Wedding babbles

So.

I am getting married one week from yesterday. Everyone keeps saying, “Are you excited?!” (except those closest to me, who know to just ask, “How are you feeling?”) and the short answer is, yes, of course. If I wasn’t, we’d have a problem. I am very excited. But I’m also overwhelmed. And I haven’t totally known how to put it into words until the other day when a new colleague overheard me trying to explain it, and she came into the hall and simply said, “It’s a constant state of hyper-vigilance.” Yes. Planning a wedding and getting mentally ready for it is exciting. But it’s also draining. For some people, a lot of something good isn’t draining. But for others, like yours truly, a lot of anything is draining, whether it’s a positive “lot” or a negative “lot.” I think I had gotten myself stuck in feeling guilty. I’m happy about my wedding, I’m excited about my wedding. So I shouldn’t feel overwhelmed or exhausted or sick of talking about it. And if I do, what does it say about me? It must mean I’m flawed, or something is wrong with me.

But the truth of the matter is that, like everything else, this isn’t black and white. It’s not one feeling or the other, it’s not right or wrong. It’s and. Like we always teach our students, and work to teach ourselves: we can feel more than one feeling at once. There is no right way to feel. And when I take a step back, I realize that all of us – my parents, Jeremy, his parents, have felt a myriad of feelings. Excited, anxious, worried, overwhelmed, stressed, elated. And they’re all good. And okay. And expected.

This is so surreal, I keep thinking. Not surreal that I’m marrying Jeremy. We knew fairly early on that this was it. (Fun fact: our recessional song, after the ceremony, is the song that holds such meaning to me, as it’s what I was listening to when it hit me for the first time – Oh my god. I want to marry this man. I want to spend the rest of my life with him.) But more so surreal when I think about my life as a whole. Sometimes I take a step back and look at my life, and I have my stuff, everyone does, but overall, I have my shit together. More than together. And for many years, my shit was…..well, very NOT together. And during those days and months, I had to focus on putting myself back together, piece by piece, figuring out who I was. I learned to like, and even love myself, but that was my focus. I certainly couldn’t ever see a future in which not only did I love myself, but I wanted to open up and trust and give myself to someone else. It just wasn’t something I could imagine.

I think that younger Jen, who lives within me, is the one who is feeling surreal. Present-day Jen feels like, Yes, this is exactly what is happening, of course it is. But it’s that old me who is astonished. Amazed. Proud. Relieved.

I am madly in love.

I am marrying my best friend, the man of my dreams, the most incredible man I could have ever hoped to find.

I am happy. I am lucky.

I’m getting married.

This morning I got stuck in my closet

Not physically.

This happens from time to time.

Here’s what happens. I go to bed with an idea of what outfit I’m going to wear to work the next morning. Most mornings, as long as I’ve picked out the outfit in advance, I wake up, shower, put on the outfit, and that’s that. Back when I didn’t plan out my outfit, I would stand there for minutes, just paralyzed, knowing I had to decide what to wear yet not being able to decide. So now, I plan.

But some mornings, I put on the outfit that I picked out, and even though I’ve worn said outfit multiple times, and love the shirt and love the pants and love the shoes, I put it on and HATE it. For a variety of reasons. It might be too big too loose too small too tight too itchy. The mirror might be on my bad side that morning and I see my body change in front of my eyes, knowing that’s not truly happening but fighting it nonetheless. And sometimes it just doesn’t FEEL right. And I don’t know how to describe it other than that. An outfit I love and have worn just doesn’t work. Sometimes it’s because the color isn’t right. Sometimes I crave colors, and am repulsed by others. Sometimes I desperately need to wear green, other times if I put on a green shirt I get nauseous. Purple is one of my go-to colors but some days it’s the exact opposite of what I need. Having done a bit of studying over the years of chakras and color theories, I do believe that we gravitate toward certain colors for certain reasons at certain times.

When any of those things happen, I get stuck. I freeze. I often put on shirt after shirt, pants after pants, outfit after outfit. Often times the more something feels wrong, the more everything else feels wrong. Everything keeps feeling too big, too tight, too itchy, too light, too heavy, too nauseating. And then I realize that the time is ticking away and oh crap I needed to leave five minutes ago and the more I realize how I’m running late the more my heart pounds and the more anxious I get and the harder it is for me to put on clothes. And then sometimes I say Just do it and I pick something and I get to the door of my apartment but then I think But what if I should’ve worn x, y, or z? And then I’m back in my bedroom starting all over again. But what if I feel “wrong” all day and then I will have a bad day and really I should’ve just changed my outfit and tried again? And that’s when I have to remember my tendencies toward obsessing and compulsing and need to (gently) just get myself out of the bedroom and out the door.

