'Next to the presidency, teaching is, by far, the hardest job there is.' is what I found my self saying in talking to my father after another day with my summer students. There is nothing like teaching. I don't know what it is like to be a mother but a teacher comes damn close and to have many at the same time raises the intensity by 10. When you are a mother/parent in a family, you have a routine. A way. You know yourself and everyone and thing you are responsible for. I mean, I did come from a family after all.

Now imagine having 20 kids. 20 routines. 20 ways. 20 different responsibilities with 20 different needs that you need to have follow one way to teach one thing.

Exactly. Teaching is hard.

In the days that I have with my students, as I send them home exhausted, they, no doubt leave me exhausted. Questions after questions. Complaints after complaints and so on. All of this that I have to take care of during the lesson I am attempting to give them to make sure that I teach them something considering that is what I am there for, no? At these moments, I worry that they don't care or that they aren't getting it. I worry that I may not be teaching them correctly or that I am not cut out for said job. I worry but I can't show the kids that. I just need to keep plugging along in hopes that something is sinking in. Again, there is that motherhood/teaching thing again. All you can do is hope.

With all of this happening, it brings me back to my time in their position. When I was the student and teachers were attempting to fill my head with the things I was going to need for my life. I am sure that I gave them the look, many times, that nothing was sinking. I was not the best student as I struggled in many areas. Most teachers looked over this, however, as I move into new positions in my life, I think back and remember the few teachers who did take time and gave me the attention that I needed to get through. The ones who spent a little extra time with me and helped with the lessons so I can understand what I needed. That has never left me. I still carry that with me to this day. I had a teacher who helped with a subject that wasn't even hers. Just because she wanted see me succeed. I did. I remember it to this day. It has stayed with me. Nearly 20 years later. I often wish I could find her just to thank her for what she did. I am sure she has no idea. The same as my high school help. I wouldn't have made it through my high school career with out a certain teacher. She, as well, I wish I could find and I am sure has no idea. I think about her still as I thank her for getting me through. Perhaps for giving me the courage for getting myself through.

Recently, as I sat with one of my students and looked through their work. We were in the middle of editing work for a final show. As my student was showing me their images, I saw everyone else in their images and then I saw them in an image. I pointed this out to them in earnest because they needed to know. Though the work, overall, was good.

I told them that I wanted them to look for similarities in the rest of their images like the one we found. Like what we saw in them.

I talked to someone about that today and they told me that I gave them a gift.

I couldn't believe it when I heard it. How is something like that even possible? How could I come remotely close to doing what someone else did for me in my life? Not possible. I went over the situation and still couldn't believe it. They are young and the reaction that I got from them as I explained my thoughts would not be something one would think was anything of understanding.

But then it hit me. I am sure, wait, I know that as my teachers attempted to give me lessons and the such, the look that I gave them was something less than understanding at the time but here I am some years later writing about how much I remember it. Writing about how I could have possibly done the same for someone else. Am I sure that I did? No. Possibly not, in fact but for now, it is nice to think so.

Teaching is hard but the reward is so worth the work.

I have spent the better part of the past few days in tears and had some moments spent in anger as I thought about how much I was (or thought I was) past this stage. I guess I had a relapse. For whatever reason, I don't know. I suppose it could be the intense amount of stress I am under at the moment as I attempt to embark on the journey of 'lead' instructor of a program I am supposed to know something about or the on going drama I have with what used to be the closest relationships I had in my life, etc, etc. Whatever it may be, it all came to a head at the end of this last week and my mind couldn't handle it and therefore it shot out of my body in the form of tears (some yelling and periodic punching at appropriate moments, as well).

It has been mentioned to me recently that I have finally begun to feel. Whatever that means, although maybe they have a point. Since my life has been chaotic for some time now, something seems different. Something has happened that, for me, hasn't happened before.

I felt.

In a recent conversation with a former very close individual in my life, though basic and not long at all, it was full of emotion for me. As the words fell from their mouth and entered my ears, they shot through my body in such a way that I felt them. I felt them in such a way that I never felt before. My relationship with this person has been going through this change for a while but for the first time, I felt it. There is no other way to describe it. My heart broke as the words shot through me. It wasn't anything mean, malicious or hurtful but I heard it for the first time since our relationship ended. I didn't try to either. I suppose it is just the natural course of things or perhaps it is the 'work' I have been doing. I don't know.

What I do know is when you finally feel your heart break, you FEEL it and it doesn't feel good.

One would think by now a broken heart would heal but the pain is worse than ever as I finally start to feel.

I had a dream and you were in it. Lately, I can't get you out of my mind and I know why. I wish I didn't. I miss you tremendously but I know that things could never, ever be as they were. I know that I have said it before but I will say it again, I screwed up. I damaged a good thing. I tore through my side of the street and all because I couldn't open my mouth and simply tell you that I was scared. That I didn't know what to do, where I was or how to make things happen.

