Favorite Memories and Lessons of 2023

Dear 2023, thank you for being one of the best, but equally most painful years I have felt in quite a while.

I always surprise myself when I write these end of the year reflections because it just feels like yesterday I was sitting on some hardwood floor with my back against the wall or a headboard, contemplating how another 365 days went by. I have always heard that time flies by when you are having fun, but I also heard how time seems to slip away easily through our fingers the more we grow up. I don’t know if it’s because the days seem monotonous with work and life, and then all of a sudden it’s summer and you’re already preparing for Halloween or Christmas. Or maybe it’s because as you get older, you try to do more things to live in the moment, that the days go by faster because time truly does fly by when you are having fun.

Either way, I can’t believe I am here again writing this blog post.

To be quite honest, these are one of my favorite posts to write because it’s nice to look back and think about everything I did in that year because gosh knows the years also start to blur together at some point 😅.

When I think about this year, I think about how proud and how defeated I felt in such different time spans but within the same year. It almost boggles my mind how you can feel such a high and such a low simultaneously, but here we are.

This year allowed me to live my dream to its fullest with the best class I could have ever asked for as a first year teacher. Each day with my students felt like genuine magic that I wish I could have bottled up and kept forever. I miss the laughter, the tears, and the joy of being in the same room with the seventeen five-year-olds who changed my life for the better. Through them I learned more patience, compassion, and love for who I am and what I do. When the new school year came around, the love I felt for teaching and my old students made having my new class that much more painful. I never thought that my career would take a shift so earlier; I knew maybe one day, but not this soon.

And I guess that’s life: things happen that you are not prepared for and you just have to go with the flow.

You have to learn to be.

Be.

My word of the year that I wanted to manifest.

I think part of me did be—be present, be grateful, be loving, be caring, be vulnerable, be the best version I am. Another part of me felt like I really didn’t accomplish much this year other than to get by each day because, to be quite honest, it’s been a really difficult year. I mean, I have had harder years where I wanted to give up and I could feel nothing but this empty cavity of pain in my chest that just could not feel. I have had harder years where I could feel my bones protruding fro my body because of th hurt I inflicted on myself. I have had harder years where I wa angry and hurt by the situation I was put in because of people in my life who kept hurting me mentally and emotionally. And in many ways, this year wasn’t as challenging as compared to all the years where I truly felt broken.

But when you haven’t been broken in a while—when you think you have finally healed or got over the mountain—-life has a funny way of knocking you down again.

Breaking you again, to figure out how to put back the pieces.

And this year felt like being on the edge of a precipice and finally toppling into the bottom of a well that I was in a few years ago. The shock of the impact was numbing after feeling like I could finally breathe and walk again. I wasn’t used to being in a dark place anymore, and here I was back in this place that I tired to hard time and time again to fight my way out of. I am no completely in a dark place right now, but I was. And that was hard for me to accept. I didn’t want to be in that abyss again.

You can’t help when you fall back, when you topple.

I’ve been slowly finding my way out of this dark place I have been in since August, but I am not completely who I was at the beginning of the year, nor am I who I was at the end of last year. I think that’s what’s so beautiful about a year: the time for things to grow and change. Sometimes that growth and change is for the better, and sometimes it’s for the more complex, but I am someone who does beleive that things happen for a reason, whether or not we understand what that reason is at the time. Although I do believe that some absolutely awful things happen and there is not a reason I can fathom for it sometimes, I do mostly believe that we go through what we grow through to be the person we are meant to become or to be at a place we are meant to be at. I don’t know, “go through what you grow through” will never not be my motto 🤪.

As much as I have been going through it this year, I kept trying.

Because that’s what 2023 mostly felt like: trying. I tried my best in work, social life, and family life. I tried my best to take care of myself—to protect my peace as much as I could. I tried my best to continue my independence. I tried my best to keep reading when I was in the hugest slump this year. I tried my best to keep going when people just kept picking on me, trying to reduce me to nothing. I kept trying, trying, and trying.

And sometimes that’s all you have to do. That’s all you can do.

So as much as I could be this year, I also tried.

That doesn’t seem like much compared to last year or other years, but you sometimes surviving and taking life day by day is the best we can do. That’s what this year was for me. And it doesn’t’ sound like much, but I really am proud of myself for trying when it was so easy for me to quit or give up.

My year wasn’t much, but there were definitely moments that I will surely never forget and feelings that I hope won’t last so long as it makes me sad. But it was a year that I learned to hang on and keep going because there are better days ahead. In order to move forward, I must look back. I must reflect, find peace, and move on.

Without ado here are my favorite and hardest lessons, and this year the most momentous memories—because gosh knows calling some of these memories my favorite is an absolute LIE—- that I tried my best to learn from and to live in each day.

✨ Favorite and Hardest Lessons ✨

Not Every Hurt Gets an Apology

The MO of this blog for some things is to be very cryptic of who I am talking about because gosh knows they are not reading this blog, but I also don’t want to name names, you know. If you have read any of my dear diaries or my last yearly post, I spoke a lot about being hurt by people in my life—people who I thought I trusted or loved. Then that all changed last year when this person broke a promise in my life—a promise that a part of me knew was too good to be true because this person never kept his word before. But I remember the distinct moment—the exact feeling—when I knew that this person truly broke my heart because he broke a promise. And this person kept fracturing every piece of love I had for this person because this person had love for someone else.

This person kept emotionally and mentally abusing me, hurting me without repercussion about what this person was doing. I don’t fully want to say what this person has done or said to me because I feel like part of my brain blocks out every horrific thing he has said or done to me in the past year because it just hurt. It hurt. It was like someone took a knife to a bleeding heart, expecting it to bleed more when it was already losing everything it had. I had no love left in me for this person last year because my heart was discarded trash, hollow on the ground that he stepped on.

What pains me to say is that he never got the message of how hurt I was even though I screamed It multiple times at him for him to get the message that he had hurt me. That the way he treated me was disrespectful and the way he constantly picked on me or bullied me made me feel afraid everyday and feel hurt everyday. And I don’t know how many times you can blatantly tell someone how you feel, loudly tell someone, and for them to feel no remorse for the hurt they caused to not change anything.

Because I’m still being stabbed in the cavity that is my heart every, single, day.

And there’s only so much pain a person can take until you go numb.

Until you go silent.

Nothing.

So I stopped trying to reason with someone who will never see reason, yet alone fully listen.

I stopped thinning something was going to change when nothing has changed in the way that I feel on edge and hurt every time I see this person. I can barely look him in the face because all I feel is a mixture of anger and sorrow for being so close to someone, not knowing how the people you love the most would be the person with the most power to hurt you.

I stopped expecting an apology. I truly did.

Because all I think I wanted—no, all I knew I wanted—-was for this person to look me in the eyes and actually apologize like he meant it. Like this person knew how much the yelling, the demanding, the ignoring, the threats actually broke every piece of me that loved, yet alone respected this person.

There is nothing left.

There was nothing left when this person kept tolling at me with an empty expression that said, “I did nothing wrong.” There is nothing left with someone who constantly treated you like sh** day in and day out just because this person is probably more angry at himself that he did something wrong and that I no longer speak or care about this person. There is nothing left when you try to make a person feel and see how much you are hurting and they give you nothing in return.

An apology doesn’t fix things, but an apology would have made me feel like at least there was some regret.

There was none.

It’s difficult to move on when you don’t get the closure you want or the closure you think you need, but moving on is something I had to do even when my heart wasn’t ready. I can’t sit here and tell you that I have fully moved on or that it has been easy when I see this person practically every day and that this person still treats me like an attack, but I can tell you that I don’t feel as angry or hurt anymore. I mean, I still am angry and hurt but not in a way that is trying to fix a relationship that I didn’t break. I think most people will tell you to forgive and forget or to move on, and yes, please do forgive and forget for yourself, but for me it’s always been hard for me to move on fully when that takes time. I have forgiven this person for the way this person treated me in the last year, but I do not forgive the way this person continues to treats me when I have said my peace. And that’s tricky because how do you forgive if the person keeps acting in a way that warrants forgiveness but doesn’t?

