In 365 days, I will be getting married. In the long list of things I have wanted to write, that sentence has got to be at the top of the list. I have spent the last 5 years doing a great job of messing things up in my life, but this is one thing that I have done right.
Tayler and I met how most of us millennial's meet our significant others, on a dating app. On our first date, she talked me into seeing a scary movie, which is not something I do on a regular basis. It turns out that A Quiet Place is actually a pretty good movie, and when I see it pop up on Hulu or Amazon Prime it always makes me smile, because it takes me back to that first date with the woman I am going to marry. Tayler and I have been on some amazing adventures together, from Caribbean cruises in the Bahamas to road trips to Kansas City, and every day is another day to spend with the person I can so clearly see my future with. We have been through ups and downs, same as with any other relationship, and over time I have seen us grow in ways that I thought was impossible for people in their late twenties. We have adopted a German Shepard puppy named Lucy, who has added to our household in a beautiful and crazy way. Even our grouchy GSD Oakley has decided that adopting Lucy was a great decision, even though it means less belly scratches for him during the day. Tayler has managed to make my family fall completely in love with her because of the things that I saw as soon as we met, which is her determination to achieve goals, compassion for others, and the way she brightens a room just by walking into it. In short, she has enriched my life in every way since the day we met, and I think standing here one year away from the big day, it was time to put down on paper what I have known in my heart for two years now.
I am beyond excited for Tayler and I to tie the knot and start our married life together. This next year is going to be crazy and will probably fly by, and I thought it was fitting to write this post now, sitting one year away from our wedding date. Here is to Tayler, the most incredible person I have ever met, and a person who has turned my life into everything I hoped it would become. I can't wait to see what the future holds for us.
Wednesday, April 29, 2020
Tuesday, January 1, 2019
This will be difficult
Today was the first New Years Day in a decade where I woke up without a hangover. This Christmas was the first one in years where I didn't have a beer. As of 30 minutes ago, I have not had a drink in 17 days, which is the longest span I have been sober since I enrolled in college 10 years ago.
This is a difficult post to write, a hard one to read, and I am on a journey that started out impossible and has worked it's way down to a daily struggle. Maybe it will get easier, but I doubt it.
It is easy to rationalize drinking in your early 20s. Every night has an excuse to go out and drink, and when you have a good job and a life that is on track with no ceilings in sight, drinking is just part of a bigger picture that looks pretty damn good, as long as you don't look real close at it. I spent years and years attempting to drink away self doubt and insecurities, but all I really managed to do was drink myself out of several relationships and out of the classroom where I was so happy teaching.
Luckily, Miller Lite didn't stop me from landing on my feet, even though at that point it was readily apparent to everyone who knew me that I had a drinking problem. See, in your mid 20s, its not as acceptable to be hungover most mornings. People might not say anything, but every now and then you'll catch people giving you the side eye or talking about you to coworkers when you show up bleary eyed to work for the 11th day in a row. Family members also don't find it nearly as funny when you get so wasted you can't get yourself home, or pick a fight over something trivial because your drunk self just wanted to get mad at someone.
Now I am almost 28 years old, and I have found that living alone in a house full of empty beer bottles isn't a good indicator that you're husband material. In fact, women who love you really hate when they come home from a night shift to a trashcan full of cans and a boyfriend too hungover to let the dogs out. When the woman who loves you tells you it is going to be her, or the alcohol, it is finally time to do some self reflection. In the end, it was an easy choice to make. Every instance before, I had chosen the bottle. This time I finally decided to sack up, and give sober Ryan a chance.
My goal for now is to be sober for 90 days, but I can pretty much already tell that this is going to be an indefinite break from alcohol. Beer makes me a bad person, and I am too old with too much on the line to choose something as stupid as booze instead of being healthy. Everyday has been a struggle so far, and I think it always will be. I crave a beer when I am not thinking about being sober, and I have found myself guzzling soda like it is going out of business. But that is better than grabbing a beer. The road is hard, the journey is long, but it is worth it. I will be sober.
This is a difficult post to write, a hard one to read, and I am on a journey that started out impossible and has worked it's way down to a daily struggle. Maybe it will get easier, but I doubt it.
It is easy to rationalize drinking in your early 20s. Every night has an excuse to go out and drink, and when you have a good job and a life that is on track with no ceilings in sight, drinking is just part of a bigger picture that looks pretty damn good, as long as you don't look real close at it. I spent years and years attempting to drink away self doubt and insecurities, but all I really managed to do was drink myself out of several relationships and out of the classroom where I was so happy teaching.
