Tag Archives: new identity

Retirement

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This week marks seven years since I walked out of my classroom, thinking I would return in 2 weeks, after taking treatment for an exceptionally bad MS relapse. I never imagined that 9/27/2013 would be the last day I’d ever spend at the place that was my home away from home, the place where I spent the majority of my waking hours, the place that built my identity, and the place I loved so much it actually hurt. But those of us with Multiple Sclerosis know that MS does not play by rules, it does not discriminate, and does not go along with plans that you make, regardless of how carefully laid out they might be. 

Two weeks of work neatly assembled for my substitute.

I left in pain, barely able to ambulate on my own, and full of sadness I felt at the thought of leaving my beloved students so early in the school year. I held onto hope that the treatment would work quickly and efficiently so I could get back to what I loved so very much. But like I said, MS is unpredictable, and the treatment that had helped me when I needed it most in the past let me down and had little effect on the storm brewing under the surface where no one could see.

This was the disaster of treatment that i was out for.

Little by little, as I struggled through painful and exhausting physical and occupational therapy, my return to work date kept getting pushed back, and the vast majority of people could not understand that I did not have a firm return date. I wanted a return date more than anyone, and I was so frustrated because I felt like my body was letting me down. I always worked hard to stay physically fit and active, which I leaned on in past relapses, but this one was different. I was working so hard, and not seeing (or feeling) results, sending me spiraling into the deepest depression I have ever known. I felt worthless, lost, and missing a huge part of myself because I did not know who I was if I was not Mrs. Rankin.

This is what I depended on for ambulation when I went out on disability.

The two best things I ever did for myself at that point were enrolling in a twelve-week wellness program for MS patients, and starting with a new therapist who specializes in treating those with chronic illnesses, specifically MS. In the wellness program, I met my MS family, a diverse group, ranging in age and ability, but our connection was instantaneous. I finally felt like I found a piece of me I needed to help build me back to where I was before. And my therapist mostly just listened to my cry every week for months until I finally started to feel better, but knowing I could never continue to do my job.

My 12 week wellness group.

Making the decision to apply for long term disability was one I struggled with and kept putting off thinking I’d magically wake up one day just like my old self, and my students would walk into school with me at my desk at 5:45 am as usual. Sometimes with MS things go as quickly as they come, and I wished with all my might that it would happen for me this time. But no such luck. And at the same time I was feeling a deep sense of loss and grieving the community of long time co-workers who proved to me that out of sight indeed was out of mind. It was the perfect internal storm that made me feel so conflicted.

This was the window to my world: a safe space, a sanctuary for many students, and my home away from home.

But the most amazing thing happened once I started to understand that my plan was not meant to be and that the universe had greater things in mind for me. As other friends left my side, my MS family embraced me, even with my many flaws. They were there for me (along with my many, many former students), as I fought to become strong again, and they supported me years later when I battled breast cancer, and again as I was given another lifelong diagnosis of diabetes. These are my people… my squad. They helped me find my place in the world again even when I thought I’d be lost as always.

Just 2 of my special girls who came to say goodbye as I tearfully cleaned out my classroom at the end of the year.

My plan did not work out as I had thought, but I realize now that it was never meant to be that way. In this new life, I have found a sense of freedom, the ability to fully enjoy the time I spend with loved ones without having work constantly in the back of my mind, and a true appreciation for the ability to give my body what it needs when it needs it. Looking back at where I was seven years ago to where I am now is like night and day, and even though it’s not what I planned I am ever more grateful each and every day. Even during COVID times, I still find new reasons to be grateful every morning when my eyes open to a new day full of possibilities.

Every day is full of new possibilities!

I will always treasure my days in the classroom, but I no longer get sad that I’m not there. I embrace it as a beautiful part of me and my past, and I am proud that I did it as long as MS allowed me the gift of being able to do the job the way the kids deserve for it to be done. This piece of my past is the biggest part of who I am,  and I have zero regrets when I look back.

I loved this pace with every fiber of my being.

Being able to focus on me and my loved ones instead of my students and my school has made my life so much richer, and now I get to enjoy the best of both worlds… I can listen to my body and what it needs, but I also am surrounded by the love of my chosen family: those very special students (now all young adults) who have made it clear to me that they are with me no matter how many years pass, and I feel the same way for each of them. So instead of feeling sad, I feel blessed. It took a minute, but I couldn’t ask for anything more.

This. My MS family.

PS. Shout out to my chocolate sister and best friend for riding this wave with me, even though we no longer work together. She is the one I turn to still… and the gift of her friendship has sustained me for so many years now. ❤️

The one who has been at my side from when we first started working together and who never leaves my side even though I am no longer her “neighbor”. She is my rock, my anchor, and my best friend.

Graduation

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This past weekend was indeed very special for me. I did not go on vacation or to any place where I don’t go several times a week. I went to a spot that feels like home and is incredibly important to me. But what happened there was different than any other time I have spent there, and I left feeling grateful, loved, grounded, and even though I can put my ego aside when I am practicing yoga, yesterday I felt proud… because yesterday was the official graduation celebrating attaining 300 hours of Yoga Teacher Training with my gypsy soul sisters. We actually finished with our training back in June, but our studio was in the process of relocating, so we waited to celebrate in our beautiful new space. It was worth the wait.

Chanting with the sunlight pouring through the windows of our beautiful new space.

