Balanced Life Cycle

" It's enough to make you feel crazy...sometimes."

                                ~lana del ray

loneliness 

independence 

loneliness

responsibility 

loneliness  

joy  

loneliness 

decisions

loneliness 

empowerment 

It is a never ending, repeating circle.  

Add to it a pandemic.  

isolation 

loneliness  

solitude  

loneliness 

inner peace 

loneliness

self-worth questioned 

loneliness 

independence 

loneliness 

freedom  

loneliness 

objectified 

loneliness 

heavy heart 

loneliness 

tears 

loneliness 

questioning 

Is this how the rest of my time will be? 

I am so much 

opinionated  

balanced 

edgy 

knowledgeable

financially secure 

filled with positivity 

capable

happy

joyful

healthy

secure 

grounded

open-minded

friendly

passionate

content

full heart

and yet, alone

loneliness...

 

~ Lisa Kroll

Five Years - Happy Independence Day to Me!

Good Heavens!  I have come a long way.

Five years ago, on June 10, 2015, I sat in a small mediation room, with my sister, my attorney and the mediator who would come in and out, going back and forth between my room and some other room that held my soon-to-be-ex and his attorney.  I was so nervous, filled with tears, disappointment, and anger.  My life had been changing for the past six months to few years, but I hadn't realized it. This day was the official end of my marriage.  Twenty-eight years, six months, and 14 days, plus a year and a half before of knowing and being engaged to this person. Thirty years is a long time to be in a routine.

Moving forward...

I am so much happier.  I have always been a capable person, but I wasn't able to see it.  I lived with someone who was unable to build me up, or just celebrate how capable I was without feeling his own insecurities grow.  I walked on eggshells when I was around him.  I was always thinking I needed to please him, when he was an impossible person to please. I have freedom from emotional abuse, finally.

I am at peace. I am filled with gratitude. I will walk around the backyard and look at my house, and I feel the gratitude.  When I walk my pooch down the street and then come back to the front, or pull in the driveway after being out...I am in awe.  This is MY house.  All mine.  Good or bad, I get to make all decisions on it, and I feel so blessed.  The Burrow is a wonderful place.  Sometimes, I will be in my carport and I will talk to the corner of the Burrow.  I thank it for always protecting me, making me feel safe, and being such a good house.  I kiss the stone and whisper, "thank you."  I truly am grateful for my house.  It has been a place I could heal, and grow.  I miss my mom, but I know its is because of her, and my stepdad passing that the Burrow is mine. They gave me financial support from the grave.  It was something that gave me a foundation to start over: a home base, grounding.

Since my divorce, I have gone back to work full-time.  I am grateful for the days of raising my children, but I am invigorated each day I teach.  Some days I come home so exhausted.  If I sit down on my couch, I'll need to nap or might be out for the night, but I am deeply happy. There are challenges in my job, but THIS is what I've been meant to do in addition to being a mom.

Since my divorce, I have discovered that I am so much more compassionate and knowledgeable than I once thought.  I am a curious soul, who enjoys looking for answers. I want to understand others views, stands and ideas.  I am able to listen, read, and ask questions.

Since my divorce, I have realized that my thoughts and opinions are sometimes shared with others.  I have found that if I speak up, I am not alone.  Emotional isolation is no longer part of my life.

Since my divorce, I have discovered how much of a problem solver I am.  Just last week, I needed to replace the back tires on a garden utility cart.  Age had rust-fused one of the tires, and several screws in place.  Faced with buy a new cart, or fix what I had, I opted for the latter.  I ordered a part, and then needed to work on removing rusted screws.  It took me a few days, but I was successful!  I know I can't solve or fix every problem, but I am learning my limits, how to ask for help, and love trying to fix things.

Since my divorce, I have learned that I have many of my own passions, and other people share them.  I don't have to put my passions on hold for another.

Since my divorce, I have learned that I do need alone time, and that alone time is a healthy thing.

