Getting me back.

So tomorrow is the 8th March. The date that’s been on everyone’s lips for a fair while now. The day all children come back to school. Regardless of my anxiety over Covid, I’m actually really looking forward to having my class back in front of me and just getting on with my job. The worry though, is that I won’t just be getting on with my job, because we’ve become obsessed with children now being somehow damaged and so far behind that they’ll be scarred for life. We underestimate children and young people! They are far, far more resilient that we give them credit for. Now don’t get me wrong, there are children who will have had a horrendous time at home. There are children who won’t have done any learning during this time. And there are those who will find this transition a challenging one. Don’t for a second think I’m saying that we shouldn’t recognise all of this and support these children. But there are many, many children who will be just fine. In fact, I predict that the majority will be ok, because they’ve been at home with parents or carers who have done their absolute best. My worry is that we will get so caught up assessing how far behind children are, that we’ll lose sight of what’s important and we’ll push more teachers (and maybe children) to the brink. Say we assess these kids and find they are behind, what difference does it make to our approach? As teachers we’ll still meet them where they’re at and we’ll still teach them to the best of our ability. That’s what we do.

Anyway, that’s my view on it all. On a personal note, the past few weeks have been an insane struggle. I flit between thinking ‘f**k it, I’m doing my best and that’ll have to be enough’ and then totally freaking out because, well, my best doesn’t feel like enough. I’ve had a couple of very dark days. It’s hard to know if it is my job or me, or perhaps a combination of the two. On the day that I was fantasing about having a car accident, just so I could stop everything, I realised that I wasn’t ok. I’d tried to tell a few people I wasn’t ok but the problem is that quite a lot of people are in the same place right now. Plus, I’m quite often not ok these days and I suspect it gets boring for those around me. So I called my doctor the next day and asked for help. She immediately tried to sign me off, which I flatly refused at that point, but talking things through without feeling guilty for burdening someone did help. I don’t know what the next step is for me but I’m talking to her again next week and I’ll go from there.

In the meantime, my strategy is this: Put me first (well kind of – as much as I can). I have to go back to prioritising running, lifting weights, horses, fun, friends, walks, bonfires, star gazing, reading, sleeping and all the other things that make me feel good. I have to do it or I will go under. This is a fact. I’m trying hard to change my mindset but my mood varies enormously from day to day. I suspect that might be to do with being a woman of a certain age, but I’ll save that discussion for another time. I have some bloomin wonderful people in my life, who lift me so well, so I kind of owe it to them to get the old me back, so that I can be a fun person to be around.

So that’s my mission, to get me back. The real me. Not the stressed, tired, grumpy me, who cries all the time and wakes in the night thinking she’s having a heart attack. I may not have picked the best week to decide this, but honestly, it can’t wait. I can’t wait.

I was done…but now I’m not

So I was done with the blog this time. Definitely done. I have little time and I really struggle with having to hold back and not be totally honest, for fear of what might happen. But you know what? I’m not that great at the moment. I’m not really that ok. And actually saying it here helps. Even if not a single soul reads this, that’s fine, because my hope is that as the words pour out of my head, it might start to take away some of the constant pounding. Or it might stop this horrible racing feeling in my chest, that makes me feel like my heart may just explode (and not in a good way) at any second. So there we go. I’m back.

As a primary school teacher, this week has been one of the hardest on record. It started with me somehow agreeing to become our school’s union rep, despite me really not actually wanting to do it. In some ways I thought I’d be a good person for the job because I stand up for what I believe in and am pretty good at fighting battles for others. But actually this sort of role isn’t good for someone who is pretty anxious, over analyses every conversation and gets too emotionally involved with most things in life. Without going into huge amounts of detail, many teachers wrote to their headteachers saying that they were unprepared to work in full classes in the current situation. I was one of those teachers. I agonised over it for days and realised that I was going to feel guilt regardless of the decision I made. I won’t discuss decisions made by others but I was not alone at all, and that was incredibly reassuring. The decision was made because I don’t want to catch covid. There I said it. I’m scared of catching it. I’m scared that I might be one of the ones who isn’t ok and I have two children who need me. If it wasn’t for them I may well feel quite differently. If I’m honest there have been points where if it wasn’t for my family, I’d wish I wasn’t here some days because I am so overwhelmed by everything. As well as not wanting to catch it myself, I desperately don’t want to pass it on to those around me who may be at risk, particularly my mum. Keeping the families of the children I teach safe was another reason for my decision. The situation in schools was getting out of control and something had to be done. So teachers took action and I’m very proud of my profession for doing so.

