The Grind

The Grind…no not the amazing workout studio that I belong to, but rather the mentality I had going into this 2024-25 school year. I’m not a student, no, but a speech language pathologist, at a school of over 900 children under the age of 11. Like them, I am still learning every day. But it’s my job to provide skilled intervention to help students with identified speech/language disabilities improve their communication skills. So I showed up ready to tackle my 3rd year at this elementary school. It has felt like I have grown tenfold since starting this job, professionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually. 

I submitted my book to an editor three weeks before school started for the year. Those were some of the most fun weeks of my entire summer. I stayed relatively calm in June and July, as I was fairly exhausted from putting so much time and effort into my book. I was going through neuroscience and behavior science self-help books every few days and incorporating them into my book and life outlook, it is no wonder I needed a break. It felt good to be free from my role as an author for a little bit, to float a little more freely and ensure I was on the right path as I started my 5th year in public education as an SLP.

The chaos of those couple weeks bled into the start of the school year and as I went on runs throughout Battle Creek  to find spirited children amongst providing skilled intervention, I started to wear down physically and mentally. I wasn’t sure if I was able to handle my author journey and role as a speech language pathologist at the same time, but I set out to grind because I’m not a quitter and I’m still not over being the achiever. What a challenge this could be…

I can do anything right? I was a director of an aquatic center, managing 20 high schoolers, while going to graduate school? How hard could THIS grind be!? I am much older, with more income and resources and awareness of a healthy lifestyle. I felt I was managing until I got Covid on October 9th, which took me out of work two days prior to leaving for my New York trip for book promotion and a photo shoot. I had already taken that Friday off of work at the start of the school year, but was out for longer due to sickness.

I felt rested for a Friday in NYC, but that city never sleeps and neither did I on the trip. To no surprise, my assistant Hannah and I over-booked ourselves. We both work in public ed, so we were determined to fill our days to max capacity as we do at work. We ran around so much that between Thursday night and Sunday night  we bellied up to the bar only three times for food, not even a sit down restaurant. We missed lunch reservations so we could sleep and shop, and only had time for street food or bar service.  Traveling with me is a full time job, with two heavy checked bags running through the subway station, up stairs, through security and back to the Cities. We returned back Sunday night and entered another short 3 day week before going on MEA break, a fall break for professional development, in Minnesota. 

On my MEA break I travelled to WI for a family wedding Friday and visited lots of friends and family, while also filming some scenes for my book promotion. I was so exhausted by Sunday night that I insisted I get rest and make the trek back to Minneapolis early Monday morning, but I listened more to my body as Covid and cyclical reminders of trauma crept in. I needed more time at home. So I stayed in my hometown area to allow others to take care of me, while also taking the space I needed to take care of myself as I worked to visualize positive memories and moments of resilience in places that once evoked fear. I wanted to become more comfortable going back there, as in the past year I had limited my visits as much as possible. I knew I needed more than just a day to slowly move about my day, without the pressure of the next speech session occurring every 15 minutes for 6 hours straight each day. So I planned to take two mental health days, so as not to rush my travel and time processing my roots. This wasn’t a problem in my mind, because school was absolute chaos with schedule changes and systemic challenges. I am a service provider and often over-extended myself into other realms of the public school to provide help, which also contributed to my temporary burn-out. I wanted to return when my mind was ready and the environment was ready for me to complete my actual job. 

This was such a BIG step for me personally, to actually fully listen to my body, despite having different expectations from my place of employment. I never liked missing work until it became a place of more stress than my home life. Even if I was late to things, I strived for  perfect attendance since I was very young. My mom was a teacher, so a day sick actually meant a day alone with check ins from the grandparents. I wanted to be cool back in high school, so when my friends started making fun of me for getting the perfect attendance award at school, I started having my mom call me out for just a half day, probably during a study hall, so I wouldn’t miss school much. This half day gone was just enough to alert the system of imperfect attendance. Anyways, to my core I hated missing things, but throughout the years did begin to notice more important things (e.g., relationships with my asshole friends and with myself).

On Monday October 21st my dad alerted me that President Barack Obama would be in Madison, WI on Tuesday as he campaigned for the Democratic Party. He got tickets to go and was eager for me to join if I was well enough. I didn’t initially plan to go, but couldn’t pass up the opportunity to do so. Trauma work is equally exhausting and an important component is to not let it consume you, to let yourself experience joy. Seeing Mr. Obama was sure to do that. So on Tuesday I went, and of course pulled it together to look adorable. Mentally, I wasn’t ready to go back to Minneapolis that night, I was exhausted and refused to drive back. So I tried to get as much rest and mental work done before traveling back. 