It doesn’t happen often. But when it does, it is not a good feeling.

Anyone else ever get stuck in their closet? (Literally, figuratively, take your pick.)

A story

Her body parts were fighting.

They had forgotten how to work together, and they were all complaining. All trying to get the most pity. All trying to make it clear that they were the root of all of the problems.

They couldn’t even remember how they started fighting. It just happened sometimes. The harmonious friendship they had would start to unravel, bit by bit, until rather than working as a team, they were all enemies. Pulling, fighting, arguing.

Blood wasn’t flowing at the same rate that Heart wanted to pump. Head pounded at an entirely separate pace. Right Eye hurt. Neck formed a rock of tension. Lungs wanted to breathe at its own pace, and not communicate with Heart or Mouth.

And so, Brain was exhausted, and Core was exhausted. Listen to each other, they pleaded. Work together, they encouraged. You are a system, they reminded.

But the parts would not listen. And now they had all become so stubborn, that even if they wanted to unite once again, they didn’t even remember how.

Brain and Core had one last idea. Let’s go to yoga, they wearily suggested. Well, the parts started to argue. But Brain and Core mustered all of their energy and put their foot down. We are going. Get into the car, they said, the way you’d talk to a small child throwing a tantrum.

And so, they went to yoga. And despite their determination to work on their own and not be team players, Heart and Lungs began to talk. And as she moved from pose to pose, flowing her body through sequences, Legs had to talk to Arms, who had to talk to Hands and Wrist. Because if they didn’t, she might fall, or get hurt. And while they didn’t have much respect for each other at the moment, they did respect and love her. And Heart and Lungs began to coordinate their breath with Legs and Arms. And Neck relaxed as Lungs exhaled. And they all noticed that she looked calmer than she had in days, and that made them feel good.

By the end of class, everyone had put aside their stubborness, animosity, and negativity. They had decided to move on and forgive each other. After all, they couldn’t even remember what they were fighting about. They couldn’t even remember why they decided to go their own ways. They felt so much better working as a team, flowing as one unit. And more importantly, she was happy. Brain and Core relaxed for the first time in days.

And they all walked out of the studio, together, as one.

Google Glass: Brain Power for autism

My dad sent me this article, knowing I would have thoughts. The article is called, “Can an app for Google Glass offer a path out of autism?”

I become suspicious, immediately, of anything promising to “cure” or “fix” or “save kids from” autism. So, my defenses were immediately engaged.

I have read a little bit about Google Glass over the last year or so, but am certainly no expert on the technology, nor do I claim to be. But, the idea, at least as I understood it, is this app (called “Brain Power”) would be used to encourage autistic children to make eye contact. The app flashes cartoon characters on the screen where another individual’s face is (e.g., a parent), to “lure” their eyes up to the individual’s eyes. Essentially, tricking them into making eye contact. Once they look up, they receive points, and the character is taken away.

First of all – I am a huge fan of technology. Almost every single one of my students use it for learning in some form, and I believe its implications are limitless. So my issue with Brain Power is not the fact that it’s technology. In fact, I believe that Google Glass in general could absolutely be added to the arsenal of tools that benefit our autistic kids.

Several things bother me. For starters, I have said many times, and it is no secret that I believe, that autism is not a “condition”, is not a “problem”, is not an “epidemic.” And I have a lot of reservations for a company who operates with this fundamental belief, as Brain Power seems to. Autism comes with its challenges, but so does neurotypicalism.

The next issue is what Brain Power is aiming to do. Is it REALLY aiming to improve social communication, and social thinking skills? Or is yet another behavioral approach, aimed at reducing certain behaviors? Because I am thinking the latter. I believe in Social Thinking, in teaching social communication, at breaking down the fundamentals to help our kids understand social interaction. I teach it every day of the year, and I’m all for it. But teaching kids how to interact, why to interact, is not the same as a strict behavioral approach. We are not requiring our kids to do something without helping them understand why.

Another app digitally accentuates the person’s eyes to attract attention, because autistic children are known to focus on the speaker’s mouth.