Last August, I decided to deepen my yoga practice by enrolling in Teacher Training, not really sure where the journey would ultimately take me. I felt stagnant and that there was some sense of purpose missing from my life, which is not an uncommon feeling for someone like me. I was a high school teacher and I loved my job with every fiber of my being. When MS decided I could no longer perform my job in the way it deserved to be done, I was lost. I had no job, no identity, and no purpose. I had been practicing regularly for about a year when I was given a scholarship to the yoga studio because the owner happens to be passionate about MS and has a foundation that funds scholarships for people like me, because yoga memberships are expensive! I was so grateful to her for seeing something in me (really just through Instagram) and I dove in, putting myself in front of as many teachers as possible.

This amazing yogi is also a champion for those with MS and I could never repay what she has given me by offering me that scholarship because it changed my whole life. Instead of paying her back I hope to be able to pay it forward…

The class I connected most with happened to be a Friday morning class with Maria, who ultimately brought me on the journey through teacher training to certification. I was drawn to her passion about being true to the ancient teachings and even though I never thought it would be the case, I loved the harmonium and the chanting, connecting us all by the simple unified vibration it brings about. So when she started talking about her teacher training, i was there to find out more. I committed on the spot, and I’m so glad I did.

The one and only Maria. The original Gypsy Soul. The radical teacher. I could sit and listen to her talk about anything yoga forever and ever. She’s my yoga hero.

Bruce likes to say that I was married to yoga for ten months. It isn’t easy to commit to anything when you have MS. I spent two weekends a month in class, studying during the weeks, practicing every day, It was intense and amazing and my head would spin with the huge amount of deep knowledge that was being passed down to me. Everything is harder when you have MS, and there were many times when I thought I might throw in the towel. I have to read things many more times than my classmates because of cognitive issues related to MS. Practice itself is harder for me because I don’t feel my feet (neuropathy) and sometimes I physically press my feet down where they need to be because muscle has memory, and that’s the only thing I can do to train them. And anyone with MS knows that balance is not easy, but I continue to work until sweat is pouring off of me. That’s just MS. Let’s not forget about breast cancer leaving me with limited range of motion in my left arm because of lymph node removal and lumpectomy, and a fused spine that inhibits twisting. Most people would listen to that laundry list of issues, and dismiss me as being a hot mess. But my teacher and my classmates embraced me with all my issues. Instead of doubting me for being “disabled”, they complimented me and never wasted an opportunity to lift me up and tell me to look at what I can do, despite it all.

Our small but mighty group.

My life is forever changed from taking on something I never thought I could accomplish, and yet I did. Yoga is about detaching from ego and I do that quite easily on my mat, but to think of how hard I worked to attain this (so that I can pass it on to teach others) makes me feel strong and proud. Since taking on this challenge, I see just about everything differently. I am more aware of myself and my body, how I react to others, and the mark I am leaving on the planet. I hope I will always lean on these teachings to guide me, because there is a reason that they have been passed down for thousands of years.

Special family came to witness this. My uncle did YTT in the 1980’s before yoga was even a thing. Hes wearing a t-shirt that he earned back then (I think he said 35 years ago), and its tattered and torn… and so very special just like he and my aunt are to me.

My message is pretty clear, I hope. For anyone who struggles with a disability, do not let it stand in the way of your dreams. We are all capable of anything as long as we are patient with ourselves and we use the tools that are available to help us. I don’t care if I was the weakest link in my class because my life (aside from being 20 years older than one of my yoga sisters and 10 years older than the other) has unfolded in a very different way than anyone else’s. I. Still. Did. It. And so can you.

Mama B and Bill are so supportive. They enjoyed this much more than when they came to watch me kill myself doing a Spartan race.

(Maria, Justina, and Liz… I have no words. My gratitude for you is deeper than I could express, and my love for you girls is endless. Thank you for traveling this journey with me, and I know that now that our paths have crossed we will all continue traveling together. And Bruce: my rock, my best friend, my biggest fan. You may have felt like i was married to yoga but without you I would be nothing. Thank you for being my everything. And no picture of you because I know you wouldn’t want it.)

*** NOTE TO MY READERS: I am taking a family vacation so I’ll be taking time off to be fully present there, and I’ll be back with new content on September 10th. “See” you then! 

 

 

 

Holland

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This week, I met up with one of the few friends I have left who came into my life as a co-worker, and we talked about how five years ago I moved to Holland. Not actually, but metaphorically. In brief (for those who don’t want to read about it from the link), Holland was not in my plans or on my radar at all. I was ready to head to Paris. I did all my research, and I was fully ready to embrace my home in France. I knew all the restaurants in the neighborhood I hand-picked, all the museums and festivals I would go to, and I even started to learn some of the language.

Sadly, after making the trip, I found myself not in Paris at all, but in Holland instead. I had no idea where anything was, where I would live, the different cultural events that would interest me, and I don’t speak a word of the language because I was prepared to be elsewhere. Not that I had an opinion on Holland, just that I hadn’t planned on being there, and I panicked.

This is a metaphor for what I thought my life was going to be versus what it turned out to be. I was happily living my life as a high school teacher, MS and all. I knew that it was getting increasingly harder for me each year to be the teacher that my kids deserved, but never did I imagine such an abrupt ending to what I can only refer to as my calling. I have no regrets for the way I did my job because I don’t know any other way to do it. I was ALL in. Always. All ways. Nothing came before my kids and my school… absolutely nothing: not my husband, not my family, not even my own well-being. It was my identity and I was proud of it. I could have changed my approach but I didn’t know how. Every June on the last day, I would tell my husband that I made it through another one but I wasn’t sure how many more I had in me. I spent 15 amazing years in Paris. I wasn’t ready to go when MS said it was time.

