I know full well that once the new school year, just around the corner, gets underway, there will be all kinds of queries about how my summer was, and if I enjoyed it - after all, the demands of small-talk must be served. And yet I can't think of a summer in recent memory I've been more eager to put behind me.
Things started off well enough in May, after graduation. The usual journey to Seattle awaited, and I was really looking forward to the change of venue. The first two days of the trip couldn't have gone much better. On the third day, though, an old nemesis returned. I spent the last two days of the trip fighting anxiety attacks, which came on for no really good reason (do they ever come on for a good reason, though?). The flight home, five hours of trying to keep the wolves at bay, was no picnic either. I came home determined to do something about it.
A few weeks later I took another trip, this one to finally meet a friend I'd known by e-mail for a long time. I spent a week there and had a wonderful time with her. We took a day trip to Manhattan, and I fell in love with the big city. It was a gorgeous day out of a storybook, an absolutely perfect day for me to see the big city for the very first time. We visited the Intrepid Museum, walked around Broadway and up to the edge of Central Park, and then spent a couple of wonderful hours exploring Rockefeller Center. We took the NBC tour, which for me was complete nirvana on so many levels, especially when the tour took us into the famous Studio 8H, where so much history has been made. We stopped at the Starbucks in 30 Rock's shopping promenade and had the most wonderful little chat over a snack and some coffee, talking about life and reflecting about how wonderful this adventure was. I was on top of the world. It was one of those days you just want to keep forever. It was impossibly perfect.
Which, as it turned out, it was. A few weeks later, this friend and I went our separate ways. It was carried out with love and respect, but that didn't stop it from hurting when it did happen. For the first few days, I just plain grieved, and didn't start to feel the sunlight again until about a week later. It was one of the few times I've literally wept in my husband's arms; that's how much it hurt.
And then a former student who's now in academia came to the rescue. He had bought a home near Birmingham, and we made plans to get together at the end of July. I drove over and spent a couple days visiting him. He has built a wonderful life, has a job he enjoys, and owns a wonderful little home that he's renovating. The two days I spent with him were filled with fun and adventure and seriously good food, and the conversations stretched into the wee hours. I remember this student when he was a nervous freshman sitting in the front row of my classroom, and to see what he's become and to know I had a part in it...it all made me so very proud, and the love and friendship we have for each other is truly special. It helped the summer go out on a happy note that had been very much absent the rest of the summer.
This isn't to say the whole summer went bad. There were some good things that happened, some unexpected joys and a good many projects that were finally brought to an end. Here and there, friends came along and lent some sunshine to my days. I've also been working on finally licking my anxiety problems; they've plagued me for more than 30 years, and I've had more than enough of them, and the steps I'm taking to deal with them have made a difference already. Maybe in some ways this summer, although it was difficult, was necessary. Sometimes you have to have these sorts of off years to rebuild, to address the problems so you can move ahead stronger and more confident.
And yet as I sat in my den on my last free Monday afternoon of the summer, I looked back on the previous three months and thought about everything it could have been, and everything that was left on the table. And I couldn't stop the tears: of agony, frustration, hurt, disappointment, of time that could have been spent on other things, of trips ruined, of the way friendships can go.
But it's all in the past now. Another dawn awaits. I'm ready for it.
Things started off well enough in May, after graduation. The usual journey to Seattle awaited, and I was really looking forward to the change of venue. The first two days of the trip couldn't have gone much better. On the third day, though, an old nemesis returned. I spent the last two days of the trip fighting anxiety attacks, which came on for no really good reason (do they ever come on for a good reason, though?). The flight home, five hours of trying to keep the wolves at bay, was no picnic either. I came home determined to do something about it.
A few weeks later I took another trip, this one to finally meet a friend I'd known by e-mail for a long time. I spent a week there and had a wonderful time with her. We took a day trip to Manhattan, and I fell in love with the big city. It was a gorgeous day out of a storybook, an absolutely perfect day for me to see the big city for the very first time. We visited the Intrepid Museum, walked around Broadway and up to the edge of Central Park, and then spent a couple of wonderful hours exploring Rockefeller Center. We took the NBC tour, which for me was complete nirvana on so many levels, especially when the tour took us into the famous Studio 8H, where so much history has been made. We stopped at the Starbucks in 30 Rock's shopping promenade and had the most wonderful little chat over a snack and some coffee, talking about life and reflecting about how wonderful this adventure was. I was on top of the world. It was one of those days you just want to keep forever. It was impossibly perfect.
Which, as it turned out, it was. A few weeks later, this friend and I went our separate ways. It was carried out with love and respect, but that didn't stop it from hurting when it did happen. For the first few days, I just plain grieved, and didn't start to feel the sunlight again until about a week later. It was one of the few times I've literally wept in my husband's arms; that's how much it hurt.
And then a former student who's now in academia came to the rescue. He had bought a home near Birmingham, and we made plans to get together at the end of July. I drove over and spent a couple days visiting him. He has built a wonderful life, has a job he enjoys, and owns a wonderful little home that he's renovating. The two days I spent with him were filled with fun and adventure and seriously good food, and the conversations stretched into the wee hours. I remember this student when he was a nervous freshman sitting in the front row of my classroom, and to see what he's become and to know I had a part in it...it all made me so very proud, and the love and friendship we have for each other is truly special. It helped the summer go out on a happy note that had been very much absent the rest of the summer.
This isn't to say the whole summer went bad. There were some good things that happened, some unexpected joys and a good many projects that were finally brought to an end. Here and there, friends came along and lent some sunshine to my days. I've also been working on finally licking my anxiety problems; they've plagued me for more than 30 years, and I've had more than enough of them, and the steps I'm taking to deal with them have made a difference already. Maybe in some ways this summer, although it was difficult, was necessary. Sometimes you have to have these sorts of off years to rebuild, to address the problems so you can move ahead stronger and more confident.
And yet as I sat in my den on my last free Monday afternoon of the summer, I looked back on the previous three months and thought about everything it could have been, and everything that was left on the table. And I couldn't stop the tears: of agony, frustration, hurt, disappointment, of time that could have been spent on other things, of trips ruined, of the way friendships can go.
But it's all in the past now. Another dawn awaits. I'm ready for it.
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