The Day of Orange, White, and Blue. I don’t call it this in the book, but those colors are etched into my memory, made more permanent by the yearly photo-memories our phones like to provide. The words that follow are tender. They’re sensitive. May you take them with care.
Four years ago–to this day–was very different than it is today. Four years ago I sat with my head huddled into my hands. My children colored pumpkins next to me.
A year prior we moved from California to Canada. In that time a world pandemic took hold, as well as a resurgence of a civil rights movement, ongoing health diagnosis, and a relentless despair of fallen hopes and dreams.
Four years ago started out like a typical day of its time: paralyzing anxiety, depression, and grief – all things that I didn’t have the words for. Each day it felt more like trying, failing, trying again, and wondering why and how it all went so wrong.
I felt like the biggest failure.
I felt like the biggest failure.
On this day, four years ago, wearing white and blue, tears fell into my palms. Then the thought came so quietly I could have missed it. It came as nonchalantly as wondering what to wear. Only nothing fit at this time. And because of that, I thought dying would be easier than living.
I couldn’t handle the amount of personal upset and defeat I faced. Expectations I put on myself that taunted me each day. On top of that, I didn’t think my family deserved this version of me.
I had so much hope for this period of time–the first ever I’d get to be a temporary stay-at-home-parent and write a book that was burning in my heart.
Yet nothing was going to plan. Coming off the tumultuous past year, I was in the mix of trying to home-school my children. A dream I’d had, though one that always felt more like a “should.”
I should do this, I’m a teacher…
I should do this, I’m a Montessori teacher…
About two months prior to this autumn morning, we made the heart-wrenching decision to withdraw our twins from their upcoming preschool. A preschool we so longed and hoped to build community with, especially after being so isolated. But life changed everything.
Only at the time I couldn’t see the difficulty for what it was.
Every day I felt like a failure. I couldn’t do the things I’d hoped to. I couldn’t do the things I believed I ought to.
In the years since that day of orange, white, and blue, I’ve come to know the grace and self-compassion I so badly needed at that time.
To say it changed my life would be an understatement. It held it together. It still does.
While books are books and posts are posts, may we remember we are all humans carrying a heavy load. And may we come to see what’s possible for us when we set down the weight of trying to hold it all.
#christinalindvaywrites #DearTeacherYoureEnough