This is just a sampling of the many former students who remain in my life. They all hold their own special place in my heart, and they are the greatest rewards that my career gave me.

So my MS and I moved to Holland. I wasn’t happy to be in Holland at first. Everything seemed so strange to me. I went from having everything scheduled down to the exact time I could go to the bathroom, to no schedule whatsoever. I went from being surrounded by people and activity, to spending more time alone. I went from my identity as Mrs. Rankin, with a clear-cut purpose, to Rennie… no identity and no purpose.

Adjusting to Holland was not easy. But you know what? I began to work on myself, and I began putting myself first. I learned to make a schedule for myself because there wasn’t one for me. I learned to surround myself with the most amazing people who always lift me up and remind me that I am worthy of good things, especially while I was figuring out who I was without being a teacher. Most importantly, I found purpose. It really hasn’t changed, it just shifted to a different audience, even with a little overlap from my old life.

This wonderful metaphor that I learned from my therapist has helped me so much as I have built my new life from the bottom up. I have a renewed spirit, a fresh outlook, and so much gratitude for everything even though life did not go according to my plan.

Not according to plan, yet still moving forward with purpose and a sense of self.

What I am trying to say to anyone who is struggling is that life is meant to be lived and enjoyed, and that reinventing yourself is possible no matter where you find yourself.

As human beings, we need to roll with the punches, knowing that we are capable of changing and growing despite any obstacles we face. We are innately  resilient, even if we don’t realize it right away. When I first got to Holland, I did not think I would ever be happy here. But now, five years later, I can’t imagine myself anywhere else. But I learned to trust in the universe and in my own ability to adapt, which may have been the most empowering part of this whole journey. After all, we can’t rely on anyone for our happiness because then you’re always setting yourself up for disappointment. But believing in yourself is where all of the power comes from.

I am endlessly grateful for the sense of peace I have and the fact that I can fully appreciate the beauty in life.

Before I get too far off track here, my point is that regardless of where you are, true happiness abounds as long as you are open to it. I didn’t expect to be in Holland, but I love it here. I am happier, healthier, and so much more grateful for everything than I ever was before. And you know what? The lemonade here in Holland is incredible, and my glass remains half full, as always.

Diagnosiversary

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In preparation for my blog this week, I decided to read what I had written about my diagnosiversary in past years, because I just can’t let June 2 slip by without acknowledging it. I read through the entry, and I realized that on this, the 16th anniversary of my diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis, I would have written the same exact thing I shared last year (which I shared from the year before, and the year before that) on the topic. The feelings I experienced on that day, and during the weeks and months that followed, are still as raw and as powerful as they were 16 years ago. It doesn’t matter how much time passes, telling the story immediately brings me back to that moment in time, so here’s what I have shared in years past. Nothing has changed about that day, except year 16 has brought many challenges, but it has also brought many more rewards for which I am grateful every single day. Last year, I thought I was a bad ass and attempted a Spartan Race to acknowledge where I am all these years later. This year, I showed a little more common sense and spent the day in the best way possible: with my satsang of Gypsy Soul Sisters continuing our studies towards our 300 hour Yoga Teacher Certification. Much smarter of me… plus no sprained ankles or massive injuries to add to regret! So here’s what you go through when you are diagnosed with a chronic, progressive, and debilitating disease. 

Nothing says FU to MS like a strong Warrior II pose. I feel so powerful whenever I take a Warrior pose in yoga because the word “Warrior” is how I describe anyone who lives with a chronic illness.

June 2 is a very special day for me. It’s a random day, and it probably means nothing to anyone but me (and possibly my husband). It’s an anniversary that does not celebrate a milestone or an accomplishment, but June 2, 2003 is a date that I will never forget. On that day, I was given a diagnosis that undoubtedly has changed the course of my life.

Every year on June 2, I am brought back to that day, now [sixteen] years ago. I relive the details of the day moment by moment. I remember what I ate for breakfast (oatmeal), and I remember what I was wearing (white and blue plaid capri pants, a blue button down shirt, and white and blue sneakers). I remember stopping at Dunkin Donuts for a large iced coffee (black) on the way to school. I remember the panic attacks. All. Day. Long. I remember that I had permission to leave after my last teaching period so that I could get to my appointment on time. I remember that my appointment was at 2:30, and I remember that Bruce took a half a day so that he could go with me.

So we got in the car, not talking to each other at all. On the way to the neurology appointment, we stopped at the radiology office to pick up a copy of the MRI results, just in case the doctor hadn’t yet received them. They kindly folded the paper and put it inside an envelope. In the elevator up to the doctor’s office, Bruce asked me if I was going to open the envelope. Without hesitation I said no way. I knew I wouldn’t understand what was written there, and why not just have these last moments together before the inevitable?

We sat in the doctor’s office, staring at each other, waiting for for him to deliver the news. We didn’t talk. I was too busy having one panic attack after another to even attempt a conversation. After what seemed like an eternity, we finally heard his footsteps approaching. We heard him pause outside the door, and we heard him pull my chart out of the bin outside the room. Then, to our complete and utter shock, we heard him let out a huge sigh, before knocking once and entering the room.

