The best part about writing a blog is that it’s a time capsule for your life. A narcissistic time capsule, yes, but something that marks your growth and change nonetheless. Actually, I still think that Jay has the best tagline for a blog because it sums it up so very well: “Blogging is just masturbating without the mess.”

January

We rang in the new year with the 44th President of the United States. I also began referring to myself as “Obama Black” instead of “mixed” or “mulatto” because I have often argued that I will not be “black” just for the sake of convenience on my part or on the part of anyone else who wants to use me. It was a cold, cold day in Washington but a bright, happy day in my heart.

February

During the Love Month when I was singularly sad that Valentine’s Day would come and go without a special someone with which to share it. Instead, I dedicated it to myself and learned to love things about myself. A short recap: I love that I’m nice. That’s it. NICE. It’s nice to be nice. It’s totally underrated. See that smile? It’s the smile of a NICE PERSON.

March

It may seem silly to some people, but I did something very brave and cut off a ton of my hair. Then, I started doing something so tragically hipster: I bought an iPhone and started taking pictures of my new, short hair.

April

I turned 456 months old. That’s 38 in people years. It was more fun to give that in months just to watch people do the mental math. My friend, Tracy, made me some new pretty earrings for my birthday that I could wear with my new short hair. I love all my pretty, dangly earrings. 

May

As if it’s not fun enough to turn 38, my eldest child Mallory turned 23 and I wrote a post to honor her since she’s known me longer (and better) than just about anybody else in my life. Go ahead. Do your mental math again. I’ll wait. I’m totally used to this.

June

My only living grandparent has always been my Gramma Maggie. She passed away in June. 

July

After returning home from an emotionally-charged BlogHer (for me, not everyone) I was feeling very sad about working in a poverty-stricken school and got really sick of these blowhards who think everything is owed to them. A little smackdown ensued and I still don’t feel bad for calling them out on their bad behavior. 

August

Due to that big mouth of mine in July I got a call from NPR to do not one but two radio interviews with them. As an aside, that led to people here in Springfield contacting me and saying, “OMG, you’re like national. Who are you?”

September

My other daughter, Maddie, came to spend her first birthday with us. I placed her for adoption as an infant in an open adoption (see, Karen, how I say placed and not gave away?) and then she contacted me and is a part of our family in the most unique way. This is our new family picture with all four of my kids which we took the first time Maddie visited. Dare I say, the first time she came home? Yes. I do.

October

This is the month where I put my money where my mouth was. Or, if you will, I put my mouth-that-knows-how-to-ask-for-donations where my purse is. Wait. That didn’t make sense. Basically, I got a purse drive organized for the girls at my school and it still touches me today to know of the amazing kindness of the internet. It’s a beautiful thing to recognize how many friends I have out there who want to make a difference. 

November

Once again, I joined Mrs. Kennedy and her quest to post writing every day of the month for NaBloPoMo. My own favorite thing I did during November was write a bucket list of things I really want in life. I think this holds me accountable as we usher in the New Year and I plan on coming back to it as it fits into the things I get done. 

December

My friend Janie and I reconnected. Apparently, we also eat suckers together. Blow Pops rock.

Have a safe New Year’s Eve and a satisfying 2010. It’s been fun sharing this with you and you make it all worth it. You’re all pretty fantastic and I think you have the best smile. Really. You do. Is that from all the flossing you do, because wow, you really do have some awesome chompers there. I really do love you guys.

Over the last few months my blog has been “discovered” by the locals. And boy, are they restless. By that I mean that they mention reading my blog when I see them. Some are old friends, acquaintances, co-workers, and parents of my students. Ever since our local newspaper mentioned my writing there are some new readers here. WELCOME. I SEE YOU ON MY SITE METER. But this isn’t about the technology I use to see who reads me and where they are from in the world. That is, I suppose, the funny part to me. I have readers in New Zealand, Australia, England, and even the island of Hawaii (Hi, Kate!) who have been with me for years and watched the process of growing and changing and sometimes being a complete dolt who is hard-headed and can’t learn a lesson the first time it’s presented to me. For those faithful readers I am eternally humbled and grateful. You’re with me and I can’t quite express how much that means.

Since local folks have started reading me, however, I get some questions that I’ve never gotten before. “Don’t you get in trouble for writing a blog?” and “How are you able to write about your work in a public school without getting shut down?” and “How do you get away with that?” Even when a local reporter found me and started reading back through my archives (yeah, I saw you spend an entire weekend checking out my writing and I’m impressed because even I don’t go back and read stuff I’ve written for over 30 hours! But really! I’m honored!) he offered his opinion on my writing. I quote: “She’s also about as honest as one can get about one’s life and job without crossing the line and getting fired.” Sure, I know I’m “edgy” as a new, local reader just pointed out to me in an email. In fact, I’m having this pissing contest going on right now in the comment section of someone else’s blog on an issue and I’m certain the blog writer will ask me to stop commenting because I can’t hide the snark. The comebacks come too easily at times and that is, I have learned, very hard for some people to take. But again, I’m toeing the line and trying to be respectful of his space. 

