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Suicide is rough.

I hadn’t posted about the deathaversary of Lauren this year because, honestly, I didn’t have it in me. Four years have passed since I received the early morning text message that she had killed her self, and that number was stinging all last week.

Four has always been my favorite number.

I was assigned to be “#4″ in 4th grade and I loved the consistency of it. I loved that it was 2×2, the number of sides in a square, and a number frequently used. If you wanted to divide something evenly, you could cut it into fours. Clocks were divided into quarters, and quarters also made up school marking periods, percentages, sports games, and dollars.

Four has always made sense to me.

So why is it, four years later, I’m still left asking the same question about suicide: Why?

It’s also mind blowing to me that 4 years, the suggested length of a college education, have passed. She was my pseudo-mentor in my grad school program for education. This length of time, and its significance, to me, is surreal.

A lot of my blogger friends are grieving, as a well-known blogger from our community took her life last week. News of her death came a few days after the anniversary of Lauren’s, and, even though I didn’t know her, it stung like crazy. So many found themselves grieving as her face was plastered across the internet. God, how I feel for everyone that knew her.

Depression was a big part of my summer, with various people I love coping with depression in various ways. Some wrote about it. Some sought professional help. Some made decisions that led to having to seek help.

Luckily for me, they’re all still here.

Some people aren’t so lucky.

So, in honor of Lauren, in honor of those you love, please reach out and let people you know are suffering know that you love and care about them, and that their lives are worth it.

They might need to hear you say those words.

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This popped up on my time hop last week. Lauren’s words have never felt as relevant. I wonder if she purposefully took her life a few days after Suicide Awareness Week.



6 weeks to go!

In less than 6 weeks, I’ll be a “Mrs.”

Where did the time go??!

The culmination of the start of the new school year, mixed with a ton of days off in September and working on all the little things that add up for the wedding, has left me in a constant state of busy.

I’m trying to find a balance between finishing an online grad course, planning for my students, grading assessments, working with a co-teacher for the first time, and, of course, wedding schtuff. I’m grateful our bridal shower was the last Sunday in August– I wouldn’t have been able to cope with a bridal shower in the midst of the school year!

So, my mantra for the next 6 weeks is “Breathe. Just breathe.”

Hope September is going swimmingly for all of you!10410207_10155993038985416_1290248524312363375_n

End-of-summer denial

I’m in denial.

It’s currently 11:24pm, Eastern Standard Time, and I should be in bed, asleep.

Instead, I made myself a sandwich with leftovers from our bridal shower yesterday, and ended up watching a new show on Netflix (Grace and Frankie), even though I had all intentions of watching Gilmore Girls.

Today, I went outlet shopping and bought shirts, skirts, and pants for school and the honeymoon. I accidentally lost weight this past year, and most of my teacher drag looks like teacher bags pulled over my head.

Tomorrow, I have to welcome a new school year with my fellow teachers. It’s the first day for teachers, not students. Over the next few weeks, we don’t have a single 5-day school week in September due to “Fall Recess.” I’d like to motion that we take those collective days off and move them to this week and next.

The weather this coming week is perfect beach weather.

My classroom was all set up over a week ago so I could savor my last week of summer.

2 out of my 3 syllabi are completed.

I have this first week of school planned out.

Yet, I’m not ready.

I’m in denial.

Summer can’t end.