As I’ve noted before, in my professional life, I am a teacher. At the small Jewish private school where my main day job takes place, my primary assignment is second grade; last year, I also co-taught our sixth grade class, where I was responsible for the English Language Arts (ELA) subject area. This year I’ll be co-teaching again, also doing ELA for the blended fourth and fifth grade class. Just this morning, I also agreed to co-teach Jewish Social Studies for that blended class along with the third grade teacher and her students. I also am entering my fifth year teaching seventh grade in Sunday School at my temple, where I teach about Antisemitism and Holocaust studies. I also am teaching again this year at our Jewish community high school program, which covers grades seven through twelve; this fall, it will be an art class, and in the spring, I’ll be teaching an advanced study class on topics in Antisemitism (I’m still honing the finer points of that course).

What’s the official count on how many times I used the word “also” in the above paragraph? Five? Six?

In short, I have an exceptional amount on my plate (not including anything personal!), and I’d be lying through my teeth if I said I felt totally, completely ready for it all. It’s a relative concept anyway; most teachers I know are always looking for ways to improve. (Most teachers I know also tell me I’m completely insane when I list how many teacher hats I wear – I know, it’s a lot, it takes me a few minutes to list them all in conversation.) There is a multitude of other reasons why preparedness isn’t the primary sensation I’m experiencing right now, as much as I wish it was, but the bottom line is that, ready or not, here the school year comes! And even if I don’t feel entirely ready for it, I’m definitely excited. It’s all going to be fine.

Unfortunately, what this also adds up to is that I’m pretty short on time for what the cool kids these days call “self-care”, or opportunities to recharge my batteries. Heck, I barely have time to have feelings, let alone process them, and forget about creative outlets. Now, half the reason I actually signed on to teach the art class at the high school program was because it would force me to do something creative on a weekly basis, so, I have that going for me. But my friends will just give me side-eye for that, and tell me it’s still working so it doesn’t count. I acknowledge that they are not wrong. But it’s the best I’ve got for now, so it will have to do.

In the interest of transparency, I will admit that I have been battling some challenging feelings and memories ever since venturing to the belly of the beast last weekend (see my post here for context). It’s brought up old trauma I’ve kept long buried, and that I’ve had to keep at bay as best I could ever since, because I have no time to spare for it. Not healthy. Not ideal. But not avoidable. To quote Gandalf, “things are now in motion that cannot be undone.” The painful memories are not easily staying packed away now that the overstuffed suitcase containing them has been unlatched. Lately I feel like I’ve taken to sitting bodily on top of the suitcase to try to keep it shut.

The “good” news is, I have a lifetime of experience in compartmentalizing. In psychology, compartmentalization refers to the defense mechanism of mentally separating difficult thoughts, feelings, memories, or experiences that might conflict with current circumstances, apparently to avoid cognitive dissonance or uncomfortable contradiction. My experience with compartmentalization, and what I believe to be a more common understanding of this process, has been less about avoiding contradiction and more about containing those difficult memories and feelings so that one can better manage day-to-day responsibilities and needs. This isn’t always a bad thing; sometimes we have to set aside some emotions or issues for a little while, in order to get things done. The problem is that it’s easy to let that little while become a long while. Survivors of trauma often box their painful memories and triggers into little suitcases or compartments or rooms, tucked away safely and best left undisturbed, hopefully to collect dust forever.

Those monsters aren’t docile, though, and they rattle their cages sooner or later.

I’m going to keep holding on, because it’s what I’ve always done, what I always do, what I always will do. It’s a lifestyle at this point. I don’t have time and space to be anything but functional right now, but I’m intimately familiar with operating in survival mode. I’m not sure if that mode ever really gets turned off, actually. Compartmentalizing is helpful – in the short term. The key is that I cannot let it become a long-term situation, not again. I promise to work on it at the nearest opportunity.

In the meantime, if anyone feels like sitting on top of this rattling suitcase with me, well, I wouldn’t say no to the support.