Wednesday, October 4, 2017

Writing it down...

 I woke up a couple days ago, on Monday morning feeling excited about the week. We had a great weekend with family listening to General Conference. I actually like Monday's, they feel like the first page of a brand new notebook or something, I love that it is a fresh start. I woke up at 5, taught my classes, went to the gym, listened to a good podcast and was home just as the kids were waking up. Then I heard about the shooting in Las Vegas. I was horrified and shocked. I couldn't do anything the rest of the day. I didn't leave the house, I cried in the shower, I felt so heavy, so pissed, and so helpless. I couldn't be productive at all, everything that seemed important felt pointless.

What the crap is wrong with people?! Stop shooting other people. Like how does a person, who once was an innocent baby and child turn into that kind of sick monster? What is going on?  I just thought about all the moms and dads that weren't coming home to their kids. I thought about how that must have felt to be there. I was discouraged with all the arguing going on about the politics of all this, like can we just stop fighting? I already have the thoughts when I am in crowded places that something horrible like this could happen, and it did. Ben and I are leaving our kids for the first time to go on a little anniversary trip this weekend. I already have so much anxiety about it, and this made me full on panic.

I am still grieving for the families, I'm also grieving my sense of safety in my 'safe' little world. I'm grieving that I have to raise my kids in this and if I will ever be able to stop worrying about their safety everytime we leave the house. Everett was oblivious of course, I thought about telling him why I was so sad that day, but when I thought about it and how I would explain it, I really don't even think his little innocent brain could comprehend something so evil. I was in seventh grade when the terror attack on September 11th happened. I saw the footage that morning at my grandma's house and I heard people talking about it at school. For most of the day, I had thought that something had malfunctioned on the plane, or the pilot accidentally fell asleep or something and that it was an accident that a plane flew into a building. I couldn't understand that someone did that ON PURPOSE! How could that even be possible?

So I wallowed all day, I still can't stop thinking about it. But I was inspired by messages of hope and stories of heroism I saw on the news and social media. To feel helpless and broken means they win.

I  loved this quote I saw from Jane Goodall on Bravery Mag's Instagram:

"I like to envision the whole world as a jigsaw puzzle...If you look at the whole picture, it is overwhelming and terrifying, but if you work on your little part of the jigsaw and know that people all over the world are working on their little bits, that's what gives you hope."

Today, Everett's preschool put on a little talent show. Each of the 16 kids got up and did a little sweet talent, and I saw all the parents beaming at their kids, mouthing the words and giving them big hugs after to their proud 4-year-olds. I had the thought that all these people are doing their little corner, they are doing it right and that gives me hope.

So I breathe. I accept these feelings of anger, fear and sorrow, but I refuse to drown in them, I have to focus on my corner, focus on what I can control, be the good, raise good and kind children the best I can.

I know these are not the most eloquent of thoughts, but I felt I needed to write something down, to help me process and work out the anxiety I feel about it all.


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