To the Parents of the School Bully – You Have Created This Monster.

Every school has at least one bully. The child that, no matter how vigilant the school is, finds a way to make other children miserable. Sometimes this child appears to have lovely, engaged parents and no one can make out how this bully was created. More often, however, it is wildly apparent to all of us that the parents are the direct cause of the child that feels free to be cruel to the other children.

Maybe it is a naïve thought, but I believe that the vast majority of parents have their children’s best interests at heart. That fact somehow makes it even harder to watch from afar as parents make choices that not only negatively impact the other children at the school, but also will one day impact their own child.

There is a boy at my children’s school that I have watched from afar as his parents slowly and surely created within him a selfish and cruel child. I have watched as they asked for special treatment of their son time and time again, thinking their beloved son to be better than the rest of the population. I have listened to their public rants each year about why his teacher isn’t good enough for their son. I have watched, horrified, as they witness his poor behavior and do nothing to stop it and sometimes even encourage it.  I have watched as they, the parents who should be setting an example instead broke school rules themselves over and over again.

They have fostered a son who believes that the world should and will bend for him. With their own actions, they have not only raised a son that often makes the school day hard for those around him but they have also raised someone that will likely struggle to achieve much in this world for the world will surely not bend to accommodate their child’s every whim as they are teaching him that it will.

I simply cannot believe that these parents wish for a bad life for their son or those around him. I try to find compassion for them, even as their misguided actions have led to tears for my own child. I wish for them to see what those around them can see so clearly. 

What I wish that you could know for yourself:

Your child does not deserve better that anyone else.  Of course your son is special. All children are special, especially to their parents. Expecting your child to always be treated better than those around him is creating a child that believes that the world should and will place him on a pedestal. As much as you would like for the entire world to see your son the way that a mother does, it will never happen. Do you truly believe that any boss will allow him special treatment, even as he breaks the rules over and over again and publically shames his coworkers? Will police officers and judges give him his own set of laws to follow because he is “special”? I shudder to imagine the adult life that is ahead of him if he continues on this path.

Kindness must be cultivated.  I believe that kindness is innate in most children. However, as they grow up, it is important to teach them to be kind even when those around them make mistakes. I’ve seen the way that you treat school staff- with disdain and expectations of them witnessing your superiority. Your son treats his peers in this same way. If you treat others with kindness, they will follow your lead. Cruelty can be fostered in the same way and it is toxic to everyone.

Bullies never win in the long run. It may give your son, and maybe you as well, some feeling of superiority to act in the unkind way that you do. It must be serving you in some way for you to continue in this way.  However, in the long term, this behavior leads to a very lonely life. It is impossible to foster relationships when one is frequently cruel and submissive. I cannot imagine that you wish for your son a life of loneliness.

Humility is always better received than egotism.  Your child is a human being and, therefore, cannot be the best at every, single thing that he does. He will have strengths and weaknesses and there is nothing at all wrong with admitting that you aren’t great at something. It’s also important to be humble and admit when you are wrong. Everyone makes mistakes and it’s necessary for both parents and children to be open about their own mistakes and apologize when necessary. No one wants to befriend someone who only flaunts his or her own ego around.

If you do not have consequences for your child’s poor actions, they cannot learn from their own mistakes. People always say that the best way to learn is by making mistakes, something that most of us have learned firsthand. However, you cannot learn if there are not consequences. If you continue to make excuses for your son’s behavior and continue to expect the school to treat him differently than others, he never has an opportunity to learn and grow from his mistakes and-possibly even worse- believes himself to be above the rules.

The school is your ally, not your enemy.  I know that school decisions aren’t always correct, for teachers and staff are human, too. However, the school system is full of teachers and staff that work incredibly hard for little pay- they are doing this grueling job because they truly care about children and want them to succeed. Fostering in your child a belief that the school system should be bucked and fought at all costs is creating a strain on the staff, students and even your child. If you have a concern, treat the school as team members and treat everyone involved with respect. Always listen as much as you speak. You will likely find that they are eager to help you make the best life for your child.

I’m not holding my breath and assuming that you may read this piece and miraculously change the way you parent your child but I cannot help but hope that you will, for your son's sake as much as for the other children at the school. It is very hard as a parent to place limits on your child and to discipline them when necessary. I understand that pain. However, I believe your child will someday thank you for giving him the tools to be a kind human being and, hopefully, someday be a productive and compassionate adult.