Two days of work went by before Halloween festivities. Due to feeling my cold creep back in after two days back on the grind, I didn’t party to the extreme on the weekend. I kept to a smaller crowd and engaged in only activities I wanted to do: dancing, dressing up, and trying out a cocktail bar decked out for Halloween. By the first weekend in November I had developed a very deep cough, I believed to be a fall out from Covid and irritated by the gas leak that occurred at our school that Friday. By Monday I had body aches, a fever and mucus escaping from too many places on my face. I was in so much pain and my brain became foggy from all of the medicine. My executive functioning was TRASH. It was a conference day at school, yet my body was physically unwell. I had to stay home. I slept a lot and tuned in to virtual meetings at school if I was awake, still feeling partially guilty for missing an important night to connect with families. I was so weak, I couldn’t set boundaries to keep myself healthy. 

The next morning, November 4th was Election Day. I HAD to get myself out of the bed to the polls. I did so dressed in my pink boss babe blazer and then attended some meetings at school. It was a half day and I spent the rest of the day on the couch, taking too much cold medicine to be coherent as election results spilled in. When Trump was voted into office the last time I was wide awake until late hours of the night, watching in my college house that was very much divided at the time. This time was different, I had faith in the American people and felt like watching the results wasn’t going to change anything, that I should just go to bed. The cold medicine knocked me out at 9 PM and I woke up in the morning with a text from my college roommate saying, “How did this happen again?” She wanted to check in on me because she knew how much this election weighed on my psyche, especially after processing the heavy trauma that happened shortly before and after Trump was elected the last time. Trump had the effect of evoking fear to gain a following, a business tactic that gave him shiny towers in big cities, and he did it again to win the Presidency. All is fair in love and war, and the American people spoke. 

 I am the American people and I say, I still have a voice. A felon with assault charges can be nominated for President again and I can still publish a book detailing the effects and healing efforts it takes to move on past assault. 

This is America (Childish Gambino). 

One man nominated twice that is unarguable: a very successful businessman and convicted felon will not take away my rights without overthrowing Democracy. The First Amendment gives me the freedom of speech and The Second Amendment gives me the right to bear arms, which apparently I need to do because the friendly energy I give off is attracting some of the weirdest and scariest situations and my knowledge & application of self-defense may not be enough, as brought to my awareness early in the morning on Friday November 15th. A homeless man followed a resident into our apartment at 2am, hanging out in a warm space enjoying his choice of recreational ‘medicine’. I walked down the stairs to an intoxicating aroma, then went to take my trash out. The homeless man then followed me to my specific unit. It was a full moon, so the chaos makes sense. Apparently it does not matter if I am at my place of employment or at home, the last three full moons have resulted in a car break-in, a gas leak at my school, fire alarm over-reactivity and then someone trying to intrude my apartment. Meanwhile, my car’s vehicle had problems, three people I knew since a very young age passed away unexpectedly, I was switching phone carriers and trying to get WiFi set up that I haven’t had since September…also I needed to get a new physical ID card because my trip around the world with my passport needed to conclude. It was time to stay home for the holidays. My mind, body and soul needed it badly. 

Oops. Just got out of the rhythm and it seems I went on a tangent. In the spirit of revealing my train of thought, I am not going to go back and edit the order of things. This is the way my brain thinks about life so here we go…I know I skipped ahead a little bit, but anyways. I was sick that entire time and having to choose between going to work, work out/yoga and making dinner. I was SO exhausted. I went through pallets of nutrient dense waters and protein drinks to keep myself going. The stress and fatigue made it hard to chew so I was on a liquid diet just pushing through. Breathing was my favorite coping strategy, but the bronchitis tried to take that away too. It didn’t, and I showed all of my stubborn fire, my resiliency.

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving I spent 45 mins with a kiddo who ended up having a 104 degree fever. By mid-Wednesday I was back in bed for more rest. I watched P.S. I Love You to push myself to my absolute limit, cry about the cycle of love and life and then ventured out to go dancing, to experience joy after sadness and pain. Wow, I am so dramatic.  I was so happy to adventure a quick 1 minute walk, to dance and laugh alongside friends. I stayed up too late and I knew I would pay for it. I need someone to force me to rest, otherwise my excitement for life gets in the way.

I made it to Thanksgiving, but not before going through an Alberta Clipper that halted my travels down I-94. The events of my life make me laugh or cry, or both. Only a day and a half of family time went by before I was halted down my track of productivity. A spa day at Sundara gave me life before early birthday celebrations with my dad, brother and aunt Deb. And then home to rest. I was under strict orders to rest, rest, rest by my own healing doctor I’m lucky to call my aunt. She sent me away with all of the gear needed to get through the too common cold. 

Then began my birthday week! 

And here I am, shifting my perspective on an extremely busy time at work and in the social world, to focus on joy. To reclaim any that was lost amongst the mania of the fall season. Winter is here now, I’m ready to bundle up and turn another year older.

In year twenty-nine, may I seek adrenaline in physical activities, not romantic partners.

All can be calm, all can be bright. 

All can be silent, only when I’m asleep for the night.

XO

Emily