Well, I can’t tell you how many autistic kids and adults have expressed that they can’t make eye contact, because it’s too damn painful. We actually teach kids to look at a mouth, or a nose, or an ear – we teach them to fake it, that no, we aren’t going to force them into making direct eye contact, but by looking in the general direction of someone’s face, they are still showing that they’re listening, paying attention, showing interest. Yes, there are kids who truly don’t understand the concept of why they would need to look at someone’s face to begin with. So we start there. But it’s not looked at as a problem to be fixed. Of all of the zillions of challenges that come with autism, I have never, nor do I know anyone who has ever, thought, “Oh! You know what? A really important thing that we need to fix is make all of our kids make eye contact.” Because it’s just not crucial. Communicating wants and needs is. Coping strategies for anxiety is. Making the world functional and accessible is.

And I wonder, why is Brain Power so intent on increasing eye contact? Is it truly because they think it’s better for the autistic kids themselves, for the kids’ quality of life, or is it to try and fit our kids into a mold of “normal” that in reality doesn’t exist? Do their beliefs come from the same people who believe that we should eliminate scripting and stimming? Who are they really looking to benefit here?

The article concludes with:

Attending were Sara Gaynor, a special-education teacher, and her 11-year-old son, Sean. After trying out Glass, Gaynor said her son told her: “They’re awesome. I think those glasses make me smarter.”

Later, Gaynor recounted how Sean jumped up, arms outreached, and told her, “I think I am breaking out of an autism prison!”

I don’t know Sara Gaynor. I don’t know her son. I do believe that he liked the glasses. Like I said, I think a lot of kids would. I think the glasses hold great potential. But the way in which this quote was written into the article makes it sound like glasses = smarter, because autism = dumb. And Sean’s quote at the end? I don’t know how much I believe that this boy truly said those words. But if he did, it breaks my heart. Because it means he was raised believing his autism is a prison. And what implications for any autistic kid reading that article – to plant the thought in their own heads that their neurology, their wiring, is something so terrible that it should be compared to a prison.

I need to do more research, I need to read more about the company and their studies and their beliefs. Again, I do not claim to be an expert on this, to understand all of it, to fully know every detail about how the app would work. But at first glance, I am more than a little concerned.

Month-old journaling bits, day-old responses

I want to write, so badly, that I can’t. This is not a new feeling. I keep opening word documents, blank blog posts. I know I just need momentum. I know once I get going, I’ll go. But that blank page – it puts pressure on me, to write something extraordinary. And the more pressure, and the more want, the less I can do it. I go back and forth between “I have so much to say” and “I have nothing to say”. I have thoughts, snippits, of ideas of topics – but when I allow them to settle into my fingers, I get all blocked up. Every idea and thought I have sounds stupid.

Just write, just let the words pour out of your fingers. There is no expectation, there is no requirement. You write for you, and therefore, whatever you say is just fine.

Sometimes I wish I wrote fiction.

You could. You could write fiction. Just like you could write poetry. There are no standards, just the ones you fear exist.

I wanted to write about the “too much” vs. “not enough” thing. I don’t really know how to explain it, though, only just feel it. With someone people I worry I’m too much. Too needy, too anxious, too dependent, too self-centered. With others, I worry I’m not enough. Not caring enough, I don’t check in enough, not funny enough, not supportive enough. I’m not good enough in general. And all of that results in a lot of spinny thoughts, ruminations, anxieties. I wonder what it would be like to just…be. I wonder why I automatically jump to the conclusions and fears of being simultaneously too much and not enough – and I wonder, does anyone else do that? Is it yet another “Jen thing” or can anyone else relate? What is it like to just be and do without a constant analysis of real and perceived events and outcomes?

Remember that you certainly do not always feel this way. It’s been a theme in your life, but it is not a constant of a day to day. Remember how many interactions and moments you have now that you don’t analyze or question, and you felt this way in this moment when you wrote this, but you don’t feel this way all of the time. You are very good at just being. You’ve come so far. Remember that your analytical, anxious, obsessive brain will always have a tendency toward this, but it no longer consumes you. Remember that presence of thoughts matters far less than reactions to those thoughts.

Half an inch

And as the seamstress asked, “Do you want me to take it out half an inch, and not pin it so tightly?” I smiled, and said, “Yes.”

———————

Let me back up.

I was at the seamstress for my second wedding dress fitting. She had tentatively pinned several parts of the dress that needed to be taken in, and I was trying it on to confirm before she cut into the fabric. (Let me just say that no matter what size you are, no matter what shape, no matter what your history with your body, it’s never a super comfortable feeling for someone to pull fabric tight around every crevice of your body). She zipped the dress and I immediately felt like I needed to suck in.

