Summer 2012

Three years ago was the summer of blues. My boyfriend was getting ready to go away to college and fighting a difficult internal battle. Our relationship was already rocky, having just gotten through a 3-month break and mending pieces back together through his graduation from high school, and things didn’t look too good for us. But, I survived.

Two years ago was the summer from hell. I was pretty much entirely out of my mind. Sometimes I felt like I was someplace else, someone else, just watching this girl go around doing stupid thing after stupid thing. I think there’s a term for that? (besides the obvious, “She’s just plain craaazy, I tell ya!”) College made me grow up, counseling helped me to cope, my friends and family supported and forgave me, and good old fashioned time helped to bring me around.

Last summer, was the summer of vomit. That’s pretty self-explanatory.

Okay, so

2009

three

2010

bad

2011

summers in a row.

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Seasonal depression is pretty common for most people. Although for many, it happens during the cold, winter holidays. For me, it’s the start of summer, and goes through all of June and most of July. It wasn’t always this way, but my faith in the joys of sunshine, no schoolwork and lots of play dates have been diminished. Destroyed. Discouraged.

I want this summer to be everything my previous summers couldn’t be – absent of depression, free of guilt and psychotic episodes, and no vomit.

But my expectations are what get me in trouble. Every year, I do exactly what I’m doing now – actively plan and anticipate events, which for me is half of the fun – and then end up disappointed, or depressed, because life just happens. But I’m serious when I say, I cannot do another summer like my previous ones.

How to break the spell:
1) Keep myself busy – the less time I have to just sit around, the happier I will be. It’s who I am.

2) Plan a few big events (a summer class, Drama Camp, trip to Pasadena, CA)

3) Work more hours (duh)

4) Start a project, like knitting or writing (to be determined…)

5) Be thankful for the blessings this summer has that my previous summers have not: my husband is a much happier and sound person than he was three years ago; I, too, am less crazy than I once was two years ago; and I’m not vomiting uncontrollably anymore like I was last year.

There is hope, my friends.

On a side note, this Tuesday marks one year of marriage for me and the roommate. It’s amazing – I’m not even out of my teens yet, and I’ve already been married a year. If you’d like to read more about the Bekah of a year ago, and the epic wedding day, you can read my very first blog post by clicking here.

Let’s have a great summer, readers

My Passing Brush with Anne Rice – Something Worth Posting About

In my life-long struggle with church and Christians, and my official year off from it all, my searching for answers to questions that keep me internet surfing, book browsing, passage reading and chatting with wise strangers late into the night, led me to author, Anne Rice.

This is a status from Anne’s Facebook, about 2 years ago:

This inspiring woman who grew up in a church as a child, left when she was 18 to become an atheist and returned decades later, after her fame had already spiked and she had written many wonderful books. But, being a member of the church was still just too hard, too hypocritical, and too “morally disruptive” to her. So she quit Christianity, something I’ve thought about doing of for years, but have avoided saying out loud for fear of hell or the inevitable concerned condemnation of “fellow” Christians.

The other night, I decided it was time to thank such an inspiring woman, even though the chances an actual conversation would be quite slim. My letter went like this:

Dear Anne;

You may never get to read this with your eyes, but I hope the gratitude I send your way touches your life in an unspoken way. My name is Bekah Groop, I’m 19 years old, a married college student in Deaf Education, who has been fighting a battle against church and Christianity since I was little. I’m another sob story of how the church pushed away an outsider because I couldn’t mold. Oh, they tried. I’m quite talented and hardworking, so my time and energy was abused. I was bullied into leadership, subtly kicked out of a church for my parent’s divorce, and rejected by youth leaders for not participating in the church youth group. I have always known Jesus was so much bigger than a pastor and a weekly congregation. I tried for so many years to participate, to help lead, to be enthusiastic and finally, last year, I said, “Fuck it,” and stopped talking to God. Little did I realize that it wasn’t God who was the problem.

I have spent a year in questioning, a year trying to find out why the word “Christian” makes me cringe, why I hate when fellow Christians begin a casual coffee date with, “What’s the Lord doing in your life?”, why churches spend so much time focusing on issues like sex, drugs, alcohol, partying, smoking, homosexuality, or even not having enough faith, lying too often, not praying or reading one’s Bible enough, or God forbid, not fasting enough. When I said, “Fuck it,” I knew I couldn’t fully mean it because Jesus has been part of me from the very beginning, for far too long. It’s not something you just drop, as I’m sure you know.