My students are reading me more frequently, too. They tell me this at school. Some of them wonder why I even like to write. Mostly, I respond to them that they hate writing right now in school because it’s required and getting feedback in the comment section is FAR BETTER THAN THE WRATH OF A TEACHER’S RED PEN. I’ll bet if they got responses to their thoughts the way a blog offers they’d be more likely to open up and find their voice. It took years to find mine. What I learned was that I like the short, choppy sentences. I enjoy leaving a one-sentence paragraph to complete a thought. And I realized that it’s actually OKAY to begin a sentence with the word “and”. It’s also true that I like to use the caps lock when I’m pushing a point heavily across the page. 

What if I stopped writing about the anecdotes on my blog? Would you stop reading? I certainly don’t discuss too much of my personal life online that I can’t put out there for criticism. Does that mean I’ll never discuss my adopted daughter again? I know from hearing from people that it’s healing and refreshing to listen to someone honestly say, hey, this is my life and I’m learning lessons here and I’m screwing it up and making big mistakes but I’M LEARNING. I KEEP LEARNING. To my close friends I say that they know 100% of me and writing about your life and getting to the heart of the matter is sometimes not for public consumption. My guess is that I put about 10% of my life “out there” but that 90% of it is for me and my family and friends. You don’t get to comment on everything. That’s the beauty of this. Lots of blogging friends write far more personal stuff that, yes, I’m grateful for but, no, I wouldn’t share about myself unless it felt right and no one would get hurt in the process. That lesson? Already learned years ago. 

If I stopped sharing about my work in education then you might never know an update to one of the stories I shared about a student that I called “Anna”. In February of this year I wrote about her here. Since that time I haven’t heard anything from her. I ask some of my other students and no one seems to know anything. I checked up on her at the alternative school she ended up attending, but her attendance didn’t last very long. The day before Thanksgiving, Anna showed up in my office. She stopped by on her way out to get a copy of her transcripts so that she could go back and finish her GED. She said, “It’s the best I can do right now.” and I accepted that. She hugged me and said she missed seeing me. We exchanged phone numbers and poof! She was gone again. 

Should I stop writing about that? Those are the experiences that change me as an educator. I am ever a teacher. Most days, however, I am the student. Even you, sometimes, are the student and we learn together through writing. You’re with me and I don’t know if I could stop even if I were forced to do so. This writing? It won’t stop. Not even now that I’m at the end of the month of November and I signed up to do the NaBloPoMo deal of posting every day. No. I won’t stop.

I write to learn.

This will be the first year in the history of my being a parent that I won’t be with my children on Thanksgiving day so we have decided to our meal today. It was the basic turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green bean casserole, pumpkin pie (blech. I don’t eat it, but the children do – I just eat the whipped cream out of the can when no one is looking) and cheesecake. I made everybody clear their schedule so we could spend the day pretending like it was really Thursday. I watched a full 10 minutes of a college football game on tv this morning (don’t ask which one, I just wanted it to feel like Thanksgiving) and then later we sat down to view “Miracle on 34th Street” because we didn’t have the real Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade to get us through. Divorce is hard on kids and families and this was the best I could do to make my family enjoy a meal. Creating a family moment that feels right is more work than one would anticipate, but if it’s crafted just so then you can convince yourself it’s Thursday and not really Saturday.

Even though we kept calling it Fake Turkey Day we all pretty much realized that it was important to make the effort for this day. It felt weird at first and any time we needed to go out for something we surprised ourselves with, “Wow, there are SO many stores open today on Thanksgi…OH YEAH THAT’S RIGHT IT’S SATURDAY.” It even ended like our Thanksgiving meals normally do – arguing about who will do dishes and who will put the food in the leftover containers and with everyone sitting around the television afterward with their hands in the waistband of their pants.

Actually, we pretty much do that every Saturday night. We’re doing this family thing the best we can and it’s damn near perfect.

Today is a day when people are celebrating TWLOHA which is a rather funny looking acronym for the real name of the movement: To Write Love On Her Arms. It’s dedicated to helping those who struggle with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. People who struggle with that need to know so many things not the least of which is that there is HOPE and that they are LOVED. In my career there have been multiples times when I’ve been involved with students who are in need of just that thing. Depression knows no boundaries, but I do see how often it manifests itself as a drug problem or some sort of self harm. Kids will turn to those they trust. Hell, we all do that. 