“Remember, you want to be able to sit down, you want to be comfortable,” my mom said, as she caught my eye, watching me note that it was a little tight in one part of my back. And I needed that reminder of her saying that, because all along, that was my criteria with my wedding dress. I wanted to feel beautiful in it. And I wanted to be able to breathe. I did not want to spend my wedding day focusing on sucking in my stomach or breathing with shallow breaths because a full, deep, wonderful breath was restricted by my dress. I didn’t want my dress to restrict anything. Of all days, I do not want any restrictions on my wedding day.

I thought about it. I focused on my body. I noticed that I could only take shallow breaths, with the dress pinned that tightly. I noticed that I wanted to suck in my stomach. My initial reaction, which I think will always be my initial reaction, was to think, Okay. I can do this. Challenge accepted. I’ll cut out a few calories. Go to the gym more. Lose a half inch in the circumference of my back. Then it will fit perfectly. Perfect. This is perfect. 

And I did at first, say to the seamstress and my mom, “No, I think it will be okay.” But my voice trailed off. And my mom knows me better than that. So as she said, “Are you sure?” I thought.

The difference between Then and Now, is my reactions to those thoughts. I used to panic when I noticed the thought. I thought that meant I had failed, that I would always been trapped by the thoughts. It took a lot of time, and work, to realize that the thoughts are going to come. They just are. Maybe they don’t come for everyone, but everyone’s story is different, everyone’s reasons and causes are different, everyone’s wiring is different. And for me, the thoughts will come from time to time. But that actually doesn’t matter. Because what matters is my reaction to the thoughts, not the thoughts themselves. If I act on them or not. If I let them become actions and reality.

So I took a shallow breath, because that’s all I could do with my diaphragm compressed that tightly. And as the seamstress asked, “Do you want me to take it out half an inch, and not pin it so tightly?” I smiled, and said, “Yes.”

It’s a half an inch. Barely noticeable. Makes no difference. And back Then, a half inch would have been everything. But Now, that half inch is nothing. Comfort is everything. Feeling beautiful is everything. Breathing is everything. And if it takes a half inch for that, it’s okay by me.

The contraction “let’s”

One of my 4th grade groups is learning about contractions. They all know what they are, but one very rigid, very anxious student refuses to use them in writing (and often in speaking), just because he likes saying both words better. And another misuses them, saying “I’m” instead of “I’ve”. So it was time for a re-teach and review.

We went through what each contraction stands for, we practiced taking each one apart and putting it together, and everyone was getting the hang of things (despite my anxious little guy, constantly checking, “But I do not have to use contractions, right???”). Then we got to the contraction let’s. We talked about how it stands for let us, but how most people say Let’s because Let us go play on the swings or Let us play a game sounds kind of strange, and it sounds more regular to say Let’s go play on the swings or Let’s play a game.

One of the students raised his hand. “This is kind of off topic, but…. [the number of times I hear that statement in a day…!] well, it’s kind of on topic. It’s about the contraction let’s.” I told him to go ahead and share.

“Well, you know how we just learned that it stands for let us?” he began. “So that means it’s what more than one person is doing, not just one person. But sometimes people use it wrong. And, I’m not trying to be rude or disrespectful. But teachers use it wrong all of the time.”

I was intrigued and asked him what he meant.

“Well, when a kid forgets to take out a pencil, teachers always say Let’s get out pencils now when it’s not the teacher that has to get one out, it’s just the kid. Or if a kid is having a hard time, the teacher says Let’s take some deep breaths even though the teacher doesn’t need to take deep breaths. You guys always say stuff like that. And I think I know why. It’s because it makes a kid feel better. If you tell them You need to get a pencil out or You need to take a deep breath it can sound kind of rude, you know? Like you’re singling the kid out. But when you use let’s, it makes everyone feel better, cause it makes them feel like they’re not the only one. It’s like everyone’s on a team and all working on things together. And so I think it’s a good thing you do that. Because it’s much nicer.”

I was speechless. “Wow,” I told him. “You are so right. Teachers absolutely do that, and I am so impressed that you were able to figure out why. I’m so glad it makes you feel better when teachers say that.”

“And,” he continued. “Well, you know how I love Minecraft and I have my own server? Well, sometimes players break the rules or something. They might swear or do something not good. So I tried using that. And I tell them Let’s not use swears. And it works! And I think they listen way better than they would if I told them You can’t swear.”

At that point I had to move on, because one student had started singing a Maroon 5 song, another one was humming the Mario theme song, and the third was increasingly unhappy that we were slightly off topic. You know, the usual.

But three days later, I can’t stop thinking about that incredible, amazing exchange.