Five years ago I was seeing a therapist.  She said I needed to give myself time to grow.  I didn't think it was possible to ever heal.  I do feel I am a different person now.  I feel I am who I am supposed to be.  I am emotionally healthy and happy.

I dislike when people tell me I am an inspiration.  I didn't aspire to be divorced in life and go through all this.  However, if I am an inspiration, then I want all to know life after divorce has challenges.  It will knock you on your butt if you weren't expecting it, like me. However, if you allow yourself to grieve, seek therapy, be forgiving to yourself, and heal, you will come out even better.

Time is a beautiful gift to give oneself, and a huge necessity.

Happy Five Years of Independence to Me!

Welcome to the Club!

Social Isolation.

It's a thing we all been doing since March 25 or so.
We have been shutting ourselves up within our houses.
Not going out in to public.
Not being with others, except those in our immediate family.
Being very...well, isolated.

*****

For five years I have spent the weekends and summers mostly by myself.
Social Isolation, before it was a thing.

It's true I wasn't always alone, I have dated now and then, and I do have family and friends I could and would see.  I used to dread Friday nights, even hate them.  Friday nights meant I would leave school, go home to an empty house, and know I would have 61 long hours alone until Monday morning.

I was forced to deal with my isolation.  No one made me stay home.  I could freely go out and be around others. However, one's own brain certainly gets ideas stuck in it, which does not allow you to move emotionally forward. Self doubts, societal norms and ghosts in my mind from my past used to eat me alive.

I really did need to learn to look inside and love myself.  I am comfortable now, and truth be told even crave quiet, alone time.  I am not as bothered by it as I once was.  It has taken this pandemic to make me realize just how much I've grown.  I don't mind going to concerts or movies alone. Of course I enjoy being with others, but I can happily do so much by myself.  I have learned to reach out and ask if I want company.  I have learned how to make plans with friends.  It sounds silly, but I have placed so much, too much really, value on being married that when it ended, all I could see was that I was a failure and everyone around me MUST see it too.  Silly me.  I do know that now.

In the past several months, other have freaked out by feeling trapped in their own spaces.  I have had people I haven't really heard from in awhile "check" on me, mostly because they are suddenly isolated and claim they are worried about me.  Ha!  No offense folks, but where were you four years ago when I was at rock bottom?  Here is what you need to know about someone who has found themselves single after years of being married and raising kids who are technically out of the house...we are solid and cool and fine and so able to handle this pandemic isolation crap.  In fact, what I have to say to you is...

Welcome to the Club! Relax.  We are all going to be just fine.

What kind of person...

What kind of a person is married for 28 years...

...and then takes his new wife to the place where he honeymooned with his first wife?

AND,

...he also takes her to the same rental cottage (house) that he went to with his family, including his ex-wife?  It's not like he went just once to this place in his past life, they went many, many times, including a Thanksgiving where they took their brand new dog.

What kind of a person does this?  Who is okay doing this???

Just wondering.

Should I feel sorry for her?

I do.

She is either ignorant, or beaten down.  Since I don't know her, I don't know which it might be.
I feel sorry for her that she is under the illusion that she cannot speak her mind, or that her feelings and thoughts aren't valid.  I lived that.  I know better now.

If she doesn't care that he is taking her to a place he has been in his past with another woman, then I wonder about her intellect. Maybe HE is trying to relive his past.  From my perspective, he did have a fantastic first wife.  She would be pretty hard to top.  Although, she was growing strong in her own opinions and thoughts.  She also wasn't feeling the need to worship the ground he walked on anymore.  She was starting to realize he wasn't a partner, but an emotional user and abuser.

I suppose they both deserve one another.

Teaching through a Pandemic...

Thursday, 7:00 pm - The phone rings.  I answered it to hear a recorded message.
School is closed. Starting immediately through the end of March.

What?  How can that be?  I was just in an hour-and-a-half meeting with the Union President.  No mention of closure yet.  We just had one more day until Spring Break.  School closing was expected after we returned, the Coronavirus was starting to rear its ugly head in our country. 

