"You have to stop this negative self talk. You are beautiful and just the way God intended exactly how you are!"
As I listened to her voice almost quiver and watched her fight back tears, I so desperately wanted to believe these words. I wanted to take the sadness away from her heart...but I couldn't help but knowing that I put it there. I am hurting my friends with the things I say and do...this must stop.
But how do you find the beauty in something that makes you want to shutter? Can there be beauty in the most horrible of things? Do people find things they want to throw away or destroy beautiful?
I stood out in the afternoon heat, tearing apart cardboard boxes so that I could compact them to take to the recycling center and I thought: "What makes you beautiful, Megan?" Though I see beauty in almost everyone that I meet, I don't see beauty when I look in the mirror. Although I hear beauty daily in my work, I don't hear beauty in my own voice or music making. Although I witness beauty in the actions of those around me constantly, I don't see anything I do as beautiful. I see only that which I hoped to never become...I see only the negative in myself.
And I know: I know we all have flaws and we all can be self-critical...but this is more than that. I'm not just trying to even fit into a mold that society has tried to show me as what beauty is, because I don't buy that crap for one minute. I seriously don't see anything good in myself.
Sure, we can try to diagnose that or blame all the usual things from my past that get blamed...but will that actually show me why I am beautiful? And I know that some may say if I am a "true believer" in God then I would also just know that I'm beautiful because God made me and I am just how He intended. But am I really JUST how He intended? Am I living the life He calls us to live? Some would look at my life and argue no.
So is that it? Because I can't get my fucking life together enough I am just stuck? That boils down to this: I'm not good enough. My best is never enough. But, again, none of this fixes my self image. I'm not saying that God sees me as ugly as a I see myself (because, let's be real, it's only me who is seeing all of this because it's only me who is this crazy). But I am saying that I can't see it, people.
Monday, July 31, 2017
Saturday, July 29, 2017
To The One I Lost
From the moment we knew you existed, you were loved. We were slightly terrified of how we would provide for you and your sisters, but you were never unwanted or never feared. There was nothing in our hearts but joy...pure, uninhibited, massive amounts of joy. I think I told every single person in my inner circle within 12 hours of seeing that BFP. I was over the moon, I couldn't contain myself! I made an appointment. We started discussing names. For the next week our minds were filled with you. I remember getting messages throughout the day with name suggestions until finally I heard it and knew: Rosilyn.
But, you were clearly not for this world. That morning when I woke up to the blood, I knew. I foolishly tried to convince myself of otherwise, but the heartache kept flooding through. You were gone: I'd really lost you. Nothing I could do would bring you back. Selfishly I blamed myself, I became angry, I was overwhelmed with sadness like never before. Nothing else mattered, just that you were gone and I'd let that happen.
I've spent nights over the months thinking about you, dreaming really. I've wondered what your kicks would feel like, if you'd move to music like Meredith or to the sound of my voice reading like Eleanor. I've lusted to hear your heartbeat, to caress your sweet little face. Hell, I would even love to be up with you at 2am...
Nothing will bring you back, though. No amount of anger or blame will replace. I'll never even get to know why this happened or what this plan was really all about. I've wondered, though. I've wondered why you had to exist at all, and why you had to die. What's the real lesson here? I don't think I'll know, and maybe that's okay.
Maybe we will try again, and maybe we won't. Maybe our hearts will feel full and healed someday, and maybe they won't. Nothing can replace you, nothing at all. I do know this, too: you were loved. Oh, sweet baby, you were so very loved.
But, you were clearly not for this world. That morning when I woke up to the blood, I knew. I foolishly tried to convince myself of otherwise, but the heartache kept flooding through. You were gone: I'd really lost you. Nothing I could do would bring you back. Selfishly I blamed myself, I became angry, I was overwhelmed with sadness like never before. Nothing else mattered, just that you were gone and I'd let that happen.
I've spent nights over the months thinking about you, dreaming really. I've wondered what your kicks would feel like, if you'd move to music like Meredith or to the sound of my voice reading like Eleanor. I've lusted to hear your heartbeat, to caress your sweet little face. Hell, I would even love to be up with you at 2am...
Nothing will bring you back, though. No amount of anger or blame will replace. I'll never even get to know why this happened or what this plan was really all about. I've wondered, though. I've wondered why you had to exist at all, and why you had to die. What's the real lesson here? I don't think I'll know, and maybe that's okay.
Maybe we will try again, and maybe we won't. Maybe our hearts will feel full and healed someday, and maybe they won't. Nothing can replace you, nothing at all. I do know this, too: you were loved. Oh, sweet baby, you were so very loved.
What Gives Life a Value?: A Poem
What gives life a value?
What makes words have meaning?
How do you know something is good?
How do we measure one's soul?
Is it based on currency?
Or do we weigh it like gold?
Is it something tangible?
Something we can hold?
Maybe the key is yet to be seen,
And the cost is yet to be told.
Or maybe there's nothing equal,
No word or total in this world.
What gives a life value?
What makes me worth your time?
Tell me what you see that has value,
So maybe I can see it, too.
What makes words have meaning?
How do you know something is good?
How do we measure one's soul?
Is it based on currency?
Or do we weigh it like gold?
Is it something tangible?
Something we can hold?
Maybe the key is yet to be seen,
And the cost is yet to be told.
Or maybe there's nothing equal,
No word or total in this world.
What gives a life value?
What makes me worth your time?
Tell me what you see that has value,
So maybe I can see it, too.
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
Silver Linings (Summer of Self Discovery, Part 8)
Megan's Summer of Self Discovery/Self Awareness, Part 8: Perspective
So here's the deal: I've set goals for my summer. I want to in better touch with myself, more aware of myself, and take care of myself. To do this, I am going to be spending a lot of time thinking and writing my way through lots of self-realizations about all the aspects that make me, well, me: physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, relationships, career. Summer is almost over and I think I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel, so this post is about looking on the bright side of life.
One of the sessions I chose to attend yesterday was about dealing with teacher stress better to avoid burn out. I know, I know: how could my job ever be stressful, right? "You just wave your arms around, listen to music all day, and you get summers off!" Well, folks, the past spring semester was real tough. I'd actually venture to say it was the most stressful and difficult semester of my teaching career...it's at least tied with my first semester of teaching where I was an interim for an undetermined amount of time and left with no guidelines and a huge mess.
Anyway, back to the point. Two things really stuck with me from the session: 1) He suggested keeping a "Gratitude Journal," or at least taking time each day to think about what you are grateful; 2) There was a slide about "opportunity" and thinking of assignments/tasks not as that but as "silver opportunities." Now, he made fun of the whole phrase and kind of laughed it off, but it stuck with me for another reason. I've been on a quest all summer to try to figure some things out, and I just felt like this was another piece to the puzzle.
Sometimes we get so focused on the negative that we miss the good right in front of our faces. Now, I'm not saying to dismiss the bad, and I'm definitely not saying that everything bad thing that happens is actually a good thing. Sometimes, though, I think we get so focused on the tree that we don't see the forest; sometimes we focus too much on the details or a single moment when we should be considering all the parts of the whole.
For me, the miscarriage seemed to be a tipping point (oh goodness, she's going back to this crap again?!). It's like I'd been making this beautiful domino maze and suddenly someone came and bumped the starting domino, leaving them all to fall. But here's what I missed (at least initially): a whole lot of good dominoes got exposed in the fall. Sure, some bad stuff spilled out as well, but that's not the point of this.
So, here's some good that has come of the last 7 months:
- My marriage was strengthened significantly. We were working on things, seeing a therapist to improve communication and try to repair some of the cracks that had become exposed, but somehow this time of sickness really helped us bond and opened lots of doors. I needed to lean on my husband more than ever during this, and he surpassed all of my expectations. It was actually one of the most beautiful moments of our marriage.
- I have learned A LOT about my body and fertility since the fact. I have been very lucky to just be healthy and not have a lot of medical complications in my life, so I think this really shook me to the core. It opened my eyes, but it also gave me a new found interest in understanding my body and being more in touch with myself. I've read books, I've researched, I've consulted, and I've learned a lot. It's been a great learning opportunity.
- I've figured out who my true, real friends are and who can't be trusted or who isn't really what I need to thrive. I have some absolutely amazing and beautiful people in my life, folks. Some have been around for over a decade at this point, but some I'm entirely convinced were placed in my life strategically for some of these hurdles later in life. I've learned how to ACTUALLY trust people. I've learned what real friendship should look like, and I've learned that there are people in this world that really will look past your flaws and still love you. I've laughed so much, I've been able to cry and be comforted, I've been supported more than ever. Now, in this I've also found that not everyone can be trusted, not everyone is really going to support you, and sometimes some people really aren't who they appear to be. You know what, though? That's okay! It's okay to have people on different levels. It's okay to not feel like you need to let everyone into your world. It's okay to have relationships that are surface deep, because you've got others who are going to be there for the big stuff anyway. Either way, it's all good.
