid and make bad choices.”

I tend to be over analytical in most aspects of my life.  I weigh pros and cons before making decisions.  Each choice I engage in tends to be calculated and the safest, most restrained, choice usually wins out.  It’s all very responsible.

Until it’s not.  Because, let’s face it.  There are always those choices that we make that seem to express the sentiment “What the Fuck?”  I mean, I know at least for me, I can physically see myself making the wrong choice and I do absolutely nothing to stop it.  I somehow assume that THIS TIME things will be different.  THIS TIME it will work out for the better rather than for the worst.

And you know what?  It never does.  I make this decision that I KNOW is the wrong one.  I KNOW nothing good will come of it.  And I do it anyway.  And then do you know what happens?  I go into a fit of depressive self loathing.

Why the hell is it that I can get my butt up almost every morning at 4:45 am to run before teaching elementary school children in East Baltimore but can’t stop myself eating that one food, drinking that one drink, sending that one text, saying that one thought?  Does it all come down to willpower? Or is it something else?

I really have improved in so many areas over the course of just the few weeks I have been running.  I am happier.  I have more confidence, I am working towards fixing things that need to be fixed.  I love the way my life is going…and yet…I still can’t stop myself from doing certain things I know will hurt me in the long run (FYI: I am not a drug addict, secret cutter, alcoholic, or anything else lifetime made a movie about).  What am I missing?  What else can I do?  I need to make better choices, even if I don’t want to at the time.

End teenage-girl-though-I’m-really-32 rant.

What About Me?

/ Cassie / 1 Comment

“Be miserable.  Or motivate yourself.  Whatever has to be done, it’s always your choice.” ~Wayne Dyer

I started this summer as I start every summer…with great plans.  I was going to accomplish so much.  The house was going to be cleaned and organized. I was going to go to the gym every day.  I was going to work with Max on his writing and Ollie on his…demoness stubborn personality.  I was going to read great books and write great things.  I was going to plan for the next school year.  All my centers would be made in advance.

I was going to do great things this summer.

Here’s what I have actually accomplished: I read two books, organized the toys in Max’s closet, and gone to the gym a smattering of times.

All I can really say is “what the hell happened?!?!?!?!?”

I have been extremely lazy, and probably downright selfish, this summer and I really don’t like it.  I was supposed to make positive contributions to myself and my family and I have done nothing.

Fortunately, the best advice anyone ever gave me was that every every day, every hour, every minute is new…a time in which you can be reborn.

So tonight I signed up for the next Color Run in Baltimore (to be held in November).  And tomorrow I will make my way back to the gym.

And each day I will accomplish something else because I can.  I’m fortunate to know that I have the time to do this while others don’t.  I am one of the lucky ones.

It’s time to get back on track.  I can do this.

I have to do this.

Can we really have it all?

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“You only live once.  But if you do it right, once is enough.” ~Mae West

I started another post a few days ago on the idea of unconventionality in life.  It’s so scattered and messy right now, that it’s not ready to be posted, but I hope that I can post it soon.  With my dad passing and the school year ending within the last week, I have been very contemplative about life in general and while writing that post my thoughts began to spiral.  My insomnia is back, so I have been awake, hours each night, just laying in bed with my mind wandering all over the place and I can’t seem to make sense of any of it.

So much has been happening in the past few days, weeks, even months, that I am having trouble processing what it all means within the realm of my life.  I feel completely turned around, with no idea if I am coming or going, or simply sitting still.  And with no real production or work that has to take place during the day, since I am off for the summer, I am feeling quite lost.

If you know me in real life, you already know that I am not good at compromise.   It’s either this way or that way but it can’t be both.  In the simplest definition, I tend to be an extremist.  I usually go from far left to far right with no stops in the middle. I tend to be going either 100 miles per hour, or at a complete snails pace.

