Day 88

I am convinced that sometimes, certain people really are out to get me. OK, maybe it's not so much about me. Maybe they just want to elevate their own status. Maybe they only know one way to do that. In order to feel superior, they have to create a dynamic within which I am perceived as inferior. They get to be one up by knocking me down a few pegs. I am trying to learn to deal with these people without engaging in pissing matches.



I currently have a student in an online class who likes to send me little email reminders of my shortcomings as a teacher. I would like to respond with, "You arrogant little prick..." But somehow I do not think that this would be an effective way to teach him that in fact he is acting like an arrogant little prick.

Instead, I try to reflect back to him what I hear him saying, "It sounds like you think you know more about how to teach this class than I do...It sounds like you are frustrated with my teaching methods...It sounds like you have a lot of ideas about changes you would like to see in this class..." My hope is that I can serve as a mirror. Perhaps he will see that he is trying to one up me and that this is not an effective strategy for empowering himself. Or maybe he will continue to be an arrogant little prick.

Actually I know that he is not (an arrogant little prick). Name calling is my way of attacking back. When I really try to empathize, I see that he is probably someone who has been hurt by people in authority. He attacks because he is scared. How can I help him feel safe? I can try to be more transparent. I put all my cards on the table and communicate my intentions. Who knows, maybe we'll both learn a thing or two.

Day 87

The women's retreat I went to over the weekend is hosted by a group of women who have been meeting for 18 years. They always provide a safe place for any woman who wants to join them. I first started going to their retreats about 7 years ago when I was in a very difficult place in my life.

I was newly married and my partner was very sick. I was overwhelmed and filled with righteous self-pity; My first husband developed a chronic illness the first year we were married. There was a lot of "Why me?" I was flooded with grief over my lost dreams. It seemed to me that the joy just seeped from my life.

Lucinda Williams sings a song about joy with this refrain: "You took my joy and I want it back." For years I felt that way; I wanted my joy back. This weekend, at the retreat, I realized that I got my joy back. I'm not sure exactly when or why it happened. It took 7 long years of grieving but my joy returned.

At this point, I'm trying not to hold onto my joy too tightly.

Day 86

I just returned from a 2 day women's retreat on Lake Coeur d'Alene. It was wonderful but I am glad to be home. Homesickness sets in when I am away from home for even a few days. I am a nester. I enjoy the company of my close friends and family. I am comforted by familiar surroundings. When I am away I miss the everyday routines that are a foundation in my life.

This morning, after only two days away, I experienced a renewed appreciation for my routine. I got out of bed, checked my email, had a simple breakfast and my favorite tea, and read. I took my allergy medications and used my neti pot and my steam inhaler. I spoke to my mom on the phone and graded a few papers. It was all very ritualistic and calming.

Some might think my life boring; I prefer to think of it as monastic.

Day 83

I am getting ready to leave for a short trip - a weekend women's retreat. I have been with this group before and I know that it will be fun and nurturing. And yet there is a little bit of apprehension. I am always a little nervous about traveling, even short distances.

I was in a serious car accident when I was 17. I learned that life can change in an instant. That message is still with me anytime I head out in a car. It is a curse and a blessing. It is hard for me to fully enjoy getting away because I am so aware of what I am leaving behind.

My "bucket list" doesn't include sky diving or traveling to India. I am certain that if I had only a short time to live I would want to spend it with those I love: my mom, my son and my husband. The moments with them are like pieces of elaborate blown glass. I am trying to learn to hold them loosely in the palm of my hand.

Day 82

I had to change the location for my dissertation defense today because of some obscure rule that I (and the members of my committee) were unaware of. It was a representative from the graduate school who informed me. I could feel the tension rising. Why are there so many rules? How can I be expected to know and follow them all? What other rules lay in wait for me, ready to snap like steal traps?

As someone who has struggled my whole life with anxiety, I have become a careful observer of how others cope with tension. I have noticed that many people retreat. They steal moments away and commune with themselves. Not me. My instinct is to kick and scream. I want to spin like a whirling dervish. I am the proverbial chicken with no head. I experience anxiety as something akin to a revving engine. I am filled with energy that needs to be expended.

I have learned that this energy can be dangerous. It often causes me to act without thinking. Breathing is the answer. I sometimes say these words from Thich Nhat Hanh to myself:

Breathing in I go back to the island of myself.
Breathing out I feel safe.

Day 81

It doesn't happen often and I know that my friends and family would be shocked to hear it but at times I am at a loss for words. Simply put, I have nothing to say. Today I am celebrating those (rare) moments.

Day 80

I had lunch with my son yesterday. He shared with me some of his fears about going to Evergreen in a few months. I immediately took on his fear and spent the night tossing and turning. Letting go has never been my strong suit.

I met a girl recently. She was about the same age as my son. She shared a story of driving for the first time on the busy highways near Seattle. She pulled over and called her mother in tears. She said that her mother was exceedingly calm and assured her that she would be fine. She said, "She was so matter-of-fact about it." She went on, "If I had sensed any fear in her, I'm not sure that I could have gotten myself back out on the highway." She knew that her mother believed in her and it made it possible for her to believe in herself.

I imagine that her mother was probably on the other end of the line racked with fear for her daughter. She put on a facade because that's what her daughter needed. Is this dishonest? Perhaps. Or perhaps she just recognized, in that moment, that the fear was an illusion and refused to allow it to grip her or her child.

She is my heroine today.