What a whirlwind week the last week of May 2019 turned out to be for me. In the midst of preparing for Camp Invention, I accepted a job offer to move to Norway. Damn. Sometimes I still cannot believe that. The one year anniversary of living here is still a couple of months away, but as my school year closes, I find myself thinking back. When I do, I laugh because I can remember a time when I was shocked to be buying my second box of laundry soap "already", and now I am a 200 coffee filter pack into my life here. This year has been nothing like I could have imagined in so many ways. From the sights I've taken in to the school time missed due to COVID, I have been captivated, intrigued, or frustrated by all of it. The fact that my journey here isn't over helps me keep perspective. I know I will get other chances to experience events I have missed or to tour those places I long to see. Not to mention the summer season is beginning here, and it is not unlike home in the planning and expectations. But this is far from the reserved attitude of Norwegians I have become accustomed to here. This weekend, I was treated to a few trips and walks that allowed me to soak in some of the vibrancy and enthusiasm bubbling from those reveling in the sun. Of course, being from Kansas, my idea of appropriate swim weather is much different than here. I am still coming to terms with how cold the water will be when I take that first summer plunge. Nevertheless, there were many clusters of people sunbathing and swimming in what many would mistake for COVID social distancing but is simply typical Norwegian respect of personal space. Understanding why this time of year is so important is easier after having watched the sun set from my office window at 14:30 this winter. What has been even more intriguing for me to experience has been the warmth of the sun and the sheer amount of hours of sunlight. I've already had several rosy pink kisses from the sun that remind me I am not applying my sunscreen liberally enough, and there has been more than one morning I woke in a panic thinking I was late to work only to find it was 5 am. My sense of time has been stripped. You'd swear I had the understanding of a six year old if you ask me the time after school. It's a good reminder that there are always more things to learn and come to appreciate. Perhaps that sums up my experience here the most. Learning. It's been a big year of learning about myself especially. I've learned valuable lessons and really taken my mental health seriously since I have been here. That isn't to mean I haven't before, but here I have prioritized more than ever. Learning that kind of care has been a long process, and I am still learning. One thing I know I've always struggled with is accepting compliments and believing the sincerity, or at least motivation, of others. This isn't a judgment on others by any means, but a defense mechanism based on life experience. From a young age I was shown that love was conditional, and there was no rhyme or reason to the conditions. Many times over I was told I was too this or too that for people to love, and in my marriage I was told I was "hard to love." I think this is why I like teaching kids so much. They do not put qualifications on love. They just love with every fiber in them. They also can't help themselves and remind you with hugs, rocks, shiny things, and flowers. I've tried to start this paragraph roughly sixty three times. I have many thoughts on how people see us and how we know this, but they are swirling in the hurricane of my thoughts and I can't grab them. You see this last two weeks has been a whirlwind too. Next year, I will take a new role in my school as PYP Coordinator which means I will oversee the IB Accreditation process and help to ensure teachers are implementing the program. The head of school just officially announced this, so I can actually say it out loud. I am so excited and so scared, but yet again it ties to how people see me. Have I really within a year proven myself to be this caliber of educator? And all the heartfelt congratulations shocked me. Not that I expected people to be unhappy, but I was not prepared for the enthusiasm from the staff. I will also be moving in two weeks to an apartment that has a better view and more sunlight. I mention this here because the landlord met me once and lowered the rent because "I like you and want you for a tenant". That's tough stuff people...accepting that people value or see something you don't appreciate or realize in yourself. I guess that's why I think life would be easier if adults would give you dandelions and rock still. Which in turn makes me wonder how many dandelions or rocks that adults have given me that I have simply overlooked. My first staff congratulations on my new position was from the fifth grade teacher. We interact occasionally as I used to teach some of his students English. But thinking back, he has brought me my favorite soda and candy from Sweden just because. Another congratulations was telling me that we needed to go get a bottle of champagne together that a glass of wine simply wouldn't do on this occasion. What a feeling, and why didn't I know? Why was I still hoping? So that is my new goal, to let myself see the me others see. Should be able to knock that out this week right? Until then, I am going to work extra hard to believe my eyes and ears and quiet that voice in my mind that says I am being boastful and proud. Instead I want that voice to say, I am truly enough and I deserve the love and happiness in my life. This next year in Norway is shaping up to be better than the first....even if I am still waiting on the police to approve my residence permit...again. (Here's hoping that doesn't warrant its own post again!) So for now, practice begins in noticing the small things and purposefully seeing from the other side.
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I was told this week, "But eventually, you are going home." Of course, this conjures a mental hurricane of emotion and thinking. At the very top of the greatest hits playlist was, "Where is Home?"
