For a while now I’ve had this feeling that there’s just a deep rooted sadness in me that I can’t seem to shake. It’s not like I’m walking around and crying every chance I get, rather it’s very much the opposite. If I watch a TV show or a movie and there’s a scene that provokes emotion, you can probably find me buried in my sweatshirt trying to choke down tears that make me feel silly. Silly, because I’m crying over a Blue Bloods case that isn’t even real. If I witness someone else’s sadness, which lately, has been way too natural for me, I, again, choke down my emotions in reaction. I think I’ve spent way too much time lately choking down tears and I’m starting to witness something much deeper that needs to surface. Something I need to become more aware of and something I need to let go of.
If you read my post about losing my identity, then you’re a bit familiar with my PTSD. The PTSD that extends from my work in the Criminal Justice System. This whole week I’ve been (trying not to) shitting all over myself because I couldn’t understand why, 4 years later, I’m still dealing with the mental space this job took up. Especially because I only worked there for 2 years. I’ve been trying to be more understanding that I was young and very uninformed about that life and I was dealing with a lot of personal issues alongside the job. This is why I assume 2 years of my life has weighed me down so much and stuck with me for so long. It feels like I’m going into the attic of my life and the little cracks and corners where all my memories from this place live are slowly creeping into the rest of my house like an infestation.
A few weeks back, I took a job working as a daycare teacher at a lower income preschool. The first day I fell in love with not only the kids but with the people running the place. To come in contact with two people who continuously stretch themselves thin to care for little humans who are homeless, in foster care, living with relatives, etc., is a very enlightening interaction. I could tell by conversations with one of them how long they’ve been doing this. I could see in her eyes and feel in her words the negative things they have had to experience as a result of poor parenting outside of the school. While in the classroom I witnessed the poor parenting first hand. I had one little boy who I still can’t stop thinking about who I watched lay on his bed during nap time and stare at the wall. He was one of the kids in foster care. His mother died of a heroin overdose and his father was in prison so he was living with a somewhat recently assigned foster family. He called his shortly known foster mom “MOM”and his foster brother “BROTHER”. It was heart wrenching. I remember him laying there holding my bracelet while he hugged my legs and his eyes weld up with tears. Because of my educational background in trauma and my own personal dealings with trauma, I understand how difficult silence is for those who have experienced trauma. You could tell which kids experienced trauma at higher levels because they were typically the ones who either didn’t speak much to new people they don’t trust, and/or had the hardest time falling asleep during nap time. I assume it’s from a child’s lack of experience on learning how to silence the mind or deal effectively with past negative experiences. I kept thinking about what I think when I’m alone or sad or can’t shut my mind off (Especially when I’m sick). I think things like “I miss my mom” or “I can’t wait to see my mom” because let’s be real, even if we have a negative relationship with our mothers or are having a dispute with our mothers, isn’t their nurturing voice, touch, and care the one we crave the most? Obviously as we grow up our partners take this place but for the most part, I still want my mom when I’m sick. So I wondered who this kid missed? Especially when you have other kids in the classroom running around saying they miss their mothers when they’ve only gone to work for the day and will be picking them up later. All I kept thinking was, what is he thinking about? Who is he missing? Why is his eyes watering? Is he thinking about his mother and forcing himself to not think about it and choke down his tears? Whatever he was thinking, the look in his eyes crushed me. I could tell in a couple of the other kids when their parents would pick them up that they didn’t want to go home at the end of the day. I assume it was because all the love and affection they got while with me and my associate. I even witnessed a former inmate of mine pick up one of the kids which made the situation a bit more real for me.
By the end of my first day, I was exhausted and was starting to get sick which I was told was normal since I was being exposed to all these children (who mostly had runny noses, dirty clothes, and came from lower income homes) but I was hopeful and planned to return the following day. My second day there came like a slap in the face. I remember during my break I ran to get lunch for my partner and my niece who were at home. I remember sitting down at the table and not wanting my niece to come near me. I had zero attention for her and to be honest, her presence just annoyed me. This isn’t typical for me, my niece and my nephew are my life. If the president and my niece were in the same room, I’d ignore the president. I could tell she could feel my resistance and she ended up going to play in the other room while I sat with my partner. As I sat there, sobbing trying to put my favorite food in my mouth and just not wanting to eat it at all, I realized I couldn’t continue on with this job. I couldn’t understand fully why I felt so sick inside and why I couldn’t bring myself to stop crying. I initially assumed it was because of the emotions I was feeling from the children and their life stories and because of the way I felt around my niece. Later though, I realized that was just the “lifetime movie” that provoked my tears. Like you know when you feel like your life is shitty or like you’re just having a moment where you’re sad from whatever is happening in your life so you watch a sad movie or listen to a sad song in the car to help you get the tears flowing? I’m pretty sure this is a normal form of coping for most people —or maybe it’s just me 🤷🏻♀️🙈 anyway, I’m pretty sure that’s what the kids, including my niece, were in that moment, a lifetime movie in real life.
