My first taste of June 2021 was an interesting mix of flavors.
Sunday
As May came to a close, Aung and I finally finished submitting his FAFSA. I don’t understand why it’s so hard every year, but it’s always a chore. When we were done, he hung around and introduced me to some anime shows. My middle schoolers were stoked when I reported this to them. They’ve been trying to get me to watch anime all year.
Monday
On Monday, I partook in a CrossFit Memorial Day tradition (though I’m not really a part of that world anymore, since I no longer go to the gym). Murph. For anyone familiar, you’ll know how difficult that WOD can be, even with a group of people pushing each other. I did it all by my lonesome. On a mild, but warm day.
And I puked in the middle of the workout.
Murph:
- One mile
- 300 squats
- 200 push-ups
- 100 pull-ups
- One mile
You can break down the middle however you’d like. I chose to do ten rounds of 30 squats, 20 push-ups, and 10 pull-ups (banded). And then I chose to modify it further and alternate between pull-ups and ring rows. Because I’m not completely crazy.
I was almost done with the whole workout— on mile number two— when I had the sudden urge to throw up. I slowed to a walk, hoping I could calm my system, but I ended up having to sit on the curb outside one of Nick and Ashley’s neighbor’s and let it go. It was mostly just a bit of mucus and some dry-heaving. Ain’t no thang.
I could have called it quits. After all, I was clearly spent. But I wanted to finish. There’s a quote that I can’t remember precisely (and can’t find— though I haven’t looked super hard) that says something about a true athlete being someone who works hard when no one else is watching. I want to say it’s a Vince Lombardi quote, but my quick Google search cannot confirm that. I found something similar he said, but it’s not worded as I remember it…
Anywho, as I was considering walking the rest of that loop then stopping— not going for the final jaunt around the block that would bring the distance total up to two miles— I thought of that quote. And I kept going.
I know it’s a little ridiculous of me to have pushed myself to that point, but it felt good. It felt like I was tapping back into something I’ve left dormant for awhile.
Tuesday
I used that same drive to step into June with purpose. I got my bullet journal ready for the new month (June is Pride month, so I went with a rainbow theme. A bit cliche, but I don’t care), cleared my head, and took on Theo (my OCD) with renewed vigor (an expression I just love). Every time I wanted to concede to Theo, I thought about how I was athlete enough to keep going when I was all by myself after I threw up, and I’d tap into that same power. It felt good. Victorious.
Wednesday
There’s nothing like family to bring you down, though, LOL. Though puppy time is always a plus. The thing about my family is that we’re really bad communicators. I know that’s a little funny, given that I label myself a writer, but we’re really bad at talking to each other. I am constantly being taken wrong. I’ll say something as a joke and they’ll think I’m serious. I’ll ask a question, and they’ll answer a different one.
I suspect they’d express the same grievance, but most of the time, I feel like the odd one out. My words are always taken out of context and my tone is, too. It doesn’t help that I’m the odd one out in other ways— that I’m not easily relatable to them.
I’m the nerd geeking out about books and authors and bands no one else has any interest in, the writer who cares deeply about characters my family can’t fathom, and the teacher who will happily talk about kids my family doesn’t know and lessons they don’t want to hear.
I’m bisexual and my family doesn’t know.
I have OCD and my family thinks it’s a joke.
Don’t misunderstand; my family is wonderful. My mother has done more for me than I can say, my father’s entire world revolves around my brother and me, and Steven is a good guy with a good heart. And we all love each other very much. We just don’t always see each other.
They put me in a box and think of me as the same person I was when I was fifteen. And that’s not completely unfair. I curate the version of me that interacts with them. And that fifteen-year-old girl is in there still. She’s just not all of me anymore.
Part of who I am now is a teacher. I wish they wanted to know that part of my world a little more.
Now that it’s June, it’s officially the last month of school. Thursday one of my students brought his new baby turtle in to meet some of his teachers. If this isn’t one of the most surprisingly precious things you’ve ever seen, then I don’t know that we can be friends.
Friday
Look at these hotties. Literally. We were sweating our asses off getting Eighth Grade Night set up. We spent FIVE HOURS outside carrying tables and hanging lights and questioning all of our life decisions. Then we had approximately seven minutes to make ourselves look somewhat presentable before the event started. And it’s a fancy pants event!
Since the girl’s Phys. Ed. teacher was using the nice bathroom and shower, I popped into the boy’s office. That bathroom is… less pleasant. That shower is… less clean. I didn’t have time to wash my hair, but I wanted to at least rinse off in cool water. Too late I realized I didn’t have a towel and cringed as I grabbed the one hanging over the curtain. I assumed it was Miller’s but Fortier told me— laughing— that it was probably Tomaino’s. Honestly, I’d rather it was Tomaino’s. Either way, I will not be telling them I used the towel.
One major June event at the school down, three to go.
Saturday
The week ended with a goodbye-for-now. My brother embarked on his three month road trip. He’ll be on the road all of June and July, and much of August. This past week, he and our dad souped-up Steven’s trailer with solar panels and some other equipment to make it easier for him to work remotely on his travels. His lease in Boston was up at the end of May, and his workplace informed him he’d be continuing to work remotely until September, so he decided to hit the road with his dog Dexter. It’s a decision I fully support.
What I’m less thrilled about is the way he didn’t prioritize any brother-sister time. Family time is not the same thing— though he seems to think it is— and we didn’t even have much of that. But, alas, Saturday was a good day with the family. Iced coffees, open windows, and lots of puppy pets. I had a long conversation with Dexter about taking care of my brother while they’re on the road. Steven needs to be kept company. And kept calm. Dexter looked into my eyes and I know he understood me.