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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.

Chair Yoga

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This week, after dedicating almost a year of my life to become a certified yoga instructor, I started teaching my own class. I have subbed before, but when it’s your own class, it feels different. I can’t even begin to list the different emotions I had been feeling, especially since I didn’t even know where my Yoga Teacher Training was going to take me. I wasn’t sure I would end up teaching, and my only goal was to be able to show other people who shy away from yoga that they can do it and that benefits from doing it are beyond measure.

Savasana in chair yoga class.

Certain traits of the old me did come out as I dove into educating myself about chair yoga. I took chair classes anywhere I could find one, always being forthright and telling the instructor that I am a certified yoga instructor, just taking all kinds of classes to see where I might like to specialize. (Ok so this was a little white lie because I already knew that I would be teaching chair yoga… but I was mostly honest!) I watched too many chair yoga videos to even count: different instructors, different settings, different types of audiences, etc. I read four books (and I have a fifth coming, but it isn’t even available until mid November). I took notes and studied similarities and differences in the classes. I looked at poses I would most like to see and practice if I was taking a chair yoga class myself. The history behind me teaching chair yoga is packed with Svādhyāya, or self-study. I committed to self-study upon completing my training, and I sure didn’t waste any time.

Four books read, more to come.

After I created a class that made sense to me in its flow and variety, I practiced it. I made Bruce do it. I did it with my trainer. I made sure that this class was exactly what I wanted. And it is. But I can’t say I’m happy with how easily I seem to fall back into the perfectionist areas that I have worked so hard to tame. And I’m even hard on myself because even though once upon a time when I was in the classroom, I was able to multitask like nobody’s business, and I could teach any topic without hesitation, now I need to have notecards because my MS has progressed and I could very easily get lost in the middle of a class. I mean, On a daily basis, I enter a room (could even be the bathroom) and don’t remember why I went there. I can be driving my very familiar routes and all of a sudden forget where I am. I can even start a statement, and then forget it mid sentence. This is life with MS.

Studying at the chiropractor.

So it might look odd to some people to see a yoga instructor with notecards, but this one has MS. So what? So I make this accommodation for myself but it’s not like I’m reading to my class. I just need to know where I’m headed so I don’t leave anything out (or do something twice because I forgot we already did it!). I’m even working on new and different ways to handle my cards so they aren’t as obvious. The last thing I want people to think is that I’m a less capable instructor simply because I have cognitive deficiencies from Multiple Sclerosis.

Studying at my volunteer job.

The “teaching” part comes naturally to me still, thankfully. I guess once a teacher, always a teacher. I might not be the best yogi out there, but I have worked hard to be where I am… and I am here to tell you that if I can do this, so can you. We all feel that we have limitations to work through, and doing so can be very empowering. My advice is the following: don’t waste time not doing something you want to do just because you think you can’t. Because we all can! We just have to find tools to help us overcome…I did! So stop hesitating, and do your thing. And if you need help, give me a shout. This is my specialty.

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.

Wedding Dress

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On the day that this entry is posted, I will be trying on wedding dresses for the first time ever. For those who haven’t followed this blog or perhaps you missed a few entries here and there, yes, I am already married. In the year 2000, my boyfriend of almost six years (and my best friend of almost ten years) and I headed to Las Vegas to tie the knot. No one was with us, and instead we had an Internet broadcast (very cutting edge for the time) of our nuptials. There was no proposal, just an understanding that we were meant to be together and kind of just decided to do it.

Our wedding. Little Chapel of the Flowers, Las Vegas.

It’s not that we didn’t think about a wedding, but we are practical people and we were just starting our life together, so the last thing we thought about was spending money we didn’t have. Instead, we bought our first home, and soon after MS came along. Together we retreated inward to our safe space together, our new home, as we learned how to deal with this new dynamic MS was going to add to our relationship. As we were just figuring things out, our friends were busy making babies. We were just trying to figure out our new normals and we did this while being scrutinized for our decision not to procreate after already taking heat for the way in which we chose to get married.

