Hello Beautiful People,
The other day I had a theatre class of mine do a writing prompt.
The prompt: What do you see when you look in the mirror?
The answer: A girl who is lost. A girl who is drowning. A man who is afraid to show is heart. A girl covered in fat. Someone who doesn’t belong…
…
…well, shit.
Just break my heart into a million pieces, why don’t ya?
Taking this theater teacher gig for the past seven months hasn’t always been easy. Worth it? Sure. But easy? Well, no.
And if there’s anyone out there who thinks that teaching 150 teenagers (whatever the subject may be) is easy, well, then…you clearly don’t get out much.
But alas I digress.
Back to my kids.
(My students.)
A girl who is lost. A girl who is drowning. A man who is afraid to show is heart. A girl covered in fat. Someone who doesn’t belong…
Now, I suppose I should have expected a response that would break my heart, I was, after all, teaching a theatre class to a room full of sixteen year olds.
But, truthfully, I felt like I got kicked in the stomach.
But, truthfully, I didn’t expect the heartbreak to bleed onto the page so quickly. Truthfully, I didn’t expect the heartbreak to be so raw. Truthfully…I didn’t realize that my kids were hurting that much. I didn’t realize that many of them were hurting at all.
And I guess that’s where we adults have to step up.
Twitter. Facebook. Instagram. Snapchat. (I’m sure there’s a million more social media outlets that I’m missing.)
BUT, the message is thus – in a digital age, when we’re trained to put the pretty little picture of our pretty little life into a pretty little square, well, the other bits of life get lost.
The pain of not wanting to get up anymore.
The pain of not wanting to go to school anymore.
The confusion of wondering where your place in life is…
…the confusion of understanding where your role in your family falls into place.
There’s no filter for loss of sleep. For the aftermath of fighting with your parents. For the complete and utter self loathing that you feel every time you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. There’s no filter that will make you feel whole. Worthy. Loved. Secure. There is no other person walking this great earth that can make you see the beauty that exists within you.
You cannot edit your way out of pain. But, (and yes there is a but…)
You can talk about it.
You can write about it.
You can create something from it.
It never felt like there was enough words in my repertoire to heal their sorrow – but I kept using everything that I had, everything that came to mind. Because I am of the school of thought that adults, especially educators and those in the helping professions, well, it’s our job to listen. And while we may not always have the tools and skill set to solve the problem, we sure do have the ears that will listen, the shoulder to cry on, and the knowledge of where to send these young hurting hearts to get the help that they so rightfully deserve.
Live, Love, Learn,