Sometimes hurt doesn’t get the apology that you are looking for, and sometimes when you consistently hurt someone, even if unintentional, it doesn’t warrant the forgiveness that you think it comes with.

Sometimes you just have to find peace with moving on even if that takes time.

I know that it’s going to take time.

You’re Never Truly Ready

I need blog posts to have a sound effect button so when you click on something, you can hear my emotion. Because if you could hear me now, it would sound like the worlds most DEAFENING SIGH ever

Where do I even start with this one?

This lesson is going to tie into one of my most favorite—she said sarcastically 🙃— momentous moments of the year.

Something happened this year that I didn’t think would happen until later, but it did.

I was absolutely the most unprepared mentally, emotionally, physically, and academically for this change.

I’m not even joking.

I was literally going through HECK with my emotions and mental health and I don’t think I was in my right mind to be making a decision that didn’t really feel like a decision, but I did anyway. Suffice to say, you’re never truly ready for the things life throws at you because you never know when life decides to put you on the rollercoaster and zoom you through the loop, hanging upside down.

I wasn’t ready to leave everything I had learned behind. I wasn’t ready to let go of the relationships formed with others. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to a place I felt like I grew as an adult, most significantly as a teacher. I wasn’t ready to move on when I felt like I was just given an escape I didn’t deserve. But I did move. I did go through a massive change that I only had a week—literally seven days— to prepare for. As someone who was just a beginner too, this change was something unheard of. But I went through it.

Can I just tell you how the first month of going through this change had me literally curled up in a fetal position and crying nearly every day?

I would go to work and I would lie down in my chair and just silently stare out at my classroom with tears in my ears and a shutter in my heart because I was terrified. I didn’t belong there. I miss my old room. I miss my old kids. I miss what I used to teach. I miss my mentor teachers. I missed everything because here I was in a new grade level, in a new room, with a new curriculum, and a new class in the middle of the first month of school.

I was in the Mariana Trench of emotions.

I hated being there.

I really did.

I would leave work early because I hated it.

I hated feeling like I failed everyone and everything, especially myself. So I couldn’t stand being at work every day for months because I didn’t belong there. I didn’t belong in this new grade level that I barely knew how to teach, let alone felt all this pressure from everyone to succeed or have the threat of being fired over my head. It felt like being fired was in the cards, and when you’re already in a negative and heavy headspace, feeling all this stress and pressure to be successful when you’re barely hanging out, you just feel closer to the rope breaking.

I felt that every day for months.

Because I wasn’t ready for such a change too soon.

I just felt like I had finally figured out how to be a teacher, and all of a sudden I was a new teacher again.

And it was hard. It still is hard.

I can’t tell you that I fully enjoy being a teacher right now because teaching definitely feels very different for me after the last few months, but I can tell you that I am getting through it as best as I can. I might not feel like the most passionate person in the room or the happiest, but no one can ever say that I am not the strongest for trying my best. No one can say I did not embrace the change with the best of me and was literally there every day even when I was sick, even when I lost my voice, even when I had the worst cramps.

No one can say I didn’t try.

I wasn’t ready to switch grade levels so soon, and never did I think the way I switched grade levels was going to be how it happened. And maybe that’s why I don’t fully enjoy the grade I teach right now—-like I didn’t earn it or deserve it—-but I did switch. I can’t go back to August when I was given the choice of changing grade levels or not because if I could, I know my answer would be much different than it was back then.

It truly would have been.

But I changed.

And honestly, this change had taught me a lot about myself and my work place—some insightful lessons, some hard truths. The greatest lesson being that you never are ready for the big moments when life shakes you. I wasn’t ready to change grade levels so soon even if it was something I thought I always wanted. And sometimes you’re never ready for the changes, whether it’s finding yourself in a new relationship, starting a family, moving to a new place, or changing career paths. No matter what changes you go through, I believe you just learn to be ready and learn to adjust to the change as time goes on. You learn how to navigate the new environment, the new people, the new emotions. You learn what you might not like about what you do. You learn what you won’t tolerate from what you do. You learn new things about yourself too like how strong you are, how strong you might not be, what you deserve, what you do not deserve; very single thing will feel new because it is new.

And new doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Change doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

But I am not going to lie and say that change is always a good thing. Sometimes change is a necessary thing to teach you more about what you want or the person you are becoming.

So no, you’re never truly ready for the next thing life will inevitably throw at you, and sometimes getting through it might be crying everyday and hating where you are for a while. But I promise you, I promise you, even if it doesn’t feel like things will get better right now, things will be better. I know because you did not go through this unexpected life change just for you to give up or for you to stay in this hurt. You went through this change because life said you were strong enough to get through it, and you will. It’s going to suck for a while to navigate every new experience and emotion, and hey, maybe you won’t like where you are and want to go back to what you know you love, and that’s okay. But at least you knew that because something changed for you to realize that what you had was already good, and now you’re even better because of it 💕.

You Deserve Basic Respect

What a great segue into my next lesson.

This sounds like an obvious lesson that you would think most people would know by now.

Well, sadly I didn’t 😅.

You know being a reader means that my persona is definitely more introverted. I know when to speak my mind and I sure as heck have great words of wisdom and fire humor—thank you snarky and sarcastic main characters— but am I the type of person who will stand up for herself?

Absolutely not.

I think people think they can walk all over me like the doormat they think I am.

That sounds absolutely awful to write 😅.

Unfortunately, it is true.

I think people mistake my softer and sensitive demeanor for being a place they can walk all over. In reality, just because I am softer and more sensitive just means I am a good listener and an an observant person and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. We all have our different personalities because we all are human and we are born into different lives and environments. I just think people mistake my softness and kindness for me not knowing how to bite back or fight back. I do know how to bite back and fight back, maybe with ink and paper and in my head. But never had I ever really bit back out loud to someone before because I never wanted to be that person who was disrespectful or rude because I spoke my mind or said how I felt. I don’t know if that’s just a me thing or because I also identify as a heterosexual woman that I always felt like I had to withhold the things I say because I didn’t want to be thought of as a “mad woman” or a “bi***.” Who knows.

But I do know that I don’t stand up for myself enough and I should.

Especially when I have been disrespected in a way that I don’t deserve.

Gosh knows I have been treated rudely by friends and family before and have never said anything, but to be treated rudely in a different situation by the same person, made me realize that I deserved to be treated with respect. I didn’t deserve to be talked down to or almost felt threatened in where I stood just because of someone’s ideas about me.

I don’t know.

I deserve to feel valued. I deserve to feel appreciated. I deserve to be respected.

And I have never felt that way as much as I have felt that this year.

I’m tired of being the doormat. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older and I tolerate it less that people treat me like a welcome mat, or maybe I just don’t like being stepped on anymore. But I am no longer going to be the person who does nothing if someone thinks it’s okay to treat a human being like trash. I think if anyone is disrespecting you, respectfully speak up. Tell them, “Hey, look, I see where you are coming from and you said this, this, and this about it. It made me feel this, this, and this.” If you speak up, at least you said where you stood and how you felt, and no one can tell you how you felt because those are your feelings. You can also ask them a follow-up question to genuinely understand why they are treating you that way. The way a person responds says a lot more about them then it will ever say about you.

No one should have to tolerate being trampled on because it’s who they are. I think we take our softer people for granted because their hearts are so gentle and genuine. But honestly, speaking as someone who is a gentler person, my demeanor isn’t a welcome sign to step all over me. It’s a welcome to please talk to me and treat me like a human being, and if you cannot do that, you can step right on out because I deserve more than that ✌🏼.

