Why did the memory go to therapy......it had too many issues to recall!

Somehow, I've come to a point in my life where the previous road has a bend so angled that that "other" life of mine is just out of view, out of touch. Memories are melting together, shared experiences are cloudy, voices are muffled tones in the wind. There are definitely core memories that have been branded onto my heart, but as I travel further from the past, the haze is falling like a curtain. This is a core memory and not only do I not want to forget it, I want to share how it's also bled into the pavement of the always winding road. 

Dan always had ideas. "Let's go hike, let's take a road trip, I want to brew beer, I think I'll buy a new car today, and my favorite (insert eye-roll) let's go buy a pair of mountain bikes..." He knew that I had a bad bike accident as a kid and had never gotten on the bike again. He also knew that I'd do just about anything to spend time with him, so he played into that. We bought matching bikes, his in dark green and mine a shiny blue. We bought Camelbacks, and too many other completely unnecessary accessories to name. I had my helmet, these dumb ass biking sunglasses, my camelback (which matched by bike...what a dweeb!!), the seat cushion for my then skinny behind, and we were hitting the dusty trail!! I was so happy! I was back on a bike and riding down the trails towards Lake Elkhorn in Savage. I was glancing to my left, my right, the breeze was to my back, and I was as proud as a peacock. Ahead was a bridge and Dan was stopped, off his bike, and his face was not pleasant. I was worried that a chain came off his bike or that something had gone wrong, so I got off my bike too and said, "What's going on?" He looked at me with raised brow and said, "What's going on is that I have no idea how you are actually keeping that bike upright with the snail speed in which you are riding!!" I was enjoying myself so much that I hadn't noticed that he had been so far ahead. We got back on the bikes and rode to another bridge where I had to turn right. I don't know how it happened, but I got wobbly and turned right...right into a group of runners who had to scram out of my way before I fell over. There were a lot of "What the hells?!" and "Learn how to ride a bike, lady!" ringing in my embarrassed ears. Dan was so mad at me. I am laughing all over again as I write this just thinking about how utterly disgusted he was at my performance. We laughed about it after, but my riding days were over and about 2 years later, his riding days were over too, all of his days were over. 

So, the combined $3000 worth of bike shit went unused and untouched. Fast forward to Nick and children and fearing the day my kids would want to ride bikes! They weren't all that interested until the neighborhood bestie crew were zipping around and leaving my kids in the dust. They learned very quickly, and I learned again, that I would do just about anything to spend quality time together as a family. I hopped back on a bike for the first time in 20 some years this past October. Nick, Lawson, Levi, and I rode 6 miles and I only had a bit of "trouble" once. I looked over at Nick at one point during our first ride on that green 20 year old, barely used bike, and for a brief second Nick's face was the one I saw at Dick's trying the gears and checking the chains, not Dan. It was such a shock to have a memory that has been with me so long, overlap with the love I have now. I never thought things would blur, begin to evaporate, even shape-shift into something else, but it does, and that's ok. I can smile about the bikes, I love that Nick and I now ride them, I love the life Nick and I have created and I am so excited for future family rides on those damn bikes! Who would have thought!?! 

As the days, months, and years continue to pass, old memories fade to black as new ones glow golden in the light. Rocky roads get paved as new trails are blazed. So, kick up the stand, hang on to those handles and enjoy the ride if you're going 5 or 50. Life has a way of compassing you in the direction of your next happy memory...if you let it. 

 

Farewell Reflections

 I had my MapQuest printout sitting on my lap and two sweaty palms gripping the wheel. I drove 170 having no clue just how familiar I would become with the area. I saw the sign, "Piney Orchard" and continued to follow my directions past Waugh Chapel, past the shopping center and the roundabout, and made a left on Strawberry Lake Way. It was about 2 months into the 2002 school year and I had been an intern. That was all about to change, and so was my life. 

My supervisor at Salisbury had been in to observe me teaching lessons at Shipley's Choice Elementary since the start of the school year. On my last observation with him, he told me that my second mentor teacher at Piney was pregnant with twins and needed to get off her feet for the health of the babies and would not be able to oversee that placement. He paused for a bit after he told me this and then gave me one of my first and most memorable professional compliments. He said, "Tiffin, you were born to do this. I have gotten the principal at Piney Orchard to agree to meet you and possibly have you take over Mrs. Lombel's third grade class. You wouldn't be an intern, but a long-term sub and the teacher that shares a door with you, Barry, will check in on you every now and then to make sure things are going well." 