So what did I do? I took a break. I didn’t do anything with God for a whole summer. I let it sit. And for the first time in my life, I felt free. Free of guilt, free of boundaries, free of things I thought were God and have learned were just condemnation. Last fall, I decided I wanted to try again, but this time, I wanted to pursue God logically. I read your story, about how you came to re-accept God based on historical facts. I have needed facts instead of all this faith nonsense, for a very long time. I’m beginning to learn about a God who is actually a presence I want to pursue. My previous “relationship” with God was based on a Pentecostal church’s representation of what that relationship is: crying, speaking in tongues, more crying, confessing you watched porn last Saturday, more speaking in tongues, etc. I stopped following “God’s will”, began living my life the way I think is best, and began trusting that God/karma/life/whatever will use my failures, successes, and everyday decisions to grow me into a beautiful person. If God made me, then He’s already a part of me. The rest will take care of itself. I’ve decided to just love Jesus, and love other people, since that’s all He did anyway.

I’m still early in my journey, but I wanted to thank you for summing up so beautifully and living out so boldly what I have felt inside for years, as a little girl, and couldn’t say out loud for fear of others and fear of hell, until now. You are an outsider, and I thank you for being just that.

Much love,
Bekah Groop

…..

And to my utter surprise, I got a brief, but brilliant reply:

Thank you.  This is a very generous letter. And I appreciate it.

You come across here as sensitive and strong woman, and full of courage. 

I applaud that.  And I wish you every blessing as you continue your 

inevitable journey.  

In an open meeting of AA, I heard something like Beware of the one 

who has found God; listen to the one who is searching for Him. 

Anne.

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Forgive Me Father, For I…

…desperately want to change my major.

A taste of the life a frustrated ASL student who spends hours making these videos for homework (for your amusement):

It’s not that I don’t like it anymore. But I’m exhausted. Learning a language at my age is not an easy task (that makes me sound ancient, but my expiration date for easy language acquisition passed when I was about 6) For people who take foreign language in college for fun, it’s just that – fun. For me, my career depends on my fluency, on me practicing day and night. And I’m SICK of it. And education? I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it, or do it. All I want to do is quit, run away and open my animal shelter. End of story.

What’s stopping me? Myself, for one thing. And the fact that I’m almost to the halfway point. Quitting now would be a joke. I also have a lot of imaginary haters to prove wrong – I can be married, go to college and work to pay the bills. I can’t let these fake people get to say, “I told you so!” The classes you take for your major will probably make you hate your major. Good teachers and bad ones, it doesn’t seem to matter anymore. I’m burned out.

How I feel most days...

I would love to blog more than I do, embrace my vegetarianism and take time to learn to cook some awesome recipes, be a nicer, non-sleep-deprived wife with bags under her eyes and sweatpants on whenever possible, pick up sheet music and spend time playing my piano again, teach Mowgli more cool tricks, and care again. I miss actually caring about people and being passionate about life. I’m a cold, heartless mummy.

But I’m taking the wonderful advice from an even more wonderful friend, and I’m trying to be thankful for this urge to drop all, to question my originally sound decision. Humans are diverse, emotional, driven creatures who are supposed to change their minds from time to time, make mistakes, try new things. Diversity IS the spice of life, otherwise we’d all eat bran flakes for the rest of it – safe, sound food, but lifeless. For some people, bran flakes are enough. But they’re not for me, and that’s why I feel the way I do.

If I wasn’t questioning things, you probably should be concerned about me. If there is only one thing in your sight lines, take caution – that is a red flag for danger. If you can only picture yourself doing and being one thing and nothing else, you’re walking on treacherous ground, my friend. That’s not to say you shouldn’t have a goal in mind, but that shouldn’t be the end of the story. You were made for more, so be more. Embrace the questions, try new things you’ve been scared to do, accept the fact that life isn’t a straight path to death. You have to get lost along the way.

Now to go pour myself a bowl of Captain Crunch…

Metaphorically Speaking

What is my teaching metaphor?

Let me rewind. It’s been far too long since I last wrote on here, so I’ll give you a quick TV show recap, a “here’s what you missed on Glee!” if you will…

• Vacation was grand. I miss Miami and the sunshine.

• School started on the 31st of January.

• I’m only taking 4 classes this semester – HALLELUJAH.

• I love Pinterest.

• Casey got a promotion at work!

• I started volunteering at Maryland School for the Blind.

• We got a new handle on our toilet and it’s flushable again – HALLELUJAH x2

• I still spell January wrong 50% of the time. (J-A-N-U-A-R-A…dang it!)

So that’s what I’ve been up to. Now, back to what I was saying…

What is my teaching metaphor? My educational psychology textbook has been discussing the idea of what role a teacher plays. Most teachers fit one, or maybe two, of the following twelve common metaphors: celebrity, creator, expert, friend, leader, learner, mentor, nurturer, performer, redeemer, scaffolder, and self-sacrifice. Other fun ones that carry a stronger mental image mentioned were things like motivator, chameleon, cowboy, boat captain, ringmaster, gardener, team leader and coach.