Depression is a bitch. For my friends and family who suffer from it I know only their experiences as an outsider. I’ve never had an addiction or tried to harm myself. The thinking behind these actions are beyond my realm of understanding, but it makes it no less incredibly important in my life. When they suffer, I suffer. It is responsible for broken friendships, marriages, and hurting families that have all touched me somehow.

If you know someone who is hurting, please get them help. Love them through it. That’s all they’d want anyway.

This picture is taken from my friend Whitney who has resurfaced in my life at the best possible time – when we both needed each other. I dedicate this entire post to her.

Generally speaking, life is pretty happy for me. A few years ago I remember making the decision to be joyful. Willfully joyful. Basically, I was going to choose joy every single day. Some days are hard but they’re not always impossible and if I try hard enough I can find something to be joyful about. For example, even though I was running late to work this morning I sat at a stoplight next to a car with a little boy in the back who played peek-a-boo with me. He leaned forward and smiled. I leaned back to hide from him and then popped out again only to see him giggle. My mind imagined what that giggle sounded like because our windows were rolled up, but we kept up this game until the light turned green and his mom, who had turned around to see what he was laughing at, smiled at me through the window.

I’m pretty lucky to have started my day like that and it’s just now occurred to me to choose that as a moment of joy.

My graduating class has decided not to have a separate 20 year reunion because there are some organizers putting on an All School Reunion this October. It’s made me really sad to know that we won’t get to do something special just for us and one of my best friends, Tammy, decided to invite me to her 20 year reunion. Since it was local and I knew about 5 other classmates of hers who ended up going to college with us I decided to go. Unfortunately, I was a bit sidelined.

I’ve got this unfortunate knee injury right now. It came on suddenly this past Saturday and I limped around all day. I even had to miss a live recording of gospel music for my friend Jamar who had asked me to take pictures for him. The pain was getting to be a bit too much when I called Tammy to ask if she had an Ace bandage I could borrow.

“Some things are more important, Kelly. Why don’t you go to a prompt care facility?”

“Nah. It’ll be ok. I’ll go to the doctor on Monday. Really.”

She argued with me for a bit and then we decided that I would go to the reunion dinner and if I felt worse she’d take me home. Of course, I didn’t want her to do that and miss her own party, so no matter what I was going to stick it out. Plus, I really wanted to play through on the joke we created about me putting “Bruce” on my nametag and pretending to be some former football player who had a sex change just to see if anyone from her graduating class would be freaked out.

Tammy is totally my partner in crime on pranks and even if no one else thought this was funny we were getting some mileage out of the joke. 

When we sat down to dinner I chatted with the folks at the table and eventually moved around to sit by a woman in a red dress named Rachel. Before sitting, I asked, “Hey, is the leg under this portion of the table? Because my knee is all banged up and I don’t want to have to straddle it.” Rachel instantly asked what was wrong and I sat down and lifted up the bottom part of my dress to show her my knee.

She proceeded to take my leg and put it in her lap. She pushed on either side of my knee and asked me if that hurt. She grabbed my calf muscle and questioned me again: “Does this hurt?” At this point, I leaned back in my seat and peered at her with furrowed brows, “Exactly what is it that you DO?”

“I’m a physican in family practice.”

“OH, THANK GOD. YOU JUST PUT MY LEG ALL UP IN YOUR LAP AND I THOUGHT YOU WERE FEELING ME UP.”

She spent the next half hour talking to me about my recent exercise routines (Jillian Michaels’ “Shred”) and how I started running more lately (Remember to S-T-R-E-T-C-H) and what I could do to help these sore tendons. This isn’t really a story about meeting a doctor at a class reunion that wasn’t mine. It was actually about Rachel (whom I have dubbed “Dr. Sunshine”) and watching her find joy.

Rachel only spent 2 years at this particular high school and the one she transferred from was very close to the one I graduated from and we were bound by this connection. But really? This was also about how hard it was for her to change schools in her junior year of high school and also how she totally blossomed since that time. She was the first one requesting songs from the dj and she danced her ass off that night. It dawned on me that I couldn’t take my eyes off of her because she was having SO. MUCH. FUN. Everything about her was filled with joy. Anytime someone came to dance she happily made room on the dance floor and no matter what the song she had every intention of having a blissful time. 

Maybe I can’t always find the joy right away but I’m reminded that I have to make room on the dance floor for other people to help me find it. 

Thanks for the Rx, Dr. Sunshine.