When I married, we moved to his hometown. This was not a choice so much as necessity for two naive newlyweds with nothing to their names but a newly formed union and young love. Who knows where we would have landed if circumstances had been different, but the journey is what it is. In that city I spent considerable time being "Jeff's wife" or "Brad/Brendon's mom". One incident that sticks in my mind like a festering splinter is the time I was asked at the bank if Jeff knew I would be withdrawing money. I left that day humiliated and without taking any money from the bank instead waiting dutifully for my husband to come home so I could purchase diapers and food. That isn't to say I had no identity. I volunteered at the school, but even there, I was Mrs. Hill. The sad thing is, when you live your life interwoven as a relationship to someone else, there is very little personal growth and ownership in it. Fast forward to 2008, with my marriage crumbling and my children growing, I was watching my identity shatter and disappear. Even after he moved out, I was living in his family house, and people would report to him if I had company. Moving away became both necessary and one of the most painful things I have ever done. I was completely wrapped in that identity, that image of myself and my definition of home. That house that I had poured hours into designing and making a home was the last bastion of refuge to weather the winds of change. It was home..or was it? When I moved to Andover, I cried about losing my home. I was in mourning. There were a few moments that encouraged me to shift my thinking. I began buying small things that made my apartment feel like a place I wanted to be. You see, I didn't get to choose the decoration in the last house, regardless of how I go back and tell the story. I was overruled on nearly every decision or choice I made. The other gut shot was something Brad said in passing. "When I come home to you, I'm glad you're so close to the airport." Home...to YOU. Being in the Marines gave him a perspective I hadn't had. He knew where his home was and that was wherever mom was. When I left the family home, I took very little that would alter the appearance of home for the boys. I wanted them to walk in and still recognize home. It had never occurred to me that they saw things differently. I can't explain the freedom in that. Both of my boys will eagerly tell you that sitting on the couch with mom is a perfectly good use of a day together. I love that I have raised them to appreciate time and memories over things. However, my children are grown men now, so chances that we will ever share a physical house again is slim. Home for us is that heart connection that happens when we come together, whether physically or virtually. There isn't only one physical space that allows us to once again establish that connection. And I also know, that they have more homes than the one they have with me, just as I have other homes. Because possibly even more important than familial connections, home is where I can be my best self. It is where my mind finds comfort, safety, independence, and clarity. Home is my son's arms wrapped around me. Home is the inside jokes that only we understand. Home is the place where nurturing my soul isn't made more difficult by my surroundings. Home is comfortable, safe, and mine to define. I choose to believe that home is here, within me. I'll carry it to the states when I visit my sons and family. I'll carry it attached to memories, feelings, and experiences. I'll carry it with me wherever I choose to establish my life, and for now that is here in Norway. So, here's to home and knowing where to run to find it. The question in my five year Question a Day journal was, "What would you go back and change if you could?" That is such a loaded question isn't it? Of course we all have experiences we would rather not have lived through. I'd rather not have married only to divorce. I'd rather not have lost a son. I'd rather not have been abused. I could list a ton of I'd rather not haves in my life, including some where my choice was what I would rather not have done. The rub is, you don't know the trade offs. Many of us gleefully think if we could erase that ink spot, then we would be free of the stain. But there is always something to be gleaned from experiences if we are open to it. Being human means the learning is often after the experience, sometimes well after, since we aren't born with life manuals. Not that most of us would read it if we did. We'd dig through furiously when there was a problem and try to diagnose a quick, cheap fix. That question reminds me of people that say "I'd like to start this day over." or "Can we get a redo on 2020?" or "Oh, to be 21 again." Honestly, FUCK THAT. I cannot express enough that I do not want a chance to live through it again to see what I could do differently. I want to look at it from my rear view mirror and learn, but toodles, bitches. There's no guarantee I'd make better choices given a second bite at it. Look how long it took Bill Murray to get it right in Groundhog Day! In situations like that, I start with, "Wow, I survived this!" and move on to, "You know one day I'll look back and...." Probably the most tempting "I'd change" in my life is my son's death. The circumstances of his birth meant that most likely he would have suffered from some sort of mental retardation from oxygen deprivation during birth. At 17 I was barely equipped to be an adult let alone a mother. Knowing what I know about myself, I would not have been a good mother to him because mothering a child with special needs is motherhood at a different level. I couldn't handle to fail as a mother, but the other trade is that I am not sure I would have given him two siblings. I most likely would have stopped at one which means I would never have had my Bird. Even typing this paragraph guts me and leaves me grappling for mental footing. Any situation that leaves me feeling victimized is unsettling to my core. I would rather search for my power within each one of them than to feel I am at the mercy of events unfolding. It isn't simply the experiences I have, but how I process and think my way through them that shapes who I am and how I will respond given a similar situation. It isn't always easy to see what has been enhanced in your life by a situation. Sometimes, it's not much more than knowing I have gained empathy from an experience, and sometimes it is the joy of being able to say, "Not only did I make it through, but I feel accomplished." The added benefit of this perspective is I am much more careful about what I say no to. There will always be something to learn from situations gone wrong, but you can only harvest regret from not doing something . This is how I found myself rock climbing two weeks ago. Am I afraid of heights? Yup. Have I ever climbed before? Nope. Am I out of my mind? I think we all know the answer to that one. This experience gave me a canvas on which to paint trust and failure. I'll just put it out there that I trust very few people easily and deeply. Yet, here I was rigged with a harness and rope and my safety completely in the hands of a the friend that invited me. I followed her instructions, tried to incorporate all of her feedback and tips, and left my ego at the base of the wall. Surprisingly, it was absolutely freeing to trust her. Perhaps because of the trust, perhaps because I focused on it as a goal, failure was easier that day as well. Every platitude I'd lobbed at my students swirled in my mind. Failure was a certainty that day, but my reaction was the path to having a negative or positive experience.
