A teacher’s perspective

 “Madame, what did I miss yesterday?” 

I close my eyes for a second, pretending to reflect on what we did yesterday. Truthfully, I don’t remember. I can barely remember what I’ve prepared for today. 

But even more truthfully, I’m just fuming inside. How hard is it, really, for my kids to take the initiative and check online to find out for themselves? I post the class PowerPoint and everything else we did in class every single day. Online. At the touch of a mouse. Just take thirty seconds and figure it out for yourself, I mutter in my head. 

“Umm yes, we practiced conjugating -er verbs because we are taking a quiz today.”

Wrong thing to say. Next thing I know, three kids are like, “We have a quiz today?? What!? Can we retake it?” 

I do an invisible eye roll and say, “Oui.” No matter how many times I tell them to study for a quiz...

This has to be one of my least favorite questions of all time, having a student ask what we “did in class yesterday”. It’s frustrating because I go to so much extra work to make everything accessible, especially for those students at home in quarantine or who are online now because they’re at risk for Covid. 

But as I have been pondering on several frustrating things going on in my teaching world, I’ve realized something I have never thought about before. 

Just like I at times feel frustrated and burdened by the expectations of students, who expect me to bend over backwards to help all the time, perhaps sometimes Heavenly Father feels sad in the same way. I shouldn’t expect God to make life easier when I want him to and how I want him to. Why? Because that isn’t how it works. If I expect my kids to not demand so much of me, I understand that I cannot expect the same thing from my Father in Heaven. Of course, He wants me to ask for help and strength and he wants me to have hopes and dreams for my life. But I am to learn to respect his timing and his will for when and how those dreams and those hopes will be realized. 

I know I can be more patient with these kids - all 120 of them. Because God is patient with me. I’m still learning, I’m still growing. And I still need to know, even for me, can I retake that quiz? Can I have one more day to do the homework? Can you help remind me what I learned yesterday, and how I can improve today? 

Great teachers, after all, teach by example and experience, and not just with words. 

My journey

I stare at my face, my figure, my eyes...

And dare not to smile, for I believe all the lies :

That I’m ugly and weak, unkind, undeserving, 

I merit no love, and I feel I am worth nothing. 

These lies that belittle not just what I see, 

Attack on the inside, hidden part of me.

I cover my face and let out the tears, and slowly give in to my very worst fears.

I want to escape, give up and give in

It just is too easy to let that voice win.

So, I do. I retreat. I create my own world 

Where the voice of my adversary is the only one heard. 

Yet I know I’m not happy- my Sunshine depleted, 

Leaving me feeling abjectly defeated...

I desperately reach and cry out for aid. 

I yearn for connection, but inside I’m afraid. 

I fear it’s all true... that I really am forgotten,

Alone in this world, unloved...unforgiven.

Adversity screams, pushing me down, 

“Grieve all your losses, no hope can be found.” 

“Give up your worth, you deserve nothing more,”

And on and on the lies cut to my core. 

Then all of a sudden as I fall to my knees 

With tears in my eyes, encumbered with grief,

I remember a truth I’ve learned in my life,

Fear only has power if I believe all the lies. 

Believing in truth breaks anxiety’s grasp

And dissipates fear of my future or past.

If I choose to accept my journey, my life, 

That I’m right where I’m at - and that is alright;

If I choose to surrender and choose to let go

Of all of the things I want to control,

Instead choosing Christ, accepting His will,

Believing his timing will all things fulfill,

Then my spiraling down starts spiraling up,

As I choose to patiently drink from this cup.

If I stop asking “why” and start asking “How”, 

Then I know I will find joy in the “now”.

My journey, though messy, is what it should be,

And I know in my heart that it’s just what I need.

My journey, though trying and painful and steep,

Is not quite so hard with Christ next to me.

My journey is slow, soul stretching and steep, 

And yet - it is special and sacred to me.

Tears don’t hurt like the ache does.

I just need to write this : 

It really hurts when someone tells me I should stop missing my ex husband. It really hurts when someone tells me I shouldn’t love him anymore. 

I know I’m not perfect, and I’m working on being indépendant and not codependent. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less when someone wants to tell me I should just move on and leave him behind...

There’s something about healing that I guess some people don’t understand, myself included : 

Healing. Takes. Time. And I’m just doing the best I can. 

The best I can.... 