Failure Doesn’t Mean Defeat

This is a lesson I didn’t even realized I learned until reflecting on it when I was writing out something in a journal earlier this week.

I don’t say this in a bragging way, but I don’t think I have ever felt like a true failure.

I mean, there are various moments in my life where I have failed at something from failing the state assessment, crying in front of the whole class when I was younger when I was trying to do a presentation, not getting into every college I applied to, not making the junior jazz team in high school, not telling the boy I liked him that I felt something, going to every school dance/event alone. You know, just to name a few. I have failed many times over, but I don’t think I truly felt like a huge failure since I was in third grade when I failed the state assessment and felt like I wasn’t smart anymore. So failure and I have yet to meet as adults—it’s been a while. And when we shook hands, failure tugged me to that Mariana Trench feeling.

I had failed.

I had failed to show everyone, lest of all myself, that I wasn’t good enough.

This situation mostly applied to me not being a good enough teacher to the point they felt like they had to move me to a different grade level.

I felt like I let down my students who I was leaving.

I felt like I let down my bosses and mentors.

I felt like I was giving up.

I felt like I was giving this opportunity to go to my dream grade-level without really deserving it.

For three months, I let this feeling fester in my stomach and tangle in my head to the point that I would sleep in longer than I was used to, I was more on edge with my tears than I was used to, I was more dispassionate than I was used to.

And when I met failure, I didn’t realize he knew my old best friend depression.

Because I saw Depression in the Mariana Trench and it was like nothing changed from when I last saw Depression.

And that’s where I’ve been since August if I’m being really honest.

Some days it’s it’s better, some days it’s harder. It’s definitely not as bad as it was in October, but I’m still in this bottomless feeling of I’m not good enough because I failed.

And I didn’t even realize that that was the emotional that settled into every crevice of my mind and body until I put a name to it the other day. Because I’m not used to feeling like a failure, or I haven’t felt like a failure in so long, that I didn’t know how jarring it could feel to feel like you failed. It sucks. It sucks to feel like you gave your all to something or someone for it to not work out the way you hoped it would. I think it hurts because you tried to make it work or to see something through, but you knew that you couldn’t go on feeling how you were feeling, that you had to give up or do something in order for yourself to feel better. Part of you feels like you failed because you didn’t suffer and you took the easy way out. But in all honestly, I don’t think that we have to feel like we have to endure the worst in order to be called strong or deserving of peace. We shouldn’t have to endure pain to be able to want peace.

That’s something I had to learn the hard way; I’m still learning. I shouldn’t have to give up my peace of mind to feel like I failed for “giving up” when I was protecting my peace. And I don’t quite like the narrative that a challenging experience makes a person stronger because sometimes a challenging experience just makes a person feel awful. And we can leave it at that. An experience doesn’t have to make you Herculean, it can make you feel sad. It can make you feel frustrated. It can make you feel tired. It can make you feel happy. Nothing needs to make you feel strong unless you want it to. That’s okay.

It’s okay to let a situation be sad because it was sad.

It’s okay to let a situation be hard because it was hard.

It’s okay to let a situation be a lesson because it was a lesson.

Whatever you want to take away from something, is up to you.

For me, my failure was my sadness—-is my sadness. But it’s ultimately not going to be my defeat. I won’t let it.

I won’t let it tear down every single thing I have built for myself since I knew Failure at eight-years-old or Depression at sixteen -years old. I won’ let failure stop me no trying every day to be someone I am proud of and to do the things I love with love and compassion. I won’t let failure make me feel like any more of a failure than I have already.

Because then failure wins. I don’t want failure to win.

Sometimes you fail. That’s life. Sometimes you suck at something, sometimes you mess up, sometimes you make a mistake. That’s okay. What’s not okay is letting that failure become your defeat where you never pick yourself up and try again, or try differently. You can feel sad, you can feel tired, you can feel inadequate, but don’t feel that way too long. Let yourself feel, then let yourself move forward to heal.

I’m taking it one step at a time.

Dreams Can Change

If you asked me a year ago what my dream was, I could clear cut tell you a synopsis of what I told myself and all my friends since I was five years old. Now?

I’m not too sure.

That’s unsettling to me after feeling like I knew what I wanted for eighteen years.

But I’m starting to recognize that dreams can take on different faces and phases—that a dream can change.

I thought I always wanted to be a teacher. I wanted to go back to a certain elementary school to teach because of the many great educators who made me feel believed in when I didn’t feel like I was good enough; I wanted to go to the school to make a difference the same way it made a difference in my life.

Having lived this dream for a year and a half now, I can say that dream has taken a new shape. I don’t regret following my dreams, not for a second, but I do feel like the way I think about my five-year-old dream is different from how my twenty-three-year-old self thinks about it.

I have said this to others, but have never really written it down to make it true, but I don’t know if I want to stay at the same school anymore. I don’t know if it’s because of the year I have had, but I don’t think my old school is for me anymore. In my five-year-old mind, of course, I glorified my old school because it was the only school I had ever known. It felt vibrant, loving, exciting, joyous. To be quite honest, it doesn’t feel that way anymore and not just because I’m not a kid hopped on sugar and magic.

The school I went to as a kid is not the same school that I teach in.

And that’s hard for me to write because I wish I felt differently.

But it’s been a year and a half, and I don’t.

I mean, there’s a part me that does feel like the school I teach at has magic because of the people I work with and the students are amazing, but there are other parts that don’t feel the same it used to feel like, you know? I understand that the school is not going to be the same it was eighteen years ago, but I wish it had the same feelings I thought it would have.

I’m also realizing that I don’t have the same dream grade-level.

I thought I always wanted to teach a certain grade because it was the middle ground or it was the grade I student taught with, but at the end of the day now, this grade-level doesn’t make me as happy as I thought it did.

I miss teaching my old grade level, as shocking as that might sound. As someone who didn’t even remotely want to work with this grade-level of kids, I was surprised myself.

But the past year taught me all of the little things I loved about working in my old grade, things that I didn’t know I would miss so much until I wasn’t teaching the same thing anymore or feeling the same way about teaching. I mean, the grade level I was in previously was definitely more challenging, but I also felt internally more happier. I wish I cherished those moments more when I had it. And now I fear that I won’t teach that grade level for a while because I “failed” at it.

I think it’s weird when a dream changes because it’s this idea of cognitive discord or something I read about in college that I cannot remember for the life of me 😅. But I know it was something about how when there’s this idea in your mind that doesn’t match up with your feelings, you feel discomfort because what you thought and what you know doesn’t align anymore. I’m feeling a lot more of that right now because I never thought I would feel this way and here I am. Switching grades definitely allowed me to come to the realization of what I don’t feel is for me, but also made me mourn what I had when I had it. Even when it wasn’t good for some time, I still felt confident and happier doing what I thought I loved to do.

Sometimes even not loving the things that used to bring you so much love is hard. Not loving something in the same way doesn’t mean that love is gone, it’s just different.

Never Take a Moment For Granted

Ever.

This sounds like a “well, DUH,” kind of lesson too, but I don’t think we ever fully ingrain this lesson into our hearts until you lose something or someone that makes you never want to take anything for granted ever again.

I wouldn’t say I lost something, but I had to say goodbye to seventeen genuinely wonderful, wholesome, beautiful kids who made my first year of teaching the best I could have ever asked for. I was literally counting down the days I had left with them and trying to cherish every moment and success with them because of how much I loved them. I wish I could bottle up the laughter and love my first year class formed within a year because it could cure all the hate and anger in the world. I know it.

I wish I could laugh with them one more time. I wish I could teach them something new. I wish I could hug them one more time. But I can only care for them afar and be proud of how far they have come and continue to grow. I know I will always cherish the moments we had together and the moments in between when I see them with their new teacher.