Again, I have said it before and I will forever say it again, I am truly and forever sorry.

I want you to be happy for now and forever. Not for a second do I want you to be sad and goodness knows I put you through enough of that for a time.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I miss you and I know why.

I don't know why.

Could it be because I screwed up so bad and I want a do over? Could it be because I can't seem to move from my comfort zone? Could it be ....

Could it be the guilt that I carry with me daily and this is my punishment? I don't know. All I know is that I miss you. I don't miss the flowers. I don't miss the gifts, the food, the trips, the walks, the talks. I miss you. You. I hate not having you and I can't seem to figure out why. These days seem to be the hardest and I can't get you out of my head. I think of ways to talk to you. To communicate with with you and know that you are still there and perhaps remind you that I am still here (in hopes that you think of me. Selfish and stupid, I know. I just don't want to feel any more alone, I guess)

I wonder, constantly, if you think of me as I am reminded of you in this place we used to share. This place that was bought with so much excitement and promise and ended with so much sadness and anger. I sit here now after time has past realizing that I can't be in this place with out seeing you and us. I tried to move you out but it is impossible. Truly impossible. No matter how many pieces I pack up and store, I can't seem to pack us up. We are every where here. More importantly, we are in me and that I can't seem to move.

It doesn't matter, either. Any time of day. I think of what would be and where we would be. All this time has passed and that still holds with me. I see you walking in the door but it never happens. I feel you holding me exactly where you used when I needed it but you don't because your not there. I see you smiling at me when I need it most but you aren't and I can't ask for it because it never comes. I hear you talking to me in just the special way I know but well..

If this is punishment, I take it and it hurts. My heart hurts more than I could ever tell you. More than I could ever express to anyone, anywhere at anytime. I could only EVER take blame and try to clean up my side of the street and I can't believe I ever screwed up one of the best things I ever had in my life and I am paying the price ten fold. Forgiveness? I don't know the meaning. What I do know is that I had something so good and I know that we both had our faults but all I know, for me is that for a moment, some very, very, VERY stupid moments

I was speechless.

Post

If I lined up the same, brown size pieces of card board along a wall and imagined that to be everyone walking the earth, the world would become boring pretty much instantly. The reason it doesn't or, rather the reason I see it doesn't, is because of our stories. Our pasts. Our baggage.

Traumatic

There is not a single person who can say that they grew up in a fairy land of bunnies and sunflowers. Roses and sunshine. It is a nice thought but completely impossible. Not in the world we live in. No guarantee when it will happen but somewhere along the line there will be struggle. There will be pain, frustration, sadness and the such. I may seem bitter but it is the truth. Let's move on. This does not mean, by any stretch, that it is the same magnitude for everyone. It is experienced on different levels and in different ways. No one can ever tell when, where or why. It is a total crap shoot.

Stress

I have spent a good portion of my life apologizing. At this point, I have come to realize, it seems as if it has been for simply being here. Over the last two years since I have been shown my personal bottom, I have tried to work on figuring out who I am. That, at times, seemed to be more of a struggle than it was worth. I have wanted to give up so many times. The tears just haven't been worth the reward that I have not been able to see considering my world has been clouded with nothing but the nonsense that surrounds me daily. That, I have come to find out, is mostly by choice.

Regardless, back to my apologizing. Recently, I found myself mid conversation with someone after he asked me if he could buy me a drink. I politely declined but figured conversation was conversation. In time, I learned a lot about him. He was (er' is) a United States Marine, a golf pro and clearly, a drunk. However, he made one statement to me that not too long in my past I would have allowed myself to think he was 'better' than me or that I was, whatever. He mentioned that he suffers from post traumatic stress because he served on the front lines and seen a lot of stuff. He said 'I have been through a lot'. Stressing 'a lot'. For a moment, I almost I said 'wow' and then I cut him off. I touched him lightly on the arm, looked him in the eye and said:

'We have both been through a lot.'

I stressed 'a lot'.

Mine is mine and yours is yours.

'Your going to catch a cold from the ice inside your soul' - Christina Perri

It's been two years. Two years since you walked in the door as I watched the screen move. Two years since you sat on the couch, asked (actually more like told) and I begged for something else.

Two years since I wore your jacket. Two years since I couldn't look you in the eyes. Much the same way I couldn't the moment you asked another question.

It has been two years since my heart was stomped into a million pieces.

It has been two years, actually more, since I stomped your heart into a million pieces.