Just before our 16th wedding anniversary, Bruce did something I never would have expected: he got down on one knee and “retroactively” proposed to me, shocking the hell out of me. At first, we didn’t know what the proposal would mean for us, because we just wanted to enjoy the moment and our love story because quite frankly, there’s no other like it.

This was the day that Bruce proposed to me… retroactively.

And this was the moment when Bruce told me to sit down and look at my ring because I couldn’t believe what had just happened.

After cancer came along, however, we decided we wanted a real wedding. The kind we never had. The kind where I wear a(n) (off)white dress. The kind where the ones we love most are there to share our joy. The kind where Bruce sees me walking down an aisle towards him. The kind where we publicly declare our vows to each other in front of actual people rather than a webcam. The kind where we drink and eat and dance with our friends and family. The kind we never had.

Once we booked our venue, photographer, and DJ, I kept saying it’s over two years away. There’s nothing to do. Then all of a sudden I turned around and I’m almost within a year, and there’s stuff to be done!

So on this very day, I will be trying on wedding gowns. I’ve been getting really excited about it, but I’m also kind of nervous. I’m not sure exactly why… I think it’s about the struggle I have always had with body dysmorphia and I’m worried that I will look at myself in the mirror, and no matter how beautiful the dress, I will only be able to see what’s wrong with my body rather than what is right with the dress. Thankfully, my MS sisters will be joining me, along with my trainer, and not only do they understand my issues, but I know that I can count on their honesty. They know how to be gentle enough with my fragile self-image to tell me the truth by building me up rather than cutting me down, and I love them for that and about a gazillion other reasons.

My amazing MS sisters.

When Bru and I first got married, I wanted no part of a wedding dress because I wasn’t happy with my body and I didn’t want to see it in a dress. Now all these years later, I’m still not where I want to be physically, but I have done a lot of work on myself, my mindset, and my physical body. As nervous as I am, I am ready to accept myself just as I am, knowing that Bruce will love me in anything (although he prefers me in nothing!), just as he always has.

How the hell did I get so lucky?

Headstands For Hunger

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Recently, my fellow yoga teachers in training, our instructor, and an alum of this YTT (that I am LOVING!) decided to do some Karma Yoga. Many forms of yoga don’t include an actual physical yoga practice, and Karma Yoga is the path of service. This annual event supports our local community by collecting money (as well as food) for both humans and animals.  It’s a dog-friendly event which takes place at a ginormous venue: the Asbury Park Convention Hall.

We got there early because we were volunteering at the event. We also brought with us a decent amount of both human and pet food, as well as our financial contribution so that we could also take the class.  Wherever we were needed was where we went. It didn’t seem like a huge deal to us, but it made a big difference to the event organizer who felt comfortable enough to lean on us and put us to work. And that’s really the point. I mean, it was such a small thing that we did, and it benefitted so many living beings in our local community. I think it’s important for everyone to remember (especially at this time of the year) that no matter how small your act of kindness is, the effect is far bigger than you realize. It doesn’t take much to help others in need, and no matter how much (or how little) you have, there are always people worse off than you, and doing for others definitely gives you a certain warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature outside.

My beautiful gypsy soul sisters waiting for the practice to begin.

I was amazed at how many people from the local yoga community came out to support this event on a chilly Sunday morning in November. The energy of the room was amazing, with yogis ranging from super-advanced, all the way to some who had never done any yoga ever. At this dog-friendly event, they roamed freely as we practiced.  Several teachers traded off at the microphone, each taking a part of the 90 minute practice. There were vendors of all sorts, ranging from jewelry, to clothing, tarot card readers, and even a photo booth. In sum, this day had something to offer every single person there, and every single person there made the choice to give to the greater good just by being there.

By far the best part of the day, though, was getting to spend quality time with my Gypsy Soul Sisters. Usually when we are together, we are either practicing or else doing the hard core studying and learning that is the biggest part of Yoga Teacher Training. But here, after volunteering and then practicing, we got to spend real time together. We walked around Asbury, did a little shopping at the outdoor Farmer’s Market, and had a delicious meal together. Getting all of us together outside of the confines of our usual learning environment was very special. I feel so blessed to have these women in my life because they all radiate love, light, and positivity… even the one who is a self-proclaimed curmudgeon. (Shout out, Liz!)