Also, cherish the bad moments.

I don’t like to call them bad moments, maybe heavy moments, because you never know the love that you can also learn from that. Even if I had my true second class this year for three weeks, I wish I could have cherished the good moments with them more because I felt like they all got overshadowed by the horrid moments I felt. I wish I could have gotten to know their little persnlaiites turned big. I wish I could have been able to watch them grow physically and mentally as the year went on just like I did with my last years’ kids. I wish I could have gone with them on their first field trip or family activity. I wish.

Cherishing is almost like mourning.

I wish I could go back to when I felt more confident and happier with what I was doing. I wish I could feel more passionate about doing things for myself because gosh knows I have felt the most unmotivated I have felt in a while. I wish I could feel excited about work again or happy about what I was doing.

You never know the last moment, the last feeling, the last time.

Because there will be a last and it will sneak up on you before you know it and you have to hug that person or that memory a little tighter to savor every part of it before it becomes just that, a memory. So don’t forget to live in each moment as much as you can, and to cherish it for what it is and who it is with, even if it doesn’t feel good. You will look back one day and wish you had felt it all because it was real and it was real to you.

I don’t take where I am for granted. I don’t take what I feel for granted right now even if it is really hard. Because I know I am working through it and goring through it, and one day it will be worth the tears and the pain and the confusion and the sadness to know I didn’t take this moment for granted before things change again.

Things will always change, but take a moment to root yourself in the moment, in the feeling, in the heartache or the heart warmth. Live in it.

💕 Momentous Memories 💕

A Midnight Walk

My brother, Uncle, and I went out to eat somewhere nice, which was nice because we never go out together often because either one of us is always busy. So I enjoyed having one evening with my Uncle who I don’t get to see very often, eating out with my bother and him to just candidly catch up. There’s something very different about sharing a conversation with a loved one who’s not as close to you as a parent or sibling—-something almost unfiltered. So my brother and I spoke honestly about things that we probably would have never shared with our parents or to each other, but did under the moonlight and backlit glow of the restaurant lighting. We talked about dating—or our lack thereof of dating—, our future ideas of having kids or moving out, where we see ourselves in our careers—anything really. And it was nice to not think about the stress I felt at work and to focus on aspects of my life that felt solely for me.

I thought the night would end how it usually ends—with my brother and I driving home because we still live in our parents house, while my Uncle went to his condo.

But I love the unexpectedness of a moment—the candor.

So we walked, talking aimlessly about the most ridiculous things. Our laughter mingled with the faint conversations around us of those who were also riding the high of an endless night.

We eventually found the ice cream place where we sat down and I opened up about a crush I had. I don’t tell anyone about my crushes, but here I was, letting this night lead my mouth. And they teased me endlessly about my silly little crush. Their teasing didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would because I could share with them something that had been on my mind a lot and it was nice to get their thoughts or feelings of what this guy might have felt.

After ice cream, we walked back to my Uncle’s condo because we were tired and my brother wanted water. So we went up and sat down for a bit. By that time, it was already past when my head would usually hit the pillow, but we kept going. We stayed at my Uncle’s condo for a while to continue talking about my brother’s love life and what I could say to my crush. In the back of my mind I felt like I already talked myself out for the night and was ready to go home, but yet I said nothing as the conversations continued.

I was tired, but also the most alive I have felt in a while. And that’s the feeling I carried with me when I went home and a feeling that still stays with me.

This all happened in January and it was such a nice moment where I felt like I bonded with my Uncle and brother as an adult and not the little kid they probably still saw me as. I won’t forget the way my Uncle texted us the next day, thanking me for sharing and being open, which I appreciated. I am not really an open person with a lot of people because of the hurt I felt when opening up to people who only made me feel like they used my secrets against me, but to have someone thank me for trusting them was such a different feeling that made me want to trust people again.

This night felt like starting the year off on the right foot, and that’s why as silly as a walk around the city and by the beach sounds like it was not a lot, it meant the most to me at the time, and that’s something I can not forget 💕.

Battling Acne

You know how in middle school or high school, the one thing every pre-teen or teenager dreads is the inevitable acne? You know, the awkward years that really shape a person 🙃.

I don’t say this as a brag or to jinx anything, but I didn’t battle acne was badly as some people when I was in middle or high school. I had the occasional pimple that I would ignore and it would go away in a few days if I didn’t touch it. Or in high school, I would have a few pimples that would pop up and then I would pop it and everything was fine. I didn’t really have to worry about eating chocolate or too much sweet to prevent breakouts. I didn’t really have a skin care routine; all I have been doing for the past twenty-two years is wash my face with soap and water and everything would be okay.

Yea, not this year.

This year puberty caught up to me.

And it chipped away at my self-confidence, but not completely demolished it. I feel like from February to even now, I have battled acne in a way that is unfamiliar to me. Back in February, the way I felt about acne and myself with acne was a lot more of a negative perspective than it is now. But it took a lot of work for me to get to this place of actually believing it when I say that my acne is not who I am.

My acne is not who I am.

I started to break out like crazy back in February through May, and it was so jarring to have all these pimples and red spots that felt like my skin was raging at me. I would get them all over my cheeks, sometimes by my eyebrow or on my forehead. I would look up what each area of the face meant for where the acne was so I could figure out what might be causing the sudden burst of acne I was having. And this wasn’t the regular acne I was used to—the leave it and it disappears—oh, no, no , no, this acne made a home on my face.

I washed my blankets and bedsheets. I started using a different towel to wipe my face instead of my bath towel. I tried different things to make the acne go away or seem less red, but nothing quite worked. Then I was thinking, maybe it was because I had hit a certain age that my hormones were just different now that I was a full fledged adult. I don’t know. It felt like my acne was different now because I was an adult and my hormones were changing.

I started to really feel gross about myself like all everyone saw was my acne. I would continuously wear a mask at work just to hide my acne because I felt embarrassed that my skin was no longer clear.

Battling acne for the first time in my life as an adult was difficult because I was so used to the same routines and to the same image I had of myself, that it shocked me when I felt different about myself. I looked different. I didn’t feel good because I suddenly had a honker on my face. I would start to feel irritated and jealous of other people around me who jarringly had no acne and would wonder how come they have such a clear face and I don’t anymore. I started to notice those who had perfect skin more and wonder what was wrong with me?

I didn’t like the way I was thinking or the way I was thinking of others because I felt bad about myself.

I think we are fed to put so much worth into how we look that when something changes with how we look, we think we are not as beautiful or valuable anymore.

But I can confidently say this now that I am in a healthier place with my mentality and skin that everyone goes through an acne battle at one point, and it doesn’t make you any less than who you are. You just have acne on your skin, and that acne is not forever. Gosh, of course, do not pick at the acne so much to cause a scar, but trust that right now you might not feel the most confident and that’s okay. Because this is a moment and it will pass as much as it sucks to feel not beautiful or handsome right now. You’re acne is not your forever.

I mean, you might battle acne in bouts for your whole life, but the way you feel about your acne at the moment doesn’t mean that that’s who you will be forever.

Acne, most time, fades, but it takes time.

Things take time.

I’m someone who always wanted things to be different right away, so it was difficult for me to not feel like I wasn’t in control of the situation.

I did the whole Curology test online. Then I found this brand I did like. I started with a few products to heal red spots, and then I bought their three-step face wash products, then I bought their green cream to blend red spots for day time use. The rest is history. Now I have a skin care routine 😅. To be honest, I never understood how people had a ten step or thousand step skin care routine when I just used to wash my face with soap and water. But now here I am with a seven step skin care routine, and it really makes me feel like I am taking care of myself. And I guess that’s part of growing up—-taking care of yourself.