When the leaves start to fall

 I love this time of year for a couple of reasons : 

1. General Conference comes again.

2. The leaves change color.

3. Some of my favourite constellations come out at night :)

I really very strongly dislike this time of year for a couple of reasons :

1. It's cold.

2. Parent teacher conferences last for 5 hours after school on a Thursday, and I still have to come to school and teach the next day . . . Sleep is scarce.

3. My parents aren't around, which means that I can't drive to my house, pick grapes, rake leaves, or put up fall decorations with my mother.

:(

It's really hard to stay positive right now, but I am doing my best. Sometimes it's all I can do to not quit my job, and sometimes I feel like I could teach forever. Right now, I am somewhere in between, hoping I don't catch the "Rona"

But I didn't come here to talk about my job. No, I came here to tell you that I miss him. 

A lot. 

I miss my previous husband. I miss dancing. I miss laughing. I miss his smile. I miss his sisters. And his grandparents. I miss feeling wrapped in his arms. I didn't know how much I missed being hugged until a couple of weeks ago when a guy I really like gently wrapped me in his arms. 

But now I like this new guy a lot less . . . 

He brightened my day and helped me to laugh again. He and I could talk for hours about our scripture study, about our gospel insights, about our experiences we have lived through. He's divorced, too, so we really had a great connection. 

But. . . part of me says that I should have known it was too good to be true. The wounded side of my heart says that he is acting just like my previous husband did. Prescott rarely scheduled time to spend with me and develop our relationship. There were a lot of communication issues for both of us, but I know I did what I could to connect with him. The thing about connection though? It takes two people with the desire. Near the end, Prescott wasn't even in a position to understand my feelings, nor discuss them. And I was too afraid to share them. All my pleas throughout the months to do something together or to have him organize a date only happened from time to time. I felt insignificant. I felt like a burden to him. And sometimes I just felt like he was frustrated with me - whether or not he was, I'll never know. Other days - like today - I really regret that I'm not with him anymore. There was so much more I could have done, so much more I wanted to do to improve our relationship, to improve myself. However, the truth is that Prescott wasn't reciprocating or putting forth effort to save our marriage. So there was nothing else I could do.

...right?

One of the most haunting memories I have is a moment near the end of our marriage when he told me (after I had just spent an hour listening to him and letting him cry in my arms, pouring out his feelings) that he wanted to find other friends and develop a friendship with them. I'll never forget what he said : "I look at our future, Alissa, and all I see is darkness. I feel like we will just never get to a point in our marriage where there is light. It's all dark."

My heart broke upon hearing this... It was one of the few times I have ever felt it literally break and pain shoot through my heart, ripping me apart. It was one of the most saddening things to hear that he saw our relationship as darkness. Yet here I was, doing everything in my power to save it. I didn't understand how or if he was doing the same. All I ever wanted was to be his friend. His companion. His confidant. Oh how I ached, how I hurt, holding him in my arms, listening to the emotions he was expressing, and holding back my tears so he could let his out. 

And just a while ago, I felt the same heartbreaking feelings when the new guy told me he wasn't able to come spend time with me. His show up is very similar to this behavior of Prescott's : not making time. I do not know what is going on in his life that has all of a sudden caused so much distance to be between he and I, but it is heart wrenching to put so much effort into a person, have so many hopes and dreams start to form again - something I didn't know if I would be able to feel ever again - only to have it come falling back down, heart break and all: crushed dreams, disappointed hopes, and shattered happiness.

And so here we are, this time of year. 

The leaves are falling again. . . 

Last year, when the leaves started to fall, I had just received revelation to divorce Prescott. 

Last year, when the leaves turned red and yellow and gold, I was battling a first year teaching job. 

Last year, when the leaves lost their softness and turned wrinkled and crisp, I was battling a kidney stone and a kidney infection. 

Last year, I didn't know how to be happy without Prescott. 

Now, as the leaves start to fall, I know I'm in a better place than I was. I know that I don't need to rely on someone else for my happiness. That being said, wouldn't it be wonderful to be loved again? 

I just don't know when that will happen...

Maybe . . . . maybe next year, when the leaves start to fall again. 

Is it about me?

I wait patiently in the car as it is snowing. It’s freezing and I just want to go home. I’ve taken the day off from substitute teaching so I can have a job interview. I’ve just received a text from Prescott, and so I answer him back and ask him a question that I need the answer to as soon as possible. 

I don’t remember what the question was, only that it was important. 

I wait and wait, and as the single minutes add up, I start to wonder why he hasn’t answered me back. He had just been texting me, and I know he can see the text come through on his smart watch, so he knows I need help. 

