My Love-Hate Relationship

I have a love-hate relationship with Facebook Memories. Some days, the memories are heartwarming – an inspirational quote I previously shared that speaks to me yet again, a photo of me and family/friends enjoying something together. Some days, the memories portray the moments that I’m trying so desperately to cling to and remember through these dark times. But other times, I find the memories to be a figurative “punch in the gut”. These memories often have to do with work – a photo of an adorable card a student made me, a large toucan a kiddo made with a giant googly eye because she knew toucans were my favorite animal… Moments that now are so triggering I just want to forget them, because the happiness I felt in that moment when the image was captured came crashing down soon after. The day I received my giant toucan was the day I received news that someone who had told me she was out to destroy my life had succeeded. Now every time I see that photo pop up on Facebook memories, I no longer feel the excitement I felt when my kiddo gave me this craft she worked on for days, I just feel pain, heartbreak and panic. I wish I could tell you that I kept that toucan because of how amazing it was, but I can’t. It was too triggering. I still have the photo of me holding it up though (that Facebook now uses to taunt me with, haha). My heart often breaks when such memories pop up, because I grieve the loss of joy from those moments. I hate that trauma has stolen every memory from school – both good and bad – and tainted them with fear and panic. It reminds me of the movie Inside Out, where Sadness keeps touching Core Memories and taints them blue… I feel like fear went around and just touched all of my memories and tainted them with terror. I grieve the loss of happiness.

Today’s memory was a photo of me holding my Bachelor of Education Degree. Four years ago today, I walked the stage at TCU Place in Saskatoon with my family cheering loudly in the crowd as I was presented with my degree. I had been subbing for a month at this point and it felt so good to finally hold that piece of paper that showed I made it. My grandparents came down to celebrate me and we had supper at the Keg afterwards. I remember being so proud. I was so excited for my life now that I was done being a student. I was eager to start being a full-time classroom teacher in Alberta (I had already been hired for a Full Time Position teaching Grade 4). It seemed everything was falling into place – all my dreams were coming true. I had wanted to be a teacher since I was a little girl and I had finally made it. I was a real teacher. Little did I know that teaching is nothing like I expected it to be, which is why today’s Facebook memory has left me sobbing.

I began struggling heavily with Mental Illness during my internship in my 4^th year of University. However, I didn’t know what it was. I was having issues with my heart beating too fast and me passing out due to lack of oxygen. I saw numerous doctors, cardiologists and no one could figure out why my heart was doing what it was. I had numerous tests done, wore a million different kind of monitors, was checked for seizures and pretty much everything else in the book. The consensus was that I was fine. My body was healthy. What we all missed was that my mind, my Mental Health, was not okay.

If you’ve been reading my past blog posts, you’ll know that I was abused physically, verbally and emotionally as a child in school. I was also abused in the same ways as a teacher – two years by a staff member and one year by a child. Three out of the four years I’ve been teaching are littered with memories of pain. Which is what makes looking at the young, eager Rebecca in that photo so hard. I wish I could go back and warn myself. I wish I could go back and change my degree. I wish I knew how hard teaching was going to be and that it would literally destroy me before I even finished my fourth year. I wish I knew that I was fighting a battle with Mental Illness earlier, rather than finding out when I was bed-ridden with suicidal ideation in the middle of my first year teaching. I wish I knew that it wasn’t just “first year teacher difficulties” and that it was something bigger. I wish I knew it wasn’t my fault. I wish I knew…

There are so many things I wish I knew, both back then and now. I wish that Mental Health and Illness was something talked about and shared within the school systems. I wish that the schools had more of a focus on protecting their teachers’ Mental Health rather than judging them when they admit they’re struggling. I wish Universities would talk about Mental Health. I wish they would share how hard this career can be, instead of only the stories of all the ways teachers change lives, leaving us with unrealistic expectations that teaching isn’t overly difficult. I wish I had known it was okay to ask for help and that it wasn’t a sign of weakness. I wish asking for help was considered a strength and was the culture created within a school, instead of being blamed for being “unprepared” when you have a question or need support. I wish I knew…

I know that playing the wish game isn’t helpful, but it’s where my head is right now. I see a hopeful me in that photo and my heart breaks seeing that because all I can think is, “I wish I didn’t become a teacher.” Writing that breaks my heart even more, because I love teaching. I love building relationships with the kids. I love planning fun ways to learn and putting together cute classrooms. I love teaching. But being a teacher has literally destroyed me in practically every way possible. I wish I knew why this happened to me, why my experience teaching has been so negative and painful. I wish I knew where to go from here. Do I keep teaching and risk the pain again? Do I do something else? Currently, I hold a permanent contract with my school division, which means at some point, when I come off of Long Term Disability, I am guaranteed a job somewhere within the division. My principal has offered me a Grade 5 position for this September, which is way more in my zone than Grade 3 was. I wish I knew what to do. I wish I knew if I should go back for one more year until I get married. I wish I knew if I should run to something else or go somewhere else. I wish I knew that my Mental Health would be more under control by September. I wish I knew I could get another job coming straight off Long Term Disability. I wish I knew if I would be leaving on good terms from the school if I can’t go back. There are so many things I wish I knew, but I don’t. I just have to muddle through each day and keep fighting to stay alive. Part of me is terrified I will never heal and I will never get better. I wish I knew this wasn’t true, because I’m not sure how much longer I can hang on through this pain.

My therapist once said to me, “You know, it’s funny – in a weird way- school was the thing that destroyed you as a kid, but made you want to be a teacher. And now, teaching, as much pain as its caused you just might be the thing that saves you.” (Yes, I wrote that down in the parking lot as soon as I left his office because it was profound). As I sit here, remembering my Convocation Day and the hope I felt then, I cling to his words. Because I’ve known so much pain… But if teaching can somehow save me, it may be worth it. I just hope and pray he’s right.

Stand with me friends. Let’s fight our way out. It’s okay to have a tough day. It’s okay to cry and grieve things you feel you’ve lost. Just keep fighting your way through with me. It’s all I know how to do right now.

Love,

Becca

Feature Image Taken from Google. No Copyright Infringement Intended.