After a horrendous weekend agonising over it all, good old BoJo u-turned and closed schools anyway. Super. Except they’re not closed are they?! Schools (rightly so) are open to the children of key workers and for children who are vulnerable. This is absolutely as it should be. Except again, that doesn’t really tell the whole story. Schools are actually open to pretty much anyone who wants their child to be in school. Now I am of course exaggerating a little, but basically under the guidance issued there are many, many people who can now have a school place. This is not just the children where parents have no other option, or children who are at risk if they stay home. It is basically anyone who is struggling. Well I’m pretty sure anyone who had to do the hellish job of home schooling last time, struggled. I am strugging. We all are. But I will not send my children into school, even though they are entitled to a place, because I want schools to remain safe and stay open for those who truly need it. I also want to protect my colleagues. I’m made to feel guilty for saying this, as if I don’t care about the children and their families. This frustrates me enormously because it is precisely that reason I feel this way. I do care. Very much! I want them to be safe, and right now for the vast majority of children and certainly for the rest of our communities, home is the safest place to be.

I say all of this for the millionth time because I was raised to stand up for what I believe in. I don’t accept that if you feel strongly about something, you should just roll over and accept it. Yes I’m opinionated. Yes I’m sometimes wrong. But I would rather voice my opinions and stand up for what I believe to be right, than go to bed every night having kept quiet about things I know are important. It isn’t who I am.

Anyway, I did say on social media that I’d stop my ranting over this because I start to annoy people and I make myself have that heart attack feeling again. So I worked incredibly hard this week to learn how to upload lessons online and give feedback. I made phonecalls to families who needed it and tried to support as best I could. After that, I tried to support my own children with their learning. Yep, working with your own kids is still hellish. I cried every day. Usually more than once.

However, there are positives to be taken from this situation, as there so often are. I feel truly supported by many, many people around me. I feel part of a strong team and unlike so many others right now, I never feel lonely. For this, I am so very grateful. We have been lucky enough to continue looking after the horse we loan, which has brought such joy to my eldest daughter and a welcome escape for me. Again I am reminded of the importance of getting outside and moving your body. It makes me feel strong and alive and it reminds me that there are reasons to keep going.

I haven’t cried at all this weekend. I have still ranted but I have also laughed and stayed up late watching ‘Lucifer,’ drinking red wine and eating bombay mix. I do feel a little broken. My head and chest hurt again now that it’s Sunday. But I am also reminded of all the reasons why I have to keep going and tomorrow I will go into school, paint on a smile and teach those children to the best of my ability. Because after all, they are what’s important and that is what teachers do.

Resilience Part 2

landscape photography green grass field beside dark foggy forest during golden hour — Photo by Ivars on Pexels.com

Unfortunately it didn’t take long before I started to crumble. That’s the thing with my job, you think you’re tough enough, but if like me, you’re actually not, it can send you spiralling. Fortunately I can say this now because I’ve saved myself. The great thing is that it is my daily exercise for RED January and Mind that has been my saviour.

The week started well with a productive Monday and good gym session but on Tuesday I woke up with disgusting red patches all over my chin. Impetigo. It’s an occupational hazard. I’m the master of catching disgusting skin conditions and this was not my first impetigo rodeo. But it was incredibly poor timing. So I had to adapt many of my plans and once again think about vain I actually am. I hated facing anyone with my face looking so gross and just wanted to hibernate. On Wednesday I did. I didn’t go to work as it’s incredibly contagious and that’s what I was advised to do. By Wednesday evening I was feeling enormously guilty and it became clear that I was expected to be at work. For someone like me this causes enormous anxiety. I hate missing work and the feeling that people might be cross with me was too much and I struggled to sleep.

