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Whew, if that ain't the truth! And when I tell youuuu, I have been going THROUGH IT, do you hear me? LOL! One of my friends reminded me of that. There will be tough seasons we all go through when there is something great that awaits us. So let me tell you what's been going on without telling you what's been going on.

So, 2022 ended horribly. A relationship went sour and ended. Most of it sucked, honestly. I had to return to the classroom, which is not suitable for most people's mental health who are there. My friend told me she has FINALLY had a good week of school and it's what? NOVEMBER! And she is JUST NOW having a good week. WOW and WHOA! That tells you all you need to know about that. So then I had something and lost it, which was also not good for me physically, mentally, or emotionally. I'll let you do with that what you will. I JUST stepped out on faith, resigned from my teaching position, and moved to a new city WITHOUT a job. Yeah, it was crazy, but my faith prevails. I cry. I pray. I work on assignments. I love my dogs and let them show me love. I eat...sometimes. But mostly, I cry and beg God for peace. 

See, y'all don't understand that my whole life has been a series of traumatic experiences, from raped in HS to my 2021 bipolar diagnosis. My therapist told me I should write a memoir. You all would be STUNNED by the things I am still trying to overcome at 37 years old. Man, peace would be amazing so would a loving, nurturing, and devoted partner (relationship), but these men don't want me. LOL! If someone were to hug me right now, I'd collapse in their arms in tears. I am that drained. Luckily, there have been no suicidal thoughts, and I won't lie, I'm surprised. Maybe that's growth from finally finding the right therapist who I hope I can continue to see. And let's not forget my medication. Ya girl needs a job badly, but not just any job. I refuse to sell myself short. I refuse to take anything. I know bills have to be paid, and they will through God's grace and mercy. I just want my next job to be THE job, even if it's just for a couple of years. I want to wake up happy to go to work. I want to be fulfilled when I'm working. I want my work to make a difference in the world. I want to be a part of the change that needs to happen for the betterment of us, especially our children. They deserve so much better than what the world is giving them. 

This post just came to me while shedding tears about my grandmother, who is going to the hospital again. And if you know me, then you know how much that woman means to me. I had these feelings, these words I had to get off my chest. So, there you have it. I am an unemployed, phenomenal, overqualified educator (no, this is what has been said to me - not the unemployed part... that was me) in a new city. 

If you love me, send your love to me. I need it. 

September is Suicide Prevention Month. I debated sharing, but figured why not? I have been transparent and vulnerable already a number of times so why shy away from my truth now? I honestly don't know how or where to begin since I contemplated suicide just a couple of months ago. I always have morbid thoughts like, "I wonder who would really miss me if I were to kill myself" or "I wonder if this person would regret breaking my heart if I were dead?" Yeah, I know, really weird and scary thoughts, right? Of course, they are, and that's why people typically suffer in silence.

My suicidal thoughts began as early as middle school. My dad didn't want to (or couldn't) meet me, then he died. I watched my mom raise four girls with little help. I became my mom's helpmate when she went back to college to earn not one degree, but two (B.S. & M.Ed.). I fell in love and began acting as if I were an adult who could handle all those feelings. I couldn't. I became a rape victim who still to this DAY believes the hold he had on me was/is my fault. I was damn near homeless in college and nobody knew, not even my friend who lived next door. A sinus infection got so bad that I lost 30 pounds from not eating and couldn't hold my head up. I truly wanted to lay there and die and tried to. My mom made me come home once she did a wellness check and saw the condition I was in.

I never vocalized any of my thoughts, emotions, sadness, or pain. Adulthood was even worse. I spent my 20s sad, depressed, lonely, and most of all pretending. I pretended I was happy. I pretended everything was great. I pretended to love myself. Facebook came along while I was pretending so I kept it up, and I got REALLY good at it. I hated my smile, I hated how I looked, I hated my voice, I hated myself. My weight fluctuated. In HS, I was athletic. I participated in everything I could so I didn't have to go home and be the caregiver to my siblings because my mom was always working on school assignments. She was showing us how to persevere. But, I still felt alone and thrown into that title and responsibility. I look back on that period in my life and it sometimes seems like a blur, a blur of pain and sadness.