There would be no chance to tell my students "Have a good break", "See you when we get back", "Have fun."  No closure of any type.  Just suddenly... there is no school.  A panic inducing, no-questions-answered phone call at 7 pm to teachers saying 'Please allow the administration to tell parents, more details will follow soon.' 

My first thoughts...Do we even go in tomorrow?  Was someone exposed in our school?  Was someone exposed in my classroom?  Are we all going to get sick?  What is happening?  This can't be real.
My phone started buzzing.  My teacher friends and co-workers were having the same questions.   

I have spent the past week, my Spring Break, NOT in a rest filled state.  My anxieties are running high.  I am sure my blood pressure is elevated.  I have been filled with worry.  I am worried about my 92 year-old neighbor and MIL because she won't stay home.  She told me she's the bump on the curve, she won't wear a mask because she doesn't want to cover her beautiful face.  I know she's trying to be funny and doesn't like someone younger trying to be the voice of reason.  Do I think she is incapable???  No, I don't.  I just don't have any parental figures alive, she's the last, she's my kids grandmother and I happen to love and care about her.  She is an adult, therefore she gets to make her own choices.  Do I want to come have a glass of wine with her?  Umm...not as long as she's out and about with so many free germs roaming around.  Telling her no thank you was hard, so I didn't.  It was raining and I knew the forecast said it would be 100% chance of rain at 6 pm, her wine time.  I told her I'd bring my own glass of wine and meet her out back of her house on the patio IF it wasn't raining.  That was my polite decline.  

I am worried about my students.  Who is going to stay with them each day while they stay home?  Do their parents need to work?  Do they have enough food?  Who is going to cook lunch for them if they do?  Will they socially distance from their friends as they should?  We talked so much about hand washing in the last week, but will they remember?  Will they leave their faces alone???  Will the get regular sleep?  Will they make healthy food choices and get exercise?  What are their worries about COVID-19?  How is their family coping?  

As we move forward I worry about my student's education.  I realize not all households are created equal.  Most families may have a computer, a smart phone, and internet, but not all.  My general experience this year teaching fifth graders has been, there are many things parents and society expect a teacher to do for and with his or her students.  Who is going to really be the teacher now?  How will I teacher lessons through a computer?  Not even how will I do remote face-to-face teaching, wouldn't that be a dream, again not all households are created equal, but HOW do I put lessons online?  Who is going to really explain or make sure the kids are doing what I am asking???  Parents may also need to work.  We live in a time when most families need that double income.  Will parents have patience to explain something, explain it again, explain it in two more different ways, and then with a smile still on their face and lacking frustration encourage their kiddo to try?  

How am I going to really teach?  I know myself and I know I am meant to be in a classroom.  I know how to work the classroom.  I know how to give encouragement when it is needed.  I know how to shut down the distractor (Squirrel!), and keep the class on topic.  I know how to listen and restate something for my students who need differentiation in their lessons.  How am I going to do that now???   Over my Spring Break, I have spent hours attending online webinars to figure out how to use our districts platform.  I attended webinars on different resources and how to integrate them into my teaching.  Late last night, I found out my district is planning a webinar this Tuesday for me to learn how to use our system.  My online lessons are due Wednesday.  Confession: I cried a little and thought I might vomit when I read last night's email.  I feel very old school as a teacher. Can I learn something new?  Absolutely.  However, I am filled with anxiety.  

My goals, and I need to keep reminding myself of these are: 

• Be kind to myself.  This process will need to be fluid, and the kiddos and I will learn together.
• Build/maintain our classroom sense of community. For me this needs to be number one.   
• Make sure I am a resource for my students.  They need to be able to ask questions, not just of curriculum, but about COVID-19, and anything else on their mind.  
• Provide emotional support. My students need to be able to share their feelings and they need to know I will listen, hear them, and validate their concerns. 
• Know it's not going to be perfect.  It won't be perfect, but it will be.  

Everything that I do as I teach over the next month or two will help me become an even better teacher.  I am nervous about this adventure.  Fortunately for me, I know my fellow teachers are in this same boat.  I know I can lean on them, or they on me, and we will work together to get through this. 