I ended up calling out sick the following day to let myself soak everything in and to try and get my footing back. I was lucky because I was sick anyway and ended up getting a doctors note for my absence. I guess I shouldn’t say I was lucky because I ended up having an asthma attack that turned into an upper respiratory infection, that then turned into pneumonia and my first ear infection ever. That was kind of the straw that pushed me to quit because it was winter and it was clear my immune system wasn’t going to be able to handle the bacteria infested environment there. I ended up having a falling out with my associate which caused me to completely focus on the dispute and neglect the personal issues I was facing which were far more important. As a result, I ended up being depressed for a bit and couldn’t understand why.
I realized the other day after having that moment in my pool (see. ) that the kids weren’t the reason I felt the need to quit. They weren’t the reason I was uncontrollably sobbing on my break and after my last shift or the following 3 days after. The all day screaming, the loud noises, throwing things, the kids hitting each other, me having to tell them what to do or listen to my associate freak out whenever a kid hit another kid, being aware of kids taking things from other kids, making sure the kids make their beds and are seated and behaving during mealtime, the parents who came in who looked nothing less than “high”, the looks on the kids who were trying to be sneaky and get away with doing things behind our backs, the urgency, the adrenaline, the look on my associates face when things got out of hand etc. 🤯 Now go back and reread that last sentence but replace kid with inmate and associate with my partner officer. Preschool teachers are 100% correctional officers of children. The risk of harm is just a hell of a lot lower aside from the basket of wood blocks this adorable 😡 little 🤬 girl threw directly in my face. If I hadn’t been in shock, I probably would have pinned her to the wall and handcuffed her 🤣 But aside from the risk of harm being lower, the only big “general” difference is the difference in conversation and age. The two days I was there, I didn’t see children. I saw children of inmates and I think this is where my brain confused things.
I’m thankful for my 2 year experience working in corrections like I am thankful for my 2 day experience in the preschool. I see now that the way in which this type of job is lived routinely and passionately every day, it was never a job, it was an identity. Something I worked hard for, something that grew not only on the outside but on the inside too. This identity has manifested almost like an another ego inside of my mind. Or maybe I’m confusing it with my ego —that part has yet to make sense to me.
But that’s just it, I overcome one wound, just to discover another. Just when you think your healing is over, the process begins again. Like life is just one big rollercoaster of internal challenges begging to be forgotten about in external ways. The emptying of the minds identities/past/ego. I use to be really resistant to this process. I feel like the more aware of it I become, the less resistance I have towards it (literally realizing this as I type). I’m beginning to enjoy this process as much as I hate it. Which is good because life’s all about balance right? 😂 I’m getting closer and closer every moment. Which is crazy because I spent so much time forcing the process, begging myself to heal in harmful ways while being mad at myself for not being able to. For example, I’d wanna go out and just forget about life but would be mad at myself for wasting time where I could be productive. My mind needed that space. It needed that time to numb and I shouldn’t have added the pressure of me being a dick to myself because I was just going through my process.
I’m realizing more and more how important it is to just let things be to get where I ultimately want to be. To accept what is happening in my life no matter the conditions. To accept that what is meant for me is already mine. The only job of mine is to practice accepting what is, and to let go of what isn’t. My only job in this body is to control my mind, in this way. But most of all I’m realizing why it’s so important to make the best out of whatever moment I am in —to live it fully how I feel necessary. Space is important, and balance is important. Sometimes our minds just need to take a break. Whatever way that may be. I get that now and I’m accepting it more so I can love myself more and allow my life to play out more smoothly with less resistance. ✨
We are not Human Beings,
we are Humans, being.
🧠 The Cope Dealer
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