Inside the fish bowl: Life in Iowa during Caucus season

I’m proud to live in a state that has such an important role in the presidential election. It is a rather wonderful experience to go to the caucus every four years and help to choose a presidential candidate and I look forward to that each time caucus season comes around again.

It is also quite overwhelming to live in Iowa during this time, especially for a sensitive soul and a mother with children. For months and months leading up to the caucus, our phones ring off the hook with political surveys and recorded diatribes, the television and radio ads are full of snarky, smarmy commentary about just how horrendous the “other” candidates are and our mailboxes are full of graphic mail full of unkind pictures of candidates with cruel commentary of all the mistakes that they have made in their lives.

There was a time when caucus season was not so overwhelming. We’ve always been deluged with advertisements, mail and phone calls- however, there was a time when the candidates used their voices to tell us about their own platform. That time has long past. We now spend precious minutes of our day listening to vitriolic attacks of one candidate on the others. It is emotional exhausting and depressing.

It is especially trying to experience these days as a mother. My younger children become filled with anxiety, wondering aloud if our country will ever be okay if any of these men or women become president because if one were to listen to everything that we hear, they each are the spawn of Satan himself. We are one of the archaic households that still has a home phone line and it has now been unplugged from the wall. We watch only programs off of the DVR so that we can fast-forward through the hateful commercials. We listen to MP3s instead of the radio. It has become imperative to shield our children from the hate even as we raise them to know the importance of the Democratic system and doing their civic duty and voting in every election.

I do not do my vetting of candidates from advertisements or even from the debates, which seem to no longer be a venue for the candidate to share his or her ideas for this great country but instead have snowballed into a place to throw barbs at one another much like inviting a group of playground bullies upon a stage.

I will educate myself about each candidate and make a decision, proud to use my voice in the caucus. I am grateful for that opportunity and am grateful for opportunity for the world to see how wonderful my humble, Midwestern state is.

However, at this point in the circus  that is Iowa during the caucus season- I will mostly be grateful for the process to be over. On Tuesday morning I will plug my phone back in, turn on my radio and watch television without worry of spewed hate swirling its way into the sanctity of my home. I will wish for a day in which our election season is returned to a day in which I hear about the candidates themselves without sickening malevolence towards each other. But, for now will be simply grateful to reclaim my loving home without the daily intrusion of venomous politicians and their campaigns.

Post-holiday Hibernation

The busyness of the holiday season has passed. Weeks of preparation- the baking, shopping, decorating, card writing blur of busy days that culminated in a single day of celebration are now done. I have blinked and the time has passed, leaving me exhausted and still.

I allow myself to sink deep inside where the shadow of the celebration still lives- inside my heart, which knows that each and every day is meant for celebration. 

The holidays have a way of amplifying everything- love, joy and sadness alike.

I am raw with feeling. My weary body cries for rest. My soul is now as coarse as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper and I nearly vibrate with the need to hibernate away from any and all stimulation.

This, the blurry days no longer marked on a calendar punctuated by holidays, is the time of my very own holiday- the hibernation of self. These are the days where rest is celebrated- sleep and quiet days lost inside a warm house while outside the cold wind ravages the barren Iowa topography. The snow does not discriminate. It falls softly over everything in it's path, softening the hard edges and forcing a calm to settle over the world, reminding our very souls of the importance of stillness. 

These are the days in which I remember the flickerings of my soul, the deepest parts of myself that were forgotten amidst the flurry of holidays that have been long lost to consumerism. 

Those harried days have passed and now, I am here. I am alone, deep inside my head with the thoughts that were forgotten in the bustle of the past months. Every year I promise myself that I will remain strong and still amongst the busyness of the season and every year I fail and lose myself inside the sanctity of busy- the place where your moving limbs blur the need to remember the core of who you are.

I was lost, but now I will find myself again.

There is nowhere else that I need to be, that I want to be. I am alone with only my own thoughts for company. I shall sink into this solitary place for as long as is needed. Until my life blooms again around me. Until I am rested and whole.

This is my holiday. A simple celebration of the quiet within.  There is nothing needed to prepare for this holiday- I am all that was ever needed.

Life, Death and Nursing

Sometimes I feel as though I have lived an entire lifetime in one nursing shift. 