Does she look like a curmudgeon to you?

It’s so liberating to be authentically me without worrying that I’ll be judged because we are all like-minded and open to learning, even from each other. We are all just trying to be the best versions of ourselves as we can, and it’s so much easier when you are lifted up by the people around you. For me, this comes more often, because I have physical challenges that the other girls don’t have (not to mention that I’m way older than they are) yet they always encourage me and around them I am never made to feel like I’m inferior somehow. In fact, they praise what I can do, and make me see that there is absolutely no reason why I can’t be as good (or better) an instructor as anyone else once my training is done.

I could go on forever about this group of women, because I love each and every one of them, but before I get too side-tracked, I want to go back to the Karma Yoga. You see what happens often times is that you do something nice, and while helping someone else, you don’t realize how good it makes you feel so it’s really a win/win situation. It reminds me of a quote I love by Barbara DeAngelis that goes like this:

“Love and kindness are never wasted. They always make a difference. They bless the one who receives them, and they bless you, the giver.”

Yes, yes, and yes! Amen.

Photo booth fun… when the photographer tells you to get closer together, this is what you do.

 

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!

 

Happy New Year!

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The end of 2017 had me taking inventory of everything that I went through along the way. New Year’s Eve always has me in a hopeful place, looking forward to a fresh start in a brand new year. But this year, I found myself especially excited because looking back on 2017 made me exhausted just thinking about the many, many obstacles I faced from day one. I realize that I gathered strength from every single challenge that the universe sent my way, and I faced each one the way I have learned to do having lived with MS for almost 15 years now.

When I break down each situation individually, maybe it doesn’t seem like I went through all that much… and let’s face it: people have been through way worse. But looking at the big picture made me realize how much I overcame, even if I did start complaining towards the end of the year. I complained, but I laughed my way through because it’s what I know, and if I didn’t laugh I probably would have cried. So I’m sharing a recap of 2017, knowing 2018 can only be better, and because it’s a reminder to be grateful for every single day you are given on this planet. And I believe even on the worst of days, beauty and happiness can be found, as long as you open up your eyes (and your heart) to seeing it.

2017 started out with a huge question mark for me, even more so than just living my life with MS. I knew I had breast cancer, but that’s all I knew. I had no idea what kind of treatment plan was in store for me, not to mention the number of doctor appointments, tests, and ultimately, waiting (the most torturous part) I would eventually have to endure. When you start off a new year in this way, it’s incredibly difficult to feel optimistic about what lies ahead or even to feel the usual excitement inside as you face a brand new year. I was stuck in limbo, questions and darkness circling around me constantly. I had no idea how to move forward when I had this gigantic somber truth to deal with. So I did what I always do, partially using advice given to me back when I ran that 5K: I simply put one foot in front of the other, and smiled my way through it. With Bruce’s hand in mine, we got to the other side stronger than ever.

Gnarly finger x-ray. Who knew how much you use one silly finger on your non-dominant hand??

I’m proud of how we handled my cancer situation because so frequently these things can drive a couple apart, but not us. One year later, I can confidently say that although I never thought it possible, our love and the strength of our relationship has grown exponentially since then. Unfortunately, cancer was not the only health concern we faced in 2017…. I also broke some toes, dislocated a finger, injured a hip with a slip on the ice, and closed the year with a lovely MS relapse along with a change in my Disease Modifying Treatment (DMT) that I had been on for over eight years. There were also some personal issues with some relationships in my life that hurt me almost as badly as all the physical trauma I suffered. At times I felt like staying in bed with the covers over my head for fear of anything else happening, and Bruce even jokingly wrapped me in bubble wrap at one point.

For real: wrapped in bubble wrap!