I am glad that the skin care routine I have right now works for me, but it might not work all the time—definitely not for hormonal acne. But it’s okay. Because I know that I am now trying to take care of my skin rather than wallowing in not feeling good about myself. And sure my face still has red spots from acne and really red acne I had a while back, but I learned not to be so hard on myself because I’m doing everything I can to take care of my skin. And one day, it won’t be as hard as it is to see as it was in the moment.

As much as acne sucks, it’s something that I am healing and working through everyday as it comes. I know that there are ways that I can try to help with my acne, and that feels proactive to me 😉 ***not me literally understanding why the company called itself proactive when I started my acne journey this year***. And that’s all you can do.

So yes, I have acne, but that’s not my name.

Finishing my First School Year as a First Year Teacher

I think writing this memory might be the hardest yet 🥺💕—-for all the right reasons.

When I truly reminisce about my year, finishing my first year as a teacher with my first class has to be my favorite and best memory of 2023.

Genuinely.

There truly are not enough words to describe the love I have for all seventeen students I had in my first year class in how I literally call them my angel loves and my little miracles. They were honestly the best class I could have ever asked for and never knew how much I loved until I had to say goodbye to them. I even remember back in December last year how I was counting down the quarters I had left with them, knowing I needed to savor each day and moment with them because of how much I loved them. Each day that led up to the last day of teaching them, really gutted me from the inside out because each moment felt like a last.

The last true thing I was going to teach them.

The last test I was going to give them.

The last time I would walk them to lunch.

The last time I would walk them to their car.

The last time I would give them a tissue when they cried.

The last time I would receive one of their drawings.

The last time they would ask for a hug.

The last time we would laugh together.

Everything that last week of school felt final, and it made my heart clench.

I wish there didn’t have to be a last.

On that last school day, we truly did nothing; I let them play and draw. I did read them a book called Love Is by Claire Adams—-highly recommend—about a girl and her pet duck and how she took care of her duck for a long time, but then the duck was ready to fly away and join the other big ducks. So the little girl chose to let the duck go free. The girl was sad, but then she saw the duck again and the love was still there. The story felt reminiscent of how I was going to feel letting my students fly free to spread their wings, but hoping I would see them around or they would visit me and that love would still be there. I don’t know, as a teacher what I teach academically matters, but for me, the feeling that a student leaves my classroom with matters more.

If they felt loved

We had a mini graduation ceremony with my students where honestly I played some bop graduation soundtrack and I gave my students their portfolio, a crown, and my end of year gift to them—-a beach ball, chips, a handmade pouch I customized for them—and we cheered. I loved the energy of our makeshift graduation because I gave them a diploma and everything, and honestly the other classes would walk by and wonder why we were so loud. WHO CARES 😂. It was the last day and I just wanted to have a good time with my students.

What really broke my heart was when I used the last ten minutes to play this yearlong slideshow I made of our first days, spirit weeks, field trips, and every in between moment. If I could bottle up the magical feeling I felt in that moment to recap my whole year with my little loves, I think we could solve very problem in the world.

I think when you can’t probably describe a feeling, that that is a feeling you will never forget—unforgettable.

I loved the way they were actually sitting still to watch something for once in their life 😂. I also liked the way they noticed each other in each photo because they were so excited to see themselves or each other—the family we grew. I loved watching the love reflect in their eyes, the way they started to hug each other or hold each other closer.

I told myself not to cry. I really did. I didn’t think I was going to cry until some of my students started to cry. Then I lost it. Then this other girl started to lose it. I tried to keep it together as much as I could but I remember one student telling me, “There’s water coming from your eyes. Should we wipe it?” I said I was okay, but inside I was bawling 😭. We shared a group hug that I will always remember. What really got to me was how one of my studnets—you know the student who realllllly pushes your buttons—cried. His face was red with tears, and he was so sweet and grabbed the freaking tissue box and started handing out tissues to everyone including myself and offered to wipe my glasses because they were spotted with tears. I just love him. We had a thing in our class to hand tissues to those who were crying because that was something I did often, so he knew to do it too. As much as this one kid drove me nuts most days, he had the most genuine heart that cared for people’s well-being and it never ceased to amaze me.

I had one kid crying under a table who I tried to comfort, but he needed a moment. I had another girl bawling her eyes out, and another girl giving me a hug.

I think love is in the sadness of letting go.

I kind of laughed when I opened the door when the bell rang and some kids went out crying 😂. Sorry, parents.

I could not take a photo for the life of me with their child that day because I was a mess. But it was a beautiful mess that I wish I could live in again and again even if it meant saying goodbye.

I loved them with my whole heart, and I always will. I still do.

Because I learned that I am a teacher of heart and passion. I want my students to learn how to be respectful, caring, sweet, while still taking care of themselves and other. I felt like I did that and more—that I accomplished more than I could have hoped for as a teacher of just academics.

I left them with love.

And what a powerful lesson that is.

I remember going home that day and knocking out in a fat nap 😂. I kid you not, when I woke up, I was the most disoriented I ever felt because I didn’t know where I was or if the last few hours had been real. It felt surreal. But it was real—-everything and all the love.

I loved receiving messages from parents telling me thank you or how much their child loved or enjoyed being in my class. I appreciated receiving messages about how I made their child excited to go to the next day or to come to school. I laughed with how one parent said that their child accidentally calls that parent my teacher name at home 😂

I don’t think I will feel that same type of love for any class I have going forward, but I will always have love for the class I have. I think your first class will always be special because it was your first—-same for most firsts.

That’s why my first year class made my second year class a really tough one to follow up, and a very touch one to realize how much I miss the feeling of being a kindergarten teacher.

Hiking with Family

Before I get into what I am alluding to, I did have a great summer #HAGS.

One of my favorite moments from summer was going four-wheeling to a hike.

I have never rode in the back of an open Jeep before, but my gosh, it’s such an exhilarating feeling with the wind blowing in your head, the wind screaming in your ear. It’s definitely an experience that was so fun. I loved when we were driving back from our hike, it started to rain, and something about driving in the back of a Jeep with rain twisting through your hair is equal parts funny as it is magical. I loved it.

I also really enjoyed just a nice day with my chosen family.

The ride up to the hike felt like your body was on one of this massage chairs on full blast or full energy or something because the road was BUMPY. I felt like I was going through a Jurassic World safari or something, and this sounds like the dumbest thing ever, but I saw some big rocks 😂. Oh my gosh, get your dirty mind out of the gutter, but as someone who sees like pebbles in yards or like garden rocks from Home Depot, I have never seen like BIG mountain rocks up close before, and they were huge. Like bigger than a McDonald’s building or something.

I was amazed at rocks 😂. If that is not telling of how much I don’t go out, I don’t know what is.

I also loved hiking up to the beach where we climbed on the rocks, or more so jumped on the rocks that lead out to the ocean. I loved looking at all the crabs and the sea cucumbers. I attempted to let the sea crab crawl in my hand, but GOSH I am such a baby and I don’t do anything that crawls because I DETEST creepy crawlies, especially if I know it’s touching my skin 🤮. I was literally shaking and screaming letting a penny-sized crab crawl on my mind. The crab knew I was terrified because the crab stayed in its shell. It was the attempt for me 😅.

I tried 🤪

I wished I could have actually dipped my body into the ocean and swam because the water looked so STUN-I-ING and blue, and after such a hot day, dipping into the water would have been refreshing. The view was also incredible. It was where the north and east met and you could see the mountains from both sides, so that was pretty cool. Honestly, a photo never does nature justice 👏🏼.

I saw a monk seal!!!!

Can I just say, they are much bigger than I thought!!!!