I send him one more text, asking him if he could please respond because I need to know now.

He responds within seconds, and says something to the effect of how impatient I was. 

Suddenly, I’m afraid to go home because I know I’m in trouble.

When we are finally able to talk, we are both frustrated, and while I do not remember if I said anything hurtful or judge mental, he says to me, “I don’t like texting you because I feel like you are pressuring me to respond. I would rather not text you, Alissa.” 

And my heart sinks. During that conversation, I had told him how I would like to show love to one another by texting throughout the day, but on top of that, this was an urgent situation, and I had texted during a time when he didn’t have class and when he had just barely been texting me back. So I didn’t understand the pause. I was sorry for judging him, for being impatient. All I needed was his advice just then, and he had responded the way he did - overbearing and blameful. 

I always have something I want to share, or a picture I want to send. To me, texting was a way for communicating love. 

And he told me he didn’t want to.

I later asked my friends if I was crazy for wanting to text my husband throughout the day, and they all mentioned that they always texted their husbands. 

Well, I thought, perhaps my husband just doesn’t like texting....?

But in my heart, I knew that couldn’t be it. He messaged his sister on a regular basis. He was constantly communicating with people on his editing committee for the Philosophy Journal. He was hopefully in contact with a sponsor. He was always on his phone - all the time. What was the harm in responding to a simple text from your wife? 

Especially responding to a text just because she wants to tell you something? 

I look back and hope that I was understanding of his schedule, and I hope I didn’t ever do anything to cause pressure or make him react so that he felt he had to text me. I never wanted it to feel like an obligation....

I just wanted connection. And yet...it was always me...my fault. I always was doing something wrong. It was wrong to want him to text me back. 

Apparently. 

And it still is painful to think about, that my husband didn’t want to connect with me that way. I tried a million other ways at least to connect with him...and all it seemed to do was drive him further away. He didn’t have problems connecting with his sisters about DND, or with his mom about all the things I was doing to him (whatever they were), and he didn’t have problems connecting with old friends...so, why me? 

One of the most difficult emotions I’ve had to work through as I have gone through this process of healing is the emotion of self blame. It’s the opposite of being compassionate and understanding towards myself. My whole life, and certainly up to the end of my marriage, I’ve blamed myself for other people’s actions. It’s so easy to do because it gives me a reason to take the blame or the hurt for whatever happened onto myself. Sometimes I do it to myself, believing that it will keep the other person from hurting and somehow protect them. 

The truth is? I’m just hurting myself. 

I’m really really good at hurting myself. 

I tell myself all the lies :

He didn’t answer my text because I said something he didn’t like.

She didn’t call me today because I’m not a good sister.

I’m never going to be able to forgive because I’m such a bad and judge mental person. 

I’m inconsiderate and never willing to listen or forego blame.

He didn’t talk to me because I’m awkward.

He doesn’t like me because I’m ugly. 

He’s just saying that I’m pretty because he wants to use me. It isn’t really true. 

They don’t enjoy being around me because I’m divorced. 

I’m never going to be able to love again.

These thoughts cut me to my core. They hurt so badly. Why do I do that to myself? Well, perhaps it has to do with the fact that I’m still trying to love Alissa for the person that she is. Yes, I have flaws. But I’m not flawed. Yes, I’m divorced, but that doesn’t make me unworthy of love. Yes, I have red hair and freckles and acne and blemishes and sunburns and uneven skin tones...but I’m still beautiful. And perhaps? Maybe Heavenly Father loves my scars. Maybe he loves even all the parts of me that aren’t perfect like I wish they were. 

When events - which are out of my control - happen, the first thing to do is not to blame myself. The first step to take is to surrender the control, have compassion for how I feel, and let Heaven know that I feel sad, or unhappy, or hurt, or anxious, or depressed, or whatever it is. The first step is never to blame myself for what has happened, especially when it involves another person’s agency. They get to be them, and I get to be me. They are responsible for their own actions, and I am responsible for mine. Their actions say nothing about my worth, because I am always worthy of love. I always have worth because I. Am. Alissa. I am a daughter of Heavenly Parents. 

And that’s significant. 

So, is it about me? 

No, Alissa. Not entirely. Yes, you have a responsibility for your own thoughts and actions, but you never have responsibility over someone else. 

And so, though my heart aches and my eyes just want to cry tears of sadness, I will surrender those experiences, that hurtful place of shame and self denigration. I will surrender what I couldn’t control. 

Though the tears don’t hurt like the ache does....