This morning, I pulled into my parking spot at work—the same place I have worked for seventeen years with the same routine (minus the summers I get off as a teacher). Most mornings, music blasts through my speakers, and this morning was no different. However, as I put the car in park while Noah Kahan’s “False Confidence” played, tears flowed.
First, I’m not sure what it is about Mr. Kahan, but his music gets me. Second, every emotion I have held back since the beginning of April surfaced. New school years also mark a fresh start for me, more so than January 1. My family, specifically my youngest son, has been through a lot over the last five months, and we are ready for a fresh start.
To respect his privacy, I am not going to go into great detail, but my beautiful boy, who is just six years old, endured a lot of traumas, including hospital visits, suspensions, and every test and evaluation in existence. And then we got answers. In a short time, he is now doing so well. He is a child. He is resilient and will be better for all that he experienced.
Me, though? I am not so sure. My husband and I talk a lot about the post-trauma. We both have a hard time sleeping; we both blame ourselves, and my heart sinks every time my phone rings, no matter the time of day. Last year, I had to take a leave from work, and being back at school reminds me that I was in my classroom the first time 911 was called. I had to run through the hallways, not able to hold back my sobs, to find my principal and tell him I needed to leave.
On the surface, it’s a lot of false confidence. I think I know I am a good mother.
I am repeatedly complimented for how I approached this situation with my youngest and my other kids. I worked tirelessly with the school, advocates, and medical professionals (and I still do). But deep down, all I do is question whether I am doing this right. I do not know if there are things I could have done differently.
The emotions that came to me this morning amongst all my false confidence are not all bad. While I do feel scared, guilty, and sad, I also feel hopeful and proud. I feel overwhelmed but also a little bit lighter.
“You’re here for a reason, but you don’t know why
You’re split and uneven your hands to the sky
Surrender yourself” – Noah Kahan
My family has changed. I think we love each other more, if possible, and we don’t treasure just the good days but the actual good moments in an otherwise challenging day.