- I have a deeper appreciation and love for my two daughters. I already loved them with all my heart, but I think your perspective changes a lot when you see just how lucky you really are. Clearly I am blessed to have them in my life, and they could have just as easily been lost as well. Deep stuff. Hug your kids tight, I know I tell mine daily how much I love them.
- I have a new empathy, connection, and understanding that links me to so many other women. I don't think I ever realized just how common miscarriage and pregnancy loss was before this happened. It's sad, but amazing what a widespread, but hushed and secret thing this is. I am glad that I can have this understanding and that others have the same understanding and link to me.
So, when you are down or your day seems dark and cloudy, maybe try to find the silver linings? Or, if all else fails, just sing with me and your buddy Ice Cube, "Today I didn't even have to use my AK...I got to say it was a good day!"
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
Know When to Hold 'Em, When to Fold 'Em
Chances are that if you are reading this, you know these things to be true about me: I am literally terrified of being alone, I struggle with knowing my limits, and I rarely ask for help. When I started blogging again back in February, I promised myself that this blog would be first and foremost a safe space for me to write what needed to be written at any given time. As I just mentioned, though, I am quite terrified of being alone, so even in my writing I crave to share and receive acknowledgement of my existence. I also don't always get social norms and sometimes share too much with those close to me, which is what this post is about to do. But if you are reading this, the most likely thing is that I shared this post with you directly and that you already are aware of much of the contents. So enjoy and give me feedback?
I am not one to recognize my limits. I am a perfectionist and have an inner desire to be seen as strong and almost heroic. I love to help others as well, even to a point where I put the needs of others before my own. I almost never say "no" when people ask favors or give me tasks. I sometimes pile my plate so full that I end up burning the candle at both ends or put aside self care so that I can have more time to dedicate to other commitments I have made. I admit this isn't healthy, but you know you do it too, my friends.
Anyway, I extended myself beyond even what I thought was possible between March & May. So, on top of putting off self care after a traumatic life event, I just threw on not only my own job loads, but several others as well. Things happened as a result: I had several anxiety attacks (I didn't know that's what they were at the time), I had a week where I consumed almost an entire bottle of rum (at least 3 nights of that week I was literally drunk), and I started being very reckless. But I pulled it together and finished the semester and I told myself summer would be my salvation...but you already know it wasn't.
So, a few weeks ago, here's what I had decided: I am flawed and broken to a point that can't be fixed; I am toxic to everyone that I love and it's killing them; I would be better off dead. "I would be better dead." It resonated in my brain. It called to me. I literally started having urges, like an itch I couldn't scratch enough. It got worse at night. I couldn't sleep. I started thinking when. I started to question how. I even Googled some things...which, by the way, the top response when you start Googling suicide methods is the number to the Suicide Prevention Hotline. I'm terrible at keeping things locked up, though, remember? So, I messed up and shared with some of you (still sorry I did that to you, especially the one who got the majority of the crazy middle of the night texts...so sorry, my friend...)
Anyway, there were some discussions, a staged intervention, more discussions with my husband. I needed help. I've needed help for months. But I hate asking. I hate admitting that I need it. I didn't want to burden any of you...but I did anyway...
So, fast forward to a week ago after much discussion, much soul searching, and even some prayer: I admitted I needed help enough to seek it medically. You likely already got the full story on my lengthy appointment with my OBGYN. You know I'm now on a daily dose of "happy pills" (an anti-depressant). You may already be getting to enjoy the benefits of this medication, because with just a week of taking it, I can already see differences. It's going to still be a delicate balance some days, but hopefully it will get easier with time.
What was the point of all that rambling? Maybe it was to record things honestly with myself. Maybe it was to just waste your time. Really and truthfully, it was to help me admit these things: it's okay to ask for help, it's okay to admit that your plate is too full, it's okay to not be a super hero. Self worth will always be a struggle for me, as will being able to let go of control and ask for help...but I'm working on it. Self care is a struggle for me, too...but I'm trying to change that. It helps, though, to see that others have these same struggles. It helps me help myself if you are not only willing to help me but ask me to help you, too. I may be broken and medicated, but I can always help those that I love (nudge, nudge, that's YOU if you are reading this...unless you are a bot or just weirdly obsessed with reading blogs and you don't know me...).
So, in the words of Kenny Rogers: "Know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em...know when to walk away, know when to run...you never count your money when you're sittin' at the table, there'll be time for countin' money when the dealin's done."
I am not one to recognize my limits. I am a perfectionist and have an inner desire to be seen as strong and almost heroic. I love to help others as well, even to a point where I put the needs of others before my own. I almost never say "no" when people ask favors or give me tasks. I sometimes pile my plate so full that I end up burning the candle at both ends or put aside self care so that I can have more time to dedicate to other commitments I have made. I admit this isn't healthy, but you know you do it too, my friends.
Anyway, I extended myself beyond even what I thought was possible between March & May. So, on top of putting off self care after a traumatic life event, I just threw on not only my own job loads, but several others as well. Things happened as a result: I had several anxiety attacks (I didn't know that's what they were at the time), I had a week where I consumed almost an entire bottle of rum (at least 3 nights of that week I was literally drunk), and I started being very reckless. But I pulled it together and finished the semester and I told myself summer would be my salvation...but you already know it wasn't.
So, a few weeks ago, here's what I had decided: I am flawed and broken to a point that can't be fixed; I am toxic to everyone that I love and it's killing them; I would be better off dead. "I would be better dead." It resonated in my brain. It called to me. I literally started having urges, like an itch I couldn't scratch enough. It got worse at night. I couldn't sleep. I started thinking when. I started to question how. I even Googled some things...which, by the way, the top response when you start Googling suicide methods is the number to the Suicide Prevention Hotline. I'm terrible at keeping things locked up, though, remember? So, I messed up and shared with some of you (still sorry I did that to you, especially the one who got the majority of the crazy middle of the night texts...so sorry, my friend...)
Anyway, there were some discussions, a staged intervention, more discussions with my husband. I needed help. I've needed help for months. But I hate asking. I hate admitting that I need it. I didn't want to burden any of you...but I did anyway...
So, fast forward to a week ago after much discussion, much soul searching, and even some prayer: I admitted I needed help enough to seek it medically. You likely already got the full story on my lengthy appointment with my OBGYN. You know I'm now on a daily dose of "happy pills" (an anti-depressant). You may already be getting to enjoy the benefits of this medication, because with just a week of taking it, I can already see differences. It's going to still be a delicate balance some days, but hopefully it will get easier with time.
What was the point of all that rambling? Maybe it was to record things honestly with myself. Maybe it was to just waste your time. Really and truthfully, it was to help me admit these things: it's okay to ask for help, it's okay to admit that your plate is too full, it's okay to not be a super hero. Self worth will always be a struggle for me, as will being able to let go of control and ask for help...but I'm working on it. Self care is a struggle for me, too...but I'm trying to change that. It helps, though, to see that others have these same struggles. It helps me help myself if you are not only willing to help me but ask me to help you, too. I may be broken and medicated, but I can always help those that I love (nudge, nudge, that's YOU if you are reading this...unless you are a bot or just weirdly obsessed with reading blogs and you don't know me...).
So, in the words of Kenny Rogers: "Know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em...know when to walk away, know when to run...you never count your money when you're sittin' at the table, there'll be time for countin' money when the dealin's done."
Thursday, July 20, 2017
Gratitude & Thankfulness
I feel like my Facebook feed has been filled with lots of sad news this week, lots of death, lots of bad things happening in the world around us, lots of hurt and suffering. I also know (without going into great detail) that I've not been a ray of sunshine on the daily myself lately. I do, however, have a lot to be thankful. I started thinking about all the wonderful things and people that I am so very grateful to have last night as I held my two-year-old as she slowly faded to sleep.
So, without further rambling, here's my list of just some of the things and people I am so very grateful to have in my life:
So, without further rambling, here's my list of just some of the things and people I am so very grateful to have in my life:
- I am thankful for my husband. He's my best friend, my daily source of laughter, my teammate. He keeps me thinking, keeps me going, keeps me grounded. He has shown me what true love and what a good person look like. He may grumble at times, but he never refuses to help me or give me hugs. I have a bad habit of trying to do everything on my own and juggle all the balls, but lately he's reminded me that although I CAN do it alone, I don't HAVE to do it alone.
- I am grateful for my daughters. I'm blessed daily as I watch them play, listen to them talk, see them love each other. Meredith teaches me lots; Eleanor has unconditional love like nobody I've met. I'm not a great mother (or even a good one some days), but I am very lucky to have them around to call me "Mommy" and be my shadows. I'm trying to get better at enjoying all the moments with them, even the less than fun, because every moment with them is beautiful in its own way.
