sunday night and balance.

I've been thinking a lot about balance today. I don't think I had it last year at my job.
It's so easy to take on these kids... their stuff... it's so easy to feel the pain of some of these kids, and hard to focus on the hope. It's so hard to hear some of their stories without some piece inside breaking just a little. Last year I had a total meltdown over it all. Hell, I even had a miscarriage. How does one detach in this work and yet remain committed and whole?

Last year I almost always gave the extra. I almost always took the hard ass kid by the hands and waited for him/her to look into my eyes so that he/she knew that they were Seen. I wanted them to know that I saw them - and I respected them - and I honored them - for doing the best that they can. I mean, they really do the best they can - they can't help it if the world around them is unstable and inconsistent. I want to look at them all and invite them back into their bodies .. make it safe for them, if only for a day, an hour, a moment.

But then in that seeing - in that invitation - in that gaze - I acknowledge their hearts in a way that invites them inside of me...
and then, perhaps, that starts a collection of situations and little lovely souls that I hold in me, and I love and I love until my heart breaks into pieces and I am no longer whole.

And what good is that?

This year I am not nearly as open. It's counter intuitive to me. It's not really how I want to be, but it's a matter of self preservation.

I see who/how I want to be: a shining example, a happy person who doesn't lose her patience and can gently and firmly usher back on the track, all the time serene and smiling. This pillar of strength that doesn't get tired of chasing the run-aways or catching the apple before it falls. (I went apple picking today.) I don't know how many times my para and I see the eruption coming and re-direct before chairs are thrown.

Last year I deliberately did not catch an apple. I wanted to see what would happen. Of course, the child went wild, threw materials from off the shelves across the room, toppled over tables... I had to evacuate the class, call counselors up. It took two to remove her, screaming her head off as they carried her away. "What happened?" my lovely asst. principal at the time asked. I told her, perfectly honestly, "I wanted to see what would happen if I didn't catch her."
Cuz that's real life. Cuz that's the deal. Cuz I'm not always there, there won't be someone there all the time who cares and sees and helps and assists these kinds of passes.
(big football game today. I'm full of metaphors).

Not to say that I won't be catching anymore apples or assisting passes. But how do I keep myself engaged and removed at the same time? How do I care and love without feeling like I have to brush myself off when I get home, pieces of children and their hearts stuck all over my sleeves? How do I come home and let go and laugh and not have nightmares? How do I sleep?

Here's another metaphor of sorts. I re-potted plants today; plants that had gotten too big for their homes. One of them, a hanging trailer, wouldn't come out of it's plastic pot. "C'mon," I urged this plant. "You need more room so you can grow." I finally got it to come out, it's roots wrapped so tightly around itself I felt guilty I'd waited so long. I put it in a deeper, wider pot - filled in with miracle-grow soil - hung it outside on the porch to bask in the sun for the afternoon and by the time I brought it in, I could see that it had claimed new space. It's full and happy and perky and I swear I can hear it breathing in big sighs.

And there's me. I need more room to grow. I'm not even sure what this means to me right now or how to give myself that space. I can't keep giving of myself to the point that I have nothing left. I have to find new ways of doing this - keeping myself in tact - shaking off at the end of the day - getting sleep without nightmares or mind spins of lessons and troubles and meetings and behaviors...

I have to up-root from an old way of being, and I have started, though the detached approach isn't working so well.
Couldn't I just let go, do the best I can every day, make it enough that I've done the best I can, and let it go?
Couldn't I just find a bigger pot to claim space in, fill up with some extra dirt and let my roots extend further? Couldn't it just be as easy, like that? Like nature?

Lesson planning awaits. Sunday night blues.