Luckily, Miller Lite didn't stop me from landing on my feet, even though at that point it was readily apparent to everyone who knew me that I had a drinking problem. See, in your mid 20s, its not as acceptable to be hungover most mornings. People might not say anything, but every now and then you'll catch people giving you the side eye or talking about you to coworkers when you show up bleary eyed to work for the 11th day in a row. Family members also don't find it nearly as funny when you get so wasted you can't get yourself home, or pick a fight over something trivial because your drunk self just wanted to get mad at someone.
Now I am almost 28 years old, and I have found that living alone in a house full of empty beer bottles isn't a good indicator that you're husband material. In fact, women who love you really hate when they come home from a night shift to a trashcan full of cans and a boyfriend too hungover to let the dogs out. When the woman who loves you tells you it is going to be her, or the alcohol, it is finally time to do some self reflection. In the end, it was an easy choice to make. Every instance before, I had chosen the bottle. This time I finally decided to sack up, and give sober Ryan a chance.
My goal for now is to be sober for 90 days, but I can pretty much already tell that this is going to be an indefinite break from alcohol. Beer makes me a bad person, and I am too old with too much on the line to choose something as stupid as booze instead of being healthy. Everyday has been a struggle so far, and I think it always will be. I crave a beer when I am not thinking about being sober, and I have found myself guzzling soda like it is going out of business. But that is better than grabbing a beer. The road is hard, the journey is long, but it is worth it. I will be sober.
Saturday, September 23, 2017
Hope is a good thing...
My favorite movie of all time is The Shawshank Redemption. I can watch that movie every day of the week, and twice on Sunday, and never get tired of it. It is cast perfectly, it is based on a amazing short story, and Frank Darabont does a excellent job directing it. The seminal moment of the movie is when Andy Dufresne climbs through 800 yards of sewer line, "800 yards of shit smelling foulness" as Red puts it, to freedom and a new life in Zihuatanejo, Mexico. In all my time of loving this film, which is almost a decade of watching the movie, I have never truly related to Andy. Not until the last 6 months of my life.
The last 6 months have been tumultuous, to say the least. I am a man who prides himself on handling my own business, and dealing with issues, those that arise, in silence. I hate asking for help, especially from family. In the last 6 months I have lost my job, had a relationship end, lost a dog, and nearly lost my house. All of these things are consequences of my own actions, or inaction, and I am responsible for everything I have dealt with since March. In the process I have managed to alienate almost every member of my family who cares about me, due to pride and a unwillingness to admit mistakes. In short, I hit rock bottom.
Rock bottom for me was the day after a mountain weekend with my family where I fought with every single person present in the house at least twice, shrugged off responsibilities for my actions, and left on Sunday morning with the sourest of tastes in my mouth. Not the finest moment for Ryan Alexander. I was frustrated with where life had taken me, and didn't know what to do. I acted like a victim, instead of taking ownership of my own choices. I don't thing I have ever felt as low as I did the 3 hours it took to drive home from Highlands, back to Mooresville.
Andy Dufresne felt low. He almost broke when the warden had him spend a month in solitary. He almost broke under the torment of the Sisters. He almost broke when he found his wife cheating on him. But he persevered, through 27 years of confinement and solitude. At my lowest moment, I thought of Andy Dufresne. I could either resign myself to failure, or make do with what was in front of me. I chose to take the Andy route, and help myself to battle with the obstacles in front of me.
It has been difficult, starting over again. I have a new career, which I enjoy immensely. I managed to keep my house, and it feels like home for the first time in a while. I managed to patch things up with my family, and am working towards repairing the damage that I did this summer. I have forged a new relationship, and I remember what it feels like to share a part of yourself with someone else, to truly trust in another person for the good of the both of you. In short, I crawled my way to freedom. Andy was my inspiration.
Andy said to Red that "Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies"
That quote helped get me through a tough time in my life. But I have managed to climb through 800 yards of shit smelling foulness, and come out clean on the other side. Me and Andy both managed that. Now I just have to make my way to my own version of Zihuatanejo, Mexico.
The last 6 months have been tumultuous, to say the least. I am a man who prides himself on handling my own business, and dealing with issues, those that arise, in silence. I hate asking for help, especially from family. In the last 6 months I have lost my job, had a relationship end, lost a dog, and nearly lost my house. All of these things are consequences of my own actions, or inaction, and I am responsible for everything I have dealt with since March. In the process I have managed to alienate almost every member of my family who cares about me, due to pride and a unwillingness to admit mistakes. In short, I hit rock bottom.
