Live like a Third Grader

I spent a good majority of my summer in and out of depression. Some mornings laying in bed until 11 am, at my worst 3 pm. It felt safer to stay in the make believe world of my mind than to face the reality of my fragmented life. Stuck in a toxic relationship cycle that my friends and family tired of hearing and I myself felt exhausted of living; yet I felt, and maybe still do a little bit believe it as my only hope of getting what I want from life; love. Hiding from the people I loved, feeling abandoned by friends who believed tough-love may force me to come to Jesus and see the light, I began to feel lifeless. When I did eventually make it out of bed I found myself still dreaming, my mind in a place far from reality. I stopped dancing to the music in my kitchen, I started drinking a lot of wine every single night and scrolling endlessly through my instagram feed. I traveled on a 21 hour flight hoping I could get a grip, but where I went, still there I was.

And then I started my first day of teaching third grade. These kids, so full of raw emotion. Some crying leaving their parents and sweet summer behind, some squealing in excitement of seeing their friends for the first time in a long time, some shyly navigating the new landscape of where they’d spend the next days for the next 9 months. All LIVING. unapologetically. We had our first assembly and the kids belted songs they’d learned from years prior. One of my students leaped like a frog and sang her highest notes, without a care of who was watching or what they might think. I used to feel like this, I used to be this girl, maybe she’s not so far away…

This isn’t a writing of finality or revelation. Instead, you could call it documentation of being in the muck, trudging through, and really really fucking trying. Maybe it’s proof to myself that even though there are still mornings when I wake up with a dirty dishes in the sink and a pile of dirty clothes scattered throughout my apartment, a bottle of wine open on the coffee table, there’s also that girl inside of me ready to cartwheel around, sing and dance without a care, and raw with sadness, joy, and life. And maybe I’m not quite sure how to untangle her totally yet, but simply knowing she’s in there does feel like profound revelation.

In an attempt to not be stuck in total vanity, I hope that if you’re reading this and you feel like you don’t have it figured all out, or like you’re in the thick of it, just know that there’s a little human dancing inside of you too. And maybe, if you could simply remember, that right now could be enough.