But everything I went through made me stronger, and reinforced for all who know me that this girl does NOT give up. It’s simply not an option. I have a natural instinct to persevere and a work ethic (thanks, Dad!) that is second to none. I’m not sure why the universe gave me all of these obstacles to overcome in 2017, but whatever the reason, it was my haul to carry. Luckily I have the best guy in the world at my side who never gives up on me, and my motivation still remains staying strong for him and for us. And I know for sure that I am starting 2018 stronger than ever (both physically and emotionally), and I can handle anything… ANYTHING the universe decides to throw my way because that was the overarching lesson I learned in 2017.

One of our NYE projects: a hand casting of Bruce’s hand in mine, because that’s how we survived 2017.

Today I am looking forward with hope and excitement, instead of fear and dread like last year at this time. Life is not always what we plan it to be, but as long as we acknowledge our gifts, like the qualities I inherited from my dad, my guy, who supports me no matter what, and the handful of dear friends and family who I can always count on, it can still be pretty sweet. I, for one, am psyched to see what 2018 has in store for me, since I know whatever it is, I am ready for it because of everything I have already been through. Considering the year I am coming off of, I’d like to think that I am due for a fantastic year, but I also understand that I am partially responsible for making that dream a reality. That being said, I can guarantee that I will be doing everything in my power to uphold my end of the bargain, and I know the universe will be on my side. So today I say goodbye to 2017 and welcome 2018… bring it on!

We are ready for you, 2018!

 

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!

Half Full

2 Replies

I love my volunteer job for so many reasons. In addition to the administrative tasks that I work on while I’m there, I also get to interact with the patients as they go through the intake and the exit procedures of the office. Though many times I serve mainly as a friendly face on the other side of the desk, there are occasions when I feel I serve a much greater, more important purpose, and often I feel that the patients affect me way more than I affect them. These are the moments that remind me of how far I’ve come, and they are the moments I never forget. 

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One such occasion happened a few weeks ago, when I had the pleasure of meeting a patient I had never met before. This woman has been a long time patient, always coming in with a smile on her face and a positive attitude. She’s also a workaholic and a perfectionist who defines herself by her job. To be honest, she quite reminds me of the old me: the Mrs. Rankin me. 

As a teacher, I was never done, and my work came with me everywhere.

As a teacher, I was never done, and my work came with me everywhere.

Unfortunately, after 23 years of steadfast dedication to her job (as a paralegal), my new friend arrived at the place that no MS patient wants to be. She suddenly finds herself in the position of having to choose between her passion, her livelihood, the one thing she feels truly defines her, and managing her MS on a daily basis. Not everyone gets to this point, but many of us do. For us, just living with Multiple Sclerosis becomes our full time job. 

I sat in my usual seat as I listened to her cry about how she wasn’t ready to stop working, and how much she loves her career. I couldn’t help but go to her, because I was getting emotional myself. In an instant, as the tears began to flow, I was immediately brought back to the moment when I was faced with the very same decision. My heart was breaking for her, and also a little for myself. It’s always frustrating to think that perhaps others won’t understand, because we “look so good”. It’s also scary wondering how will we find our self-worth if we are not contributing to society somehow through our work. Plus, there’s a fear more powerful than anything, that’s always in the background because MS can wreak havoc on us at any moment, without warning. All of that adds up to tears. 

I tried to comfort her as best I could, knowing that it probably wouldn’t help much, but also that I could definitely give her the benefit of my experience. I told her that I was in her exact position three years ago, and that I have no regrets. I told her that everyone is replaceable even if you’re the best at your job. Once you’re gone, there’s always someone else. I told her that she spent the last 23 years working at her job, so now she can spend the next 23 working on herself. I told her that she would eventually stop crying, even though it didn’t feel like it right then. I told her that it wasn’t her fault that her body was letting her down. I told her how much better she would feel physically, without the incredible amount of stress any job places on our bodies, causing symptoms to flare. I told her how amazing life can be when you look beyond your job because only then can you be completely content and at peace. We are, after all, human beings, not just work machines, and how lucky she is to be forced to learn this while still at a young enough age to really enjoy living for a long time to come. 