Metaphors are great to have even if you’re not a teacher. It’s a good way to grade yourself and reflect upon who you want to be as a __(fill in the blank)___. Think about it in terms of acting- it’s hard to play a new role right off the bat. It takes practicing your lines, getting into costume and interacting with others before your character comes to life. The same is true for teaching. Reconceptualizing oneself into the role of one’s metaphor makes anxiety decrease and confidence increase. Why? – Because you’re working within some structure.

Along with any metaphor comes a mental image, a definition, and certain obligations specific to that metaphor. If I was more of a gardener, my obligations would include providing the best classroom “climate” for each student, having an ultimate goal in mind for the class while tuning in on individual needs – who needs pruning, watering, more or less light, etc. – and perhaps being more flexible and considerate with time allowed to grow and develop naturally. Likewise, the student’s will play a role that corresponds with my metaphor. Pretty cool, right?

Ultimately, though, it’s not fully my choice. Much of my decision has to come from what I already know to be true about myself in the great nature vs. nurture argument. In my own nature, I’m more down-to-earth and organized than most people. I’m definitely a realist. I like to think creatively, but I like creativity with structure. I believe classes based on discovery learning are a waste of the students’ time, direct instruction is extremely boring, tests are overrated while test-taking skills and advice are under-taught and not emphasized enough, and that class discussions are always a good idea.

Besides myself, I admire qualities in famous historical teachers such as the perseverance of Anne Sullivan, the out-of-the-box thinking of Henry David Thoreau, the encouraging support of Ms. Frieda Riley, and the learn-by-living lifestyle of Jesus Christ himself. Even fictional characters in books and TV have inspired me as a teacher: Mr. Feeny reminds me that you are a teacher in and out of the classroom; Mr. Holland reminds me that teaching is a more rewarding career than nearly any job in the world I “could have” gone after; Coach Boone & Coach Yoast remind me that teamwork is essential to success and sometimes being the “mean” teacher will make your students respect you even more.

So what do I do with all this information? I’m not starting with a blank chalkboard. I have scribbles of inspiration, ideas and thoughts written all over the board in different colors from over 19 years of experience, but there’s very little organization. How do you pin all that information into a single metaphor?

A daunting task indeed.

But then again, I suppose it doesn’t need to be daunting since I’m probably reading into this textbook way too much.

Or maybe, I’m just being me

Speaking of pinning….. (see bullet point 4 of my recap)

“I’m on vacation…from my problems!”

Wow, look at that view.

Why am I up at 7:30am on vacation? Good question. The answer is because I went to bed at 10:00 last night, washed my face, brushed my teeth, read my book for 30 minutes or so and was out by 11:00. I haven’t done that since last summer. This vacation has been amazing so far, and we’re only two days in. Casey and I really needed this time to get away after a hefty semester and work schedule. We worked our butts off, got good grades, paid our bills and now we’re enjoying ourselves for a bit before spring semester gets up and running next week.

Ah! I hate saying that. I don’t want to think about classes. I just finished minimester. I suppose this is a good exercise for me though.

Lately, I’ve been working hard on what I choose to mentally dwell on. When I dwell on something for too long, I let it escalate to the point where I a) literally cannot think about anything else, and b) make the “problem” out to be way bigger than it really is. On our first night here, we climbed into bed to get some much needed rest, and as I slid down under the covers, I noticed a hair on my pillow. Hair grosses me out a to degree I cannot fully describe. I tried to mentally rationalize with myself – other people have slept in this bed, I can wash the sheets tomorrow if I’d like, it won’t actually kill me, etc. – but it didn’t help. My husband was trying to get all snuggly and I couldn’t even lay my head down on the pillow. Suddenly, the whole bed felt hard and stiff and I thought about all the other little hairs that could be on the sheets that I didn’t spot yet. So I slept pillowless and with an afghan on top of the covers. Freak much?

Needless to say, I’ve become more aware of germs, stains, dirt, odors, and anything that isn’t sparkling clean and sanitized since I got sick last year. I don’t like being this high mateinance about cleanliness, but it’s hard to ignore.

I also am having a hard time not thinking about the things I’ll have to do upon arrival back in cold Baltimore city. Unpacking, cleaning, preparation for school next week… Just writing it out makes me start running through all these things I could maybe do ahead of time to ease the stress, taking up even more of my thought time. Thus why I am really trying to mentally reboot the way I think and instead choose what I will and will not think about.

Instead of picking up my amazing current read (Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat Pray Love) and thinking to myself, “I need to read x number of pages before …” I want to think, “I should read as little or as much as I like because there is no agenda, no to-do list, only time.”

There is a time for resting and relaxing and it is a gift. And the only thing I need to be doing is just that.

P.S. Just updated my book list to include books I plan to read! Check it out and feel free to give me some suggestions