So on Thursday I went to work with raging PMT, a disgusting crusty red face and very little sleep. It took one person to ask how I was and comment that I looked tired before I cried. I unravel quite quickly and hate that I often show how close to the edge I am. I spent the day hating my job and feeling shaky.

However, by Friday I was starting to care less about my face and was reminded why I do absolutely love my job. We had Art Day all day and I had the most wonderful, relaxing day with my class, who were just awesome. As I ran the Daily Mile with my class, one little boy, who always hold my hand commented that he knew why I was running so slowly. I looked down at my boots and smiled, “Ahh is it because I’m not wearing my trainers today?” I asked. He looked puzzled and replied, “No, it’s because you’re really old!” He couldn’t understand why I laughed out loud but looked very pleased with the reaction he got. Kids are brilliant.

All week I’ve continued with my daily activity. I’m pretty active anyway, but this has been really good for those days when I’m stuck in the classroom and get home late. Having to do something active, even if it’s just a dog walk round the block in the dark, has been a massive de-stressor. Today’s run in the beautiful winter sun after a frosty morning dog walk has really lifted me and I feel (just about) ready to take on the week ahead.

So, resilience….I don’t have enough yet, but I reckon that staying active is the key to a healthy mind, so I’m feeling optimistic

Resilience

Last week was long and tough. After 2 blissful weeks off, I came crashing back to reality with a bump. We have a new headteacher at work, so we had two days of INSET before the kids came back on Wednesday. I feel reinvigorated and motivated to teach after quite a long time of feeling pretty fed up with it. It doesn’t mean it’s going to get any easier, but the INSET gave me a few little reminders of why I chose to teach.

At home however I felt more at a loss. Both of my children’s teachers have set them the target of practising and learning their times tables. I feel pretty crap that I’m a primary school teacher and have basically failed to teach my kids quite a lot of crucial things. Anyway, this week I set about trying to get them to practise. My goodness what trauma! At one point we sat with both girls wailing at the table that they couldn’t/wouldn’t do it. My eldest (generally calmer) daughter was absolutely hysterical. She just lost her shit totally. Neither really knows their times tables, despite insisting they do and so both just cried every time they couldn’t do it. Which was often.

So all this got me thinking about resilience. We often talk at school about teaching children to be more resilient and I’m becoming increasingly aware that my own children are absolutely not. And they are absolutely not because neither am I! My girls can’t stand to fail, despite me repeatedly saying that that’s how we learn and that failure is actually important. The thing is, I don’t think I’m very good at it either. I’m incredibly over-sensitive and go to pieces when things don’t go my way. Not really the best example to set. So I guess the challenge in our house is to all toughen up a bit, become more resilient.

Another conversation that my husband and I have had after me having more behaviour training at work, was how we handle our youngest daughter. We continue to be very inconsistent in managing her behaviour, despite our expectations being fairly similar. The behaviour training reinforced what I already knew and what I believe in. That remaining calm to diffuse a situation is best. Understanding that the behaviour is usually triggered by something. Rewarding the good and being consistent in expectations and methods. Anyway, we’ve had this conversation many times and probably my hubby will continue to yell and I’ll continue to be seen to be too soft and let her get away with too much. I’d imagine it’ll continue to be a tricky one.

Finally my focus has been on daily activity for RED January. The idea is that you make the effort to get active every day, to raise money and awareness for Mind. Despite a really busy week, I’ve managed dog walks, runs, yoga, the gym and kettlebells every day so far. Not a bad start…we’ll see what this week holds.