I wanted to die. I kept existing but wanted to disappear. I wanted to make the world a better place by no longer being a part of it. It took losing my first pet (Noah) in 2013, who indeed saved my life at that moment, for me to speak to a therapist. There were times my mom found me in the fetal position in her bathroom because the loss was too much to bear. So, I went to therapy. I took the meds but would stop when I felt better, which I now know is a no-no. I was 27 years old when I began therapy. WOW. What a late start. LOL. I stopped when I thought I was cured. And let me tell you, it doesn't work that way. LOL. I eventually went back to therapy in 2018 at 32 years old. My counselor was great. She provided me with coping mechanisms and encouraged me to write in a journal, which I picked back up this year. When she went on maternity leave in October of 2019, I had to deal with life without her and it was tough. To make matters worse, my doctor retired so I was all alone again. I loved my doctor. I don't think she thought about how much her abrupt retirement would have an effect on her patients. But, she can't live her life based on her patients. So, I went through 2020 with no therapy and no medication. COVID-19 came and turned all of our worlds upside down so I suffered. There were days I would call my mom and sisters in tears and they would come over and sit with me. None of us understood what was happening. I could never explain my feelings to them. Over the years, my sisters and I along with our mother have formed an undeniable bond. We are TIGHT, and nothing comes between us. So many people, including them, have saved my life. My friend, Ronald, told me about a time I posted something online and his wife told him to call me because it seemed suicidal. 

It's January 2021 and I am pushing SEL and mental health. My friend, Cherelle, told me to see a therapist because I can't be pushing mental health and SEL if I am not doing the work in my personal life. Turns out, I am bipolar. The diagnosis scared me but was a relief. Everything made sense. I called my sisters immediately who also said everything makes sense to them now. LOL. We laughed and cried. 

It’s been a wild ride. LOL. No, really. The pandemic has shined a light on the things I wanted to keep in the dark. I gained about 40 pounds during quarantine. Yes, you read that right. FORTY POUNDS. While most took that time to get in shape, I ate my feelings, my insecurities, my anxiety, my depression... I ate it all. DoorDash should’ve made me their ambassador. 

Fast forward to December 2020, my friend, Cherelle, told me she wanted to get her health in check, and in doing so, she pushed me to join her. In January, I started going to 9Round consistently and walking with her after work. I’ve lost 11 pounds since November. Hopefully, they’ll be more weight loss come June. 

During our walks, we talked about everything. I could count on her to be my sounding board, my journal, my person (shout out to Grey’s Anatomy fans). She found a therapist and was telling me how much she is helping her. My nurse practitioner resigned and the counselor I was seeing in the same office went on maternity leave in October 2019 so it had been a while since I’d seen someone or taken medication, which I knew I needed. 

Cherelle encouraged me to write my feelings, thoughts, and prayers down and I did. I started journaling and calling them “Letters to God." So I was journaling and exercising regularly. But, was still feeling “crazy”. I’d have these boughs of depression, work caused me chronic anxiety, I’d have super highs and extreme lows... but nobody knew that but Cherelle. So, TCS ended up asking me to be a part of the SEL Leadership Team and if you know me or have been following me on Twitter for some time, you know that I’m passionate about SEL and mental health. It was right up my alley. It made work bearable. It gave me a purpose. My passion was sparked again. While walking one day, Cherelle said something to me that I needed. She said, “You can’t be around here advocating for SEL and not take care of yourself. You need to talk to a psychiatrist and soon.” Once again, my friend called me out, put me in my place, and challenged me to be about what I speak about. 

So, she was right and I knew it. I started looking for a psychiatrist, but it had to be a Black female. I was hellbent on it, yet had no luck. They either had bad reviews or weren’t licensed to prescribe medication. After a couple of months, Cherelle told me to stop focusing on gender and race. She said, “You need help now. That stuff can wait.” Sooooo, in one of the meetings I had with Tesney, she suggested a psychiatrist and I ended up calling and setting up an appointment a few weeks later. 

Last week, I met my psychiatrist (can you call a Doctor yours? Idk) and he questioned me about the information on my form: PTSD, depression, anxiety, OCD. He wanted details on each one and I provided them, mostly based on what the nurse practitioner told me back in 2018-2019. Let me also add that she retired in December 2020. I guess she didn’t think that would affect my mental stability. 🤦🏾‍♀️ I answered all his questions. I gave him backstories. I was so nervous and scared because he was detailed in his questioning and thorough with his descriptions. 

He diagnosed me with bipolar disorder. My heart was racing for so many reasons. I had felt like this had been the case after reading Jenifer Lewis’ memoir, The Mother of Black Hollywood in 2018. I could relate to so much of her story. It was like some sort of sign. I ended up researching it but pushed it aside once I was told otherwise. He seemed upset that I hadn’t been getting the help I needed years ago or the medication. He told me that I need therapy as well based on everything I laid out for him (rape, trichotillomania, absent father, etc). 

