In December 2022 I went on a writing retreat out in California. We stayed at a BEAUTIFUL villa just outside of Joshua Tree National Park.

When I say it was “life-changing” I promise you – I am NOT being melodramatic.

In an instant—everything changed.

Nah – just kidding.

I definitely was NOT that sure about anything really.

I do remember the conversation that started it all though. Driving through the desert, it’s calm yet wild nature surrounding us, my friend said something that finally opened up a hope in me that I hadn’t even realized was completely gone. 

I had been struggling, hard, for the last couple of years. Anxiety, depression…

I was IN it.

I was muddling through, trying to be all the things for the people I KNEW had every reason to be struggling more than me.

I LOVED teaching.

I loved facilitating learning. I loved watching students’ faces when they were excited about something – – especially if that something meant that they just “got it.”

I loved laughing with them, exploring with them, engaging with them, and sometimes even crying with them.

I loved hearing their stories, guiding their paths, and creating a learning space for them that focused on THEIR GROWTH and THEIR NEEDS.

What I hadn’t realized…

was that I had completely lost sight of my own in the process. I forgot how to listen to myself, take care of myself, and identify what I needed.

In that car, in California, as she spoke those words,

“You’re pouring out at a faster rate than you are filling up…its not sustainable.”

I realized that I had given up on the hope that things would get better, that things were even GOOD to begin with, that I was OK.

Teaching was THE PLAN.  It had always been the plan.  

Any hardships, struggles, battles were all pieces I just HAD to put up with, survive.  This was my calling and they needed me. I couldn’t leave them behind. There was no other option.

Honestly,

tears are falling down my face.

At this point, it is all still raw…unfiltered…unhealed.

I realized at that moment, that not only COULD I leave, but I HAD to.

I * HAD * TO.

for myself, for my family, and for those same STUDENTS that I so dearly loved.

I was no longer the teacher I wanted SO BADLY for them, and I was definitely not being the human I NEEDED to be for me.

I had no idea, in that moment, that my life would change so dramatically…I wasn’t even sure I could make something else work!

As the realization that I was leaving [teaching] started to settle in, the possibility of hope started to grow in me.

I almost didn’t recognize it.

This was a monumental change – – any former teachers, even current teachers – – will understand.

Now,

I’d LOVE to say that from that point forward everything fell into place.

HAH!

Not even close.

This is not one of those “overnight success” stories (although I’m pretty sure we are LARGELY oversold that idea!)

I had SO MUCH LEARNING of MY OWN to do – – in regard to the profession I was headed toward, the platforms that I would be using, the resources that I would be creating and…

especially…

the way I was functioning internally and externally that had lead me to this point.

So,

I started venturing out, testing waters, leaning into the possibility of DREAMING!

This is where I am now.

Out in the great unknown, surrounded by the wilds again, but feeling the same comfort I felt enveloping me as we drove through the winter desert almost a year ago.

While everything is not “OK”,

I KNOW I am getting better, I KNOW I am learning again how to take care of me, I KNOW that hope is alive and growing.

From the wound rises a whole new hope, a lightness in my chest that feels wonderful and scary all at the same time.

Its not the scary that used to suffocate me,

but the scary that fills me with the flutter of possibility.

The scary whose energy pulls me along paths and towards places I never dreamed I would go.

I’m leaning into it now, with a hope alive and well in my chest.

I hope you’ll continue to come along with me.

Talk soon.

Here are some more images from my Joshua Tree/California Trip: