365 Days Of Love. Day 31

I think one of the greatest lessons I've learned is that I have to love myself in order to love others. I've started and re-started this post so many times. Although I've had so many people teach me so many different things about love, I'm racking a seemingly empty brain tonight, because I'm having such a hard time loving myself.

It's really easy for me to write about other people, even when it relates directly to my life, even when their story is extremely personal to me. Writing about myself, though, is hard.

Really really hard.

Right now, I'm finding it really hard to love myself because so many things I've found my identity in have been stripped from me.

I've long claimed that running depletes my energy to that of a normal person, rather than a hyperactive 24-year old. Since fracturing my foot two weeks ago, I haven't been able to run. Assuming my two-week break from the pavement would result in a healed foot, I anticipated going on a run this evening. As my foot ached with the passing of the day, I questioned premature anticipation. As I shimmy my foot around, testing to see if the pain I feel is actually real, I know my running shoes and sweat will have to wait. It's not that I'm dependent on running, but it has been a part of my day for my adult life's entirety. Losing it has caused me to lose a little facet of myself, so it seems.

In addition to postponement of gym shorts and running shoes, my classroom has been converted into a state assessment boot camp of sorts. With our end of year test in a week, my students have been confined to two hours of reading, two hours of math, and an hour of social studies and science each day. I have six group of students for an hour each and I'm required to hold their hand while doing assessment-like passages. Reading has been reduced to two pages of text and circling of A, B, C, or D. As I coach my students through this, I can't help but think I'm adding to the demise of their critical thinking skills. When I think of myself as a reading teacher, I imagine students invested in humanitarian themed texts, discussions and questions, debates and action. I hate that I am expected to be a "teach to the test" teacher, I hate even more that I've let myself become that teacher.

I know this post isn't joyful or happy or encouraging, even. To me, it's been a purging experience. Purging of the expectations I have of myself, expectations that I can't be fully me if I don't have all my ducks in order or if everything isn't going my way. I've been able to purge negative feelings I have about myself, purge the things that have made it so hard for me to see the love that is. Here. There. In each moment.

I've said it before, but it seems so real now. Loving convenes within.