The doctor walked in, greeted us, and told us that I have Multiple Sclerosis. From that moment on, it was as if I was watching someone else’s life unfold. I only heard bits and pieces because my mind began racing. To be fair, I was not yet educated on MS, but at that moment, it felt like I was given a death sentence. We know now that MS is fatal in only the rarest, most severe of cases, yet there was a part of me that did, indeed, die that day. The road ahead of me required a complicated detour that I was not sure I could even navigate.

We left the doctor’s office in a total daze. Suddenly we were occupying space in a world that was completely different for us, yet for everyone else it was unchanged. In this drastically different world, what did we do? We went to Target. I guess we were searching for some sense of normalcy in this new, unknown world of ours. We sat in the car afterwards and called our families to share the news. It wasn’t exactly the kind of news I looked forward to delivering, but at least I finally had an answer. After months of appointments, X-rays, MRIs, blood work, evoked potentials, and cognitive and neurological tests, I was done. It’s not what I wanted nor what I expected, but it was something. The phone calls I made on June 2, 2003 were some of the most difficult conversations I have ever had in my entire life.

Following my diagnosis, Bruce and I holed up at home, and didn’t speak to many people other than each other. Some friends called to offer support, and others dropped off the face of the earth. All the relationships in my life were tested, and certainly the dynamic within them shifted. I learned a lot about my friends, and mourned the loss of many who did not know how to deal with my diagnosis. Sadly, this happens with every relapse, but [16] years later, my coping mechanism for that kind of loss has been fine-tuned, and I have built a support system that holds up.

On this day every year, I take inventory of my life since diagnosis. It has not been an easy journey, but it has been amazingly rewarding in so many ways. Since my diagnosis, I have learned that I am stronger than I ever imagined I could be. Everyone has an inner strength, but not everyone realizes it because you don’t summon that strength until you need it. I have discovered my voice to educate and to raise awareness, and my passion for patient advocacy. These are integral parts of who I am, and without MS I don’t know who I’d be right now. One thing I know for sure is that on my diagnosiversary, I always give thanks to the powers that be for all of the parts of me that MS has made better, and for all the things I am still capable of doing despite the MonSter.

For [16] years I have acknowledged the importance of my diagnosiversary, and this year is no different. I’m still grateful for the many gifts I’ve been given, and even though my journey has not always been an easy one, I know that every bump in the road makes me a stronger, better version of myself. I don’t celebrate the anniversary that falls on this day. I celebrate all the things that I have managed to accomplish, all the things I can do, and all the things I am, MS and all.

I would be lost without this guy, my rock, who has been at my side every step of the way, regardless how rough the terrain has been. **photo credit: Idalia Photography**

Back to School

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A few weeks ago, I wrote an intentionally cryptic blog entry because I wasn’t fully prepared to share what my next venture will be, and there were still a lot of details to be ironed out. This week, I am coming clean, and sharing what my intention is and the reasoning behind my decision. I’d like to state that pledging to do anything that requires long term commitment when you have MS is ambitious because MS has a mind of its own and can rear its ugly head at any moment, causing complete and utter chaos with a single relapse. But I’m not letting that stop me because I know that this undertaking is going to improve my life in so many ways, both tangible and intangible.

Some may have guessed already when I wasn’t ready to share, but starting in just a few weeks (September 8th to be exact) through June of 2019, I will be dedicating my life and myself to 300 hours of yoga teacher training (YTT). I haven’t been more excited about anything in such a long time, even though I realize how intense it is going to be. There will be full weekends where I’m at the studio, partial weekends, readings that are required, studying Sanskrit names and chants, field trips, guest teachers, and the list goes on.

The readings necessary for my course, plus my mini binder to organize my notes. Just go ahead and stamp “dork” on my forehead now!

When I first began thinking about doing the yoga teacher training, the only thing I could think to myself was that yoga teachers don’t look like me.  I’m not long and lean, and although I have changed my body in huge ways in the last 4 years, no one would look at me and know how hard I work to be me… still a little overweight and always morbidly obese on BMI charts because of the amount of muscle mass I carry (just one of the many reasons I do not go on a scale and when my oncology team forces me, I go on backwards and we never speak about “the number”). So one day I approached my teacher after class, and asked if she ever had someone who looked like me in her yoga teacher training classes. She did not understand the question at first because she knows my medical issues and she (a true yogi) sees me as a student who is dedicated to practice and tries her hardest on the mat every single day. And she began to list all the reasons I SHOULD take on the challenge, the most memorable to me being that I can show people that ANYONE can do yoga and with the obstacles that I deal with I can inspire many others to just get on a mat.

Just get on a mat! It’s a practice!

So I took this information to heart. But my real motivation is to gain a greater understanding and appreciation for my mind, my body, and the space I occupy on this planet. Yoga is meditative for me, and when I’m on my mat, nothing else matters. I love that yoga has been a practice for thousands of years, passed down from teacher to student, and I love that every single pose serves a purpose for the body. I love that they call it a practice, because teachers are still learning and growing, and that’s how we should all be, off the mat too. And although I’m not a big “ohm” or chanting person, the magic of hearing it to book-end a practice can not be understated. Add a harmonium and this girl, who is not a big chanter, can’t help but join in.

This beautiful gypsy soul (and her harmonium) will be my teacher.