I can remember thinking that if I didn't fall, then I hadn't taken the chances I needed to take to grow and learn. So I pushed myself hard. I climbed three times that day, falling a few times, but ultimately feeling fantastically successful. I was also allowed to belay, or anchor a climber. One of the other climbers asked me if I knew how to belay and if I wanted to learn. He stood patiently and explained everything in great detail. While I belayed his climber, he gave advice and power. When Hanne asked me what I knew about that position, I was thrilled to explain what I had learned while she was away climbing. After all, today had been such a huge learning day and it was thanks to her. I was taken aback when she asked me to belay while she climbed. I am honored to have been trusted in that way, and it is a gift I treasure. Not every YES I've uttered has been an overwhelmingly positive experience, but I do not regret the yeses. I've eaten scrumptious foods, formed enduring friendships, and created memories that will linger long beyond my time here. I know myself much better and would consider myself to be the happiest and healthiest I've ever been. Whether Norway, age, or a combination of the two, I'm ever so thankful to be right here. Occasionally, when I am walking I will see my shadow and think, "Damn, why can't I look like that?" I mean look at that figure. I've only ever voiced this one time, and the person responded by asking me why I was so obsessed with my weight. Her statement shook me a bit. Perhaps I didn't realize how much I talked about my body, but I always assumed I was fairly good at not drawing attention to the issue. I wouldn't say I am obsessed with my weight, but it has definitely been a big issue in my life. I've struggled for sure, so I do think about it more than some people would. While my well being doesn't hinge on my body, I do feel so much better these days having thinned down. Still I wondered what it would be like to be a shadow of my former self as the saying goes. Or am I already? Obviously that photograph is not the shadow of a three hundred pound person. I still find it hard to believe that when the boys were small, that I weighed that much. Since then I have fluctuated. Unfortunately I let other people's opinions matter too much, and I couldn't get past food as a constant companion. After I lost 150 pounds, I remember being told, "Oh my god I can see your spine. That is so gross." Cue the overeating. I was able to once again rein it in but lost control when I poured too much of myself and my energy into work. Now that I have it under control with the help of therapy, I intend to be vigilant. It isn't obsession. It's me caring for something I value. My mind sees that part of my life from such a distance that it is a black outlined version of myself where details are indistinguishable. In that light, there are an abundance of things in my life that I have distanced myself from to be almost unrecognizable. I can remember bending and contorting to meet the standards of my mother and ex husband. Can you imagine being so controlled that you match the slices of bread in shape to make a sandwich? Or a mom that one ups your tragedies instead of offering comfort? Probably the harder part for me to recognize is the Nellie that craved their approval and attention even in the face of that treatment. Gone is my incessant need to work from the wee hours of the morning into the evening. While I was so much better about this toward the end of my time in Andover, I feel I have more control over my work life balance than any previous time. The wider acceptance of this idea was really driven home by a multiple parents prefacing their email with "I don't expect a reply today/this weekend." My inner dialogue has changed dramatically. I don't speak to myself in a way I wouldn't speak to friends...most of the time. I find myself able to ask for help without feeling I am betraying myself. I have allowed more people in my life to have the title friend and confidant. I say yes to more experiences and new things. There is no way if I went back to myself even two years ago, that I would believe the stories I can tell about myself now. And now in searching for a photo for this blog post, I realize not only that I didn't know the correct quote but that in not knowing I had misunderstood the quote. My assumption has always been that to be a shadow of your former self means that you are less than what you have left behind. How empowering to learn my position is of the victor standing over a defeated foe.