- I am thankful and undeserving of the lovely close friends I have. They each bring something beautiful and needed to my life each and everyday. Sometimes it is a laugh I desperately needed, sometimes it is a swift kick in the butt, sometimes it's just a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on. You have been therapists, scholars, and sounding boards to so much lately. I've never met more loving and giving people. I think you each know that you've saved my life (literally...figuratively...deliberately...), and there are never enough words I can try to poetically paint or gifts I can shower you with to show my appreciation. All the love, Homie B, Dubs, LP, Grach-Ay, The Groves, & Flute Pal! You know who you are!
- I am grateful for my family, both by blood and by marriage. A lot of the things I have learned about marriage, parenting, and life I have learned from you. I'm glad that I've had the opportunity to be surrounded by lots of family throughout my childhood and adult life. I think so many people don't have that benefit, so I consider myself very lucky! Even though some of you live far away or lead busy lives, I'm thankful for technology so we can stay in touch, share pictures, and still feel connected. And, of course, I'm lucky to have my parents & in-laws within an hour drive and my brothers super close as well.
- I'm thankful to have a home and all the other things we need to stay safe and well nourished.
- I am grateful that I have a fulfilling career. I am truly blessed to get to share the joy & beauty of music with over 100 students daily in my classes and with an entire school throughout the year. My students also teach me so much and show me all the good that is still in the world, even when we think there's not. There is hope for the future, my friends, and I get to help that future grow daily!
- I am thankful for amazing co-workers and colleagues, both past and present. I learn something and see great things from everyone I work with. Each person I get to teach in a school with shows me something that continues to help me mold and evolve as a teacher. I also could not survive without the support and dedication from others in my school, departmental team, administration, and people who do what I do in other school buildings around the district.
- I am thankful for my health and doctors who are patient, kind, and interested in my physical and mental health. I am glad to have insurance and funds to afford the care my family & I have to get when needed.
- I am thankful for people who continue to come into my life and show me things or teach me something, whether they realize they are doing it or not. So many amazing people who do so many amazing things, even if they don't know me well. I feel like I get love & lessons daily from people!
- I am grateful for the gift of life and the beauty of this world. I am glad I am getting to experience so much and continue to learn. I am glad that I am opening my mind to things and trying to find myself spiritually. I am blessed beyond measure.
I hope this helps some of you open your eyes to all that we have to be grateful in our lives. Even the small things are things to be thankful. All the love, my readers!
Sunday, July 16, 2017
Needs Improvement: A Post-TAA Soul Searching Blog About My Teaching (Summer of Self-Discovery, Part 7)
Megan's Summer of Self Discovery/Self Awareness, Part 7: Teaching (Continued)
So here's the deal: I've set goals for my summer. I want to in better touch with myself, more aware of myself, and take care of myself. To do this, I am going to be spending a lot of time thinking and writing my way through lots of self-realizations about all the aspects that make me, well, me: physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, relationships, career. After a week at the Tennessee Arts Academy and two full days to digest, I think I am ready to write a little more to help me hash out things.
Let's set aside the excuses and just be real for a minute: I'm not a great teacher. It really hurts me to admit that, but honesty is the best policy, so I need to be honest with myself. The good news is that it's not too late to change that. I can work towards becoming a great teacher. I can continue to improve myself, change, adapt, work harder, try more. And I think I started to discuss that in my first Summer of Self Discovery post...but now I've got more fuel to add to the fire!
The last week was nothing short of AMAZING! I saw so much amazing art performing/making, heard so many good things from people. I also had some big moments of reality checking and soul searching, which is what stuff like this should make you do. I think one of the biggest takeaways, though, was from the sessions with our Instrumental Music faculty.
PHILOSOPHY
He opened on Monday with talking about philosophy of teaching and how our philosophy impacts everything we do. He summed his philosophy up in four item listed things, and it totally made sense to me! So I started thinking about what my philosophy really is. It was hard to quantify into words at first, but I think that's because I've spent the last few years not really feeling comfortable and secure in what I really believe. Well, my friends, it's time for that to end!
So what is my philosophy of teaching? Well, my #1 top agenda, my main goal, my big push is this: I want all students to be life-long lovers and supporters of music. Do I want all my students to become professional musicians? No, I don't think that is realistic. Do I want them to enjoy their time in my class and their instrument enough that they might decide to join a community band as an adult or support their child to join band later in life? Yes. Do I expect them all to blast Mozart in their cars when they are old enough to drive? No, I don't even do that (...at least not all the time...). Do I hope that they will want to go enjoy a symphony concert or a musical every once in a while as an adult? Yes, yes I do. I just want them to love music, understand music, and respect most all types of music.
Here's the deal, though: how do I make this life long love of music happen? Will it just happen if I am funny and make them laugh during class? No. Will it happen if I am nice and just let them sit and hold instruments because I don't want to force them to practice? No. Will it happen because I love music and try to show them that daily? Well, maybe...but that's probably not enough.
Our teacher for the week talked about his top, #1 item being his students having superior/satisfying musical experiences. In order for that to happen, though, he said he needed to have 3 other aspects to his philosophy for his students to get from him: the ability to play their instruments, comprehensive musical knowledge, and an attitude that allowed them to be positive to any kind of music they played in his classes. See, this is part of where I think I'm lacking! Do my students REALLY know how to play their instruments? Not just blow and make sound, but really KNOW how to play and play at a high enough level for what we do? Do my students have comprehensive musical knowledge? Do I help them understand all the aspects of what they are playing or do they only have a basic understanding of notes and rhythms on their page? Do I foster an attitude and provide my students with such variety of music to open their minds? ...I'm thinking "no" to a lot of those questions...and that makes me feel really bad for my students...
That's got to change! I've got to change! So, like I mentioned in my other post about teaching (see "Teach, Teacher"), I think this year is going to be a "back to basics" in some ways. But, you know what? That's going to be okay. It's got to happen and I've got to shift my thinking, my planning, my teaching, so that I can be better and my kids are getting what they really need to become life long lovers of music.
ACTION PLANS
Another big thing we focused on was all related: repertoire selection, score study, and rehearsal planning. In order for me to teach to my philosophy, I have to consider it when I plan. All our planning as a band teacher starts with selecting our rep. We need to ask ourselves what our goals are and what we want students to get out of each piece we play. I'll be the first to admit that this is a big area that I've been lacking in...and it's got to get better! Must start picking music for my ensembles with specific goals in mind.
Once the rep is selected, I need to study. I mean, I can't REALLY dig deep into my teaching if I don't even know the material! I've known that in my heart all along, but we all get into those ruts where we make excuses and don't really listen to our head and our hearts as we should. I'm done with that! I've got to change! I spent hours studying scores for my conducting class in college (partially out of fear of my professor...another story for another day?), so why don't I do that as a teacher? I've decided it's time I make time for score study. I need to understand the phrases, who plays what where, what other things are going on, any interesting things the composer has put for us to find, etc...the list can go on a while and all you people are like, "WHAT IS SHE SAYING?!" Anyway, score study...it's game time!
Then, once I really know my scores, I can make accurate rehearsal plans. Again, this was something already on my list to improve. So now I have more reason to make it better! More singing, more listening, more focus on skills, LESS talking, LESS me wasting time being unprepared!
GRADING
Okay, so we didn't exactly talk about grading this past week, but it's something I've been bouncing around in my head. I'm not happy with how my grading works for lots of reasons. Our state standards are getting a big overhaul that goes into effect next year. If I'm refocusing my teaching to align with my philosophy, then my grading needs to align in similar fashion.
So I'm thinking about going to more of a standards based typed grading. There's still some specifics to work out, but basically instead of my old system of 40% performances, 10% rehearsal, 30% playing tests, 20% written, It'll be more aligned with the 4 main domains of our new standards (and the national standards: Perform, Create, Connect, Respond. I'm thinking perform will be the biggest, like maybe 40-50%, then Respond, Connect, and Create can be more equitable, like 15-20% each. Again, still details to hash out, but 'perform' would include playing tests, any other assignments related to playing, and possibly something for performances still. 'Respond' is where listening stuff, self evals, analysis, etc goes; 'Create' is like composition...anyway, you get the point.
My thought process is that I want my students to be motivated to make music, right? So my grading needs to show that. I also want to be more of a "working towards mastery" style and less of a participatory style. And, let's be honest here: classroom teachers' grades are all tied to their standards, so if I want to be viewed as an equal in my building, then I need to think the same way.
