Sometimes we don’t realize what we’ve accumulated.
What we carry.
What we’ve integrated and what we’ve rejected.
Where to focus and where to let go.
It’s been over three years since March of 2020, when the world changed in ways we couldn’t anticipate. With or without the pandemic, my own life would have changed in many, but not all, of the ways it did.
In February of 2020, I menstruated for the very last time. Something which had been a part of my life for about 38 years, minus pregnancies, was gone for good.
On March 13, 2020 at 3:30pm, they showed us a cart of disinfectant sprays we could borrow from the office to clean our classrooms and said see you on Monday.
On March 13, 2020 at 5:30pm, the school district announced there would be no school for two weeks. We didn’t return to in-person learning for an entire year.
For the next 2+ years, I taught virtual, hybrid, and in-person (masked) again.
On Friday, May 29, 2020, my daughter and I attended the Justice 4 George Floyd March in Milwaukee.
On October 9, 2020, my sister and I were tear-gassed along with other protestors exercising civil disobedience in Wauwatosa.
During 2020-2022, I attended dozens of protests, witnesses, and vigils for racial justice. Clearly I (we) haven’t done enough. Some things have changed, and many things remain the same.
In April of 2021, an eight-year-old student of mine - who had only been attending virtual classes very sporadically due to fragile health - died of kidney failure.
In the summer of 2021, I found a good therapist without whom I wouldn’t have survived the 2021-2022 school year. (There’s a whole other list that could be generated based on the 2021-2022 school year, but I’ll leave that for another time.)
In 2021, both of my sons graduated from college and my daughter graduated from high school.
In 2021, my husband and I became empty nesters.
In May of 2022, I resigned from my teaching job. In June of 2022, I cleared out my classroom for good.
In June of 2022, I got on a plane for the first time since the pandemic to visit my in-laws in Poland.
From spring to fall of 2022, I applied to 30+ jobs. Applying, networking, interviewing, rejecting, ghosting, hoping, worrying.
In September of 2022, my husband and I celebrated 27 years of marriage. We have navigated so much together. Ups and downs. Together.
In October of 2022, I started a new job.
At ages 53 to 54, I’ve learned an entirely new job. New place, new routine, new skills, new processes, new people. I’ve learned a lot. It’s been challenging and exhausting and occasionally exhilarating.
In the past three years, I’ve gained and lost the same 10-15 pounds three times. Stress eating - or “self-soothing with food” as a colleague called it - is real.
In 2023, I’ve been eating better, strength training, running, walking, biking, stretching, and trying to take care of the one aging and amazing body I have.
In the first few months of 2023, I had two spots of basal cell carcinoma removed from my body.
In the past three years, I’ve read over 200 books, seen one Broadway show, attended two concerts, and been to the movie theater a handful of times.
In the past three years, I’ve continued to write. Blog posts, journals, Instagram poetry, writing group, writing challenges, Substack newsletter. Writing is a constant.
In the past three years, I have become the person I am today. Definitely different from the person I was in February and March of 2020.
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It’s interesting to look back, to take stock. I didn’t choose 23 items for this list, but that’s where I ended. It’s interesting what stands out. What has almost been forgotten. There’s so much more I could’ve included. I focused on the personal more than the political.
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It feels like time, or perhaps just change, accelerates as we get older. I’ve been through a lot. You have too. Take stock. Pat yourself on the back.
We survived. We grieved. We celebrated. We struggled. We changed. We grew.
With gratitude,
Mary
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P.S. In recent days, a couple of friends told me they’ve been reading my newsletter. And I had no idea. Please, if you could, just tap the like button (heart) so I know you’ve read what I’ve written. I’d appreciate it so much.
Your musings today make me think of this little phrase: Where attention goes, energy flows, that's what grows. You write, "Where to focus and where to let go." Concentration is problematic for me. It is more a cyclical aspiration than anything. My attention is constantly flitting around - perhaps not ever giving any one thing the proper amount of attention. I suppose letting go is the same, though I feel more practiced and skillful in this area.
I'll admit that an inventory feels like a scary prospect for me right now, too. Looking back and/or looking forward too closely doesn't feel wise for me in this moment. But, as Lynn said, you have planted the seed. Maybe one day.... :-)
What an inventory! I am almost afraid to do my own. But you have planted the seed.