Fast forward to the next Monday, past the sweaty palms on the steering wheel, past the booger check in the rearview, and commence the walk up the front doors of the prettiest elementary school in the prettiest neighborhood I had ever seen.  I caught a glimpse of myself in the door windows thinking how ridiculous I looked in the blazer my mom had me wear with shoulder pads, that was too long in all the wrong places. How did I let her talk me into that? I looked like a toddler playing dress-up, and frankly, felt a little like that too. What do I know about interviewing and having my own class?! What am I doing here? I haven't even graduated yet, I haven't even had a full internship! Ready or not, I opened those doors and walked into the office, all eyes on me. Carole looked up from her desk, adjusted her glasses with the longest finger nails I had seen to date, and growled, "Can I help you." Feeling like I should have taken another Imodium, I "ummmed" my way through an introduction and she waved me into the principal's office. There sat, my supervisor Lou, the principal Dr. Bokee, and a super-stylish heals-wearing, raspy-voiced assistant principal Janine Robinson. I was so out of my league here. They all asked me a few questions and were extremely welcoming and kind. I was escorted to Debbie Lombel's room and introduced to the rest of the team: Barry, Marcie, Lynn, and Debbie. Holy cow, I knew Lynn!! Her and my mom were friends from church and she hugged me and smiled and told me everything was going to be great. I believed it! Barry made me laugh at least a dozen times while I was there, Marcie had a beautiful white-toothed warm smile, and Debbie showed me the ropes of her room. Dr. Bokee asked me if I would be interested and I gave him my best smile and said, "absolutely." 

I struggled that first year. My class missed their old teacher, there were some behaviors that I had never seen before, and parents that were less than thrilled that this 22 year old with zero experience was now their kid's full time teacher. I made it through with prayers from Lynn, smoke breaks with Barry, a million laughs in the lounge with my team, a couple parent-encounter-saves by Janine, and a whole lot of happy hours. After having to get my own substitute, so I could graduate, I finished out the year and was already becoming a stronger teacher. I was arranging supplies and cleaning out Debbie's room when Dr. Bokee came in, hands in his pants pockets, looking down a bit and making me seriously nervous. He said, "Tiffin, Debbie isn't going to come back next year. She is going to stay home with her kids and I was wondering if you would like to fill the position as 3rd grade teacher?" I jumped up and down, I hugged him (boy, he was NOT a hugger!!) and said yes, yes, YES! He gave me a list of things I needed to get in order for HR and a timeline to do it. The next school year, the outside of that room said, "Miss Lilly" and I couldn't have been more proud. 

The following 2+ decades I built a home at Piney. I have moved my classroom 10 times, taught 3 different grades,  have had 5 principals, a dozen interns of my own, and have cultivated incredibly deep connections. Having friends who truly know you, your dreams, fears, and secrets, is a profound gift. Those unbreakable bonds have been sources of immense support, understanding, and joy throughout my life's journey. And as you all know, my life's journey hasn't been the average trip. 

There are memories that live in my heart and in the concrete walls of Piney. I see Dan standing in my classroom door, his eyes full of hope and pleading. We had broken up, but just like with any favorite rom-com, I knew I was getting back together with him the moment I looked up and saw him there. I remember crying when Barry told me he accepted another position and we wouldn't be the side-by-side dynamic duo anymore. Then cracking up when I found the matchbox in my desk with the note that said, "Not cry, I give you cookie." Our inside jokes still make me chuckle. I remember listening to Jill telling me about navigating toddlers, marriage, and life and thinking how awful that sounded. LOL I remember Allyson walking into my classroom one day, sitting down, and never leaving my heart. We didn't get enough time together during the day so we would talk on our drive to work every morning. I remember Michelle plucking the lemons off my topiaries at mine and Dan's wedding and squeezing them into her drink. I remember Michelle, Jill, Karen, and Sharon walking through the door of Aspenwood on January 1st 2010, eyes wet, mouths frowned, words unspoken. They just sat with me. They were there. The community and work family sent prayer shawls, and food, and letters from students and family pouring condolences into my shattered heart. I remember Nancy starting as a 5th grade teacher and thinking she looked just like Tara from Sons of Anarchy. She came to the 3rd grade team and I caught her on the phone one day making cat noises like a weirdo in the planning room while on the phone. I knew I was going to love her. A few years later, these were the people I flashed my hand to in the main hallway of the school the morning Nick proposed, on my mom's birthday 2012. My People. 

My Piney family grieved with me again when I lost my mom that very next month. Everyone also celebrated my joys, the highest being Lawson entering the world in 2014. A few years later, Michelle is the one who held my hand in her car, driving back from Newks to Piney on Kindergarten conference day, when I got the call that one of my twins had a syndrome called Trisomy 18. She checked in on me between every one of the conferences I had to trudge through that day. Again, my Piney family held me up. They cried tears of joy with me when Levi came raging into world in 2016. There are countless memories that will live forever in my heart and they all happened during my time at POES. Piney Orchard Elementary School and the relationships I have built in that building, have actually built me. 