SUMMARY
So, if you've read this far, you can see I've got a lot I want to do this upcoming year! My hope, though, is that thinking through all of these things and working towards them will make me start to take the first steps towards being a better teacher for my students. I want my band students to have an excellent experience with me for 4-5 years. They deserve that! I want them to see how wonderful making music really is, and I want us to have fun making great music together!
If you work with me or see me often in my work environment, make sure I'm holding myself to all of this! Push me! Remind me what I want and what I owe my students!
The last week was nothing short of AMAZING! I saw so much amazing art performing/making, heard so many good things from people. I also had some big moments of reality checking and soul searching, which is what stuff like this should make you do. I think one of the biggest takeaways, though, was from the sessions with our Instrumental Music faculty.
PHILOSOPHY
He opened on Monday with talking about philosophy of teaching and how our philosophy impacts everything we do. He summed his philosophy up in four item listed things, and it totally made sense to me! So I started thinking about what my philosophy really is. It was hard to quantify into words at first, but I think that's because I've spent the last few years not really feeling comfortable and secure in what I really believe. Well, my friends, it's time for that to end!
So what is my philosophy of teaching? Well, my #1 top agenda, my main goal, my big push is this: I want all students to be life-long lovers and supporters of music. Do I want all my students to become professional musicians? No, I don't think that is realistic. Do I want them to enjoy their time in my class and their instrument enough that they might decide to join a community band as an adult or support their child to join band later in life? Yes. Do I expect them all to blast Mozart in their cars when they are old enough to drive? No, I don't even do that (...at least not all the time...). Do I hope that they will want to go enjoy a symphony concert or a musical every once in a while as an adult? Yes, yes I do. I just want them to love music, understand music, and respect most all types of music.
Here's the deal, though: how do I make this life long love of music happen? Will it just happen if I am funny and make them laugh during class? No. Will it happen if I am nice and just let them sit and hold instruments because I don't want to force them to practice? No. Will it happen because I love music and try to show them that daily? Well, maybe...but that's probably not enough.
Our teacher for the week talked about his top, #1 item being his students having superior/satisfying musical experiences. In order for that to happen, though, he said he needed to have 3 other aspects to his philosophy for his students to get from him: the ability to play their instruments, comprehensive musical knowledge, and an attitude that allowed them to be positive to any kind of music they played in his classes. See, this is part of where I think I'm lacking! Do my students REALLY know how to play their instruments? Not just blow and make sound, but really KNOW how to play and play at a high enough level for what we do? Do my students have comprehensive musical knowledge? Do I help them understand all the aspects of what they are playing or do they only have a basic understanding of notes and rhythms on their page? Do I foster an attitude and provide my students with such variety of music to open their minds? ...I'm thinking "no" to a lot of those questions...and that makes me feel really bad for my students...
That's got to change! I've got to change! So, like I mentioned in my other post about teaching (see "Teach, Teacher"), I think this year is going to be a "back to basics" in some ways. But, you know what? That's going to be okay. It's got to happen and I've got to shift my thinking, my planning, my teaching, so that I can be better and my kids are getting what they really need to become life long lovers of music.
ACTION PLANS
Another big thing we focused on was all related: repertoire selection, score study, and rehearsal planning. In order for me to teach to my philosophy, I have to consider it when I plan. All our planning as a band teacher starts with selecting our rep. We need to ask ourselves what our goals are and what we want students to get out of each piece we play. I'll be the first to admit that this is a big area that I've been lacking in...and it's got to get better! Must start picking music for my ensembles with specific goals in mind.
Once the rep is selected, I need to study. I mean, I can't REALLY dig deep into my teaching if I don't even know the material! I've known that in my heart all along, but we all get into those ruts where we make excuses and don't really listen to our head and our hearts as we should. I'm done with that! I've got to change! I spent hours studying scores for my conducting class in college (partially out of fear of my professor...another story for another day?), so why don't I do that as a teacher? I've decided it's time I make time for score study. I need to understand the phrases, who plays what where, what other things are going on, any interesting things the composer has put for us to find, etc...the list can go on a while and all you people are like, "WHAT IS SHE SAYING?!" Anyway, score study...it's game time!
Then, once I really know my scores, I can make accurate rehearsal plans. Again, this was something already on my list to improve. So now I have more reason to make it better! More singing, more listening, more focus on skills, LESS talking, LESS me wasting time being unprepared!
GRADING
Okay, so we didn't exactly talk about grading this past week, but it's something I've been bouncing around in my head. I'm not happy with how my grading works for lots of reasons. Our state standards are getting a big overhaul that goes into effect next year. If I'm refocusing my teaching to align with my philosophy, then my grading needs to align in similar fashion.
So I'm thinking about going to more of a standards based typed grading. There's still some specifics to work out, but basically instead of my old system of 40% performances, 10% rehearsal, 30% playing tests, 20% written, It'll be more aligned with the 4 main domains of our new standards (and the national standards: Perform, Create, Connect, Respond. I'm thinking perform will be the biggest, like maybe 40-50%, then Respond, Connect, and Create can be more equitable, like 15-20% each. Again, still details to hash out, but 'perform' would include playing tests, any other assignments related to playing, and possibly something for performances still. 'Respond' is where listening stuff, self evals, analysis, etc goes; 'Create' is like composition...anyway, you get the point.
My thought process is that I want my students to be motivated to make music, right? So my grading needs to show that. I also want to be more of a "working towards mastery" style and less of a participatory style. And, let's be honest here: classroom teachers' grades are all tied to their standards, so if I want to be viewed as an equal in my building, then I need to think the same way.
SUMMARY
So, if you've read this far, you can see I've got a lot I want to do this upcoming year! My hope, though, is that thinking through all of these things and working towards them will make me start to take the first steps towards being a better teacher for my students. I want my band students to have an excellent experience with me for 4-5 years. They deserve that! I want them to see how wonderful making music really is, and I want us to have fun making great music together!
If you work with me or see me often in my work environment, make sure I'm holding myself to all of this! Push me! Remind me what I want and what I owe my students!
Thursday, July 13, 2017
Bloom Where You Are Planted
I like to believe that I am a fairly genuine person and show everyone I meet the "real me." I don't have a phony persona...hell, I don't even wear makeup 99.9% of the time. I do, however, have strong walls I have built to keep people out of my core self, my most intimate form of personal being, my most vulnerable, true self. Most people only scratch the surface of me, just getting the parts I feel are best or easiest to swallow. And for as long as I can remember, I've had a goal to make sure people like me. I desire people to see me as something someone of value. I want people to see something worthwhile and worthy of their time.
I'd never really given much thought to all of insecurities and paranoia. Recently, though, I've been thinking more about everything, and one of the areas that I've focused on is my social anxieties and insecurities with people. One of the issues is that I have a constant desire to be in control of everything in my life (we'll get to that shortly, I promise). Another part of the issue, though, is that I have this struggle with self worth. I think very poorly of myself in my appearance, personality, intelligence...I walk around with a constant voice in my head telling me I'm nothing and that people see me as a sort of freak. By building these walls and only putting the values I feel most people like to see or see as most valuable on the outside of the walls, though, I can protect myself, right? Because if I let people see too much, then they'll devalue me as well. If I share my inner most self with all the baggage, then people will think less of me.
I've made some choices lately to start opening the doors and letting a very select number of people past the walls. I didn't choose to do this easily, and I'll admit I've had lots of fears lately as a result of this. That voice keeps telling me things now that I've let people into the safe space, the center of my being. Luckily the voices that creep up have been met with surprising responses from the very people I've let into the core of me.
"That's what friends do. I hope you realize that no one is ever going to think less of you because of what happened."
"You confided in me which is what friends can and should do! You do not need to apologize for that ever!"
"You are NOT stupid or terrible. I'm not going anywhere! I am so grateful for you, friend!"
"I'm glad you share with us, because bearing each other's burdens is an honor of friendship. We all want you to feel secure, loved, and healthy."
"You can talk to me if you need to. I love you and worry about you sometimes."
"I love you. Don't ever apologize for venting or sharing what's on your heart. That's what friends are here for. We've got to talk to each other. I'm glad to know I can be here to encourage you and lean on when you need someone."
So the control thing: Basically some conversations and events today led a discussion with one of my friends that I have control issues. And I do, 100%. I try to control and plan so much. I go to extreme measures sometimes to hold control over things. I overthink, overplan, overwork. But what causes this desire to be in total control? "Why do you have control issues, Megan? Have you always been this way?" I had to think...have I always been this way? I'm not sure. I can say for sure, though, that I've been this way since high school and it's lasted into my adult life. So there may have been a trigger around the start of my high school career...oh...