For the past year I have been vocal about the value of Public Education, wearing #RedforEd each Wednesday, posting on social media, and even going to the state house twice last year to let my voice be heard.  I remain firmly committed to that cause.  I hope we all weather this situation with grace, and dignity.  I hope our legislators finally realize the value of Public Education for all, allocating resources to those who deserve it the most...our students.  Maybe the outcome of this will be that more people will be willing to stand by my side, vote for pro-education candidates, and tell our legislators, DO THE RIGHT THING, Support a teacher, support Public Education.  

~Lisa Kroll 

Fifth Grade teacher filled with anxieties

Romantic Fool

I'm thinking about writing tonight, but I'm looking through rough drafts from my past.  I don't think I believe I'm really toxic as when I first wrote this, but I do not trust.  How the heck can I learn to do that?  How do you trust someone with the most valuable part of yourself?

*****
From this past November

Life is short.

I don't know how to stop looking for love. People say, it happens when you least expect it, but I think I expect all the time. I am constantly on the lookout. I just can't believe this is how my life is supposed to play out. I am a social being. Why do I continue to be alone? I just don't get it.

I watch people all the time.  I am always wondering, how did they end up together? What do they have that gives them that stick-to-it-ness, to stick together?  Of course, I still live in my bubble.  I feel I was the cause of what happened.  For some reason, I am being punished, I must deserve this.  I am too toxic.  Maybe I am supposed to be getting the toxicity out of my system.  Maybe that's what happens when one gains confidence and self-esteem.  Toxicity oozes out.  I find I smile more.  I stop what I am doing, really pause, and look around.  What I see makes me smile from my heart.  I was raking today and at my back gate, I paused, looked at my house and my heart swelled with pride.  I have a house.  Then Toby ran up to me.  I smiled even more.

I stopped and took time to sit with him as he laid down, wanting a belly rub.  He was on his back, soaking up the sunshine and I rubbed his belly and behind his ears.  He's such a good boy.  And he is MY dog.

~Lisa Kroll 

Reflections: religious brainwashing and catholic guilt

I've often wondered what's wrong with me?  I used to be a more religious person. I'm sure my definition of what a religious person means has adapted over the years. As we experience life, things once defined in our mind may take a different shape.  It isn't that I don't like church, but I don't attend anymore and that makes me feel guilty. I find I just can't limit myself now, or live up to Catholic church expectations. Not after all the tests I feel I've been through: college, my father's sudden death, blending religious beliefs when I got married, my mother's seven month terminal illness journey, and my divorce. I appreciate my Catholic upbringing, and how my mom and dad raised me. They were good people. I hope they were rewarded when they died for all they did. My mom once told me she was going to hell because I wasn't practicing catholicism.  Good heavens, Catholic guilt has definitely colored my life. I don't desire believing in any other religious doctrine. However, I no longer feel I am an acceptable member of the Catholic flock. I think of myself as a free spirit now. I think there are many ways to practice, yet believe in the same standards.   

I was born and raised Catholic to blue collar working parents.  They always did the best they could for my brother and me.  They were not college educated, but they were incredibly kind hearted and capable souls.  My mom was artistic, and could do anything. I recall her making and having a ceramics business while I was little. I grew up with ceramic molds, slip, and a kiln in the basement.  Mom's passion for ceramics was strong when we were little kids, but I don't recall her doing it much as we grew, and moved houses.  I can look back today and I know when she stopped following her passion life was taking over.  My parents had two growing teens, a new house, full time jobs and then a new baby to manage. I understand so well now. Those responsibilities didn't leave a whole bunch of loose change or time for hobbies, or passions.  My dad was an Electrical Engineer at a steel mill.  I recall him fixing televisions on the side for extra income.  He had these cool, very small, telescoping, long-handled mirrors to look at the front of the screen while he was working with all the tubes in the back.  Sometimes he'd have me hold a hand-mirror at the front of the screen, while he adjusted the color bands from the back.  Televisions were so different.  My dad was so handy.  I swear he could fix anything.  I like to think I have a lot of that in me from him, and I definitely give my mom the credit for all my semi-artistic abilities.  I see my parents in things my own children can do and it makes my heart happy.