My true intention for committing to YTT is to better myself… physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I know that it will help me further my practice on the mat, but the other pieces are as vitally important to my growth as a human being as the physical part. It’s sometimes hard for me to believe how much I hated yoga when I first tried it because I had a crappy instructor who insisted I sit in a chair during class simply because I have MS. Clearly I do not need that accommodation and she rubbed me the wrong way, which usually never happens with yoga teachers because they tend to all be such incredibly beautiful souls. They emit a positivity and a spirituality that is endlessly comforting for me. Once I found the right instructor I became intrigued with all things yoga and soothed by a simple practice. And although I have come a very long way, I will always have challenges because of MS, breast cancer and the resulting surgery that inhibits full range of motion on my left arm, and a fused spine which does not allow for certain twisting poses. But I work through it, and I’m excited to see how far I can go despite it all.

Just one of my issues, but it’s not going to stop me.

I never intend to make money from this journey. I just want to be in this soothing world, and contribute to it by way of community classes or fundraisers. Whether I am a teacher or not, I will always take classes and continue my at home practice because both are such big parts of my life. As with any commitment like this, I am anxious but excited. I have my moments of self-doubt, but I also have my daily affirmations to help offset those negative feelings. The point is, how will I ever know what I am capable of if I don’t at least put myself out there and try? Failure is not in my vocabulary, so even if I have to work 20 gazillion times harder than your average yogi, then I will. It’s how I have lived my whole life. I don’t let others dictate what I can or can not do. Luckily, I have the best husband ever, who is endlessly supportive and totally gets me and my choices, and he believes that I can absolutely do whatever it is I set my mind to. I’m lucky that he is there to remind me of my strength when I am feeling weak and vulnerable.

I always feel better on my mat.

So here I go, starting out on a new adventure, and I’m sure I will be sharing plenty of it with you, my readers, if you choose to follow along with me. I know this will fill the emptiness that I have been feeling, and ever since I committed I can already recognize how my attitude has changed. What I know for sure is that whenever I have felt low and stagnant, stepping out of my comfort zone has always brought me back to a good place.

I’m just here trying to be the best version of myself possible. I will never be perfect, and I have luckily been able to leave most of my perfectionist qualities in the past, at least where it concerns not being so hard on myself. As I started to do some of my reading for YTT, I sat down with “The Motivation Manifesto” by Brendon Burchard, and although I am not that deep into the book I can tell that it will be one of those life-changing books for me. The following quote sums up everything:

“It is not merely freedom from bad things that limit us, but freedom to experience good things that awaken us.”

I couldn’t agree more. And if you’re trying to find me, especially during the next year, most likely I’ll be on my mat. Namaste 🙏🏻.

Retirement

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It has been almost four full years since I officially retired on disability. Some days it feels like it just happened yesterday, and other days it feels like it was a whole lifetime ago. When MS decided it was time for me to be done, the reaction I got was quite mixed. Some people thought I was doing exactly the right thing, while others felt I was far too young (only 42 years old at the time) and that I would be miserably bored. I, however, had no opinion because I felt like I was living someone else’s life and that I would undoubtedly wake up (at 4:45) from a horrible dream and end up commuting as always, ending up at my desk by 6 am.

This is the official letter that the Board of Education sent me acknowledging my retirement.

So we all know that didn’t happen and I was actually living my reality with an extremely difficult adjustment. Unlike many people, I absolutely LOVED my job. It was my passion, my driving force, and the thing that always kept me evolving. I had to. I was teaching teenagers and I did what I had to do to keep current for them. It wasn’t always easy. My classroom was a safe haven for so many and my days were usually 10-12 hours long, not even counting my 22 mile commute. Even though I often found myself unable to do anything more at the end of the day but put my head on my desk and cry out of sheer exhaustion wondering how the hell I would find the strength to get to my car and drive home, I never questioned that I was doing it out of anything but pure love for my students. And if I had to do it again, I wouldn’t change anything because it was the only way I knew how to do the job, and it’s what the kids deserved.

Addressing those who expected me to be bored and miserable, all I can say is that I’m not, because as it turns out, taking care of myself is a full time job these days. My world has certainly changed, but I don’t feel like I am a lesser human being simply because I don’t report to a paying job every day of the week. Every single day is devoted to me and my family, something that somehow got lost in the mix of being Mrs. Rankin, the teacher. Now, instead of taking care of my students first, I realize that I am no good to anyone at all if I don’t take care of me. Somehow I have ended up in this beautiful world where all the best parts of everything reside. I take care of me, and because I do, I can be fully present with my husband, and even get to spend quality time with the many students who remain a source of pride for me and are the proof that I did, indeed, do my job the way it was meant to be done.

So what does taking care of Rennie look like? Well, it’s committing to a healthy life, including diet and exercise. It’s knowing when my body needs rest so no matter how badly I want to get to that Tuesday morning yoga class, I understand that sometimes, I just can’t make it happen. It’s about taking care of my mind and spirit with a consistent meditation habit that allows me to settle in and find clarity. It’s about being kind to others in any way possible so that I put good karma out into the universe, because it always comes back and in spades. It’s about learning about who I am and why I am who I am, so that I am always evolving, becoming a better version of myself. It’s about love and laughter that feed my soul and keep me smiling. It’s about volunteerism, whether with the dogs at Marty’s Place or helping the many MS patients who are referred to me for too many reasons to count. This life that I’m living right now is truly beautiful, and even if I could have kept working I never would have been able to appreciate it the way I do because of how focused I was on that one thing I thought defined me: my job.