I thought a monk seal was the size of a skateboard or something because of the movies, but this monk seals be monk SEALING 😂! They are like the size of a car. They have such sleek bodies and big mouths like my gosh. Like I want someone to compare my legs with lotion as sleek as a monk seals shiny body 🤪. For real. But they are so majestic and cool the way they move their body, and the monk seals we were looking at were fighting over their rock territory, so that’s why their mouths were open. But my gosh, they were so cool. I wish they popped their head out of the water more so I could see them better, but just to have a glimpse of them was magical—to see them in their natural habitat and interacting with other seals. I didn’t expect to see seals that day, but I was so glad I did.

We ate Mexican food and ice cream after we went hiking. We ate by a bunch of flying chicken outside, which was hilarious because they ere so big and colorful. I honestly had such a good day that day that it felt like that endless feeling I had back in January.

If there’s one thing I’m learning is that I truly live for the moments where I do something different—see different things, experience different things, or feel different things. I hope I do more things that are different next year 😊.

Making Mistakes

I am going to keep this one short and sweet because gosh knows I have made many mistakes and I don’t need to list every single one.

But this year, I finally dang dinged the back of my car 🙃.

I DETEST myself.

I accidentally bumped the front of my car last year when parking, and so I’ve been very careful about driving. But I was at my friend’s house one October night, and I was backing up, thinking I had space between the car in my friend’s neighbor’s driveway.

Well, no I did not.

Because I dang busted the back of my car and scratched the back of the neighbors car.

The neighbor was parked at an angle and was sticking out of the driveway, so I thought I had space because I was parked on the far side of my friends driveway, but there wasn’t space I guess. I’m glad no one was hurt, but I am not glad that I had to pay to fix not only the back of my car, the front of my car, but the sensors too 🙃. The sensors in a car AIN’T cheap. I guess if you damage one sensor, they have to replace all the sensors because then the sensors are not calibrated or something, so yay me.

I did learn about making a claim and calling the insurance company to get things fixed. I learned about going to a car auto shop to fix the car, and having to pay for the car. It’s a whole freakign process and a lot of back and forth that I do not enjoy.

So suffice to say, drive carefully kids. Look behind you before you back up because even if you think there is space, there isn’t space. Give everyone space. Also, don’t hit anything because then the process is very long to fix your car, and then you’re spending all this money to fix your car.

OOOOOOH, don’t even remind me, I also had to fix my freaking tire this year because your dummy jumped the curb and scratched the rim and cut the tire. So I had to drive all the way to the tire shop where they gave me a new tire because thankfully I had insurance to get a new tire because my car was still fairly new. But my gosh, drive safely kids.

I’m not an awful driver if you’re reading this, I’m just not a very experienced driver. I do be careful, but I do want to be better at driving like backing up, parking next to a curb, or parking anywhere.

Gosh, I don’t like driving 🙈.

Wen to the Gynecologist and Almost PASSED OUT

I’m going to cry hysterically for how RODOCULOUS my October was.

Like August SUCKED. September was DEPRESSING. October was HECK.

I could not catch a break.

I have been meaning to go to the gyno as you do as a young adult woman. So I did so over break. I knew they were going to stick this metal thing up my woman parts, but I don’t know why everyone makes you DREAD going to the gynecologist by scaring you that this big pincher thing is MASSIVE. So not only was I scared about a big pincher metal thingy going up my woman parts, but I was also extremely AWKWARD.

Honestly, there’s a lot of feelings that feel violating, but a doctor shoving a metal contraption up your body is definitely on that list.

I mean, there has to be a better way to check my woman part health than stripping down and sitting on a chair with my legs spread open to a doctor I don’t know. Oh gosh, and I had a male doctor. They say the male doctor do it more quick or easier than females, which I thought would be the opposite because a female would know how awkward and uncomfortable the situation is, but I guess they have no mercy. Gosh I was uncomfortable. I mean, I have been mentally psyching myself up to go to the gynecologist for years, but man, I did not like it. I don’t think anyone likes it 😂.

Once I got past putting on this weird robe and spreading aloha and sitting low on the chair, I was like, “Whatever.” The doctor probably sees many woman parts each day, mines is no different to him and it’s fine. Not me, honestly debating wearing a full-fledged ski mask over my face to hide so the doctor didn’t know who I was. Don’t worry, I didn’t actually wear a ski-mask, but that was part of my mental preparation for going. I don’t know, it’s uncomfortable to go and spread your legs and have something go into your body like that.

I mean, the actual check up is not as bad as people say it is, I just think it feels uncomfortable end violating. The way my check up went was quick because it was my first time. The doctor asked me some questions, but didn’t really explain what was going on, but did ask if I knew what this check up was for, which I did. He told me to relax, which I tried to as much as I could and then the contraption went it and then a few seconds of discomfort of something in my body and then it was like a pinch to be honest. Then it was over and they gave me a wipe and I put my clothes back on and it was done. Honestly, it wasn’t even five minutes. But it felt like a FIVE-EVER 😂.

I just don’t think anyone likes to feel violated or feel like there’s something in them they can’t control.

I think if I go again, I know the feeling now, and it won’t feel so uncomfortable, but I still don’t like it or the idea of having my lady bits spread to the world, sorry, my gynecologist.

This is the part where I don’t know if I should cry hysterically or laugh in delusion, but I thought I was fine after the check-up because I felt fine. I wasn’t bleeding, I could walk. So I walked out the office with my mother who came with me. She had to use the bathroom and she was in there for a while. I stood outside the bathroom waiting for her. Then things started to feel blurry in my vision, my head started to feel light, the lights were dimmer or hazy.

I have felt faint before, and I knew it.

I was going to faint.

I was going to pass out.

I was so close to passing out, it’s not even funny.

I just remember plopping on the ground of hallway of the doctors office, and the nice man on the bench by the wall offered me to lie down so I lied down in a fetal position and closed my eyes because I knew if I moved, I would actually pass out. My body was so shaky and clammy, I was sweating out of every crevice. I took small bites out of the emergency granola bar I kept in my purse. Mind you, I didn’t not eat breakfast that day, and I was also hopped up on adrenaline and nerves from going to the gynocolggsit for the first time.

My heart rate was unsteady. I felt so clammy and gross. I felt unwell.

I mean, I have felt faint before, but never like this where my body felt so sweaty and like I was breaking out in a literal cold sweat. I had to lie down for ten minutes or so before trying to walk downstairs. And when we did, I was dizzy and faint again, by the time we walked to restaurant nearby, I was sweating again and had to lie down in the booth like a baby. At that point, didn’t mind being judged because I was feeling faint and I needed to do whatever I had to to be okay, even if that meant looking like a sweating ball of a mess lying on a restaurant booth. I drank some water, ate some bread and felt a bit better.

But gosh, I didn’t know what got into me. Like my heart beat was erratic and it terrified me.

The idea of fainting terrifies me because you black out and you don’t know what happens or what will happen to your body. That’s scary. I was scared. Honestly, I’m still scared. I don’t know if I felt faint because I didn’t eat or because the experience was traumatic and I truly did not like having something up my body. Or maybe the gynecologist hit something up my body that triggered me to feel faint, which is something I read online that could be true or untrue, but ether way, I didn’t like how I felt afterward and that scares me.

I’m not looking forward to going back to the gynecologist next year, but I do know that I am going to eat one hefty breakfast before I go so I can rule out if that is why I felt faint. I also feel like I need to mediate or not make myself so nervous before I go because now I know what it’s like to go. So we’ll see how I fair next year with going to the gynecologist. But honestly, go figures that I dreaded goign in the first place, and now I have a reason to dread it even more 😅.

My 2024 manifestation is that I don’t faint or possibly faint when I go to the gynecologist next year.

Let’s manifest that for me, ladies and gents.

No for real.

Switching Grade Levels

I have alluded to this memory throughout this entire post.

I think this might be the hardest memory to write because it hurt the most.