Growing up, we attended church every Sunday, and all holidays, big or small.  I was baptized as an infant, and recall making my fist communion where I felt like the Madonna.  My confirmation spirited me into adulthood, and when I went off to college, I became part of a Sunday Supper Club for College Students at church. I'd attend service first, where I would sing in the choir, and then rotate hosting a dinner over at the rectory with other college students. The priest would join us and we had wonderful conversations. A few of us were responsible for making dinner, and Father Bob would make drinks. I truly felt my Catholic faith was the deepest and strongest at that point in my life. I hadn't yet experienced adversity. 

Challenges happen as we age, which is part of being human. At college, I wanted to fully experience life. I questioned birth control and my religion. I think that was the first time I really wondered what it was that my church was teaching. I was in a serious relationship and had natural thoughts. I felt guilty for wanting to be safe and smart.

A year later my father died and I suddenly found myself not finding the solace in my church that I needed. My dad was too young. I didn't want people to tell me he was in a better place. It didn't help. I wasn't ready for him to be gone. I would go to church and cry. Church became a place for tears and unanswered questions. Why did he have to go? Why was using birth control bad? Flash forward another year, and I was married in the church. My husband wasn't Catholic, so we couldn't be on the alter to be wed, nor could all at the service take communion. Once I was married, I found it easy to stop attending church for a variety of reasons. My husband wouldn't go with me because the church basically said he wasn't welcomed as he was. I got it. Why was the church so narrow minded?  

When I got pregnant with my first child, I wanted religion in my family's life.  It was easy for me to adopt my husband's church. He fit in, and I was a religious chameleon by now. I could adapt to anything. I spent fifteen years making a home in the church. I taught weekly at one of the two children's services for over five years, and I directed and taught vacation bible school in the summer.  I tried to be the same kind of church parent to my children that my parents had been to me. I strove to be an exemplar. My husband didn't have the same level of faith that I had, and at first that was okay. He disliked attending church and found fault with all the members. Behind closed doors I heard how idiotic and 'below us' were most of the congregation. I didn't realize at that point I was dealing with the insecurities of a Narcissist. My children were witness to these conversations and I know it colored their beliefs. My husband became active in a hobby that kept him busy on Sundays. This wasn't my church, and I was finding it hard to go alone and give excuses for why he wasn't there as well. My children would complain, 'why do we have to go if dad doesn't?' What could I say? So I stopped attending. It was easier.  

I had a big dog who loved hiking. I would take him in the woods, and made a point of walking each Sunday morning for hours. I have always cherished the beauty that God has created. On my hikes, I found I love being outside and felt more spiritual when surrounded by nature.  

When my mom became terminally ill I wasn't sure where to turn. Science and research became my comfort. I found out all I could about Glioblastoma Multiforme. I all ready knew my mom was going to be gone before I was ready, so I needed to be factual. I appointed myself knowledge seeker.  I clearly understood the process of how the cancer would take over her body and shut it down. Being knowledgeable helped me to be able to do hard things, like sit with mom and have random conversations because she would forget which daughter I was, "You'll have another baby for me, right?" "No mom. That ship has sailed for me, but Eileen will have another baby.  I promise." Being knowledgeable helped me ask hard questions of the doctors and hospice nurses. Being knowledgeable helped me realize friends wouldn't come see mom because they were worried they'd be interfering or bothering us. My sister and I realized they were wasting time.  They needed to come tell our mom they loved her.  Being knowledgeable helped my sister and I organize a Celebration of Life party with our mom as the guest of honor. But, being knowledgeable didn't prepare me for how hard it would be to get mom to attend. I had to find that out the hard way. She knew she she was dying, but she hadn't been ready to face it. We pushed her that day.  I regret that a tiny bit, but I know so many were able to see, hug and laugh with her that day. The next six weeks were very long and emotionally painful. Being knowledgeable gave me the strength to give my mom morphine in her final days, so she wouldn't suffer. All I found on the Internet was raw and simple facts about her type of brain cancer, which was why I first even started writing. I found that writing about what was happening helped me, and maybe, just maybe, it would help someone else. Losing one's parents is hard. Especially when they haven't had a chance to see you reach your full potential. I get angry at times when other people take for granted what they have. I think I'm just jealous that my parents are gone. I've grown to understand that life is short and we really do need to enjoy what we have and be grateful.  