That brings me to something I have written about before, but I’ll give you the abridged version right here. When I first stopped working, I was a complete and utter disaster… an emotional wreck who cried at every single session with my therapist. She told me that I just have to learn to appreciate “Holland”. What? Ok so let’s say you’ve planned your whole life to take an amazing trip to Paris. You’ve researched everything from food to museums to hotels to excursions. You’re on the plane and you’re so psyched that in mere hours you’ll be living your dream. When the plane lands, you’re not in Paris. Instead you find yourself in Holland, which you are not prepared for so you are devastated. But Holland is awesome! There are tons of museums and fun things to do, and besides that, the people are incredible. So even though Plan A wasn’t meant to be, that doesn’t mean Plan B has to suck.

Paris, obviously. I am glad I travelled while I was young and healthy!

I’ve been living in “Holland” for four years now, and it has gotten better and better the longer I’m here. I no longer dream about “Paris” because life in Holland has been good to me, and has given me more gifts than I ever thought possible. There is a quote by Sarah Ban Breathnach that says, “Success in life is not how well we execute Plan A; it’s how smoothly we cope with Plan B.” Indeed!

There is nothing more beautiful than life in Holland!

 

Transformation

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It’s that time of year again… the summer is drawing to a close, with everyone taking their last trips down the shore, enjoying the joys that summer always brings, while preparing excitedly for a brand new school year.

At this time every year, I like to reflect upon how insanely different my life (and my attitude) is since MS made the decision for me to retire on disability in May, 2014, after already being on sick leave for all but the first four weeks of the school year.

Back then, I couldn’t imagine my life without the career that had defined me in so many ways, and that I was so passionate about. I considered myself beyond lucky to have a job that I loved, because so many people are not as fortunate. People often told me that I was one of the few people they knew who actually liked her job. And I did. Every damn second of it.

Now that I am a few years removed from the feeling of such a devastating loss for me, I have clarity that I didn’t have before, and gratitude for everything, including the painful, emotional, difficult situation that started me on this part of my journey. I never dreamed that I could ever be in this beautiful place that I currently find myself in, happier than ever, which I could not have imagined when I was still working.

The other day, a Staples commercial came on TV advertising their usual 10 cent sale, and I was brought back to the days when I used to have lists of which retail establishment had things on sale that I needed for my classroom so that I could stock up for the year. I used to get so excited about these things, and now it hardly even phases me. I love that because it shows how much I have grown during the last couple of years.

I’m not saying that I got here without my share of growing pains, but I am saying that I understand it’s all a part of the process. Once I opened myself up to the possibilities of creating a new life, it changed my perception of everything I knew.

What I know now is that regardless of how much I loved my students (and still do!), my own family always needs to come first. I often lost sight of that as a teacher, but I don’t regret it because now I have all of these amazing young adults who make up such a big part of my life, and I love that. I love watching them venture out on their own, doing the adult thing, and spreading their wings to soar.

I also know that taking care of myself is vitally important. When I was working, I overlooked my own wellness in favor of my job and my students. Again, I don’t regret it because of the amount of love and gratitude they gave back to me (and still do), but I know that I am of no good use to anyone if I am not staying on top of my own health and wellness. This includes all the things I have incorporated into my post-teacher life: meditation, yoga, hardcore exercise, acupuncture, reiki, and healthy eating, all of which force me to put myself above all others so that I can stay strong for the long haul.

I remember the days when the weekends meant nothing more than time to grade, write lesson plans, and create dynamic presentations for my classes, leaving no time to actually enjoy spending time being fully present with my loved ones. Once again, I have no regrets about how I lived my career because it’s what the kids deserved and I don’t know how to do it any other way.

But now… now life is better than I ever thought possible. My circle of friends has changed, but in a good way because I am surrounded by other people who take nothing for granted and never waste an opportunity to laugh and smile because we are grateful for the life we are living, regardless of whether we chose it or not. I am more in love with my husband than ever because we have been given this incredible gift of time together. Hell, we even booked a vacation in September, something we have never, EVER done before. Some small part of me still feels like a rebel for doing it, but no matter how much time passes, I guess old habits do, indeed, die hard. But lucky for me, I have worked very hard to help these old habits go by the wayside.

The transformation from Mrs. Rankin to Rennie has not been an easy one, but it is ongoing and I’m getting better at it all the time. I have been transforming my entire world: physically, mentally, and spiritually for the last few years, and my progress has been slow but steady, and that’s ok. I know that as human beings, one of our biggest challenges is having the ability to change according to our life circumstances, good or bad. I’m not going to lie and say that the process has been an easy one, or that I don’t have my moments of weakness, but it does get easier with time and with the determination to live my very best life possible. Rather than crying about the fact that I am not going back to work this week, I am happily wishing my former colleagues the very best of luck as they begin the new school year. Life is, after all, what we make of it, and I am making mine everything I want it to be. So who wants to join me in a glass half full of lemonade?

The sunrise over the Raritan River by Rutgers University, a very symbolic photo at a place that will always hold an extra special place in my heart.

Tripod

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For 13 years I worked with an amazing bunch of people. I was one of the “older” teachers yet a large group of us just connected. We were “friends” from day one. I felt so lucky to be a part of an awesome teaching staff who also happened to be made up of incredibly cool people. We spent countless Friday afternoons at happy hour, as well as weekend parties and summer get-togethers. Having come from a different school district, I was floored by how friendly everyone was and how openly they accepted this new (but slightly older) teacher into their social circle. Even though as high school teachers we did not all see each other much during the school day, there was a certain comfort knowing they were there, and the working environment was one of family. I never once took that for granted because I felt like I had the perfect work life. My students were such fun and coupled with my coworkers, I felt like I had found my forever home away from home, the place where I could happily spend all the rest of my teaching years, and it truly did feel like family. After putting in a few years in a different school district, typically referred to as a “suburban school with urban tendencies”, I felt like I had died gone to heaven. I fell in love with it all the second I walked through the doors of my beloved BORO. 