When you are in an abusive relationship, you hold NONE of the control. That's the goal for the abuser: to hold all of the control and manipulate everything so that you feel stuck, helpless, vulnerable, insecure, alone. The point is to make you feel like an animal trapped in a cage. And for me, it worked. I felt SO trapped, and the only straws I could grasp for were ones like self harm, which in talking it was pointed out that even that can be a way to feel control over something. Anyway, when you finally break out, you NEED that control. You want ALL of the control. You'll do anything to control every tiny aspect of everything so that you know exactly what's happening. If you control everything, then he can't get you again. If you hold the control, then he can't.
So I've spent the last about 16 years refusing to give on any of the control. Shutting people out gives me the control. Planning pregnancies helps me feel that sense of power over my life. Not delegating makes me feel okay because that means I'm not allowing someone else to hold some of the control. But guess what else you can't control? Actions your body takes...like miscarriage.
It's all connected. The emotions are the same for both. There's guilt, there's anger, there's pain, there's fear, there's that feeling of being lost...of losing grip of the control you foolishly thought you had. Unfortunately the two go hand in hand and can't be solved without solving them both since they aren't mutually exclusive. I have to forgive myself so that I can see that my self-worth is not based on either of these things. I have to let go and accept that things happen that we can't control...but that does't make them our fault. But how does one tell a brain that? And when do we know how to determine when things are our fault and when they are not? And how do we go about this process?
"Sometimes when you're in a dark place, you think you've been buried, but actually you've been planted. So bloom where you are planted."
I didn't choose to be a victim of abuse (nobody chooses that), but that's the hand I was dealt. I didn't choose to have a miscarriage (again, nobody chooses that), but it's what happened and I can't change that. These are both parts of my core being: this is who I am, this is where I've been planted. I just have to choose to bloom...otherwise I'll fail to thrive. Plants also need more to survive than a place to be planted, though, so I will need tending, watering, weeding, pruning. If you are reading this, then that means you have been allowed inside the walls to see where I've really been planted. I realize it's not the prize you thought you'd win by breaking down the wall, but I'm thankful you are willing to take on the challenge. I promise to buy some Miracle-Gro and all the gardening tools...I just need you to stay until this thing really takes off and is in full bloom.
I'd never really given much thought to all of insecurities and paranoia. Recently, though, I've been thinking more about everything, and one of the areas that I've focused on is my social anxieties and insecurities with people. One of the issues is that I have a constant desire to be in control of everything in my life (we'll get to that shortly, I promise). Another part of the issue, though, is that I have this struggle with self worth. I think very poorly of myself in my appearance, personality, intelligence...I walk around with a constant voice in my head telling me I'm nothing and that people see me as a sort of freak. By building these walls and only putting the values I feel most people like to see or see as most valuable on the outside of the walls, though, I can protect myself, right? Because if I let people see too much, then they'll devalue me as well. If I share my inner most self with all the baggage, then people will think less of me.
I've made some choices lately to start opening the doors and letting a very select number of people past the walls. I didn't choose to do this easily, and I'll admit I've had lots of fears lately as a result of this. That voice keeps telling me things now that I've let people into the safe space, the center of my being. Luckily the voices that creep up have been met with surprising responses from the very people I've let into the core of me.
"That's what friends do. I hope you realize that no one is ever going to think less of you because of what happened."
"You confided in me which is what friends can and should do! You do not need to apologize for that ever!"
"You are NOT stupid or terrible. I'm not going anywhere! I am so grateful for you, friend!"
"I'm glad you share with us, because bearing each other's burdens is an honor of friendship. We all want you to feel secure, loved, and healthy."
"You can talk to me if you need to. I love you and worry about you sometimes."
"I love you. Don't ever apologize for venting or sharing what's on your heart. That's what friends are here for. We've got to talk to each other. I'm glad to know I can be here to encourage you and lean on when you need someone."
So the control thing: Basically some conversations and events today led a discussion with one of my friends that I have control issues. And I do, 100%. I try to control and plan so much. I go to extreme measures sometimes to hold control over things. I overthink, overplan, overwork. But what causes this desire to be in total control? "Why do you have control issues, Megan? Have you always been this way?" I had to think...have I always been this way? I'm not sure. I can say for sure, though, that I've been this way since high school and it's lasted into my adult life. So there may have been a trigger around the start of my high school career...oh...
When you are in an abusive relationship, you hold NONE of the control. That's the goal for the abuser: to hold all of the control and manipulate everything so that you feel stuck, helpless, vulnerable, insecure, alone. The point is to make you feel like an animal trapped in a cage. And for me, it worked. I felt SO trapped, and the only straws I could grasp for were ones like self harm, which in talking it was pointed out that even that can be a way to feel control over something. Anyway, when you finally break out, you NEED that control. You want ALL of the control. You'll do anything to control every tiny aspect of everything so that you know exactly what's happening. If you control everything, then he can't get you again. If you hold the control, then he can't.
So I've spent the last about 16 years refusing to give on any of the control. Shutting people out gives me the control. Planning pregnancies helps me feel that sense of power over my life. Not delegating makes me feel okay because that means I'm not allowing someone else to hold some of the control. But guess what else you can't control? Actions your body takes...like miscarriage.
It's all connected. The emotions are the same for both. There's guilt, there's anger, there's pain, there's fear, there's that feeling of being lost...of losing grip of the control you foolishly thought you had. Unfortunately the two go hand in hand and can't be solved without solving them both since they aren't mutually exclusive. I have to forgive myself so that I can see that my self-worth is not based on either of these things. I have to let go and accept that things happen that we can't control...but that does't make them our fault. But how does one tell a brain that? And when do we know how to determine when things are our fault and when they are not? And how do we go about this process?
"Sometimes when you're in a dark place, you think you've been buried, but actually you've been planted. So bloom where you are planted."
I didn't choose to be a victim of abuse (nobody chooses that), but that's the hand I was dealt. I didn't choose to have a miscarriage (again, nobody chooses that), but it's what happened and I can't change that. These are both parts of my core being: this is who I am, this is where I've been planted. I just have to choose to bloom...otherwise I'll fail to thrive. Plants also need more to survive than a place to be planted, though, so I will need tending, watering, weeding, pruning. If you are reading this, then that means you have been allowed inside the walls to see where I've really been planted. I realize it's not the prize you thought you'd win by breaking down the wall, but I'm thankful you are willing to take on the challenge. I promise to buy some Miracle-Gro and all the gardening tools...I just need you to stay until this thing really takes off and is in full bloom.
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
I Can Never Say: A Poem
I Can Never Say
How I Envy Your Skills
Because Friends Shouldn't Be Jealous.
I Can Never Say
That I Question Your Truth
Because You Never Lie.
I Can Never Say
Quite What I See
Because Then You'd Ask Me Why
I Can Never Say
How You Make Me Laugh
Because The Laughter's Never Ending.
I Can Never Say
How I Love Your Eyes
Because Then I'd Never See.
I Can Never Say
I Need Your Touch
Because I Know That's The Line.
I Can Never Say
What I Really Want
Because...You'd Run Away...Then I'd Be Left to Die.
How I Envy Your Skills
Because Friends Shouldn't Be Jealous.
I Can Never Say
That I Question Your Truth
Because You Never Lie.
I Can Never Say
Quite What I See
Because Then You'd Ask Me Why
I Can Never Say
How You Make Me Laugh
Because The Laughter's Never Ending.
I Can Never Say
How I Love Your Eyes
Because Then I'd Never See.
I Can Never Say
I Need Your Touch
Because I Know That's The Line.
I Can Never Say
What I Really Want
Because...You'd Run Away...Then I'd Be Left to Die.
Sunday, July 9, 2017
Be Careful What You Wish For
"A new command I give to you: love one another. As I have loved you, so you mus love one another."
I try SO very hard to live this verse. I think it is important to show kindness and love to everyone EVERY day of our lives. Unfortunately, though, I am human and I fail miserably at this constantly. After all, no human is perfect, no matter how hard we try.
There was a time in my life though, a time I've been focusing on lots recently in some of these blog posts, where I did not even try to follow this command. There was a time I was very bitter, very harsh, very abrasive. Sure, I can make excuses about all of the bullying I was getting daily from a group of people...but that doesn't make it better. Sure, I can also use the excuse of still being deeply trapped in a horribly abusive relationship...but that doesn't make it any better. Excuses don't change the choices I made or justify my actions.
His name was Ryan. He was popular and everyone loved him. He was a class clown type. He was a football player. But he was never mean to me. He never participated in the bullying or the put downs. He just tried to make everyone laugh...even me.
Anyway, Ryan LOVED country music. I HATED it. He loved to sing along with the radio on the bus from time to time. Usually we sat in completely different parts of the bus, but I had made a choice on this particular Friday morning that I wasn't going to be taken advantage of that day, I was going to sit as far away from Nathan as humanly possible and I was going to tell him that it was over (again). But then I thought about all the other times it was over (again) and the consequences of me saying those words. The only option was to sit in the front of the bus. That was going to be the only way to protect myself (um, why did I never do this any other times? Oh, right, my mother was the bus driver and who wanted to sit in the front so their mom could nag them for 45 minutes?). So I did. And so did Ryan...and then with the singing.