During mom's short illness, her second husband, technically my step dad although she was remarried when I was 23 so he never felt like my dad and I didn't call him that, became ill with West Nile. He spent a month in the hospital with a fever of over 104 degrees and was in a coma. He was brain dead and his body needed machines to help him survive. Being knowledgeable helped me to make the decision with my siblings to sit by his side, and hold his hand as we together, took him off life support and let nature take its course. Sitting with someone as they take their last breath is hard. I've now done that twice.  Thirty-one days after my step dad died, I was holding my mom's hand as she passed away.  

Spiritually I experienced something very deep during her final days I truly believe there are spirits that keep watch over us, and my parents and other loved ones are still very close to me. However, church still eludes me.     

When my marriage started falling apart, I turned back to what I knew...my church. I thought I must be a horrible person for this to be happening. My faith would surely help me. My past of pulling away from the church must be why I was experiencing this horror in my life of my 28 year marriage ending. I started attending church on Saturday evenings, and I sat in the very back of the church. Maybe God wouldn't notice that I crept in and slipped into a back pew.  As the weeks passed, my comfort with the church grew. I recalled all the routine of the Catholic church, even if some of the wording of prayers had changed. I found myself inching closer and closer to the front of the church as my comfort level grew. I'm that student who likes to sit at the front of the class so she can focus on the lessons. As I realized my marriage was truly headed for a divorce, I felt I needed God to forgive me and help me know I was a still one of the good sheep. I scheduled a talk with a priest. I don't know what I expected. I talked to a man who had never been married. He was young-ish, and even if he was 'married' to the church, he hadn't been married as long as I, nor was he in a verbally abusive relationship. The priest told me he could tell I still loved my husband, and he knew we could work things out. I suddenly felt ridiculous. I was turning to a church who hadn't been able to help or comfort me in the past, what was I expecting now? Was I just testing the church by going back? Maybe. Probably. Not surprising, it didn't pass the test, and yet I continued to attend weekly hoping it would change its ways. I am an eternally optimistic soul.

A few years later I pulled the plug on my attending church. I gave myself permission to go on sabbatical after a scripture reading near Valentine's Day made me feel as if I wore a huge, neon scarlet letter or at least I must have one floating over my head for all to see. The readings that week were archaic and offensive. As a divorced woman, I felt unwelcome in the church in which I grew up. Clearly, I have outgrown the doctrine on which I was raised.  

I do miss the community the church offers, but I have been forced to look beyond the walls of a religious institute where I thought it could only exist. There are other parts of church I miss as well, but I have found ways to move on there, too. I have become the spiritual being I am supposed to be without being confined to four walls. I don't practice any faith in particular, because I haven't cemented what God is in my own mind. I do live by the golden rule and do unto others as I would have them do unto me. I give back, because I live in a world where I feel blessed to have so much, and I am grateful for what I can offer. I love those close to me, because life is too short not to love. I have felt I am more than what a single church defines, and I am not meant to be broken, instead rules were meant to be broken. Maybe I'm a very black and white thinking person who knows she's really gray and can't be put into just one box. I'm just an outside the box resourceful, creative thinker.  I'll take that. I'm sure I got it from my parents.

I was recently listening to an interview on the radio with a religious expert and she made me feel normal with her words. I now give myself permission to not feel guilty about not attending church. If down the road I decide to attend a church again, I give myself permission to continue to be a free thinker and to not feel I have to agree with everything being discussed.  

~Lisa Kroll