I’ve often battled with the conflicting ideologies of “you only live once” and “you can’t always get what you want” going back and forth between them.  Depending on my day, or mood, I always seem to be either completely for one or the other.  Are there times when one is more appropriate than the other?  Do I choose one based on convenience?  Is it “YOLO” when I want to be selfish and “You can’t always get what you want” when I feel like being a responsible adult?  I wish I could just pick one and decide to live my life that way.  Consistency is key and at this point I am so far removed from it that I literally can’t even think in a straight line.

At what point does “you only live once” simply become a cop-out for taking the easy way out?  Can we really have our cake and eat it too?  When is it ok to be selfish and when is it not?  What if our actions, while making us happier and more fulfilled, hurt the ones we love?  At what point should we just accept the wonderful things we have: a roof over our heads, family, friends, a good job, health insurance, and stop bitching about happiness, being fulfilled, finding a purpose?

Can we really have it all and, really, should we even be trying to?

Judgment Day

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“There are many things that people do happily that I can’t imagine why they would do it.  But I have to say that even though I am critical or judgmental of society at large, I’m not critical of people individually.  We are who we are.” ~Ian MacKaye

After my dad died, I felt the need to go a little crazy.  That’s not true, I had been feeling this way for a few weeks now, but this was the excuse I needed to let it happen.  I needed to feel alive, to feel like I was doing something exciting and different even if the decisions I made were ultimately stupid.  No matter what I did, I was ready to face any consequences my actions may have.

Luckily, I have the best friends who were willing to help me out on this little endevour.  Our end of year staff party was coming up and this was the perfect avenue for us to let our hair down and end the school year with a bang.

We decided to have a “judgment free” night.  No matter what happened, none of us would be allowed to judge the others, or talk about one with another, etc.  We hugged on it, took a jell-o shot on it, and pinky promised that we would not think badly of each other, or at the very least, if we did, we would keep those judgey thoughts to ourselves.

Long story short, a lot of fun was had and a lot of craziness ensued.  It was exactly what I needed and while no boats were stolen, I don’t regret a thing about that night.  It wasn’t until I was driving around the next day that I realized there was something wrong with the night.  Then it hit me.

Why the hell did we have to plan a “judgement free night”?  Why did we have to pinky swear and promise that we weren’t going to judge either?  As friends, pretty close friends, shouldn’t we already be doing that?  Shouldn’t we simply be supporting our friends in the decisions that they make instead of spending that time judging their lives and their actions?

What drives us (as women, as a society) to judge others so often?  Is it jealousy?  The desire to always be right or have things our way?  That when we identify what we feel to be a “mistake” or “lapse of judgement” in someone else, our life begins to look better or more put together?

I wish I could say that I wasn’t judgmental, but I am guilty of this as well.  And need to stop.  Like, really need to stop.  But how do you do that?  Not talking about people is one thing,but how do you tell your brain to stop having those thoughts to begin with?

And because I judge, I know other’s judge.  And because of this, I don’t know if I am ever truly honest with anyone.  I tend to keep a lot to myself, “secrets” about myself that, while I don’t care if others know, I simply don’t want to be judged by this information nor do I want the information passed on from person to person without my consent.

It’s a sickening feeling, being scared to be yourself or say what you really think simply in order to avoid judgement.

I wonder how much time I would free up in my life if I was not only able to stop judging, but also stop having anxiety over being judged.

Maybe, one day, I’ll be able to find out.

On Loss

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“Stand there dance with a memory. The caption reads, “It’s all over now.” ~Appleseed Cast

I guess I should start with the short version.  My father is dying.  Was that too blunt?  I don’t really know what to say or how to say it in a nicer way; tiptoeing around the subject as though it will make it better.  Due to years and years of healthy issues, and psychological issues, emotional issues, mental issues (you get it) he is currently in hospice and only has days left, in the best possible case.

I could focus on the bad things, that’s always so easy to do because they bring forth the most feeling and pain, hurt and regret, anger and animosity.  But I’ll try not to.