The first few classes of my career are now young moms and dads with families and careers and winding roads of their own. I hope that each and every one of my students past and present know that I was always learning from them too. The teacher-student relationship is often portrayed as one-sided, with the teacher imparting knowledge to the student. But in reality, it's a dynamic exchange where both sides contribute to the other's growth. I do and will continue to value the influence my students had and will have on shaping me.

As I say goodbye to these cherished miles of my winding road, one paved with decades of shared experiences, laughter, and growth, I am filled with gratitude. This place has been more than just a workplace; it has been a sanctuary of learning, a crucible of friendships, and a canvas where dreams were nurtured and realized.

As I begin to make tracks on a new journey, embracing the promise of budding opportunities, I carry with me the imprints of every moment spent here, the lessons learned, and the bonds forged. Each interaction, each challenge overcome, has shaped me into the person I am today.

Though I may be leaving the physical confines of this place, the memories have formed a mandala around my heart. I am so very grateful dear Piney colleagues, mentors, and friends, thank you. 

Beginning this upcoming school year, I will be begin a new teaching path at Two River Elementary. I am filled with excitement as I know that the foundation laid here will serve as a beacon, illuminating any curves and turns ahead. Goodbye, Piney. 

Phobiously Phorty Phour

I have a sincere fear of getting old. (I know it's shocking right, I've never been a fearful or anxious person at all 😂🤣😂) SARCASM. Sarcasm, poor jokes, laughing, self deprecation, they are all ways I have coped with sadness, anger, hurt, resentment, really the whole gamut. I have always joked (while internally battling these horrible fears) about getting old, but now that I actually am, "middle aged...or more" it's not funny. I can't actually explain my fear, accept that it has always been there. It has however, taken me 44 years to look up if it's actually a "thing" or just one of my many known weirdnesses. What other weirdness, you may ask? Well, I suffer from musical ear syndrome, icepick migraines, IBS, and when I travel, my eyes water so much they almost swell shut, to name a few. But I digress. 

Turns out, I am not alone in my gerascophobia, that's right, it has a name. Gerascophobia is the "abnormal and persistent fear of growing old." Some reader may be thinking, "what a vain fear", but even though I am no stranger to anti-aging skincare, Botox, hair coloring, or makeup, my fear stems simply from trauma, from loss. 

The other early morning, Levi woke with a stomach bug. When he was cleaned up and feeling better, he came and slept next to me in bed. I watched him breathing and dreaming and thought of all the fears I have each day for my kids. I thought about what I wouldn't do to make sure both Lawson and Levi were healthy and happy. And then I thought about what is out of my control: heart attacks, cancer, being old. 

Am I actually scared that I am going to get old and frail, or am I scared that I'm not? Am I scared that if I do live to a ripe age that I will then have to suffer more loss? More pieces of my heart to be buried away forever in the cold hard earth? Am I scared that with more years under my belt come the higher chances of my kids going through the heartache I still have daily when I think about how much I miss my mom and how much I need her. How unbelievably depressing. 

The thing is, I don't like being depressed. So I will continue to have these suffering thoughts, but silver line them with humor. I will continue to like the look of my face upside down more than right side up. I will joke about having osteoporosis, but take extra vitamins with calcium. And honestly, I am probably going to shy away from any kind plastic surgery because chances are, with my luck, I would spend a fortune on a younger face and get hit by a bus the next day. Seriously though, it tracks. 

Although I haven't posted in a while and this one is a bit of rambler instead of being an "entertaining read" or a "tear-jerker" kind of libretto, this post is more a commitment to myself. The second half of my 40's is going to be spent not fearing what each year will bring to my bones, skin, hair (Lord knows my boobs are lost cause) but what I'll cherish, what I'll forgive (myself included), what I will share, what memory I will have etched in my brain along with the smile lines by my mouth. Smile lines are so much more "in" than frowny ones anyway.

The affect Trauma(s) has on your life is beyond comparison. The amount of "phobias" I actually have whilst looking into my geriatric fear was actually disturbing, yet all rooted the same. 

So go watch your stories, gerascophobia, leave me and my sore knees alone. And while we're at it, my severe Thanatophobia: (the fear of the ones I love dying...I had to look that one up too) can kick rocks without shoes as well. 

I think the only fear I'll tolerate is FOMO, so bring on the fun!!