Be gentle to yourself

As many of you know, I've been struggling with what to do this year. Caught in a holding pattern until my next scan comes in, right about the time when school districts around me are beginning. I am in an impossible emotional and physical position. And have been incredibly hard on myself. To push, to be 'stronger,' to get healthier as fast as possible so I can finally get into a classroom.

Before this week, I saw it as a failure. As a goal that was not reached. I look around me and see peers of mine going into their second or third year teaching, and here I am. Barely made it out of my first year, with little hope of going into my second year at the moment. Why, when cancer survivors are finished treatment, why do we constantly try to compare ourselves to the healthy? To those who haven't experienced the horrid treatment that we've been through?

My thought process has always been - this is where I should be. I should be, in a classroom teaching in Florida. I should be, coaching on the side or tutoring hebrew. I should be taking on a full time job this September and start teaching. I should... Why are the expectations so high? Why do we set ourselves up for this? Because we want to be normal. Because we don't want to be seen as sick anymore, and because, realistically, we're grieving over a past life.

I have always set my standards incredibly high for myself. I did not take any time off when I was sick in college, I jumped back in the game of life last year a month after ABVD, and only two and a half months out of transplant, I moved to Boston, rebuilding my life. As fast as I can. I always thought this was a mature outlook. A job, being a workaholic, hardly having time for rest was my translation of being a responsible adult. Pushing yourself, doing it all on your own, and never asking for help. That was an adult.

The truth is, it can be, for most. And most likely, I will be forced into that position at some point soon. But for me, it doesn't need to be right this second. I have fought through everything that has come my way, as best as I can. With little to no recovery time between treatments. And, that has been my choice. No one is to blame but me.

However, this is the part where I have to realize, by being gentle with myself. Taking care of myself. After this horrible event. Does not mean I'm failing. Although a part of me still feels that way. That going to school plus a part time job, is failing. That I should have prepared more for interviews, that I should ignore the scan coming up and just go full force into the work force. That I should be stronger.

I should be stronger.

I should be... stronger.

I have to take a step or two back. And think, and remember, what I have just endured. It is true, that my peers are in their second or third years of teaching. But, I am not them. I did not just graduate college and begin my teaching career without any bumps in the road. I started my life, and a truck drove through it... twice. And although I am not asking for any exceptions, or excuses, on life. I do need time, to be gentle to myself. And I feel this is a lesson for everyone.

We continually try to set incredible expectations for ourselves. Which can be a positive and a negative. You will fulfill your goals, you will be successful. But if you push too hard, if you do not give yourself time to recover, if you beat yourself up for not being as 'strong,' as you thought you were. You are only carrying more weight on your back, you are carrying around negatives that aren't necessary. So therefore, a middle ground is needed. I keep telling myself and others, we can only do the best we can do. And that's it, period.

If I don't find myself in the classroom full time this year. I have to allow myself to be okay with that. It does not mean, I'm weak. It does not mean, I will never teach again. And it does not mean, I'm failing.

It just means, for right now, and right here,
I need to take time to breathe.

We all deserve that, at some point in our lives, don't we?

- B