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Our Feelings, Ourselves

3/6/2020

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So it turns out that the threat of a global pandemic isn't good for my anxiety.  Who would have thought?!

I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder in my early twenties, and I find that it ebbs and flows in terms of its impact on my life.  It's been managed really well for a few years now, but it's been a tough week.  I'm exhausted.  

One thing that I think is pretty widely misunderstood about anxiety is that resisting it only makes it worse.  It's a really, really hard part of managing it because anxiety is such an unpleasant sensation, and it's natural to not want to feel it.  As a result, so many well-meaning folks respond to my worries with what they hope will make me feel better.  They rattle off numbers or try to reassure me or distract me.  But doing these things only makes the anxiety worse.  My logical brain understands everything its being told, but my anxiety demands to be felt.  So now, in addition to feeling anxious, I'm feeling like there must be something wrong with me. Which - you guessed it - makes me feel even more anxious. I've learned that I have to let myself feel it, as uncomfortable as that can be.  I have to name it, acknowledge it, sit with it.  It's only when it's permitted that it can pass.  
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Did we do an entire unit of study on soap this week?  Yes, yes we did.  
As I was begrudgingly trying to welcome anxiety this week, I began to reflect on the culture I want to create in my classroom around feelings.  Early in my teaching career, my ideal classroom was one where children were happy.  And if they weren't happy, then I was trying to make them happy.  I saw that as an expression of love, and happy children were a sign that I was successful.  But 15 years later, as I was doing a visualization exercise this fall, I said that my ideal classroom featured "healthy expression" and actually included some tears, raised voices, misunderstanding, and conflict.  This idea that children are free to be who they really are with me, including the full range of their emotions?  That is what now feels like success.

​As the children in my class encounter (and are sometimes overwhelmed by) their feelings, I hope that I can be their quiet anchor.  I hope that my presence validates and guides.  I hope they feel safe with me and know that I will always be there, no matter how big or scary the feeling might get.   
Let's all be a little more welcoming of one another's feelings and a little slower to "fix" each other.  These are things that help to hear when I'm feeling anxious, but I think they would work for just about anything.

"That sounds hard/scary/tough/intense/etc."
"We'll get through this."
​"I'm here."
​"I love you."

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