I got SO mad. I told him to stop. He said no. I told him I hate country music. He said he liked it and it was Friday and he wanted to sing because he was happy. And then I did it, I did one of the stupidest things I'd ever done: I just started thinking horrible things about how I just wanted to slap him across the face...how I wished he'd just drop dead and stop the damn singing.
It happened that weekend. Ryan died. He was riding his 4 wheeler to go fishing they said. Something started to fall off the 4 wheeler and he was turned around trying to grab it they said. He crashed. He died.
Oh, the guilt. The regret. The overwhelming thoughts. Why was I so cruel? That's the last memory I got to have of someone who had never once done anything mean to me? I wished for him to drop dead...oh why?! But it wasn't my fault, that would just be silly, my thoughts are not that powerful.
My friend Rachael was going to the funeral. She asked if I wanted to go. I said yes. And all I can remember from the funeral that was as soon as the first words were spoken all I could do was cry. I curled up into a ball and cried. "Oh, Ryan! Oh God! Please just forgive me! Please, I don't want to be remembered that way! Why couldn't he have just walked on that bus Monday morning with his goofy grin and his favorite hat so I could tell him I was sorry?! Oh, God, why?! He was young, happy, full of life?! I didn't mean what I said in my head! I was just having a bad day! Take me instead! He is loved and happy! Take me instead!"
I have no idea why hearing Debussy on the piano this evening made me remember Ryan, but it did. Maybe it was the cell phone that went off and I started to feel angry instead of calm. Maybe it was that the players had blonde hair like he did. Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was just that my brain has been picking the absolute most random things to relive lately. But, for some reason, I thought of him.
"God, I'm so sorry for that day. I know that I can't take back what is done, that my sins are not something that can just be erased. But I want to follow Your command: I want to love just as You have loved us. I will try to focus on this command and show it in my life...I will try my very best. I will try to show love, not anger, not judgement, not bitterness, just like the love You have always shown me even when I lost my way. Also, because I know he's up there with you probably singing a stupid country song, can you tell Ryan I'm sorry? Thank you, God."
I try SO very hard to live this verse. I think it is important to show kindness and love to everyone EVERY day of our lives. Unfortunately, though, I am human and I fail miserably at this constantly. After all, no human is perfect, no matter how hard we try.
There was a time in my life though, a time I've been focusing on lots recently in some of these blog posts, where I did not even try to follow this command. There was a time I was very bitter, very harsh, very abrasive. Sure, I can make excuses about all of the bullying I was getting daily from a group of people...but that doesn't make it better. Sure, I can also use the excuse of still being deeply trapped in a horribly abusive relationship...but that doesn't make it any better. Excuses don't change the choices I made or justify my actions.
His name was Ryan. He was popular and everyone loved him. He was a class clown type. He was a football player. But he was never mean to me. He never participated in the bullying or the put downs. He just tried to make everyone laugh...even me.
Anyway, Ryan LOVED country music. I HATED it. He loved to sing along with the radio on the bus from time to time. Usually we sat in completely different parts of the bus, but I had made a choice on this particular Friday morning that I wasn't going to be taken advantage of that day, I was going to sit as far away from Nathan as humanly possible and I was going to tell him that it was over (again). But then I thought about all the other times it was over (again) and the consequences of me saying those words. The only option was to sit in the front of the bus. That was going to be the only way to protect myself (um, why did I never do this any other times? Oh, right, my mother was the bus driver and who wanted to sit in the front so their mom could nag them for 45 minutes?). So I did. And so did Ryan...and then with the singing.
I got SO mad. I told him to stop. He said no. I told him I hate country music. He said he liked it and it was Friday and he wanted to sing because he was happy. And then I did it, I did one of the stupidest things I'd ever done: I just started thinking horrible things about how I just wanted to slap him across the face...how I wished he'd just drop dead and stop the damn singing.
It happened that weekend. Ryan died. He was riding his 4 wheeler to go fishing they said. Something started to fall off the 4 wheeler and he was turned around trying to grab it they said. He crashed. He died.
Oh, the guilt. The regret. The overwhelming thoughts. Why was I so cruel? That's the last memory I got to have of someone who had never once done anything mean to me? I wished for him to drop dead...oh why?! But it wasn't my fault, that would just be silly, my thoughts are not that powerful.
My friend Rachael was going to the funeral. She asked if I wanted to go. I said yes. And all I can remember from the funeral that was as soon as the first words were spoken all I could do was cry. I curled up into a ball and cried. "Oh, Ryan! Oh God! Please just forgive me! Please, I don't want to be remembered that way! Why couldn't he have just walked on that bus Monday morning with his goofy grin and his favorite hat so I could tell him I was sorry?! Oh, God, why?! He was young, happy, full of life?! I didn't mean what I said in my head! I was just having a bad day! Take me instead! He is loved and happy! Take me instead!"
I have no idea why hearing Debussy on the piano this evening made me remember Ryan, but it did. Maybe it was the cell phone that went off and I started to feel angry instead of calm. Maybe it was that the players had blonde hair like he did. Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was just that my brain has been picking the absolute most random things to relive lately. But, for some reason, I thought of him.
"God, I'm so sorry for that day. I know that I can't take back what is done, that my sins are not something that can just be erased. But I want to follow Your command: I want to love just as You have loved us. I will try to focus on this command and show it in my life...I will try my very best. I will try to show love, not anger, not judgement, not bitterness, just like the love You have always shown me even when I lost my way. Also, because I know he's up there with you probably singing a stupid country song, can you tell Ryan I'm sorry? Thank you, God."
The Performance: A Poem
So, I actually wrote this several years ago, but as I sat in an absolutely beautiful piano recital this evening, I suddenly remembered the poem and the feelings I felt the day I wrote it, which were very similar to the feelings today. Plus I've been too dark and twisty lately, so here's something completely different for those who have been enjoying my writing.
The Performance: A Poem by Megan (Jackson) Glosson
Heels clicking through the silence,
Lights rising, illuminating you more completely than ever before,
The sound of the piano rings and travels through the air.
You breathe, hoping it was enough, then release:
Elegance pours through the tube,
But inside there is nothing but fear.
You tremble, twitch, shake...
Grasping for air, but moving forward with courage,
A courage who has no source but does magic,
For soon your eyes are reading and fingers are moving,
But inside you are nowhere to be found.
Suddenly there is a freedom like never before,
Like the cross you bore has been lifted by an angel,
Leaving you free to soar along with the waves of sound you create:
A spirit defying time, space, gravity, and all other known science.
Soon you begin to fall back down to earth,
Becoming aware of the ringing of the tones through the air,
Then feeling the movement of the fingers and the releasing of oxygen.
The final notes land smoothly just as your soul lands in the body,
Then comes the silence...and the sound of hands beating together in time.
And once again, the world is right, even if it is just for a moment.
The Performance: A Poem by Megan (Jackson) Glosson
Heels clicking through the silence,
Lights rising, illuminating you more completely than ever before,
The sound of the piano rings and travels through the air.
You breathe, hoping it was enough, then release:
Elegance pours through the tube,
But inside there is nothing but fear.
You tremble, twitch, shake...
Grasping for air, but moving forward with courage,
A courage who has no source but does magic,
For soon your eyes are reading and fingers are moving,
But inside you are nowhere to be found.
Suddenly there is a freedom like never before,
Like the cross you bore has been lifted by an angel,
Leaving you free to soar along with the waves of sound you create:
A spirit defying time, space, gravity, and all other known science.
Soon you begin to fall back down to earth,
Becoming aware of the ringing of the tones through the air,
Then feeling the movement of the fingers and the releasing of oxygen.
The final notes land smoothly just as your soul lands in the body,
Then comes the silence...and the sound of hands beating together in time.
And once again, the world is right, even if it is just for a moment.
Friday, July 7, 2017
The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men...and Megan
"'For I know the plans I have for you,' says the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.'"
I have been planning my life out since I was a child. I was the kid who actually used her planner in middle school. I decided in the 7th grade that I was going to become a band teacher. I did the math with Meredith to know which months we could try to conceive so that we'd have a summer baby that didn't require me to take maternity leave. I drive my friends nuts because I want to plan out girls' nights or weekend plans weeks or months in advance. I've already picked out music for my bands for the entire school year. I sometimes use Google Calendar to plan a day or weekend by the hour. I like to plan, I need a plan for everything.
But, what happens when plans change? What happens when the unexpected becomes the plan? How does one learn flexibility? How do we learn to enjoy the unplanned?