I have borne witness to life and death in the span of mere hours. My exterior remained strong even as my insides were shaking. I have held you while you wept- in pain, in fear, in mourning. Your tears have long ago dried into the fabric of my uniform, but I carry your sorrow with me, unable to wash away the tragedy of what I have seen as easily as I have washed my scrubs and my skin of your blood, sweat and tears. 

My soul is raw, my heart as course as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper. 

My shift is over but still I carry the weight of it all within me.

Slow Dancing with Life: Stopping Antidepressants

I have suffered with bouts of depression and anxiety ever since I was a child- I would guess that these fits of sadness began sometime in grade school. I have always been a highly sensitive person and feel the sadness of others in a very deep way, often taking it on as a personal burden.  At times, these feelings become overwhelming and I become trapped in a world of deep sadness and anxiety, frightened to even leave my bed.

I was sixteen when I was placed on antidepressants for the first time. I remember the feeling of freedom when the Prozac took effect and I no longer felt the oppression of a constant stream of bleak thoughts that I felt I had no control over. With this freedom also came numbness, an inability to truly feel joy, but I was so grateful for the lifted weight that the numbness seemed a small price to pay.

In the past twenty years I have had three periods in which I was on antidepressants for a short period of time- the most harrowing time of which was the extreme postpartum depression I had after the birth of my second child.  I consider myself lucky to not have to be constantly dependent on medication, but struggle with asking for help when I know that I am in another bout of depression.

Early this year I took the last Lexapro in the bottle and realized that I was out of refills. With a start I realized that I had been on Lexapro for two years- a much longer period of time than I was comfortable with. I had asked the doctor for a prescription when I realized that the latest bout of depression was out of control and I was having trouble sleeping, eating and going about my day-to-day life. However, I had never meant for the antidepressants to be a long-term solution. I knew that it was time to come off of them and learn to manage my life again.

I admit that it is terrifying to live again without antidepressants, when they have helped to manage my emotions for such a long time. I fear the terrible sadness but fear the unreasonable anxiety even more. When my anxiety is at its worst, I cannot sleep and am frightened and jumpy at all times. It can be a living hell.

In the first months without the medication, I am always surprised at the myriad of emotions I experience. I do notice more sadness and anxiety when I am medication-free but I also notice more joy and energy. Anti-depressants leave me feeling a heavy, measured slowness and without that feeling I feel more alive than ever. If I manage my self-care, the days of depression are few and far between.

I find that life comes at me in stops and starts- days of joy punctuated with days of sadness that only envelope me for a short time before releasing me from their sticky grip back into the arms of happiness. When the days of depression are few, I can sink into the feelings and release them when I am though, even finding worth in the days of sadness as my creative soul tends to come alive and I bleed ink onto the page without any laboring.  I dance with the grief and sadness as easily I spin in the arms of joy, the contrast of the two reminding me that every feeling has a purpose.

For today, I will slow dance with life without medication streaming through my veins. I will find the worth in the good days and the bad and care for myself in the same loving way as I care for my beloved children. However, if there comes a day in which it is, again, time to ask unabashedly for help and an antidepressant prescription to manage the darkness, I will do so unashamed.  This life is a blessing and a curse and some days we all need a little help towards the light.

Published Work

Coming Off Antidepressants: Slow Dancing With Life

An Open Letter to Young People Struggling, From a Suicide Survivor

Public Health Nursing and the Myths of Poverty

Parenting and the Simple Power of Touch

A Kleenex Salute to the Helping Professions

 A Thank You Letter to My Rapist

A Final Lesson

Move Over Zika, We Need to Talk About CMV

Is Modern Day Criticism Too Much?

Put Down The Pitchforks, Pokemon Go Players Aren't Hurting Anyone

This Summer I Will Give My Kids the Gift of Boredom

Mourning Does Not Make You a Weaker Nurse

Celebration Amidst The Darkness

Life Lessons from my Teenage Son

Breathe Again: Reflecting on Life in Iowa Post-Caucus

The Mourning of Motherhood

In Defense of Crybabies

This is How I Made Friends With Death

Floating as Meditation

Bill Cosby's Own Words are Damning & Yet the Headlines Refuse to Use the Term Rape

Sexual Assault Awareness Month is Over, but it Never Really Ends

I am Trapped Inside My Body

Dining With Shame

The Power of Touch

Tearing Up My List of Shame