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Gaining Perspective

Halfway through the week we had a bit of a fright. My youngest daughter mentioned that she’d spiked her hand and ‘it might’ve been on a needle.’ When I heard those words, I had that odd feeling where your stomach sinks and you think you might throw up. Now what happened is not relevant to my story, but to cut a long story short, we think my daughter is fine and it looks extremely unlikely that it was a needle that she spiked herself on. Unfortunately, because there was a very small risk, she had to have blood tests for HIV, Hepatitis B and C. She also had to have an injection for Hepatitis and will need one monthly for the next few months and then have further blood tests. She’ll then need another injection in a year. She was pretty upset by the whole experience to be honest. So was I. Here is where I gained perspective – I’d come home from work that day feeling like a failure and questioning, for the millionth time, whether I’m in the right profession. I was also stressing because our house hasn’t sold, because I had work to do, because I was knackered and had no time to exercise – the usual stuff. In a matter of seconds none of that mattered. None of it. The only thing that mattered was that my girl was ok and as I sat with her at the hospital, I thought of all the parents who have to do this every day, the parents of children who are really sick. My daughter was scared, tired and upset and it hurt my heart but I knew she was probably ok. It must be unbelievably tough to watch your child suffer and be completely helpless. It made me feel incredibly grateful. It also made me realise that all of that stuff I’d been stressing about really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. My children and my family are what matters above all else. So I guess a pretty unpleasant evening gave me some much needed clarity.

I’ve struggled at work this week. I’ve been lucky enough not to have to deal with challenging behaviour for the past two years and so I feel like I’ve been thrown back in the deep end. I feel enormously drained and frustrated at having to manage behaviour over teaching. I come home feeling like I’m failing the rest of my class and actually failing these tricky children too. It’s tough.

Out of work I’m feeling optimistic about future plans. Despite having very little interest in our house, we are starting to formulate a plan for the future that excites me. I won’t divulge much now but I’m hoping that some of the things I’ve always dreamed of might not be too far from my grasp.

After resting following my root canal, I took the dog for a glorious 3 mile run yesterday. We went in the late afternoon sunshine and as we tore through the trees, music blasting in my ears, I felt I might’ve turned a corner. Today I went back to the gym, which was awesome. I did a back and shoulder workout that resulted in sweat pouring down my face and body. It felt bloomin good.

So it’s been a mixed week. The weekdays are tough but I’m still hanging on to my weekends and resisting work. It means I feel I’ve had a break, which is needed. I’m also feeling excited about future plans…but that’s another story for another day.

Killer toothache, the start of term, feeling old and big changes ahead.

We’re a few weeks into the start of term and this school year and the holiday feels like a very distant memory. The past month has been overshadowed by chronic toothache and all thoughts of daily fun and exercise went out the window. Each day was a blur of whisky, codeine and anything else I could think of to take away the pain. I finally had root canal yesterday and despite the slightly alarming message that my tooth/gum can take up to a year to heal, I’m feeling unusually optimistic. Even though I feel like I’ve been punched in the face, I definitely don’t have the feeling of wanting to rip my face off anymore, which is nice!

So I have a new class. This was always going to be tough after having my previous bunch for two years. I adored them more than I think I’ve ever adored a class, so not having them has been emotional. It’s crazy I know but that’s how attached us teachers get. I’m trying to suss the new lot out and no doubt they are trying to get the measure of me too. This run up to Christmas with a new class is always a funny time and perhaps not the easiest. I am trying to be much stricter about work/life balance this year though. My plan is to work one of my days off and leave the other for chores. I’m also going to try to only work two evenings a week and not work weekends at all. I’ve managed it so far but the list of tasks to do is growing more quickly than I’m getting through them. However, it’s so nice to actually think about other things at the weekend and not feel the constant guilt that I’m neglecting my own family.

Dealing with the exhaustion of teaching is tough at the moment. I’m desperate to get back into the gym and running but my tooth hasn’t allowed me to get going properly. I do wonder how I ever used to manage it all. A few years ago I never skipped a workout and was in pretty good shape. The last few years have taken their toll and as I approach 40, I’m really starting to feel it. I feel quite determined to change though, and get back on track.

Another cause of the stress and exhaustion is our house going on the market. When people talk about moving being one of the most stressful things you can do, they’re not wrong. I always thought it was the actual moving that was the tricky part but I’m realising that it’s the whole process. Keeping my house in a fit state to be viewed when I have little time, two kids, a dog and a cat is no mean feat. I also think that deep down my gut was telling me that the plan we had in place wasn’t quite the right one. Sometimes it’s really hard to tell exactly what it is that you want. I find it very tricky indeed. I can’t decide what to eat for my next meal, let alone where in the world I want to live. I have found the whole thing overwhelming and have really had to focus on where I see myself in the future. I think we’re finally getting there but that’s a story for another time.

My eldest baby turned 10 this month. I have no idea how that precious, tiny, scrawny little mite has turned into the beautiful, funny, athletic girl she has. She celebrated with a horse riding party and sleepover with her closest friends. I think they all enjoyed it and I even got a little ride, which was much fun. However, we will not be doing a sleepover again any time soon! The point just before midnight that they started wrestling (who knew girls did that?!) was a game changer! I also finally allowed my big girl to have her ears pierced and am coming to terms with the fact that I have a child in double digits now, who will soon be stealing my make up and going out clubbing.

Both of my girls were phenomenal last weekend, running Pretty Muddy to raise money for Cancer Research. I ran with my littlest, who attempted every obstacle and chatted the whole way round. My big girl only went and came in second overall – the first girl to finish. She tore round the course on her own and absolutely smashed it, making me super proud.

I’m currently pondering how to deal with my smallest girl, the angry one. She hit her sister hard this evening, so after wrestling some beloved dress up shoes off her I sent her upstairs. I waited until she was calm to try to talk to her but the moment I tried her blood started to boil. It’s always the way. How do I teach her it’s wrong to tell people to ‘shut up’ or that they are idiots? Am I fighting a losing battle?

So here I am on a Tuesday evening, feeling a bit sick at the prospect of work tomorrow but hopeful for the future. There are big changes to come. I can feel it in my bones.

Why weekends aren’t as great as they should be.

Every Friday night I have this overwhelming sense of relief. I’ve made it through another tough week of teaching, parenting and trying to fit in some workouts. Every Friday I feel optimistic – I’m going to get up and walk the dog, run, go to the gym, get jobs done, clean my house, spend some precious time with my family, sort the garden out, do some DIY, catch up with friends, read, help the kids with their homework, prep the week’s meals…..and on and on and on. Every Friday night I drink. I drink the week away and I drink because woohoo, it’s the weekend!

Then Saturday morning hits me like a slap in the face. Friday night’s euphoria a distant memory and utter exhaustion sets in. During the week I run on adrenaline and caffeine but when I reach the weekend I just grind to a halt. In the cold light of day the DIY seems less appealing and actually I’m pretty knackered so would rather not go for a run, or a dog walk or do anything much. I catch sight of myself in the mirror. When did I start looking so old and worn down? I beat myself up for letting myself go. I snap at the kids who argue constantly. I let them watch too much TV because I want peace and quiet but then I beat myself up for being such a boring and useless mother. I spend ages scrolling on Facebook and Instagram, wondering where other people find the energy to get out and have fun. I beat myself up again for wasting time looking at my phone. My house is a dump, it’s disgusting and I feel overwhelmed so I sit and do nothing. I beat myself up again for being lazy and useless. At least during the week I barely have time to breathe, let alone notice what a mess my house is.

Then Saturday night finally comes around. Woohoo Saturday night! I’m not actually going anywhere but it’s Saturday night so I’ll drink some wine. Sunday is going to be the day I get all my shit done. Sunday I am going to sort my life out. The funny thing is that I’m still knackered on Sunday. I wonder why, I mean it’s the second day of the weekend, I should be fully rejuvenated by now right?! I’m slow to get going. I’m still grumpy but I don’t really know why. I can’t focus my attention to any task so I pretty much do nothing. Panic starts to set in. It’s Sunday and I still haven’t cleaned my house, spent quality time with my family, prepped the week’s meals, made my face look alive and youthful and on and on and on.

I’ve written a plan for next week. I do it every Sunday. I can’t actually fit everything into my week. I never can. My plan fills me with anxiety. It always does.

I’ve not written this to be a miserable cow (although that is what I am at the moment). I’ve written it for anyone else who just hangs on in there through the week, only to find the weekend a struggle too. I’ve written it because posting pics of workouts and dog walks and my gorgeous girls, make it look like my weekends are all sunshine and rainbows. They are not. It’s not because I don’t love my family, or want to get things done. It’s because I have a job that takes everything I have and leaves me with very little energy for anyone or anything else. I don’t know what the solution is (cutting back on the wine is a good start I know) but I’m pretty stubborn and I’m going to find one….