It really blows my mind how my life has changed in just three years. It’s a short time, yet I’ve come such a long way. I remember how defeated I felt…how utterly devastated. I felt worthless. Like a failure. Like my life was now meaningless. But you know what? I just had to find the true meaning and value without using my profession as a crutch. 

This was my home for many years, and now my world is so much larger than this one classroom.

This was my home for many years, and now my world is so much larger than this one classroom.

Three years later I can be proud of who I have become. I volunteer my time, and I love that I am able to give back in this small way to the medical team that has always taken such good care of me.  I work on my body in ways that make me stronger, even if my nerves are misfiring. I happily enjoy whatever time I get to spend with my loved ones because I am fully focused on them, without the work distraction. I have an entire MS family who loves and supports me 100% of the time. I have so much to be grateful for, and I am now, more than ever, a glass-half-full-kinda-girl. 

MS family love.

MS family love.

Never Surrender

2 Replies

Bruce and I have been together for over 21 years now. We have been through some pretty rough times together, but we have also celebrated many milestones together. If you follow my blog, you probably recall my issues with my body image, and I am so very grateful that Bruce has always loved me, regardless of my size.

The cycle of my life with MS has always followed the pattern of gaining weight from high dose IV steroids (to treat exacerbations), and then struggling to lose thar weight afterwards. It’s hard enough for a healthy woman in her 40’s, but add in the crippling fatigue, neuropathic pain, neuro-sensory numbness, heat sensitivity, and other daily symptoms, and the struggle is magnified by about a gazillionfold.

I stopped working in the fall of 2013 when a particularly severe exacerbation knocked me off me feet. Literally. I improved more slowly than ever before and it became obvious that I would not be able to go back to work. The IV steroids and the prednisone taper left me with over 30 pounds of weight to lose while my strength and mobility were at an all time low. But Bruce cheered me on. He always has.

This week, he posted the following picture of me on Facebook, which I had sent to him, documenting my weight loss in the last year:

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And with this picture, he posted the following:

“I want to recognize my wife, Rennie Leighton Rankin, for how hard she’s been working to get stronger and lose weight since an exceptionally bad Multiple Sclerosis relapse in 2013. The relapse forced her to retire from a job she loved, and go on a course of IV steroids so strong that it caused incredible weight gain. Despite crippling fatigue, poor balance, and loss of some feeling in her legs (among other things) she’s been working her ass off to get back to where she was before the setback. She says she doesn’t see the difference when she looks in the mirror, so I’m hoping this side-by-side comparison from just a year ago will convince her. Through it all she’s always been the most beautiful and important person in my life, and I can’t tell you how much I love her or how proud I am of her.”

So here’s the thing: I really don’t see a difference unless it’s in a picture where I can compare. I’m just happy that today I feel stronger and healthier than I did a year ago. It has taken a lot of hard work, both physically and psychologically, to get to this place. The place I’m referring to is the place where I accept my body for what it is. It has been a lifetime battle, and it will always be there. But these days I’m more forgiving of myself because I finally recognize that I have so many obstacles to overcome just getting through the day. I am learning to give myself credit not for looking better, but instead for how hard I work.

I would never post a side by side, full length selfie on my own. In fact, I seldom take or post a selfie unless I’m with at least one other person. Conveniently, with apps such as Timehop or memories on Facebook, I am reminded every day of my progress with pictures from this day in years past. I have actually been documenting it with similar side by side selfies, but only for my own validation since I will only get on the scale under extreme duress.

When Bruce posted this picture, I was blown away by his words, and then again by the response from friends and family all over the world. To have others appreciate how much I’ve gone through over the past few years to get myself back to a stronger place, both physically and mentally, is confirmation that what I’ve done wasn’t for nothing. While ultimately we must be satisfied and at peace with where we are in life at any given time for ourselves, and no one else, validation of our efforts  from others  is important as well. It allows us to see that we are not alone in this journey, especially when that path is shared with a debilitating illness such as MS. Not a day goes by without me thanking my lucky stars to have so many amazing people who support me in my journey. I couldn’t do it without them.

This is not, nor can it be, a solo mission.