I switched grade levels in September, halfway through the first quarter of my second year.

I don’t want to go too into detail, but I was in a very complicated and tough situation in my previous class in my previous grade-level. There was a student who was very defiant, and I would constantly call the office for support. But as a new teacher, I feel like it’s taboo to call for help because it feels like you don’t know how to teach or handle your class. But this student was unlike anything I ever seen or dealt with. And I don’t think college ever prepares you for the kind of students you get, let alone someone to this extent. Pair this student with another blazing fire of a personality, and honestly my classroom was burning to the ground.

This student would constantly run outside. This student would constantly run through the doors like a game of chase or something. This student would flicker with the lights and projector so much I couldn’t teach anything. I literally had to teach a whole block in the dark with the flashlight of my phone because we couldn’t do anything but let it happen or the lights would go on and off again. This student would climb the walls and tear down all the decor I spent hanging up. This student would climb the shelves and put up random things on the high up windows or try to grab something she wanted over her head like a big container because it had toys. This student would jump from the big furniture like a bouncy house. This student would bite, spit, tug, yell, tease, and push. This student put other students in harms way so much I had to take all my students pencils, scissors, and crayons because they were dangerous. I had to rope my cabinets and lock all my personal items away. I had to move all my things to a different class because this student was starting to invade all my personal things that I knew she was going to break and I was going to feel so heartbroken to have to pay for a new thing.

This student truly demolished everything I created.

And I did most of this by myself for three weeks. I tried to control the situation for three weeks, calling for help when things felt too overwhelming or hard, which was practically every hour.

I couldn’t do it by. myself, but I was expected to. I was left with her, trying to figure out different strategies that worked for her, which made sense. But gosh, every day I went to work afraid. I started to dread going to work. I would go home bawling my eyes out, feeling absolutely depleted and awful about the day.

I would take longer naps because I felt drained. I wouldn’t do work at home because I didn’t want to touch anything having to do with work. I didn’t even do work after school because it felt like everyday I was meeting with someone about fire number 1 and fire number 2 and how to take data to support them.

Every shred of myself was gone.

I literally went to work one day and someone asked me how I was doing, and I started to tear up. She hugged me after that and asked me what was wrong. I was not okay.

I literally remember crying my first day with all my students and this girl and having to take something to the office and feeling the tears threaten from my eyes only for a teacher friend to tell me to go back to my classroom and cry because he didn’t like seeing me like this. He later came back with my mentor and they helped me clean my classroom and talk through my class. Then my other teacher friend came to check on me. I truly tell you, everyday was a stream of new people coming to check on me or talk to me to see how I was doing.

I was suffering.

I literally called my mentor one morning, crying in my classroom before class started because I was scared of the day. To make matters worst, I had a parent talk to me that morning about a situation in my room, and I cried with that parent.

Talking to me during this time was like speaking to fragile China.

It wasn’t just because this students behavior was difficult, but a mix of feeling like I failed everyone around me. Because there was an expectation for my second year that I could better manage my classroom, and by the looks of it, I couldn’t. I wasn’t doing too well. And honestly, how can you manage a classroom with two fires who butt heads and then teach the rest of the class when you are trying to put out all these fires and make sure no one gets hurt while also climbing or watching one student to make sure this students didn’t hurt themselves or others? I couldn’t teach anything. I couldn’t help the other kids who were trying to adjust to school because I had too many behaviors that I couldn’t handle by myself. I felt like I was failing the rest of my class because I couldn’t properly build a relationship with them because I was so focused on this one student. I felt like I couldn’t properly teach my routines and management because I had to control this student. I felt like I couldn’t teach them anything because I constantly had the lights turned off or the projector blurred or was mocked by this student so loudly that other students would laugh but then realized nothing was funny.

It felt like heck. I was literally going through heck and no one knew how hard it was but me.

Me and the counselor who I would call everyday.

Honestly, everyone saw me cry in those first three weeks of heck. Literally everyone. Literally everyday after school I would cry.

It breaks my heart writing this knowing that the one time I didn’t cry after work was when we had a staff meeting and I knew I couldn’t cry. But my boss was there and I think she finally saw something because the next day, she sent me help in the room the whole day. And my honest to gosh reaction was literal tears of joy because I had been saying I needed help this whole time, and no one gave me any help, so I fully prepared myself to face the day alone. To know I had help though, broke me. My coach came in that morning when I finally got helped and saw how sad I was and asked if a I needed a hug. She’s not the hugging type.

But I was so broken and low this first three weeks in August.

I have never felt so defeated.

As the weeks went on, finally more people realized how difficult this student was. I was glad that I wasn’t the only one who knew now, but it also sucked that I had to play this game with this student and that everyone knew that there was something wrong. It didn’t take a genus to know that this student needed help. I needed help. Heck, other teacher helpers were telling me I was so patient or I needed a raise because they didn’t know how I did it. I didn’t know how. But I did it.

Nothing got better even if I had help because I had to be the one to still mange this student, which I understood. But still, it didn’t make sense for a teacher helper to teach the whole class while I managed this one student. Because of the switches and the fires I had to put out, honestly the other students were getting disrespectful and stubborn and it was so hard to enjoy them when I felt like I was a failure and a mess. I couldn’t keep crying everyday, calling for help and expecting myself to teach all these kids because it wasn’t fair to them that I couldn’t be the teacher they needed when I had this other student who needed support too.

I remember the night before the next day, I literally called my Aunt and we talked through what I had been going through because I just needed someone else to vent to. I remember also speaking to the ether, hoping that it will get better.

So I was approached the next day after school by my boss who tole me that another teacher in second grade was moving and she needed someone to take this teacher’s position. She told me she could split up the second grade class or split up my class, and the numbers looked better to split up my class. She also said that I could either stay with this student for the whole year most likely or switch to second grade. When you’re in a vulnerable and disoriented place, you shouldn’t be making raitonal decisions.

But honestly, it didn’t really feel like a choice. It felt like an out I didn’t deserve.

Or a miracle.

But it felt more so like an escape that further emphasized how I failed and I couldn’t stick it out to teach the whole year with this student—that I wasn’t strong enough to.

But also, I knew that for my deteriorating and obliterated mental health, I could not teach the whole year with how it was going right then and there. So I said yes.

I mean, I was given an out and in the grade level I always wanted, so why wasn’t I fully happy?

I didn’t deserve it.

I had failed everyone. And deep down I felt like they all blamed the situation on me because I wasn’t good at managing my class. I felt like they thought I sucked as a teacher because I wasn’t strong enough to handle a five-year old like that. And so I went through a grade-level change in seven days as a second year teacher.

And it was the hardest experience emotionally and mentally to go through because I honestly didn’t want to be there anymore. I didn’t want to work, I didn’t want to change everything I thought I knew, I didn’t want to fail again. I feared failing again. I genuinely did.

So no, I couldn’t muster up feeling happy because I didn’t like how I was forced by the universe to switch so soon after feeling like I just learned one thing to learn something else entirely without truly knowing what yet. I didn’t know what I signed up for anymore and that scared me. I was tired, drained, humiliated, terrified, but most of all ashamed.

Ashamed that I had let everyone down, including my old students.

To be quite honest, as I’m writing this four months into my new grade, I still don’t fully feel like I belong teaching this grade. I don’t fully feel proud of myself for how everything happened. I also feel kind of angry that just because I was a new teacher that all the blame was placed on me that I couldn’t manage this one student and other student when everyone has told me now that this one student is one of the hardest students they had ever had. This student went to a more experienced teacher when they split my class, and to be honest, I feel really hurt by how they gave this more experienced teacher more grace and support than they gave me. The counselor was actually there with this student everyday now and they would actually take her out of the room unlike with me where I had to control this student and they couldn’t take this student out of the room because it would look like a reward. Call me masochistic, but I would visit this students new teacher to check on the teacher’s mental health, and she was struggling too.