Well, sometimes the unexpected is beautiful, like a cat who shows up at your doorstep or a new co-worker who becomes one of your best friends within a matter of months. Those are the easy to deal with unplanned plans. They make your heart happy.
Sometimes, though, the unplanned can be messy and less than desirable, like finding out your cat has cancer or waking up to the sight of blood when you are pregnant. These are the unplanned plans that can sometimes shake us to our core; these curve balls can derail the train of life entirely.
But, here's the big question: which plans, whether we think we planned them ourselves or not, are His plans? Are date rapes His plans? Are mass murders His plans? Are babies who die before they are even born His plans?
Why? If you can plan it all, why have bad plans? I never wake up and think, "Today I plan to slice my finger while cutting peppers and purposely watch my bank account go negative $1,000!" Who the fuck would make bad plans?
But He knows the plans he has for me...He KNOWS...
This my friends, this is where I struggle. This is where I question. This is where I doubt. I just can't understand why He would allow these things to happen. Are they punishments? Are they tests? Are they puzzles to solve?
God, are you there? It's me...yeah, I know, long time no chat. So, here's the deal: I really want to seek and find you, but my heart is heavy. Oh so very heavy. I just can't understand why you would make these plans for me, God. Why all the pain? Why all the hurt? Why let me live without You for so long? You said your plans are not to harm me, but so much did, Lord...oh so much. I've spent half of my life living with the torture and then you give me more by taking away the child I was bearing. Just...can you give me a clue to understand all this?
I have been planning my life out since I was a child. I was the kid who actually used her planner in middle school. I decided in the 7th grade that I was going to become a band teacher. I did the math with Meredith to know which months we could try to conceive so that we'd have a summer baby that didn't require me to take maternity leave. I drive my friends nuts because I want to plan out girls' nights or weekend plans weeks or months in advance. I've already picked out music for my bands for the entire school year. I sometimes use Google Calendar to plan a day or weekend by the hour. I like to plan, I need a plan for everything.
But, what happens when plans change? What happens when the unexpected becomes the plan? How does one learn flexibility? How do we learn to enjoy the unplanned?
Well, sometimes the unexpected is beautiful, like a cat who shows up at your doorstep or a new co-worker who becomes one of your best friends within a matter of months. Those are the easy to deal with unplanned plans. They make your heart happy.
Sometimes, though, the unplanned can be messy and less than desirable, like finding out your cat has cancer or waking up to the sight of blood when you are pregnant. These are the unplanned plans that can sometimes shake us to our core; these curve balls can derail the train of life entirely.
But, here's the big question: which plans, whether we think we planned them ourselves or not, are His plans? Are date rapes His plans? Are mass murders His plans? Are babies who die before they are even born His plans?
Why? If you can plan it all, why have bad plans? I never wake up and think, "Today I plan to slice my finger while cutting peppers and purposely watch my bank account go negative $1,000!" Who the fuck would make bad plans?
But He knows the plans he has for me...He KNOWS...
This my friends, this is where I struggle. This is where I question. This is where I doubt. I just can't understand why He would allow these things to happen. Are they punishments? Are they tests? Are they puzzles to solve?
God, are you there? It's me...yeah, I know, long time no chat. So, here's the deal: I really want to seek and find you, but my heart is heavy. Oh so very heavy. I just can't understand why you would make these plans for me, God. Why all the pain? Why all the hurt? Why let me live without You for so long? You said your plans are not to harm me, but so much did, Lord...oh so much. I've spent half of my life living with the torture and then you give me more by taking away the child I was bearing. Just...can you give me a clue to understand all this?
A Letter to My Daughters
Dear Sweet Daughters,
I love you so very much. I try to show that love to you everyday. I know that sometimes it may not seem like love when I tell you that you can't have another piece of candy or I make you go to bed at 7:30pm, but even those things I do with love in mind. I want you to know that I'm always here for you, no matter what happens or what you may think or how much you think you've messed up...I'm always here with open arms, listening ears, and a loving heart.
But there's something I need you to know, sweet girls. There are people in this world who do not do things out of love. There are men in this world who are not as amazing as Daddy. There are people who make poor choices, who hurt others, who may try to hurt you. This, my dears, is NOT okay. Your body is YOURS and you never have to share it with someone if you don't want to do so. Your heart is pure and your soul is beautiful, strong, and amazing...don't ever let someone tell you otherwise. You are each a unique, individual, complete and perfect person.
How does Mommy know that there are people in the world who are not like Daddy? Well, there was a man before Daddy...way, way before Daddy and Mommy ever met. This man told Mommy that he loved her and he did grand gestures to "show" this love...then he changed. This man would yell at Mommy. This man would force himself onto Mommy's body. This man would tell Mommy that she was worthless, that nobody cared about Mommy except him. This man would write Mommy notes during the school day that went into details about things he wanted to do to Mommy...things Mommy didn't even know about. This man would tell a lot of people that Mommy was a liar and a bad person. This man beat up other men who tried to befriend and help Mommy. And if Mommy tried to say no, tried to get away, tried to ignore this man...this man would inflict self harm and tell Mommy it was her fault. This man would stick his bloody arms in Mommy's face and say, "You did this to me! This is what happens when you don't love me!"
Today Mommy is still afraid of people because of this man. Mommy is scared of all men except your Daddy because of this man. Mommy worries everytime she makes new friends that they will leave her because this man made most of Mommy's friends leave her. Mommy gets very sad when she thinks about the fact that people like this man live in our world.
But, my girls, people like your Daddy also live in this world. Your Daddy is good, kind, strong, and loving. Your Daddy will always keep all of us safe. Your Daddy & I love you. Never be afraid to tell us anything, my daughters. You can tell us if you break a plate. You can tell us if someone says something mean to you and it hurts your feelings. You can tell us when you are scared. You can tell us when you fail a math test. You can tell us when you kiss a boy or girl, we love you and whoever you love. You can tell us that you want to play trumpet or if you want to try out for the basketball team. You can tell us when you make a 100 on your science test. Please, girls, tell us everything in your heart: we will always love you. And if a man tries to hurt your beautiful heart, tell us that too. We are here to love, we are here to protect, we are here for YOU. Always and forever, my loves, my babies you will always be.
All my love,
Mommy
I love you so very much. I try to show that love to you everyday. I know that sometimes it may not seem like love when I tell you that you can't have another piece of candy or I make you go to bed at 7:30pm, but even those things I do with love in mind. I want you to know that I'm always here for you, no matter what happens or what you may think or how much you think you've messed up...I'm always here with open arms, listening ears, and a loving heart.
But there's something I need you to know, sweet girls. There are people in this world who do not do things out of love. There are men in this world who are not as amazing as Daddy. There are people who make poor choices, who hurt others, who may try to hurt you. This, my dears, is NOT okay. Your body is YOURS and you never have to share it with someone if you don't want to do so. Your heart is pure and your soul is beautiful, strong, and amazing...don't ever let someone tell you otherwise. You are each a unique, individual, complete and perfect person.
How does Mommy know that there are people in the world who are not like Daddy? Well, there was a man before Daddy...way, way before Daddy and Mommy ever met. This man told Mommy that he loved her and he did grand gestures to "show" this love...then he changed. This man would yell at Mommy. This man would force himself onto Mommy's body. This man would tell Mommy that she was worthless, that nobody cared about Mommy except him. This man would write Mommy notes during the school day that went into details about things he wanted to do to Mommy...things Mommy didn't even know about. This man would tell a lot of people that Mommy was a liar and a bad person. This man beat up other men who tried to befriend and help Mommy. And if Mommy tried to say no, tried to get away, tried to ignore this man...this man would inflict self harm and tell Mommy it was her fault. This man would stick his bloody arms in Mommy's face and say, "You did this to me! This is what happens when you don't love me!"
Today Mommy is still afraid of people because of this man. Mommy is scared of all men except your Daddy because of this man. Mommy worries everytime she makes new friends that they will leave her because this man made most of Mommy's friends leave her. Mommy gets very sad when she thinks about the fact that people like this man live in our world.
But, my girls, people like your Daddy also live in this world. Your Daddy is good, kind, strong, and loving. Your Daddy will always keep all of us safe. Your Daddy & I love you. Never be afraid to tell us anything, my daughters. You can tell us if you break a plate. You can tell us if someone says something mean to you and it hurts your feelings. You can tell us when you are scared. You can tell us when you fail a math test. You can tell us when you kiss a boy or girl, we love you and whoever you love. You can tell us that you want to play trumpet or if you want to try out for the basketball team. You can tell us when you make a 100 on your science test. Please, girls, tell us everything in your heart: we will always love you. And if a man tries to hurt your beautiful heart, tell us that too. We are here to love, we are here to protect, we are here for YOU. Always and forever, my loves, my babies you will always be.