After the session, I broke down. I broke down for many reasons. One reason was RELIEF. I felt seen. I felt heard. He believed me. He listened to me. The sobbing continued when I called my sisters on FaceTime who were so very supportive and provided me with the laughs I needed to get out of the funk I was in. I also told Cherelle because she challenged me to put myself first. 

I have told a couple of people because my God, the relief. I’m just happy to know what I have been battling and how I can attack it, survive it, conquer it. Mental health is tricky. It’s taboo. It’s (oftentimes) embarrassing. It’s heavy. It’s a lot. I’ve been told that I don’t have it by people who solely believe God will remove it, but I’m a strong enough believer to know that although he is a healer, one had to be willing to do the work in order to progress. 

I wear bipolar disorder with no shame. It is my testimony. It is a part of my story. I won’t let it take my life away from me. I’m going to spend the rest of my life spreading the importance of SEL, psychiatry, medication, and therapy. 

I am so thankful for honest and true friendships. Thank you, Cherelle for always being my sounding board. Thank you Tesney for encouraging me and recommending Doctor... I am grateful. 

Although my narrative has changed, I’m determined to fight my fears and embrace my imperfections. They say God gives his toughest battles to his strongest shoulders. Well, I’m ready for war! *okay, that was lame, but it has me crackin’ up!*

For #WorldBipolarDay, read at least one article about Bipolar disorder, stop calling people with mental illnesses crazy, stop telling people what they don't have when it is hard enough living it, and show compassion.

Mental illness: two words that when put together sound... scary, weird, even crazy. Those two words put together will have people give you a look of confusion as if something is wrong with you and they can see it on your face. Those two words have a stigma attached to them that MUST end. The only time there seems to be a national discussion about mental illness is when the media is using it as an excuse for someone shooting up a movie theater, concert, church, or school. It is always used as an out for someone's evil actions. That, too, must stop. Around 29% of adults and 20% of children have experiences with mental health problems each year. Many people who have those experiences do not seek the treatment they need in order to live a healthy and happy life.

When I was a child, it was considered going against God to talk to a therapist or take medication for a mental illness. You would hear, "honey, you better pray to God about that,"  "you don't need medicine," or "that kind of medicine is for crazy people." Mental illness portrayed on television, the media, and magazines will ignite fear in you and have you judging and discriminating against people who struggle with a mental illness daily. These stigmas cause people to not seek help or feel hopeless, oftentimes resulting in suicide. 

The thing people fail to realize or acknowledge is that there are physical characteristics of mental illness. It affects your whole being. Mentally you are confused and/or fearful; emotionally you're drained, hopeless; physically your body is in pain. What's worse is that it also affects the people who love and care about you, be it family, friends, colleagues, etc.

Seeking help can make an enormous difference in the life one lives. Research shows that the earlier someone seeks treatment, the better their outcome. I know had I obtained treatment as a child, handling my mental illness as an adult wouldn't be as tough as it is.  Sadly, the mental health of children is worsening. We have to acknowledge children as a whole being and not think of them as incompetent when it comes to their feelings. Dr. Lopez stated at ISTE in Chicago this summer that one adult can hinder the progress of a child. Don't be that adult.

So, what can we as educators do to attack the stigmas of mental illness that have culturally and recklessly harmed our students, our loved ones, friends, and even ourselves? Chris Brownson suggests we:

1. Train teachers and student peers on how to recognize signs of distress in others and what to do about it (telling someone, for example).

2. Remove barriers for students thinking about seeking help (by funding and training school counselors to prioritize helping students beyond just class scheduling and administering testing).

3. Allow and encourage school counselors to do primary prevention such as stress management, emotional regulation, and teach the importance of help-seeking for students. Teaching these life skills is as important as any subject that students learn about in school, they are skills for life!

This summer, a post written by Youki Terada on Edutopia entitled Burnout Isn't Inevitable resonated with me. He stated that "we as a society need to consider methods that create nurturing school environments not just for students, but for the adults who work there". We put a lot of emphasis on the mental health of students while neglecting the mental well-being of the men and women who, along with their parents, shape the people they will become. Mental Health is a global topic that even when mentioned, is stigmatized.

Taylor Armstrong and I will be moderating a monthly #edchat beginning October 10, 2018, which is World Mental Health Day, on mental health. I contacted Taylor about this idea this summer because he tweets about ending the stigma and the significance of seeking help when needed. He would tag me on those posts, which is part of the reason they caught my attention. This topic is near and dear to my heart because I am a person who lives with a mental illness. I know the signs and have seen them in my classroom as well as others. I am an advocate for ALL children. Those who are told they are crazy, who have fear of speaking out due to judgment, those who are neglected or mistreated, and those who don't understand what they are enduring and suffer in silence get left behind because championing for them can be trying. I will forever be a warrior for those children.

