Never burn bridges because you never know when you’ll need to cross them.

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Source: Never burn bridges because you never know when you’ll need to cross them.

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Grief Writing

I think I have finally figured out how to write about my mom.  Just like the grief, I can’t take it all at once.  I break off little bits and pieces at a time, just enough to nibble on.  If I took a big ol’ bite, I’d choke to death.  Like it was a spoonful of Nutella and I stepped on a Lego.  So, I’ll write little vignettes.  Snap shots of her life, of mine, of her death.

Let me tell you this really quick.  My mom was my best friend, my companion, my son’s third parent.  She was entwined and ingrained in our lives as closely as anyone can be that is not a spouse.  I go home to her house every day.  Park where she parked.  Feed the animals she brought home.  Water the lawn she tended.  I live there, in my childhood home, in the house her and my dad picked out together.  It’s so full of memories, all I can do to change it is move the furniture around.

There is no right or wrong way to grieve.  And there is nothing you can say to someone who is grieving that is going to change anything.  I have found though that there is one thing, and only one thing, that is actually really nice to hear.  I love you.  So if you know someone who is grieving the loss of someone close, try those words.  Those words say so much more than “I’m sorry”.  They say “I’m here with you” because I didn’t realize how alone I wasn’t until she died.

As hard as it is to write through the grief, it is just as hard to submit those grief writings for publication.  But, I do what I always do.  Just close my eyes and click.

Ah, freedom.

I’ve taken the leap.

I thought before today that I was living the dream, whatever that is, by being a poor college student working part time.  Of course, the education was supposed to help me land a real job, where I could work for 40 hours or more a week and never have time to write.

Sounds like a dream come true.  Not.

So, to hell with that idea.  I dropped all of my classes during the first week of the second quarter and have no intention of returning to the credential program.

From what I understand, teachers spend the day in class, spend their prep periods and lunches grading papers, the weekend and the evenings planning lessons and grading even more papers.  They work all day, and at home and on the weekends.  Summers off sound great, but teachers get those off because they put in a whole year’s worth of work in 8 months.  A teacher friend of mine said that she knew a fellow teacher who logged her hours meticulously and discovered that if she worked a 9 to 5 job, she would have gotten the equivalent of exactly two weeks off a year.  If I became a teacher, my life would be teaching and I would write on the side.  That is the opposite of what I want.

This girl has got to write.  I’ll teach on the side.