All my love,
Mommy
Thursday, July 6, 2017
Lunch with Purpose
Maybe you know this about me (or maybe you don't), but I have pretty serious social anxiety. I get nervous when addressing large groups of adults, I avoid calling anyone on the telephone, and even the thought of making small talk with people I don't know makes me want to vomit and causes me to tremble. I almost have a paranoia that people are talking about me behind my back or that when people whisper when I'm near it's something negative about me. I know that all makes me sound super self-centered, but it's not really that...I'm just convinced that people see me as...a speck of dirt? A stain on the carpet? I might as well just wear my scarlet letter around: I should just list all my sins and shortcomings on a coat and wear it around. That's pretty much how I spend every day of my life, convinced that all people see in me is dark, evil, horrible things.
Yet, for some reason, I agreed to meet a co-worker for lunch today that I barely knew. She asked after reading another one of my blog posts ("My Brain After 'Redeeming Love'"), so even though I was nervous and untrusting, I felt there was a reason this was happening. Remember, I'm on a quest this summer: I'm learning about myself and trying to understand everything, so I'm kind of following the rabbit hole where it takes me sometimes.
I rolled the windows down and blasted my "Deep Thoughts" playlist I made on Spotify while I drove to the lunch destination. I dug around in my center console for a clicky pen and clicked it for about 5 minutes straight. I pulled over twice on my way to lunch, positive I was going to vomit. My hands were shaking. I wanted to do anything but get out of my car when I got to the restaurant. I wanted to rip my hair out. I couldn't breathe. I wanted to stab the pen through my eye and bleed out. But why?! Why am I so terrified? "What's the worst that can happen, Megan?" I grabbed my bag and slammed the van door. I walked in and looked around, but I was the first to arrive. I asked to be seated. I was shaking so bad I could barely open my straw when the waitress brought me a water. But why? "What's the worst that can happen, Megan?"
Then I saw her walking in...I held my breath, and then...and then I did something I never do...
"Oh, God! Just...show me the purpose, God...please, show me the purpose..."
The shaking stopped. I waved, she came and sat down. We decided what to order. We talked a lot: we talked about our summers, we talked about school, we talked about my upbringing in the Catholic Church and our teenage years, we talked about our worldviews...we just talked (and ate). It was good. I shared some things I haven't shared with many, and she just listened. She was very calm the entire time. She...she made me feel calm. Her eyes were soft and caring, her intention genuine and good.
"So, what was the purpose?"
You know, I'm not entirely sure I even know yet. Maybe the point was to not think? To just talk from my heart? Or maybe, just maybe the point was that brief moment before she walked in...just to let go. Even if it was only one thing for a moment, just letting go and asking...to even think that I was allowed to ask...that I could speak His name and ask for something for myself for once.
Maybe it was only letting my hair down, maybe it was only removing a sock, but it was something. In a week where I've decided "that's worth a Google" to things that, honestly, I didn't think I'd ever Google and playing with a very dangerous fire that I know I shouldn't ever again touch I somehow finally reached a turning point.
We ended lunch with her asking if she could pray, and I said yes. I listened to the beautiful words come from her mouth and I almost cried. This woman who I barely know but merely coexisted with in a school building for the last three years asked for things from God for...for...for me, for my family, for my heart. But why? I'm nothing but a speck of dirt? A stain on the carpet? I might as well just wear my scarlet letter around: I should just list all my sins and shortcomings on a coat and wear it around.
"Oh, God! Just...show me the purpose, God...please, show me the purpose..."
"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."
"Good for you! What a champ! You wanted help and clarity, and you felt like you could ask!"
Yet, for some reason, I agreed to meet a co-worker for lunch today that I barely knew. She asked after reading another one of my blog posts ("My Brain After 'Redeeming Love'"), so even though I was nervous and untrusting, I felt there was a reason this was happening. Remember, I'm on a quest this summer: I'm learning about myself and trying to understand everything, so I'm kind of following the rabbit hole where it takes me sometimes.
I rolled the windows down and blasted my "Deep Thoughts" playlist I made on Spotify while I drove to the lunch destination. I dug around in my center console for a clicky pen and clicked it for about 5 minutes straight. I pulled over twice on my way to lunch, positive I was going to vomit. My hands were shaking. I wanted to do anything but get out of my car when I got to the restaurant. I wanted to rip my hair out. I couldn't breathe. I wanted to stab the pen through my eye and bleed out. But why?! Why am I so terrified? "What's the worst that can happen, Megan?" I grabbed my bag and slammed the van door. I walked in and looked around, but I was the first to arrive. I asked to be seated. I was shaking so bad I could barely open my straw when the waitress brought me a water. But why? "What's the worst that can happen, Megan?"
Then I saw her walking in...I held my breath, and then...and then I did something I never do...
"Oh, God! Just...show me the purpose, God...please, show me the purpose..."
The shaking stopped. I waved, she came and sat down. We decided what to order. We talked a lot: we talked about our summers, we talked about school, we talked about my upbringing in the Catholic Church and our teenage years, we talked about our worldviews...we just talked (and ate). It was good. I shared some things I haven't shared with many, and she just listened. She was very calm the entire time. She...she made me feel calm. Her eyes were soft and caring, her intention genuine and good.
"So, what was the purpose?"
You know, I'm not entirely sure I even know yet. Maybe the point was to not think? To just talk from my heart? Or maybe, just maybe the point was that brief moment before she walked in...just to let go. Even if it was only one thing for a moment, just letting go and asking...to even think that I was allowed to ask...that I could speak His name and ask for something for myself for once.
Maybe it was only letting my hair down, maybe it was only removing a sock, but it was something. In a week where I've decided "that's worth a Google" to things that, honestly, I didn't think I'd ever Google and playing with a very dangerous fire that I know I shouldn't ever again touch I somehow finally reached a turning point.
We ended lunch with her asking if she could pray, and I said yes. I listened to the beautiful words come from her mouth and I almost cried. This woman who I barely know but merely coexisted with in a school building for the last three years asked for things from God for...for...for me, for my family, for my heart. But why? I'm nothing but a speck of dirt? A stain on the carpet? I might as well just wear my scarlet letter around: I should just list all my sins and shortcomings on a coat and wear it around.
"Oh, God! Just...show me the purpose, God...please, show me the purpose..."
"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."
"Good for you! What a champ! You wanted help and clarity, and you felt like you could ask!"
Monday, July 3, 2017
We Pretend That We're Dead
Why do I exist? What is my purpose? Why am I here? Isn't that the ultimate question of life?
I think it's a timeless question in both general and personal terms. Man has questioned existence and purpose from the beginning. We all go through times where we wonder what we are doing with our lives. We all ask that question.
I've been wondering a lot lately...thinking...questioning...reasoning...rationalizing...and I'm still not sure. Why do I exist? I don't mean the whole "how is a baby made?" thing (I think I go that figured out...ha!), but specifically what the point of my life is intended to be. This has always been a struggle for me and often I feel like I'm just spinning my tires unsure of how to get out of this one spot and move things along.
I don't feel particularly important. I don't feel particularly needed. I don't really even feel like anything I do has any real purpose. I'm just here. Taking up space. Turning oxygen into carbon dioxide. Consuming food and turning it into waste. Is that how we all feel, or is that just me?
If it's just me, then how do I find my purpose? How do I find that sense of worth? How do I find my reason for existence?
Maybe, though, it's just hopeless. Pointless.
I've wondered a lot lately...questioned...pondered...what would happen if I no longer existed? What if I simply was just...no more?
Maybe if I can answer that I can answer the other. Maybe it's all connected..
I think it's a timeless question in both general and personal terms. Man has questioned existence and purpose from the beginning. We all go through times where we wonder what we are doing with our lives. We all ask that question.
I've been wondering a lot lately...thinking...questioning...reasoning...rationalizing...and I'm still not sure. Why do I exist? I don't mean the whole "how is a baby made?" thing (I think I go that figured out...ha!), but specifically what the point of my life is intended to be. This has always been a struggle for me and often I feel like I'm just spinning my tires unsure of how to get out of this one spot and move things along.
I don't feel particularly important. I don't feel particularly needed. I don't really even feel like anything I do has any real purpose. I'm just here. Taking up space. Turning oxygen into carbon dioxide. Consuming food and turning it into waste. Is that how we all feel, or is that just me?
If it's just me, then how do I find my purpose? How do I find that sense of worth? How do I find my reason for existence?
Maybe, though, it's just hopeless. Pointless.
I've wondered a lot lately...questioned...pondered...what would happen if I no longer existed? What if I simply was just...no more?
Maybe if I can answer that I can answer the other. Maybe it's all connected..
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