I am feeling overwhelmed on so many levels. The threat of becoming ill and the world shutting down this spring due to the Corona virus global pandemic effected me deeper than I thought. Even before this pandemic I took time off work because I was mentally stretched. I was tired and unfocused and confused. I felt like I was operating in a fog. I couldn't get myself together. Maybe my mind and body were preparing me for a shift.
I am tired. I'm tired of being tired. These past few days, weeks, months have worn on my soul. Worn on my very being. I have been trying to release each thing only to be hit by something else soon after.
This pandemic has made me reevaluate my sense of self. I am a people person. I am good in person. I am not an online instructor. Technology has scared me for a very long time. I am completely out of my comfort zone. I am also failing at being a good home teacher for my baby. Her sleep schedule is completely off, she's not actively engaging in classwork or zoom meetings and I feel like I just can't fight with her. I also see how hard staying in the house is for her. Not being around her friends and being active. I feel like I am failing to keep her educated, engaged, active and learning.
My students are struggling to stay engaged. I feel so incredibly sad for the end of the year. I reign over this part of the year. I get so much joy and satisfaction from organizing graduation, senior week, college decision day and all of the end of year events for our seniors. Curating memories that will impact the rest of their lives. I feel like my kids were robbed. I went into full blown mourning when they announced that school was over for the rest of the year. I didn't realize how much meaningfulness and self worth I tied to the end of the school year and all the special moments. I had to set aside time for myself to deal with the emotions I have around all of it. Mrs. Martin represents all of that.
In the midst of all this one of my daughter/students got in a car accident after picking her brother up from college. She was seriously injured and he was killed in the crash. It was 9AM on a Saturday the day before EID. They weren't doing anything wrong. They both were college kids. Raised in a two parent home. A family that reminded me of mine so much. I told her frequently that her mother was one that I aspired to be like. We ran into her and her mom at Target on our wedding anniversary and talked for a while. I always admired her mother and how close their family was. When I got the phone call all I could think about was her and then her parents. I know how we value our family. The life that we want for our kids. We make all the "right" decisions so that our kids can be safe and to give them the life they deserve. We move to the right neighborhoods, put them in the right schools, we put them in activities, support them in all decisions good and bad. We work hard at our jobs to give them good examples and have a loving healthy marriage to model for them. And an accident can take one of our kids away in a flash. It is so unfair. For everyone. My heart literally broke talking to her at midnight while she lay in the hospital alone. She was broken and I was broken for her and her entire family. I felt and feel awful. At the balloon release I watched my husband tear up thinking about what it's like as a father to lose a son. I watched him see himself in her father as he talked about the bond, life and legacy of his 23 year old son. We both recognized ourselves in her parents and that makes the mourning so much harder. The grief is sadness and sympathy for her and her entire family. They were just a regular uptown family just like us. It hurts.
In the midst of all this black people keep getting killed by the police and white people. I'm tired. Its mentally stressful. I'm scared about it. The civil unrest in the country is a symptom of years of racism. I'm tired. I'm scared for my husband. I'm constantly worried about the white people at his job saying racists things jokingly. He's been called a nigger to his face while working there by a resident, he's expected to answer questions about the black community. He's constantly looked at as a threat in the building he works as well as in the neighborhood. He's worked there for 10 years. He's a tall black man with a straight face that is now required to be partially covered with a mask. And I worry about that mask all the time. If one person sees him as a threat to their existence they can shoot him, hurt him, call the police on him because they feel threatened and he is simply up there to do his job. I don't feel safe for him. I'm constantly upset about it. I worry about his car acting up and breaking down while in Chestnut Hill and something going wrong. I'm scared all the time for him. I worry about his mental health under those conditions. I worry about him snapping one day as the micro aggressions pile up. Likewise my dad is being used as a black faced deterrent at his building in center city and it worries me deeply. My dad is 66 years old but 6'7" tall and rock solid. He's like superman and being the live-in building Engineer he was asked to make sure no one breaks the windows in the lobby of the building. He worked from 8pm - midnight 2 nights during the riots in his rittenhouse square apartment building. Just standing in the lobby. I'm so furious but he's saying he's ok. I'm just tired of all these emotions. People are tired of feeling scared. Looting is a symptom of a bigger problem. We are threats just by our existence. I'm tired of talking about it. Tired of explaining it. I'm worried about and for my daughters. I'm physically tired from the emotional strain. There seems like there isn't anything that we can do to make a change. I want change but don't know how to. Nobody is coming to save us. We have to figure it out. I feel a shift. These protests feel different. It's all too much but yet not enough.