You were me and I was you. We were us and for me, I killed it. I review it constantly. Everything I did, I thought and the justifications I gave every decision. How could I hurt you so bad? How could I go out of my way to make sure that I hurt you? To make sure that I let you know that you weren't perfect? When, really, I should have taken it out in a different area. Not on you. You were just being you and even if that meant the end to us, never should I have taken my anger out on you. I go over it all. All the damn time.

I am a bad person. It was suggested to me that I forgive myself. That I must forgive myself for the decisions I made while with you.

I can't.

How can I forgive myself for something that I went out of my way to do, for the most part? I might as well have taken a knife and twisted it in your heart. Over and over and over. It pained me to look at you knowing the my mistakes. I knew it wouldn't last. I knew it would all blow up eventually. All of my relationships do. I still see you. I see you as the you in my life. As the you that I knew. However, in the midst of all of this, I am trying to forget it all. The you that I knew. The you and me and the life that I had once. I am so very sorry. SO very sorry for everything. For the sadness and pain...for this.

Will I find a 'you' again? I don't know. Will I find a 'you' for me? I don't know that either.

All I know is it has been two years and the pillow is no longer working but I suppose that is my personal punishment.

I fear myself.

Lately, as the weeks go by, I seem to be learning more and more about me. Who I am at the core. The more that I do this, the more I want to stop. The more I learn that I am afraid of me. Where I came from, where I am at and where I could possibly take myself. The crazy thing being that I see myself doing amazing things. Taking my talents and abilities to new heights but I can't seem to DO it. All because I fear my potential.

I had a crazy childhood. With that said (again), I did have moments where I was encouraged, where I was taught and made positive. I did have those people who wanted me to succeed. Those who saw that I could take on something big and be awesome at it. Often, I think about those moments. As I do, I can remember just how I felt and just what I was thinking. I can even remember how the smile felt as it grew. I could sit back and continue to whine (although I hate whiners with a passion) and focus on all the negative I had growing up but this is where that has gotten me. Here. Right here with my fingers furiously running over this keyboard as questions spin around my mind about my life. Words are pouring out as I attempt to make sense of it all. Regardless, I still fear me.

I don't know if one can call this a phobia. Like a fear of heights, spiders (eeeek!), dogs or anything. Something that with some practice, perhaps, one could over come. Could I possibly have a phobia of myself? Is that what a fear is?

I don't know.

Lately, I have been trying to learn from my mistakes. I have been trying to look at my past and do the opposite of what hasn't worked for me. So far, eh, so good (?). What I do know is that I could give myself all the pep talks in the world, I could listen to all the positive messages sent to me daily and I could read affirmations all the damn time but NONE of that has brought me where I need to be. Where I want to be. In a state of me. Fearless me.

More than anything, this is annoying. It is holding me back from where I need to be in my life. Right now. Now, I know that need is different for everyone. When I say it, it is where I need to be for me. Where I want to be. Why then is it SO difficult for me to get there?

Am I falling into the world of excuses? Am I using the excuse that I have so many excuses so I can't do anything? Am I really allowing the BS to hold me back? Really? REALLY ON THAT ONE?

STOP. Just stop it!

I can't.

I am really scared of what might happen or what won't.

This morning, I was woken up by the cutest set of eyes staring at me. Immediately, I bounced out of the dream I was in the middle of and smiled back at the round face smiling at me.

One of the best ways to wake up these days.

At the same time, as the day has progressed, the frames of the dream I was in the middle of have been running through my head. At first, I kept thinking how strange the dream seemed to be. Then I thought some more about it and the more I scanned, the more I realized what was happening. It was my life. My thoughts. Fears. Desires. Confusion and the such. While in the dream, I felt as if I was being pulled in every direction and I couldn't decide. It was as if each angle was saying 'This way. You want this' and at those moments another option would rear it's head and I would be convinced to stare in that direction. I was woken up just as I was seeing what I keep thinking is the life I have (or supposed to have) left behind. I felt myself walking in so many directions. Trying to be so many things to both myself and other people.

What am I to take from this? Is it just supposed to be a visual representation of all the crap running through my head on a daily basis?

As of yet, this is where it has left me. Alone.

I feel like a fly traveling around a ribbon of fly paper trying to stick to some part of it but not having the connection when I attempt to land anywhere. Part of me is sad that I can't seem to land but there is still a part of me happy that I have the opportunity to work on finding that connection. The connection with what, I have no idea. A person. A job. An idea, even.

Insert confusion here.

There it is again. That passion thing came up and again I fail to understand. What is that and why does it seem to keep entering my life? I don't feel passion. I don't see passion nor do I make it. So why then do people keep saying it to me?

Frustrating. To say the least.

For most of the time I had, it was basic, weekly nonsense. How this? Why that and the such. Then I found myself sitting up, throwing myself into what seemed like voluntary convulsions and expressing how it isn't the same for me anymore. The follow up being, why. Of course.

