How?

How does anyone begin to find the chutzpah they need to do the thing(s) that need(s) to be done? Where does the feeling self-confidence come from when everything has been ground down to a pulp? Where does self-worth come from when the original source has been cut-off?

I don’t know who I am right now.

I used to be a teacher.

But who am I when I’m not a teacher? What do I do? What do I stand for? What do I excel in?

Last night I was watching an old clip-video of Britain’s Got Talent. And it hit me that I won’t be at the director’s table this coming year. I won’t get to find those kids hiding inside of themselves and show them to trust and believe in themselves because they are so strong and beautiful and cool and inventive. And I got really sad.

This whole not-going-back-in-the-Fall thing has been a cognitive exercise for the most part up until now. But now, as the school year looms closer, reality is starting to set in. Combined with absence of depended-on paychecks and health care that is soon going to lapse….. I feel like such a loser.

I’ve sent in my resume and cover letters to so many companies. 85% of them have come back with a ‘Thanks, but we’re going in a different direction.’ I have a small sliver of apps still out there, and I am just hoping against hope that there is someone out there who will take a chance on me.

In my head, I know that I am killer. I’ve got creative skills up the wazoo, great at organizing and scheduling, can lead a team, can teach and fill in the gaps where I need to, I love researching, I love writing copy and creating layout designs and graphics…. But no one will take a second look at me it feels. What are these decades of experience worth?

I feel like a nobody.

Which is weird and strange and horribly uncomfortable.

My job always defined me because I invested every part of myself into it. Because I loved it. Because it made me a better person in all the ways.

And now I’m just a blob who has to spin a light story to the outside world, all while feeling railroaded and sabotaged by people who never truly valued me from the beginning.

I know I’m not who they say I am, but it’s hard creating valuable meaning when I feel so alone. I would love a fairy godmother to pop by and notice me, pick me up, dust me off, and set me down the next path complete with twinkle lights.

Where I’m at now feels dark and confusing and disorienting. I’m worried about my family and money, and especially my kids. And my sense of self is skewed by their years of abuse and mismanagement. I know I’m a great educator and director, but I feel like a husk of myself. Their months of gaslighting have cut me down.

I don’t feel like myself. I am not myself. Not sure where to go nor what to do.

Dear Universe,

Send help.

-HM.

Oscillation.

My usual summer routine of being thoroughly productive one day and then completely not the next is in full-swing, so to speak.

However, the compounded questions of Who am I? What do I want? What do I see myself doing or being? …. They’re all loud and unnervingly empty at the moment. Devoid of answers.

Or, on the other hand, I have too many answers and not sure where to start. I’m applying to jobs even though I’m not sure they’re the right fit, or if I’m the right fit for them. I have a few children’s books written that need packaging, and possibly an agent? And/or I would love to write a book or a series I’ve got in mind. And I’d like to take some classes in PhotoShop so that I become more marketable and knowledgeable moving forward with art direction and design, etc.

And I need to make some money in the short-term, so then my focus goes there.

I don’t know. I feel like I’m swinging from idea to idea, but not tethering myself to any one thing.

I would love for one of these ideas to come back and prove to me that this is the right choice. You know? A confirmation that, “Hey, this is the way!” would be especially appreciated.

It’s scary looking out into the the unknown. The true, true unknown. Is this what 20-somethings feel as they’re floundering and grasping? …. I suppose the life-lesson is that it can happen at any age and to anyone.

I always felt so lucky to have found my passion at such an early age. It was the exact, right thing. And I was fucking great at it.

But now that it’s gone, maybe there will be something new. Something I hadn’t even imagined or anticipated. (And a note to say I know I could turn around and hop back into the education world, but I am bruised and hurt. I just don’t have it in me to trust another administration right now. I know I am a good teacher, but the rest of me is so pummeled, I just don’t feel able to.)

I’m meeting with a friend today to talk about his career and journey, which hit a similar What now?? sort of moment. I’m looking forward to hearing what he has to share. He’s brilliant and thoughtful and kind.

And I think – I know – I’m just scared. Scared of the unknown. Scared to make a misstep. So scared, that it’s hard to make any steps. I feel like I’m shuffling along. In bunny slippers and mismatched socks.

So, heya. I am doing my best to keep keeping on…. Popping in here is a lift and helps the up&down thoughts to subside or quiet for the moment, so thanks for being there, Friends.

-HM.

Lightning Strike(s).

Lightning strike.

And then the air around that bolt expaaaaaands.

There’s room.

And space.

And that’s what I keep catching myself in.

Those little moments.

Quick seconds of time…. expaaaaaanded.

And do you know what I’m doing in those hidden-now-revealed moments?

I’m pouring water into a bottle and putting it in the fridge for my husband to drink tomorrow.

I’m stopping and talking to our cats. Petting them. (They look so bewildered.)

I put away last night’s ice packs into the freezer and then take out the new ones for tonight and give one to each of my children.

I brush my teeth… and ONLY brush my teeth. No phone in my hand. Not trying to get my coffee prepped for the morning. Not loading the dishwasher. Just sitting. And brushing my fucking beautiful, yellow, sort-of-oddly-shaped teeth.

?