My beloved tripod. This was taken just after I stopped working.

Little by little as the time passed, I felt that as the “younger” teachers continued on their life plans, which included getting married and making babies, we drifted a little, but I still felt a strong connection to my BORO family. In the fall of 2006, I suffered a bad MS relapse that took me out of work for half the school year. I went out on sick leave in October and was finally cleared to return in February. I never felt more unloved, unappreciated, and disrespected. There was definitely truth in the statement “out of sight, out of mind”. I began re-thinking my future as former administrators of mine who had left the district began courting me because they wanted me as part of their team. But having earned tenure already made me seriously consider the fact that with a chronic illness such as MS, I might not be able to earn that job security elsewhere…not because I wouldn’t work for it, but because a relapse could happen at any time, and attendance is a huge factor when districts determine whether or not tenure is granted. I felt so isolated from my BORO family and I quickly realized that everyone is replaceable…on all counts. 

Going back to work after the half year on disability, I seemed to fall right back into the place I left. Happy and appreciative, and full of love for my students and coworkers. I continued this way until the fall of 2013 when my career abruptly came to an end. I started the school year not feeling strong or ready for the pressures of the job, and I lasted exactly four weeks. My whole identity, not to mention my friends of so many years, were left behind when I walked out the door on what was unknowingly my last day of school ever. And that’s also the day I learned an important lesson: there is a big difference between being friends with your coworkers and having a friendly working relationship with them. 

Luckily, I have always had my tripod… two of my coworkers who have transcended the work/friend line.  These girls have taught me so much about true friendship because even though the thing that connected us initially (our jobs) is no longer connecting us, they remain loyal, loving, and supportive friends. Ever since I stopped working, we see each other at least twice a month to catch up. They call and they text, and they know everything that goes on in my life, and vice versa. If I have a doctor’s appointment, I know they will check in on me to see what is going on, and they never make me feel like a lesser human being for being who I am. I don’t have to pretend or be fake with them, and I can cry (or laugh) freely without fear of judgement. I call us the tripod because we stand together, and without any one of us, we are not complete. I feel 100% confident in saying that each of us feels the same way, and when we go more than two weeks without assembling our tripod, we all need a fix. Our jobs brought us together but it’s the mutual respect, the love, and the importance of our friendship that has kept us in each others’ hearts in such a special way. While I know others have chosen to move on, for whatever reasons, I know that this tripod will be standing strong together for the rest of our lives. We all need a good, solid tripod to count on: to hold us up when we wobble and to lean on when we need it. It’s much easier to face the uncertainty of life with these girls by my side. At this stage in my life, I am more content with the quality of my relationships than the quantity of them, and even as I’ve been writing this entry, I have these song lyrics circling around in my head: 

Oh I’m a lucky [wo]man
To count on both hands
The ones I love
Some folks just have one
Yeah others they got none, uh huh

–Pearl Jam “Just Breathe”

Lucky indeed. 

My tripod, my girls, and the best inside out Oreo you’ll ever find. #luckygirl

Picture Perfect

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I have always been into taking pictures and documenting memorable times in my life. In fact, my friends often referred to me as the archivist of the group. For four years of my life, I documented every single day with a photo accompanied by journaling about that particular photo. It started off as a project (known to photographers everywhere as Project 365) intended to improve my photography skills, but it turned into so much more than that. For 1,461 days (there was a leap year in there), I never missed a day. Even though I’ve taken a little bit of heat for grabbing my camera (or my iPhone) at every moment, everyone enjoys seeing the pictures once they are taken. So why am I writing about this now when my last p365 spanned the dates from 1/1/15-12/31/15? I wish I had a better answer, but the simple truth is that I just started assembling my photo book for that last project because for some reason, I kept putting it off. It is somewhat tedious to put it all together, but it truly is a labor of love, and now, looking at the photos I chose, I am reminded why I took on this project (whole-heartedly) for each of those years. 

In the process of reviewing, editing, and formatting so I can finally order the book. I can wait to get it in my hands!

In the process of reviewing, editing, and formatting so I can finally order the book. I can wait to get it in my hands!

As I’m working on my book, the first thing I think about is how my camera/iPhone may as well have been an extension of my arm during all of those years. Being without it was almost like being naked. I snapped photos all day long, and then at the end of the day, I would either choose one to journal about, or else I’d make a collage if I couldn’t pick just one. And even though putting the book together is laborious, seeing an entire year of my life laid out in front of me, in a tangible form with actual pages to turn, is amazing and truly rewarding. 

A little taste of year 1!

A little taste of year 1!

Now that I have been “on hiatus” since December 31, 2015, I can appreciate the many reasons why Project 365 is so good for my soul. (Side note: I am sure there will be many more p365s in my future, but taking a break in between is necessary sometimes!). So initially I started the first one on September 1, since in a teacher’s life, that’s really the “new year”. I continued for three straight years before taking a break before beginning my fourth. In that time, however, I “retired”, and even though my other “photog friends” were committed to beginning again on 1/1/15, I was anxious about it. The first three years were very school-centered, because my life was very school-centered. Starting the new project, I worried that I might not find things to take pictures of and journal about without that most vital part of me that I had left behind when I walked out the door of my school for the very last time.  For that reason alone, I committed because I needed to prove that even though my life had changed so much, I still have a life worth documenting. 

