I didn’t consider 2017 a particularly awful year: highlights included the healthy and happy birth of my partner’s child in February, a week in Chicago during April vacation with the kids, two weeks in Maui over the summer with my partner, her baby, her extended family, and my children, several more trips to Chicago both with the kids and on my own to visit with my 93-year-old grandmother, and a great start to the school year with five classes full of really cool 10th and 12th graders. Six weeks into the school year, however, I found out I needed surgery, and soon. Six weeks after surgery, I returned to work, raring to go and excited to see where my students had been and what they had been doing. A week before Christmas vacation and nine weeks after a surgery I was told would be “fine after 2-3 weeks of recovery,” I found myself out of work and back in the surgeon’s office facing a second surgery to repair the first, which hadn’t healed properly. Though I rang in the new year from the comfort of my own couch, I am grateful for this second chance at learning how to be.
I thought I had properly prepared myself for the six-week leave of absence; moreover, as if I hadn’t prepared myself, my coworkers, friends, and family showered me with care packages, meals, books, and other forms of entertainment. I barely had a second to get bored during the entire leave of absence, thanks to friends with flexible schedules, family willing to travel for a visit, and plentiful phone calls from everyone I never had time to catch up with during the usual hustle and bustle. I prepared the children for the worst, assuming I wouldn’t be feeling myself for several weeks. But I also looked forward to the time away from the insane demands of today’s teaching jobs so that I could read, so that maybe I would write something, perhaps I might find time for myself in this brief window.
Instead, the six weeks disappeared in what felt like six seconds, and I had barely read one of the half dozen books by friends had sent. I hadn’t even felt like opening the computer, much less pick up a pen and write. I binged episodes of This Is Us, rewatched favorite movies, and played Candy Crush (having caught on to the craze several years late). Instead of valuing the time I had been given, I pretty much checked out during that time. When I returned to work, I dove back into my normal life manically, and I knew it. I was out of balance, running hot, and couldn’t slow myself down. I tackled school work fervently, attended yoga classes obsessively, and over-scheduled my free time.
I should have known I was going to crash and burn. But I kept pushing my limit, and each time I did, I felt great. Until the time I didn’t–and re-entry came screeching to a halt.
This time, I came out of surgery feeling much more like myself. Christmas wasn’t hijacked by my setback, New Year’s Eve was a wonderfully cozy celebration of friendship and love, and school is back in session without me. Instead of twiddling my thumbs until the doctor gives the ok to return to work, I’m setting out to do what I couldn’t the first time: be. Be present, be thoughtful, be purposeful, be productive, be insightful, be me. This time, re-entry’s going to be a breeze.
(mostly) full disclosure 