I am terrible at standing still. A lack of a plan can be crippling. It will manifest itself in a debilitating worry of not doing enough, and it will develop into a feeling of not being enough. This is the battlefield of anxiety, and it is a real place that real people have to live. However, our summer is unscheduled; I am relieved.
Maybe age is bringing the calm, or maybe the years are going by too fast, and I am forgetting the details. And maybe maturity is making me realize the devil is in those details, and that life is lived in the ordinary moments. Or maybe it is more practical than that. Maybe it is stable housing, education, and entry into the middle class that permits me to slow down without losing my mind. Or maybe I just miss my tiny humans.
My heart is telling me that it is the last of all of those reasons. In our busyness I forget where my heart really belongs because it is everywhere. I bleed for my students, for my own education, for my research, for my volunteer efforts, for my never-ending effort to build community, and behind all of the mess, I miss my children. And we need summer.
I learned from a great teacher that we do not teach students. We learn alongside our students. My students this past semester were rock stars, and reminded me that I have so much to learn, and that I will learn all of my lessons in the details, and that I need to stop, and breath in the unscheduled moments. I will learn in all of our teachable moments. And I will learn with my tiny humans this summer, and we will redefine our normal, and it will be a season filled with the tiniest rock stars.
Wish me luck as I bring on the unscheduled. Wish me luck as I embrace the unknown territory of boredom. I need my tiny humans. And maybe mental illness has a weird way of healing itself, and realizes that they need me too. They need their mama to slow down, and simply play. They need me to learn with them.