We have an opportunity to #endthestigma of mental illness by educating ourselves, family members, and educators, empowering school counselors who now have tasks put on them that keep them from addressing the needs of students, and leading by example. It is important that we bring awareness to mental illness and address it in our homes, in our schools, and on social media.

Join Taylor and me on Wednesday, October 10, 2018, at 8 PM CST to #smashthesilence!

I support #OklahomaTeacherWalkout. Those educators are not abandoning their students or their profession. They are advocating for better treatment of themselves AND the profession. I am baffled by the fact that the arming of teachers is being discussed and funded, yet funding for basic school needs is consistently depleting.

Educators beg for school supplies (pencils, copier paper, markers, etc.), technology (that works properly and consistently), and livable wages. I know educators who work several jobs on top of teaching 8+ hours in a classroom with 18+ children. Many of my educator friends have families they rarely spend quality time with due to their work schedules. And, if you think it's bad for educators, think about the paraprofessionals, bus drivers, custodians, CNPs, etc. Their wages are even more of a disgrace. It's disheartening the way education is disrespected and overlooked. Education is the profession that makes all other professions possible.

Many have spoken about "bad teachers." My take on that is, that "bad teacher" may just be overworked and underpaid, frustrated and exhausted. I'm sure that "bad teacher" didn't start out bad. He or she may have been completely optimistic and life-changing. Then, life happened. Because it does. It happens. Many instances in our lives can't be avoided and we all have had moments of weakness, failure, and total depletion of optimism. I am in no way stating that it is okay to be a "bad teacher". I am a person who tries to find the positives within the negatives, happiness above sadness, and strength through weakness. My life has not always been easy. We have all had trying days, weeks, months, YEARS. It happens.

So many educators are on antidepressants or anxiety medication because of the downpour of fault and demand plastered upon them. Look, teaching and oftentimes RAISING a person's child is NOT easy. It is HARD. And, not having support from administrators, parents, and community leaders will make it even more stressful. Always finding fault on educators for a child's behavior is wrong. Blaming an educator for not being able to make double-digit gains when even a couple of points are worth positive acknowledgment is wrong. Demonizing an educator for not spending day and night at school is wrong. Not supporting educators is WRONG.

Society needs to do better with its treatment of educators, with education. We have people making decisions about education who know nothing about it, who have never taught one class, and who have never taken one education course. Why? It isn't logical.

Disclaimer: The thoughts above are my own and do not in any way reflect those of my employer or colleagues. 

Even before there was a name for it, I have always put the emotional needs of students first. I am oftentimes asked how do you implement SEL into instruction? My answer is always start by asking them how their night and morning went with a form of embrace. That's it! Social-emotional learning is not some sort of program that your district can purchase, although I know they are out there. No, the first step to implementing social-emotional learning is to honestly and genuinely care about the well-being of your students. It's really that simple. Now I know I may be coming across as a know-it-all or an angry Black woman (nothing new), but it truly begins with caring. 

I won't say it's easy to set aside how you're feeling, whether it be sad, happy, achy, but as an educator, it is what we do. Think about it, parents do it all the time. In a way, teaching (to me) is like motherhood, and before you ask or wonder, no, I don't have any children of my own. But, the children I have taught, the children of my friends, my niece, nephews... my children. You don't have to have children to want the best for them, to treat them like human beings, to love them unconditionally. I never considered it until a Principal (Dr. Linebarger) brought it to my attention. Out of all of our encounters, and we have had a few (LOL), it stands out to me. That letter he wrote for me for Teacher of the Year in '14 means a lot to me. Thank you, Dr. Linebarger. 

I am the guru of nothing. I just have a lot of feelings (LOL) and I let them lead me. Here are some ideas off the top of my head that easily acknowledges the social-emotional needs of your children:

• Greet your students with whatever form of embrace they would like (my students loved hugs... granted I taught grades PreK-1)

• Ask them about their morning and how they're feeling

• Read books about feelings, friendship, self-esteem, etc. (here's a list to get you started)

• Throughout the day, spark conversations that interest them and use their interests in planning lessons

• Share your interests, fears, goals, etc. with them

• Model the behavior you want to see in them

• Before the day ends, reflect on the day with them including what they liked most and what they disliked most

• Allow them the freedom to decompress (if a child is sleepy, give them some time to rest... may not work in middle and high school)

• Build a relationship with them (children don't learn from people they don't like or respect)

So, that's just some of the things I did with my children (yes, children). There wasn't a set standard for any of it, but in hopes to be the person for them that I needed at their age, I ALWAYS made an effort to put their emotional and mental health first.