What if more of us tried to live as a champion over the shadow of our former selves? How would your life be different stepping away and leaving some parts of your life to become an imperceptible shadow in the past? Challenge yourself to find one thing to become a shadow this week. Even if it is something simple, distancing to see the shadow of your former self has to start somewhere. I love this picture because it was a moment where I was choosing whether or not jump in the puddle, and there was my shadow to remind me of what Nellie would do. But you know what? Nellie didn't step around daintily, she jumped. That is really how I feel writing this blog post today, but I'm afraid if I skip another week then I will stop altogether. I enjoy my blog most times, and I know I will appreciate having it to look back on. So onward I trudge, and you have been warned. I started the quarantine disappointed but hopeful. Then I was able to bury myself in work until there was no time left to consider much else. I quickly realized this pace was unsustainable and began serious self care. I stepped back, took walks, connected to people, and established a bit of a routine within the bounds of the restrictions. Being such a novice to effective self care, it was tough to maintain that self care in the face of missing my routine, my students, and true social connection. However, I've been doing it. I clung to the thought of school resuming because then at least I could have some normalcy, some routine. In Norway, school resumed on April 27th for students in first through fourth grade with restrictions that are nearly impossible by which to adhere. Students are to be in cohorts of no more than 15 and can only have a rotation of 3 teachers. We still have to keep them a meter apart and can do no group teaching. It's less than ideal and bordering chaotic much of the time, but at least I get to see my students and have more routine to my day. There have also been big changes as two of our staff went back to their home countries. This left us shorthanded for school staff. Their departures were emotionally tumultuous, and I am not sure I have fully grieved their departure from Norway and my daily life. The quarantine has disrupted other things that have really taken a back burner in terms of importance and urgency in my mind as well. My hair is a hot mess, and for a girl that never truly mastered the messy bun, this is just ugly. Processing of my work permit is on hold until the police can get caught up on what they consider urgent cases. Restrictions are being lifted slowly, but there is still uncertainty as I watch things unfold. There is talk of travel and large event restrictions into August or September. It has become so likely that I will not be allowed to travel to the states or at least not have enough time to quarantine on both ends before school starts that I will not be visiting home this summer. At times it is a lot to process, and it's better to simply not dwell there. So how do I deal with the heavy feelings in my mind and heart? In Norway there is a cultural value called Friluftsliv. It is a combination of the words for free, air, and life and is in its most basic definition means an appreciation for an outdoor lifestyle. I can't say that I have ever experienced an equivalent in the states. Sure, there are people that enjoy hiking, camping, fishing, and all things outdoors, but here, social spaces and societal expectations take this to a different level. Coupled to this, there is a belief that the land belongs to everyone. Allemannsretten, or the freedom to roam, grants people the right to exercise and access even privately owned lands, lakes, and rivers. Outdoor spaces are designed around exercise, gathering, eating, hiking, and simply being outside. Many of these spaces make being outside more convenient by having well maintained trails, plentiful tables or benches, play areas for children, extra trash receptacles and even separate waste bins for outdoor grills. There are statues and landscaped areas that brighten the areas. Projects like trail maintenance and lighting are done on a volunteer or sponsor basis by the people that use the areas the most. Many families have cabins they use to spend even more time outside. Even schools are expected to provide adequate outside time to students during the day. I've also noticed that aside from trails, nature isn't tames in the same way as the home. Sure there are flower beds and tended areas, but there are just as many areas that are left to develop as they will. While I still lean on contact with family and friends to help me through these times, spending time outside has become a respite. It was hard at first because you have nowhere to hide from yourself. Especially for me, my mind wanders and nothing is off limits. Many times when I first began I would message with friends or family the majority of my time walking or outdoors. Eventually, I started to view these excursions as an opportunity to reflect and enjoy. That is when I began to enjoy it more and even look forward to the next time I could get outside. I think I knew I had arrived so to speak when I didn't let rain stop me from taking a walk. Possibly even more fascinating is that in writing to explain, I am already feeling anxious to get outside. My life really is a wonder in the making. I have much to be thankful for and to look forward to, and I am sure one day when I look back there will be more to appreciate and be learned than I can know right now. There can be no doubt I look forward to a return to some of the things I consider to be normal, but for today, I think I'll go outside and appreciate all the little things I can find.
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Nellie HillJust a woman leaping outside her comfort zone and telling the tale. Archives
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