I miss the days with the excitement. The joy of wanting to know what is going to come next and how to get there. I miss the days of realizing what I am capable of and capturing it in the only way that I know how. Now I can only wonder where those days went feeling as if they ended so abruptly. I am lost and I want it back. The memories of the all nighters, the excitement of the next idea and the amazement of my thoughts on paper dance in my head constantly. I struggle to find that person again and turn them in to something I am 'supposed' to do with it. I can't seem to do it. I can't seem to be who I am 'supposed' to be. Who or more importantly, what is that? I thought I am supposed to be me. No? At least that is what I have been made to believe. That or my second grade teacher was lying to me..

I lost the inner me. The person that I know I am. The artist.

I have lost all interest though I know I haven't lost the truth. It is still in me but I cannot seem to uncover the 'supposed to's' and the 'need for survival' to build the artist and blow it into what it is supposed to be. I don't even want to touch it anymore. The thought of grabbing my equipment and capturing what I see is nothing more than a pain to me. The crazy thing is that I see myself doing it. I see myself getting excited. Getting inspired and making work that, if no one else sees, I see and that is more important than anything. I miss those thoughts. I miss those days. I miss that person.

Never did I think I would be looking for them at this point in my life. Never. Perhaps that is why I feel so heavy. The artist is in me but the pile of shit on them is incredibly heavy. Too many 'cant's', 'don'ts' and 'have to's' have been thrown down. For some silly reason, it has blocked me. The real me and only because I have allowed it to happen.

Can I call in a missing artist report?

I miss the artist. I miss me.

I try not to have regrets in my life. I try but I do.

If I could take it all back, I would. In a second. From the beginning, I hurt one of the most important people I ever had in my life and simply because I didn't speak up at the right moment. I can't help but burn with pain at the thought. To think about what I put them through, what I did to them and how much I wanted to hurt them makes me sad and angry with myself. I wish that I could change it all. I wish that I could sit down in front of them, spill it and tell them just how sorry I am for all the pain, frustration and hurt that I caused to them.

As I said to them recently, I can only ever speak for myself and I know what I did and how much pain I caused. I am so very sorry. I look back now and I know why I did it and what I need to change so never to do it again but I didn't know that then and the destruction I left in the wake is more than I could imagine myself capable of doing. Clearly, it is possible.

I am so very sorry.

As I sat in the drivers seat, wiping the tears with my fingers, I listened to the voice at the other end of the phone and felt their pain. Finally, after all this time, I heard it and I felt it. I wanted nothing else but to let them know just how sorry I am as our time together flashed through my mind. I was told that they needed to say all of it to me for quite some time and they are happy they finally could. That they finally felt as if they could open up to me about all that has been happening in the last few years. In those moments, as my tears fell into my lap, I felt theirs.

I am so very sorry.

After so much time, in a tiny way, we were each other again. We were the two of us in the relationship we had. The two of us that only we know. Knew. That is how it is. There are those moments, words, feelings and stares that only the two people together in a relationship know. Will ever know and that is what I felt as the call progressed. It was there again and I felt it. I believe that they felt it too. I hope they did.

I am so very sorry.

To think of everything that I put them through, breaks my heart. As I attempt to clean up my side of the street and understand why I didn't speak up when I should have, I wish I could hold their hand, feel them and hug them. I wish I could look in their eyes and have them speak the words I have wanted to say. I wish I could ask for their forgiveness.

I did my part, too.

We need to heal. Time needs to pass. We must put our signatures on paper and close this chapter in order to heal from the pain caused. If ever anything is to come from this remains to be seen. I hope for nothing except that they are happy. I feel as if I have taken any and everything I could from them and that makes me sick to my stomach. It was love from beginning for me. No matter how it played out. I love them more than I can ever express and just because we can't make it work doesn't change that for me. Ever. I want to turn away and know that they are happy. I don't want to ask for this, that and the other thing. That is not what this comes down to for me. Happy. That is all I want.

Through it all, people have their opinions, judgements and thoughts but at the end of the day (as with anyone) it is us. From the moment we met, they were good people. At the core. Have been and always will be. I will never think different. Ever.

'I miss you and I love you. I won't ever stop'

Both.

Sway

In a moment, I witnessed as their bodies met and they held each other in the way each knew how.

I caught it just out of the corner and brought the rest to take it in completely.

In a moment, time slowed.

It was as if I became a voyeur into their lives knowing nothing but the obvious.

In a moment, I was involved. My mind moved along with them.

They swayed to, fro and the such. Never skipping a step or missing an innocent beat.

In a moment, the smiles grew. Theirs and mine.

I couldn't help but forget about any sort of troubles and concerns anywhere, let alone my world.

In a moment. If only for a moment.

A beautiful and perfect moment.