It's hard to believe it has been two months since my last post. I am still working on accepting the fact that summer is over. Reality came across my face Chris Brown style the week of in-service. The school year has begun, and I have five precious friends in my classroom that have all the potential in the world. I am so blessed to be their teacher. Not only are they learning new things every single day, but they are constantly opening my eyes to new things...new things about each of them and new things about myself. The most beautiful part about teaching is the reciprocal aspect of it all. It is my job to transform these tiny people into productive, independent members of society, but I believe I am the one who learns the most.
This post is difficult for me. I've attempted posting it several time but couldn't quite narrow my thoughts enough to get my point across. I'm sure you're thinking that it is hard to believe Shannon Bridges is incapable of ranting. By sharing what I have been going through lately, I feel like I am in some way accepting defeat, which I am absolutely not used to. Once August rolled around and I realized that school was just around the corner, I began to panic. I am very much like my students in the sense that I do not adapt well to changes in my routine. I was used to waking up at the crack of dawn for Crossfit, taking my 8 a.m. nap, running, and then working on grad school work or things I could prepare ahead of time for the school year. In-service began mid-August and all of the sudden I began to feel completely overwhelmed. Overwhelmed is somewhat of an understatement. Exercise and healthy living was put on the back burner. I was spending 6+ hours at the school everyday. Blakely and I were staying up until all hours of the night working on school-related things. The training I went to over the summer was for setting up a classroom in an entirely different way from what I had last year, so a great deal of preparation was needed for that.
I knew that another semester of grad school was beginning my second day back to work. The thought of getting my classroom set up, my students adjusted, my lesson plans done, and to top it all off, 9 hours of graduate courses was incomprehensible. The only thing I could see in the near future was a 60 pound weight gain and myself buried in candy wrappers in the corner of my classroom. After countless panic attacks and binge eating sprees, I decided that taking a semester off of grad school would be best.
It wasn't easy. It's still not easy for me to accept. Since the death of fat Shannon, quitting has never been an option. In the long run, I know it was for the best. Little did I know that it was God's way of telling me that I would need the time off.
The first week of school I found out my mother had a stroke. She is doing well. The stroke wasn't severe. The doctor explained to me that it had actually happened in the weeks prior to them finding it. Since the stroke, she has been in and out of the hospital with some complications, but her overall health right now is decent. This weekend was my first opportunity to visit since the incident. Her short term memory has been affected. She will get up to do something and forget entirely what it was that she was supposed to do. She also tires easily and has strange spells of numbness in her arms and legs. Fortunately, she was not left paralyzed. She was lucky. I am lucky.
Since the start of the school year and since the incident with my mom, I have been experiencing panic attacks. Anxiety is new to me, so at first, I had convinced myself that I was dying each time they would happen. I have been fixating on work related things or the fact that I missed a run because I have to stay until 5 or 6 o'clock at school to prepare for the next day. My health took the backseat. Instead of pouring my worries and stress into a good workout or run, I turned to Kit-Kats and candy corn as a means for coping. I have continued my workout regiment with Crossfit and the occasional run, but what good is exercise when you come home and immediately throw it all away on junk? I began to see myself differently too. I have heard that people who experience significant weight loss never really accept their new bodies and continue to view themselves as "fat", regardless of their accomplishments. Body complex issues are what I struggle with most. I realize that I look like a different person than the woman I was five years ago. Every eating spree, each bite of something sweet or the least bit unhealthy triggers my panic attacks. Wouldn't it be so simple for me to just give up sweets and junk? Doesn't that seem like the logical thing to do? Logical but unrealistic.
So basically, I've spent the last two months in a fat slump, drowning my sorrows in Halloween candy and ice cream. I weighed myself this weekend, and since March, I am up 9 pounds. That means I have technically only lost 112 pounds... boo-hoo, right?
**Cue the pity parade**
This weekend was a turning point for me. I've put so much stress on myself between my work and my poor eating that I have lost sight of the important things. I had the pleasure of visiting an old family friend this weekend. This woman has been one of my mom's closest friends since I was 6 or 7. Recently, this friend was involved in a bazaar and unbelievably tragic accident. She and her husband were in a parade in Texas when their truck stopped over train tracks. The posts lowered and the bells sounded indicating that a train was approaching. The truck was unable to get off the tracks, and the train came along much faster than usual, leaving the people on the truck with very little time to jump from the vehicle. The train hit and injured all that were in the truck. Our friend, I believe, got the worst of it. She ended up losing her leg and was left with a number of other complications from the accident. She almost lost her life but was able, by the grace of God, to pull through.
I hadn't seen her since in years but she is now living closer to my parents, so my mom insisted that we visit. It has been several months since the incident. She and her husband are living in a gorgeous apartment with plenty of space for her to maneuver in her new, beautiful, metallic orange wheelchair. She gave us the grand tour and we spent some time catching up. I can't remember the last I saw her before this weekend. Sadly, the train accident was not the only tragedy she has experienced this year. She also recently lost her mother. I sat in awe of her. How could this woman experience so much tragedy in such a short amount of time and go on? The fact that she was even able to talk about either of the situations was mind blowing to me because I know that if it were me in her shoes, I wouldn't be able to pick up the pieces. After our short visit, she showed us to the door, hugged me, and told ME what an inspiration I am to her.
Me, an inspiration to this woman?! I still cannot fathom her thought process. She has literally experienced more hardships in the past year than most of us will in our lifetime, and somehow, she manages to wake up every morning and face a new day. She is the epitome of inspiring and is learning to accept her new life while overcoming these tremendous obstacles. How dare I feel sorry for myself. What right do I have to wallow in self pity over eating a couple of pieces of freaking candy? It makes me sick to think about, so no more. No longer will I accept this anxiety over my petty problems. I am threw focusing on the very few negatives things in my life rather than the infinite positives.
I have a beautiful family, a job that I love, and I live an incredibly healthy life. There is absolutely no reason for me to feel this much stress over such insignificant problems.
Starting today, I am focusing on what is important rather than sweating the small stuff. I am determined to spend more time with my loved ones and focus my attention on what matters most. I know this post was depressing, long, and probably a tad dramatic. Rough patches are inevitable. These hard times that I have been experiencing lately are lessons. I live my the notion that everything happens for a reason. It's time to pick up the pieces and move on, so I'm making a promise to myself to purge the negative and thrive on the positive.
"Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything".
-George Bernard Shaw
