That was 2013 before starting my teaching certification program and Master's in Education. Since 2013, all of the weight that I had lost with pride came back on through my own dependence for food and alcohol to deal with stress. Food and alcohol became my crutch, my go to solution for getting through assignments, tests, lesson plans, and yes, especially my research thesis that ended up being eighty-eight pages with fourteen pages of APA source information. August 2013 to August 2015, I gained probably fifteen pounds.
Wait, then I started my first year teaching English 9 and English 10. Of course after all of that work to prepare for this experience, nothing prepared me for how to deal with the immense stress I would put on myself. Now, let me figuratively put this first year in mind for you.
Imagine you were in my place. You have to climb a mountain with an ice pack of cold beverages to deliver to a party of stranded students at the top. I looked up at the pine trees growing smaller the higher my eyes reach, until I could barely see them beneath distant wispy clouds. I could sense the students at the top; they are dehydrated, exhausted, and detached. They have climbed their own path up the mountain, only to find themselves without resources: food, drink, cell service. I was the only one that could help them, which is what my boss had informed me of with persistent urgency. I had consented to go with a mixture of hope for success and dread at the enormity of the task before me. I needed to save those students. I hoped that they would all be up there when I did arrive.
Packed with the supplies, I head on the narrow trail through the tall pines and aspens with the bright speckles of sunlight streaked though the leaves. One step, two steps, three steps, I had to stop to readjust the large bundle on my shoulders. I could already feel the heavy weight of mass liquids fighting to pull me down in defeat. I ignored the feeling and keep on moving. I started noticing the gossip of birds chattering amongst the boughs around me. I listened, looked down, and moved further up. After ten minutes, I am fifty feet from my starting point. I worked on slowing my breath, inhale for four seconds, exhale for four seconds, inhale four steps, exhale five steps. I had built a momentum until a sharp shrill cry halts my feet. I did not see anything or anyone beyond the trees as I looked in a 360 degree turn. A chipmunk stared at me for a second before fleeing off. I started moving again. A minute later, the shrill has sounded again. Then, a wet dripple seeped down the back of my leg past the length of my knee length skirt. Oh yes, I am not wearing hiking gear. I have on a professional gray skirt with an orange rayon blouse, not the ideal hiking attire.
The wet dribble had seaped into my loafer so that my foot instantly felt the coldness. I wiped what I could away with my hand and examined the bag. The ice pack just seemed to be leaking through the mesh fabric lining. There was not an observable hole. However, if this continued to happened, then the hike would definitely be more unbearable. I let out a long sigh, and readjust the bag. Moving on, I pretended there was no leak. I imagined in my mind that I was actually walking around the mall with the window displays in each store window to distract my attention. I certainly was not climbing a steep incline alone in the forest trying to get to students I was not even sure if they were there or not in reality.
I could not help but this of the famous adventurer, Jack Kerouac, as he had once said, "No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy, even bored solitude in the wilderness, finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and hidden strength."
To be continued...
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