??

???

Who knew these moments existed??!?

I mean, holy shit!

They’re marvelous.

Just these tiny little moments.

When my brain can sit and be still. Focused on This Moment.

All by itself.

I want to have a life full of moments like this.

I didn’t know, or else I didn’t remember that these moments are possible. That these moments are a thing.

I love them.

I love them so much.

And I love discovering I’m in one all while in the midst of being in one.

Eureka!

-HM.

Moving.

The oddest feelings come over me during the days. I have so many questions I want answered and so many possibilities floating just out in front of me, unclear and unknown. I don’t know if it’s out of self-preservation or avoidance or my internal self knowing what I need right now in this moment, but I look at the thing in front of me and I do that. Or, as is often the case, I want to do something (for example: run on the elliptical, or sew and use my ironing board), but the place in which I would Do the Thing is cluttered and taken up with various things that have been thrown or piled up over the past year or years. So instead of Doing the Thing, I sink my hands into the Work of cleaning and getting Shit Done.

It feels good.

Really, really good.

And now, after a few days of digging the garage out and then the basement, I find that I can be in those spaces more freely.

And I know there’s work to be done on the inside. I know it. I can feel it. But right now, getting the shit done in the world around me feels almost just as important, if not moreso. (I still think that should be a word, so I’m writing it like one.) I feel like my family has been along for this ride with me, and as such, we are all sort of coming out of the slog or the marathon or whatever it is. The grind?

There’s usually a moment in the summer when I can get back to zero and do similar things to what I’m doing now. But when I did those things in the past, I was resetting for the year to come. I was cleaning up the mess of accumulated shit from not having enough time to care for our family, knowing that I was committing to going back and doing it all again.

But now?

Now I am picking up these pieces and wondering about the possibility of not falling so far behind again. Scared of not knowing what sort of job I will find, nor sure of what sort of job I even want to find just yet, but giving myself permission of hoping for a job that won’t steal my Life.

Looking back at previous posts, I LOVE being a teacher and a director. That hasn’t changed. However, looking back and seeing and feeling the harm done by my administration is real. As I was going through it, I was just bearing it and just getting through it, hopeful that help would come. Hopeful that my appeals for care and consideration would be heard and then responded to.

But that never happened.

Words happened.

But no action was ever taken to actively help me. — And this was just regarding my main responsibilities. I was working between 185-200%, but no one actually understood that, nor did they seem to believe me when I laid it all out for them. It was my job to make it look easy, so no help ever came. Ever.

Add to that the personnel issue and the gaslighting of the past two years and I have been pulverized.

The job by itself was demanding and difficult. Especially so because I was Alone. In so many, many ways. Alone.

Fuck.

And then the personnel issue. Handled with complete bias. No curiosity. No consideration. No one with any actual personnel training. Everyone involved was a stakeholder, and/or held a position of power. The situation was impossible. And it made my actual job all the more impossible.

But I did it.

And I did it fucking well.

…. So all this mistreatment piled up, which led to piles and piles of shit piling up in and around our house. We were all just trying to get from day to day, so there was no time nor energy given to the Stuff. And I’m realizing that means both the stuff in and around me.

Until now.

Which feels good.

As I slowly get these physical pieces to move around me, I am finding spaces inside slowly cracking and opening. I have no idea what I will find. I’m trying to be patient because there are years of hard, protective layers that have built up. I can feel them rumble against one another. Not free and clear, but moving.

Incrementally.

It’s Good.

-HM.

Begin Again.

Hey, there.

I’ve lost a lot of myself over the past two years, and during the past few months especially. I’ve been knocked down and smashed to bits by gaslighting-in-the-guise-of-private-organization-HR. I’m hurt and sad and damaged and pissed off.

On top of just the basic mind-fuckery of it all, I’m making a career change after 20+ years in the educational world. It’s all I’ve ever known and all I really know myself to be. So the “Who am I?” question rears up pretty loud and demanding at the moment.

I’ve been circling the idea of writing this blig-blag-blog for a few weeks now, knowing that just getting the thoughts down will help me process a lot of what the hell is happening. There are lots of possible threads and paths to wander down as I search and question and try-on-for-size and do, so having a space to catch my thoughts and ideas as I go along will be helpful and encouraging.

Above all, I really want to get back to Me again. I want to get rid of the trauma I’ve collected over these years – shed it and get it the hell out of my body. While doing so, I’d also like to reconnect with who I am and all the things that I love so that I can walk forward more whole and sure of myself.

Anyone else out there? Anyone want to join my gaslightees-anonymous team? Coffee’s ready.

Alright, folks, it’s begun.

-HM.

p.s. I started a side-blog thinking I needed a new platform, but instead, I’m going to walk through it all here. The focus of this blog may, and probably will, shift as I slog through this malarkey, but that’s okay. I realized the other day that trauma-from-gaslighting is absolutely a monster, so this is as good a place as any to break it down and go through it.

p.p.s. The new blog was going to be called I’m good. You may see that phrase pop up more regularly as I circle the friendly reminder, while also working to reestablish my boundaries. I’m good. No more of that shit, thank you very much, Jerry. (Name that adorable 70s British sitcom.)