I am tired. I'm tired of being tired. These past few days, weeks, months have worn on my soul. Worn on my very being. I have been trying to release each thing only to be hit by something else soon after.
This pandemic has made me reevaluate my sense of self. I am a people person. I am good in person. I am not an online instructor. Technology has scared me for a very long time. I am completely out of my comfort zone. I am also failing at being a good home teacher for my baby. Her sleep schedule is completely off, she's not actively engaging in classwork or zoom meetings and I feel like I just can't fight with her. I also see how hard staying in the house is for her. Not being around her friends and being active. I feel like I am failing to keep her educated, engaged, active and learning.
My students are struggling to stay engaged. I feel so incredibly sad for the end of the year. I reign over this part of the year. I get so much joy and satisfaction from organizing graduation, senior week, college decision day and all of the end of year events for our seniors. Curating memories that will impact the rest of their lives. I feel like my kids were robbed. I went into full blown mourning when they announced that school was over for the rest of the year. I didn't realize how much meaningfulness and self worth I tied to the end of the school year and all the special moments. I had to set aside time for myself to deal with the emotions I have around all of it. Mrs. Martin represents all of that.
In the midst of all this one of my daughter/students got in a car accident after picking her brother up from college. She was seriously injured and he was killed in the crash. It was 9AM on a Saturday the day before EID. They weren't doing anything wrong. They both were college kids. Raised in a two parent home. A family that reminded me of mine so much. I told her frequently that her mother was one that I aspired to be like. We ran into her and her mom at Target on our wedding anniversary and talked for a while. I always admired her mother and how close their family was. When I got the phone call all I could think about was her and then her parents. I know how we value our family. The life that we want for our kids. We make all the "right" decisions so that our kids can be safe and to give them the life they deserve. We move to the right neighborhoods, put them in the right schools, we put them in activities, support them in all decisions good and bad. We work hard at our jobs to give them good examples and have a loving healthy marriage to model for them. And an accident can take one of our kids away in a flash. It is so unfair. For everyone. My heart literally broke talking to her at midnight while she lay in the hospital alone. She was broken and I was broken for her and her entire family. I felt and feel awful. At the balloon release I watched my husband tear up thinking about what it's like as a father to lose a son. I watched him see himself in her father as he talked about the bond, life and legacy of his 23 year old son. We both recognized ourselves in her parents and that makes the mourning so much harder. The grief is sadness and sympathy for her and her entire family. They were just a regular uptown family just like us. It hurts.
In the midst of all this black people keep getting killed by the police and white people. I'm tired. Its mentally stressful. I'm scared about it. The civil unrest in the country is a symptom of years of racism. I'm tired. I'm scared for my husband. I'm constantly worried about the white people at his job saying racists things jokingly. He's been called a nigger to his face while working there by a resident, he's expected to answer questions about the black community. He's constantly looked at as a threat in the building he works as well as in the neighborhood. He's worked there for 10 years. He's a tall black man with a straight face that is now required to be partially covered with a mask. And I worry about that mask all the time. If one person sees him as a threat to their existence they can shoot him, hurt him, call the police on him because they feel threatened and he is simply up there to do his job. I don't feel safe for him. I'm constantly upset about it. I worry about his car acting up and breaking down while in Chestnut Hill and something going wrong. I'm scared all the time for him. I worry about his mental health under those conditions. I worry about him snapping one day as the micro aggressions pile up. Likewise my dad is being used as a black faced deterrent at his building in center city and it worries me deeply. My dad is 66 years old but 6'7" tall and rock solid. He's like superman and being the live-in building Engineer he was asked to make sure no one breaks the windows in the lobby of the building. He worked from 8pm - midnight 2 nights during the riots in his rittenhouse square apartment building. Just standing in the lobby. I'm so furious but he's saying he's ok. I'm just tired of all these emotions. People are tired of feeling scared. Looting is a symptom of a bigger problem. We are threats just by our existence. I'm tired of talking about it. Tired of explaining it. I'm worried about and for my daughters. I'm physically tired from the emotional strain. There seems like there isn't anything that we can do to make a change. I want change but don't know how to. Nobody is coming to save us. We have to figure it out. I feel a shift. These protests feel different. It's all too much but yet not enough.
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