Year 2

Year 2

Re-living each memory that will take its place in the book has made me see how incredibly differently I live my life now that I am not working. First of all, I have truly learned to stop and smell the roses, sometimes literally. Where my prior photo books are overflowing with pictures having to do with my teacher life, this one is full of natural beauty, and beautiful friends and family. It’s amazing how a project like this can make me see how my priorities have changed so much for the better, even though I once thought I’d never be a complete person or have a fulfilling life without being “Mrs. Rankin”.

Year 3

Year 3

While the initial intent was always to improve my skills as a photography hobbyist, the concept of finding something beautiful or meaningful to photograph each day certainly embodies the sprit of optimism, which was, of course, very appealing to me. This latest project was the most challenging for me because of the many life changes that I was dealing with, but as I placed each picture into the book, they were like footsteps leading me on my journey to where I am now…completely at peace in retirement because I am surrounded by so much love from so many amazing former students who remain constants in my life, totally present with family and loved ones whenever I have the opportunity, and still the fervid optimist I always have been. And the best part is that my journey is far from over! It’s true that my journey has not taken me on the course that I had anticipated, and it certainly has not been perfect. In fact, most would say that my life is far from the textbook definition of perfect. But now that I’m living my life this way I realize that it’s perfectly me, and that feels pretty damn good. 

I can't wait for a new book to top this pile.

I can’t wait for a new book to top this pile.

August

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It’s that time of year again. As August comes to a close, the back-to-school photos are slowly creeping in to my various news feeds. This has never been an easy time for me, whether I was full of anxiety preparing for a new school year, or even now that I am no longer working and full of nostalgia for what used to drive me. My emotions are all over the place, and even though I have come to terms with how things have worked out for me, times like this still tug at my heart strings. 

Former students have always remained a huge part of my life, when I was still working, and even to this day.

Former students have always remained a huge part of my life, when I was still working, and even to this day.

This is going to be the third opening of school since I began my disability retirement. It does seem to get easier every year, but I don’t think I will ever be un-phased by it. The first year, I went running to my daddy’s house in Florida to escape, and took myself completely off of Facebook for two weeks. I am pretty sure that I just did not want to see the world (in which I proudly resided for 15 years) go on without me. But it does. Everyone is replaceable at work. EVERYONE. And even though I thought my world would come to a halt, it most certainly has not. Quite the opposite, actually. 

I no longer spend the summer, especially August, in back-to-school mode: decorating my classroom, lesson planning, PowerPointing, re-vamping past activities, creating seating charts, photocopying, and shopping for school supplies. Yet the other day I still couldn’t turn away from a commercial advertising a 12-pack of Sharpies for $3.00! (It wouldn’t have been so bad if Bruce didn’t catch me in the act. Old habits…)

I never imagined that I could exist in a world where I wasn’t Mrs. Rankin, the teacher. My whole life revolved around my “kids” and my job. I remember feeling such intense loss and emptiness, and I felt as if my whole identity was a question mark without that one thing that had always defined me. But in these last three years, I have worked incredibly hard on figuring out who I am without what I had always considered the characteristic that most described me. 

Having been a teacher will always be the one thing I am most proud of in my life, because I was lucky enough to meet and get to know a new crop of amazing students every single year. People don’t become teachers for the salary, but the rewards are priceless. Nothing makes me happier than visiting with former students who are growing up to do unbelievable things as they find their own ways to being productive members of society. 

Three years later, I still find this time of year bittersweet. But I no longer feel like that world goes on without me, because this new world that I have been exploring is fulfilling my soul in completely different ways. For every teacher “friend” (a term used very loosely since only about three of them have proven to truly be friends) that pushed me aside as part of their past, I have been blessed with new friends who have made it clear that they are committed to be by my side in the future. 

I will always miss my students, but I will never miss the way I sacrificed so much of my life (and my energy) for my job. Life is about the loving relationships we build and maintain, and memories we make along the way. Those memories should include the people we love most, and although I loved (and still do) the thousands of students who entered my classroom through the years, I am grateful that my focus is now squarely on me. It might sound selfish, but I spent too many years focusing on others that I lost sight of the most important thing of all: taking care of number one! 

For as much as MS has taken away from me, I have been given many gifts that I never would have been given otherwise. I now appreciate and am grateful for every minute I get to spend with my loved ones, and I never take it for granted. I recognize how fortunate I am to be able to listen to my body, resting when necessary, and making it stronger by dedicating the time (that I couldn’t spare when I was working) for proper exercise. And of course, I will be forever indebted to my MS family, including the best trainer ever, for walking (or hobbling or rolling) into my life and changing it forever, in all the best ways possible. 

So even though I’ll always feel a little pang of sadness at the beginning of the school year, it does, indeed, get just a tiny bit easier as time goes by. There is a reason why things worked out this way for me, even if it isn’t blatantly clear to me at the moment. But I believe that the universe works in powerful and mysterious ways, and things unfold exactly as they should. The only thing I know for sure is that I am a happier, more balanced person now, even despite the obstacles and the circumstances that brought me here. In fact, three years ago, I would have never been able to say, with 100% sincerity, that life is pretty damn good. Today I can tell you that it’s friggin’ awesome…as long as you open your eyes and take a good look around. 

If you open your eyes (which I was always too busy to do), you will see the world a whole lot differently!

If you open your eyes (which I was always too busy to do), you will see the world a whole lot differently!