loose change

today is the last monday i’ll experience as a 24 year old. it’s 8:14 am and i was 11 minutes early to school today.

now i’m listening as a six-year-old turns on the old CD-radio in our classroom and scans static, and a seven-year-old who’s just arrived at school shoves a santa hat onto my head and tries to read over my shoulder. a spanish ad for the samsung galaxy plays on the radio. i have a chat window open with the new york times trying to figure out how to activate the gift subscription i bought for my boyfriend.

this new york times thing has weighed heavily on my mind. i’d purchased it early last week so that sam could do the crossword on his own while we’re apart and the purchase never went through, he never got a confirmation email. i wish i had been more normal about it. instead i took it as a grave failure to accomplish even the most simple task for my partner.

the kids are in spanish now; it’s 11:10. the mornings seem to go by faster than the afternoons. i finally figured out how to send sam the new york times subscription. i wish i hadn’t perseverated over it so much. i wish i’d accepted it as a simple mistake instead of as a failure.

following that incident, last week was full of things like it. really nasty perceptions of myself that snowballed into a nightmare of ugly thoughts and projections. i’m witnessing my body changing, my cycles changing, and it’s happening too quickly for me to acknowledge it as it does. i don’t catch on until after the fact that the thoughts in my brain are likely exacerbated and darkened by a hormone imbalance. by the time i do realize, it feels too late. i feel as though the damage has already been done–i’ve been selfish or bitter, or accusatory, or afraid.

this deepening of pre-menstrual brain takeover is terrifying to me, mainly because this is the first time i’ve seen it deeply impact a relationship. i felt completely out of control of my thoughts but was still taking them at face value instead of with a grain of salt. i was terrified to put these thoughts into words. holding onto them only worsened the fear.

every time i came close to realizing that these fears weren’t necessarily true i would regress, convinced to believe them because of how real they felt. i was plagued with negative thoughts about my relationship. i was convinced that i felt like this because of my relationship. i was terrified to admit that i was the problem. i still am terrified of that. the clarity i’ve been provided with in hindsight has allowed me to understand that i did not intend to hurt anybody else, i didn’t intend to hurt my partner–i was inflicting so much pain upon myself that i lashed out at anybody who bore witness to it. this almost makes it feel worse. if i’d meant to hurt him then i would just be a bad partner, that’s a very simple answer, and the solution would be for me to stop being a bad person, or to be dumped.

it’s more complex than that. the solution doesn’t involve sam at all. the work is mine to do and the choice to do it is mine to make. and it feels very urgent. i wish i were strong enough to recognize the urgency by myself. i’m thankful to have somebody who cares about me enough to point it out. i’d written back in june, when i began to fall in love with him, that things wouldn’t work out if i’m unable to provide myself with the same love i want to receive from my partner. last week i saw my lack of self-respect affect my relationship in a way i never want it to again.

i’ve been thinking about Things I’m Going To Do For Myself When I Turn 25. i want to hold myself accountable in writing one piece every week. i do shit like this all the time–setting intentions and then letting myself down and cutting myself slack when i don’t complete them. but i think the slack is cumulative. it piles on in different ways. when i let things stagnate, things like chores, dishes, writing, running, they only become harder to accomplish in the long term. there has to be a happy balance between going easy on myself and holding myself accountable.

it’s the end of the day now. it’s 5:19. after dismissal i sat alone in my classroom and listened to a meditation sam had sent me. it was around the concept of a “field of care,” a mental space in which you acknowledge and accept the field of care you are held in. i held sam in my brain as i allowed myself to be held by him. i started crying, which felt amazing. the tears came easily. they were sad tears both for myself and for sam that i struggle to receive love.

all throughout this i was thinking about how much he cares, and how strongly he does so. how much he wants to help, and to find solutions. i was thinking about why it’s so difficult for me to acknowledge i need therapy, because i very simply do. maybe it makes me feel like i’ve failed in taking care of myself, which i have. taking care of myself would look like going to therapy. i want to be rid of the idea that going to therapy means that i’m broken, because i know that i’m not. even though sometimes i feel so.

in talking with mr. reed today about the kids, and the amount of time i spend each day reminding them to do their seat work, incentivizing them to finish early so that they can have free time, reprimanding them when the work doesn’t get done. he denoted the difference in mindsets between “failures” and “opportunities.” every perceived failure in the classroom is an opportunity to teach, an opportunity to learn, and an opportunity to try again and to do better.

i can learn to accept my failure as an chance to prevent it from happening again. i’m not sure how to walk myself down from the cliff of guilt i’m standing on. i think that time will help. i think that leaning into support instead of being fearful of it will help. and i think that being nicer to myself will help.

there’s a first-grader who, when turning in an assignment, is incapable of receiving a serious compliment about it. today he drew a lovely picture of a tent next to a tree; it was the neatest drawing i’ve ever seen him do, and i commended him for his effort and time. he was disgusted by my saying so, but secretly pleased. i feel like that sometimes when i do something good for myself and somebody else says they’re proud of me. there’s such a vulnerability required in honestly accepting that.

i know that i will feel embarrassed again in my relationship. i know that i will maybe feel ashamed. i hope that i accept these feelings with grace. i will not be overly ambitious in thinking that beginning to work on myself equates to fixing everything. but i will continue to put effort into being a better friend to myself. when i wake up feeling exhausted or incapable i want to respond with affirmation. i want to tell myself you can do it! in the same way i would tell a friend who wakes up feeling like they can’t.

in terms of trying my best: i want to believe that i do this. but maybe the threshold of “best” is lower when i’m not able to uplift myself. “best” doesn’t exist when every action is linked with negative feedback in the brain.

i want to feel like myself, i want to like myself, i want to know myself.

that’s the intention behind writing. i want to try to know myself better. it’s easier to be nice to people you know and love. i want to love myself.

i don’t know what will happen! i hope i write again next monday! and i’m sure that i will. i care about this relationship more than anything, and i need to care about myself to the same degree.

so nowwwwwww i’m going to put on some music, i’ll change my sheets, i’ll tidy up my room, maybe i’ll even fucking vacuum. and then i’ll do the crossword and eat pozole. and then maybe i’ll go to sleep. and tomorrow morning i’ll wake up and be kinder to myself.

as an afterthought–one of my first graders today read out the sticker on my laptop that says be nice to you. it’s the one that sam always points out. beckett didn’t get it: “that doesn’t make any sense!” i wondered if he yet understands the alternative, and i hope he doesn’t. i wish i never learned how to be unkind to myself.