I’ve been working with children for a decade now, whether it’s teaching piano, writing, book clubs, test prep, or even just playing with my friends children and now my own. “I love my students! I love children!” Have become one of those mantras that spills out of my mouth without even realizing it. Something about their inability to lie, even when they think they are, makes me admire them just as candidly. The way they cannot help but be themselves has me feel at ease around them. I can make goofy faces, speak like a muppet, and not have to suck it all in around any child. Even the most personal things to me such as play the piano or even shed tears is easier to do around children.
I’ve realized recently that when I try to play the piano in front of anyone besides children, my leg shakes so uncontrollably that my heart vibrates rather than beat. I don’t know how I was able to perform when I was younger or when this condition started.
To go off on a tangent, I have started this blog because I really just wanted to write and get over my fears of exposing myself to people. One day as I was taking a shower, since this is the place for many of my epiphanies, I said “Fuck it!” which is also another mantra of mine and I say this positively. Why should I fear people seeing me, hearing me, knowing me, when all of my passions and ironically jobs are just that. However there is something more personal when I expose my creativity and not just teaching. So I started this blog as a way to write where people can read me as well as write in all honesty whatever it is that I’m thinking without fear of being judged because “Fuck it!” I have this life and I love it and fear has never really been the reason behind the secrecy.
A couple nights ago, one of my beloved precious students passed away and I wanted to stop writing because I didn’t want people to know what I was thinking or maybe I didn’t even know what is appropriate. I didn’t curse God like I did a few years back when my best friend passed. I didn’t feel acceptance and a little relief like I did a couple years back when my 94 year old grandma with cancer passed. I have no anger, although from experience I might be speaking to soon. I just feel sad. But the word sad doesn’t even rightly describe it. When people use cliches such as “My heart feels heavy!” I get it now. When people say any of their extremities went limp, I get it now. When people talk about their head spinning or a numbing, I get it now. There really is no other way to describe the hurt and pain I felt when I learned of the sweet little child’s passing.
Is it ok for me to speak in public about something so personal? “Fuck it” I don’t know, but I have been trying to write each day, and these thoughts sneak in and I have been accepting them with tears. When my son asks, “Why are you sad Mommy!” All I can do is answer the same way he would, “whaaaa! I just am. Excuse me for a bit but I will be ok sometime. Promise.” And he accepts this. I look at him and feel grief for any and all parents who have to go through this because I honestly don’t understand it. I don’t know what to say or if I should say anything at all. All I can accept is that I will be plagued with hard tongue biting thoughts, but I have to keep moving, keep doing what it is I do. I know the pain will subside and even today, I got to practice and guide yoga on the sand on the beach. I want to say that even with the grief, I am still capable of feeling blessed that this life is here and I can enjoy the fact that I live in a beautiful place where the sun loves to shine down on us. I took many moments to give thanks, to acknowledge beauty, and send out a prayer for the sweetest little girl who is now on a different journey, though I will not assume anything more about the unknown. Bless it be to everyone!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s