Bottom line, he wasn’t always very nice to me, and this is putting it in the best way possible, but everything he did or said made me who I am today, and I kind of like me.

Bottom line, he wasn’t always the best father, but there are times, distinct memories that are good, that I can believe he really cared: coaching t-ball, going to the beach, teaching me to play cards. I will choose to hold on to these things and remember them when things get too dark.

Bottom line: there were times when I down-right hated him and not in a normal teenage angst kind of way; in a grown-up unhealthy kind of way.  But hate is not the opposite of love, not caring is, so essentially I still cared.  I still had feelings and emotions surrounding this man and this relationship, which, in a small way, means I was still living and still willing to fight for something.

I’ve been handling things as best I could, trying not to fall apart or dwell on the past, but my insomnia has come back and I am not getting much sleep.  At night I don’t have anyone or anything to occupy my thoughts and that’s when the worry and anxiety sets in.  I am most worried about my younger brothers, who essentially had a different father than I did and their grief is so much more profound and raw than I feel mine to be.

I’ve been feeling like my skin is too tight, like I’m itching to do something, anything to rebel against this and to prove that I am still very much alive, even when surrounded by all this death.  I need to break free, go crazy, at least just for a short amount of time, to prove that there is something still left in me.

Do we all have things we wish we would have said or done before it was too late?  Yes, of course, but I feel like in this situation, I wish I could say things to simply make him feel better about moving on.  I want to tell him that I hope wherever he is or wherever he is going he finds the peace within himself that he couldn’t find here with us.

Does any of this really matter?  I feel like I have made my peace with it, and while I can talk about it, I don’t hold on to it, or feel (overly) bitter or harbor feelings that are going to weigh me down for the rest of my life.  At the end of the day he was my dad and no one else in the world can make that claim.

And that’s got to mean something.

Choices…we have to make them.

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“In the long run, we shape our lives, and we shape ourselves.  The process never ends until we die.  And the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility.” ~Eleanor Roosevelt

The saying goes that there is nothing certain except death and taxes.  I’d like to add something to that.  Nothing is certain except death, taxes and choices.  We face them every day.  Sometimes they’re easy to make, sometimes they’re hard, and sometimes they down right suck.  I usually loathe making choices.  I’m always certain I’ve made the wrong one and usually agonize about making them for longer than necessary.

I’ve been very proud of myself lately.  I’ve been taking my choices in stride; knowing that each choice comes with their own set of consequences, both good and bad.  I can choose to eat this or that.  I can choose to work out or not.  I can choose to get worked up or calm the f*** down.

Today was my non-gym day.  With no kids at home the husband and I ordered out…Chinese.  These types of decisions usually stress me out.  What should I eat?  What is the healthiest?  Is there even a point or should I go all out and say “screw it”? I know you’re dying to know what I got, but technically, it’s irrelevant.  I made the choice, owned the choice, and in no way regretted the choice.

About an hour later I had a hankering to go to the gym.  I don’t know why, but I’ve learned when the mood strikes, own it or you’ll regret it later. I convinced an awesome friend to join me (Hi Jane!) and was so happy I decided to go.  I ran faster than I did on Monday and while I only burned 350 calories, that’s 350 calories more than I would burn sitting on my ass and watching TV (or writing this blog post).

I’m not only proud of the choices I have been making lately, but more proud of the fact that I am owning them.  What I am learning to do is make the best choice I can for me.  If I go to the gym, that’s a choice I made.    If I eat a cookie, that’s a choice I make (because sometimes you just need a damn cookie).

And really, doing what I know to be my best I can is all I can ask of me.  And I’m pretty proud of that.

Plus, it doesn’t hurt that today I realized I can now bend over and touch not just my toes but the FLOOR without bending my knees.  That, in itself, is an awesome victory…no matter what choice I made today.

And really, we all know, personal victories; the ones that only matter to us, are the best!