But somehow I experienced the worst of it. I got the least help and was to blame because now everyone was telling me that, hey, maybe it wasn’t my fault anymore.

So they did blame me.

It was my fault.

Because I was new.

And that’s really a difficult emotion and idea to grasp. I still don’t like it. But I know to not dwell on it too much because I had to focus on moving on with my new grade.

I don’t quite enjoy where I am right now in teaching mentally or emotionally, and one day I hope I will be at a place where I feel supported and valued for what I bring. I don’t think I am a bad teacher—gosh I hope not—I think I was in a bad situation that made me feel like I was an awful educator. And I think if we treat all new teachers like they are disasters waiting to happen, I don’ think anyone would want to stay in this profession. I mean, all teachers had to have started somewhere and we all were not perfect? I wish I wasn’t the one to blame or that I had had more support when I needed it, but I can’t change that now.

Do I want to stay in the grade level I am currently? Honestly, no.

And that’s something I wouldn’t have realized if I hadn’t switched. As much as my life had uncomfortably shifted since August, I am grateful for the lessons it had taught me and the lessons I am continuing to learn. I think most of all, knowing I am not in the best place with my mental health made me want to be gentler with myself and to also focus on things that make me happy so I can feel like I am happy without being happy because of work. Because if I am being honest, I think work made me happy for so long because I felt validated or successful, that when I took away that success, I was left feeling so hollow that I didn’t know who I was if I was not good enough. And now I just want to be good enough and happy for me.

Never Giving Up

I don’t know if this is a lesson or a moment, but I consider it both. I put this under the memories section because I think there’s a moment where you choose not to give up.

August to now felt like not giving up even though every part of me wanted to.

Genuinely.

I wanted to quit my job. I wanted to take a break. I wanted to go on a long vacation. I just wanted to stay in bed. I didn’t want to go out anywhere. I just was in such a heavy headspace that I didn’t know who I was anymore or what I wanted. I mean, I still am in a heavy headspace but not as bad as it was a few months ago. That’s because I have come this far to not see my path through. I have didn’t come this far and endure all these changes just so people can be right and label me an even bigger failure or for me to disappoint myself more and give up.

I think as much as we want to give up on something so much, we owe it to ourselves to try and see what becomes of it, and if we don’t like it, then we can change something. And that’s what’s been getting me through work most days—that even if I am not happy right now at work, I know that I will find a sense of happiness with work again because I know my worth and I know what I want. Not even in the sense of work to, but even if I am not in a light headspace right now, I know I have felt this way before and I got myself through that. I will get myself through this darkness too.

I take each day by day because that’s all we can do as I have said before, and that’s the best I can do at the moment. Sometimes that means sleeping in really late because I am so exhausted and I just need to rest. Sometimes that means taking an hour nap after work because I need the rest. Sometimes that means not exercising as much as I used to because I need to listen to my body. Sometimes that means not forcing myself to read a book just to read a book so I feel like I am a reader—read when I want to read something that makes me excited again. Sometimes that means sitting on the couch, scrolling on my phone while I watch reruns or Youtube.

Never giving up means never stop trying to do things that make you one step closer to being happier than the day you were before.

Healing is a process and finding peace is a journey.

🎞 To All the Movies and Shows I’ve Never, Needed and Wanted to Watch Before 🎞

So what are my hopes and goals for 2024?

Honestly, every year I write a big spiel of every single hope and dream, and to be quite honest, most of the things I write about don’t really happen and that’s on me. I don’t really make an effort to change something because I focus to o much on work to really put myself or my life first. If there’s anything I learned from the hard relationship I have had with work this year is that I don’t want to make work my life. Because in most of the moments that were my favorite, they weren’t about work. I mean, one was, but most of the moments were about having a good time doing something different with those I love or feeling loved.

I want to spend more time doing different things with those I love and feeling loved, and appreciated for who I am.

I think that’s my main goal.

I also want to reconnect with the things I love and that made me happy.

I feel like becoming an adult and preaching being independent, I thought I had to let go of everything that made me a “kid.” Just because you grow up, doesn’t mean you have to grow out; you don’t have to stop doing the things you loved when you were younger because you are older. I honestly think it’s really sad that we place so much pressure on adults to grow up and work and go through this monotonous routine that they hate because they have to pay to make a life when adults are just grown-up kids who should be doing more of what they love. I mean, we give kids all the time and space to figure out what they love and to pursue that. Why does that stop when you reach a certain age? Why does the magic of being passionate about something stop?

I don’t want to grow up if it means I stop doing things I love or that I stop trying to find new things to love.

I want to read more books that I have been wanting to read but keep putting off because I tell myself I can’t buy them, but I should. I want to read more fantasy books because I started reading again when I was fourteen because of my love of fantastical worlds. I want to feel like me again.

I want to draw a silly little picture in a sketchbook and absolutely hate it, but to keep drawing so I can get better. I want to paint anything and everything I can from canvases to vases to water bottles. I want to feel the paint in my hair and under my nails because I secretly love the mess of art. I want to feel free again.

I want to bake treats I know aren’t good for me or others, but I do it because I love it. I want to feel the squishiness of dough in between my fingers or the stickiness of frosting from cupcakes or cakes on my arm because I can’t hold a piping bag straight for the life of me. I want to use my bear oven mitts more because they are cute. I want to feel like I can create again.

I want to wear bold colors and prints and put on the most ostentatious outfit because I love to dress up and feel beautiful. I want to wear the yellow dress with the over the top flower clips and the chunky shoes and have people look at me like I’m crazy. I want to wear the midi dress to show of my curves so I feel like a lady. Maybe I’ll even throw in some make up now because I love experimenting with color and expression.I want to be express myself again.

I want to see the world whether it’s ten miles away to 1,000 miles away. I want to see leaves change color or snow fall from the sky. I want to see a different patch of grass than the ground I have been walking on for the past twenty-three years. I want to see a different country with different buildings and cultures to experience something new. I want to be able to dream again.

I want to smile more at the people and things I love. I want to throw my head back in more laughter until I am concerned about my neck. I want to speak up without feeling scared of what someone will think of me or the worry I feel in the presence of those who made me feel silenced.

I want to fight for my happiness.

This is a sentiment I remember I would tell myself a lot in 2020 when things seemed really bleak. For a while, I forgot about this phrase because I didn’t think I needed it when I felt happy. But happiness is fleeting, and sometimes you have to fight for happiness. You have to wake up each day and choose to be happy because happiness is a chose. It’s not a state of mind, it’s not something money can buy, it’s not something that is consistent.

It’s a choice.

And I think as much as I can say all these things about what I want, I think deep down what I truly want it so be happy.

How weird is that as you grow older the thing you want the most isn’t something grand?

It’s so simple, yet so hard to achieve unless you work on it.

And that starts with choosing happiness, choosing to do the things that bring you that happiness—-the small things, the little things, everything.

I just want to find that happiness again and that sense of unforgivingly, unfalteringly me.

Because I know she’s there and I haven’t seen that person in a while. I miss the girl who used to do things because it brought a smile to her face only for her.

I hope in the new year, 2024, I will find that girl again and have the honor of calling her the woman I am today.

Thank you 2023 for seemingly being a good year until it became one of the hardest years I have felt in a while. Thank you for gifting me the love to teach what ht I love, and also the love of knowing what is best for me at the end of the day. Thank you for breaking me to show me that happiness is a gift, and to hold onto it while you can. Thank you for showing me that I don’t want to be someone who works all the time because that’s not a life. Thank you for allowing me to continue to live a life I hope to be proud of, and happier too.

P.S. Also thank you for everything Taylor Swift related and the power couple that is Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift.

Go sports 🤪

Signing off 2023,

As always, with love,