And since the only thing I know to do is be open and transparent, prepare yourselves.
For the last few months, I have been existing. Gladly existing in some spaces. In some spaces, existing lightly. Some, co-existing, and in the majority of the spaces that I’ve filled, I have been in presentation mode. Muddling through; not sure if I am fully functioning or not. Truth be told, my mom told me almost two weeks ago that I’m always in “go mode” and need to take some serious time for myself and reassess. Now if you know Mother T, I mean really know her, you know that the message was not delivered from her mouth to my ears in such a dull tone and so lackluster, but track with me here as I digress.
My mom’s comments put me in flashback mode. When thinking back on the beginning of my teaching journey, I can remember my first class of students in Hartsville, SC at HMS. Had such a fun bunch that loved to learn and soak up every teachable moment that I had to offer. Even on the days that I wasn’t presenting my best, they pulled the inevitable from me. Had me on cloud nine just teaching my life away and loving every second. In the early days, I just knew teaching was “it” for me. I was called to servant mode years ago but hadn’t made the connection yet.
I assigned a project once while doing a book study of the novel “The Outsiders.” There was group collaboration involved with acting out scenes from the novel, and I challenged my students to be extremely creative with researching the time period’s fashion, jargon, ways of life etc. prior to their presentations. I wanted my students to really have an experience with the text and make life-long connections. This week and last, I’ve thought a lot about my babies (clearly their adults now but will always be my babies). For their assignment, they transformed from something they were not at all on the outside and morphed into characters fitting for the world around them. Fitting for the spectators. Fitting for an applause. A grade. Presented just what I needed them to on the outside and dimmed their true selves inwardly to make it happen. Straight presentation mode, and when they were done, they returned to self.
A performance.
Just being in a mode where no one truly sees what’s happening inside. All that’s on display is the outward appearance of everything being great and grand. Presenting falsely and hoping that no one takes time to make you still yourself and reflect inwardly. Hoping no one makes you turn off the act.
Lately, I have been in presenter mode. Not missing too many beats as wife, Mommy, sister, friend, associate, administrator… all the hats. Never out of sync enough for anyone to know that I was merely presenting something that was so far removed from the raw emotions I’ve been dealing with inwardly. That's how I've presented on the outside. The image is clear here.
Fast forward to last Tuesday morning, I woke up like this. Not the “this” Beyonce bellows about but the “this” in the image. Outwardly presenting and inwardly falling apart. I was stressed beyond comparison, and my body was sick of being in presenter mode. It started to cry out from within for me to acknowledge that I needed to do some things differently. A doctor’s visit and therapy session later, it has been identified as stress manifesting outwardly what I’ve masked inwardly. And I prepared to share my journey earlier in the week, but I wasn’t released yet. And yesterday made the difference in why I was still having to hold off...
A student was in utter panic and asked to come to my office and talk earlier yesterday afternoon. By the time I met her, she was emotional and sobbing out of control. Once she was settled and able to speak, she said, “Mrs. Pearson, you know I normally don’t cry, and I can keep it together…”
My heart broke. It broke for her. And for me. And for anyone else that life happens to and we apologize for coming out of presenter mode. She’s a 13 year old who’s had a brother and close cousin transition since January. Her grandmother was placed on a ventilator Tuesday night battling Covid, and she was adamantly apologizing to me for having and showing emotion. Tapping into her internal self. Apologizing for halting the performance and allowing herself to feel and to not be okay.
My people, being a presenter is good only until it’s not. At some point, during some time, we must escape the desire to be seen as okay during every waking moment of life. Today, I thanked God for allowing me to have the experience with my student. We both left that safe space with all emotions on display and with a plan on how to be okay with not being okay. We both cried through our masks, acknowledged our feelings and even guiltlessly shared a chocolate snack.
I came out of presenter mode and was so happy I did just in time to be used to help someone else do the same. And today, and the days, weeks and months leading up to it, gave what it was supposed to have given. A chance to break free of presenting what’s not there and being okay with allowing my brain to catch up with my body, and feel. I've loved and loss. I've experienced trauma back-to-back, and I had to sort through my emotions. Still sorting, actually, and that's okay.
Won’t sit in it and sulk, but it’s necessary to pause here
in order to move forward in a healthy manner.
Presentation mode off.
-Thanks, Ma and “Baby M”
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