Rock bottom for me was the day after a mountain weekend with my family where I fought with every single person present in the house at least twice, shrugged off responsibilities for my actions, and left on Sunday morning with the sourest of tastes in my mouth. Not the finest moment for Ryan Alexander. I was frustrated with where life had taken me, and didn't know what to do. I acted like a victim, instead of taking ownership of my own choices. I don't thing I have ever felt as low as I did the 3 hours it took to drive home from Highlands, back to Mooresville.
Andy Dufresne felt low. He almost broke when the warden had him spend a month in solitary. He almost broke under the torment of the Sisters. He almost broke when he found his wife cheating on him. But he persevered, through 27 years of confinement and solitude. At my lowest moment, I thought of Andy Dufresne. I could either resign myself to failure, or make do with what was in front of me. I chose to take the Andy route, and help myself to battle with the obstacles in front of me.
It has been difficult, starting over again. I have a new career, which I enjoy immensely. I managed to keep my house, and it feels like home for the first time in a while. I managed to patch things up with my family, and am working towards repairing the damage that I did this summer. I have forged a new relationship, and I remember what it feels like to share a part of yourself with someone else, to truly trust in another person for the good of the both of you. In short, I crawled my way to freedom. Andy was my inspiration.
Andy said to Red that "Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies"
That quote helped get me through a tough time in my life. But I have managed to climb through 800 yards of shit smelling foulness, and come out clean on the other side. Me and Andy both managed that. Now I just have to make my way to my own version of Zihuatanejo, Mexico.
Closing Time
"Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end."
As a child of the 90's, a song that I heard on the radio hundreds of times growing up was "Closing Time" by SemiSonic. The line above is one of the more memorable lines from that song, and until very recently, I did not have much life experience that let me relate to that particular quote. A few years ago, I began my teaching career, but that wasn't really the end of a chapter of my life. It was me setting out on something wholly new and unexpected. But not the end of something I had previously set out to do.
Well, today is the end of a chapter in my life, and the start of something new. I began my teaching career at South Iredell High School, and my first year teaching was an incredible whirlwind of learning what in the heck I was doing, getting to know my kids, and figuring out what I wanted to do with the rest of my adult life. In some past blog posts, I have talked about the incredible adventures I had my first year teaching, like the time I did a poetry lecture and the kids actually enjoyed it, to my students helping me grieve for my grandfather who passed away. I have enjoyed every second of my time at South Iredell, where I learned so much about my self, and my kids, and where in life I want to go. I've discovered that the moment a child understands something, where a concept or theme clicks in there head, is one of the most precious, inspiring sights that a person can see. I have seen children at their lowest points and tried to reassure them that their goals are still attainable, and I have congratulated kids when they have reached the zenith of what they set out to accomplish. While on this crazy road, I learned a great deal about myself as a man, and the impact I can have on a kid who is just setting out on a journey of their own.
Sometimes I question the impact I have on my students, until I go out on the weekends grocery shopping, or to Target for things around the house. Without fail, I see one of my kids, and almost without exception, they are excited to see me. They scurry up to me, and we talk about school and sports, and exciting plans for the weekend. With a "See ya Monday," they run off, and I am left with a feeling of happiness and gratitude. I am happy because my kids obviously have a connection with me; I am grateful because the kids let me know what I am doing right. It means the world to me that my students enjoy speaking to me, spending time with me. I teach them english, and a few life lessons, but we teach each other what it means to be humans. How to care for one another, how to seek out other perspectives, how to pick up others when they are feeling low. If I leave any impact on a student, I hope it can be one that tells a kids that doing the right thing, and being a good human being , is always worth it. They will never regret being kind to someone. Hopefully, that is my legacy.
My career at South Iredell High School is ending. I am not sure what the future holds, but I am certain is includes me standing in front of a whiteboard, with a Robert Frost poem behind me, as I explain the significance of nuclear war in regards to "Fire and Ice." Teaching is what I am meant to do, and South Iredell has given me tools and experience that I will cherish the rest of my life. The wonderful people I work with, and great students I have taught, have left me with a strong foundation. It has been a joy teaching the last three years, and every minute has been a positive one for me when I have been at school. This chapter of my life is ending, but something else is beginning. Hopefully, it can measure up to the first three years of my teaching career.
As a child of the 90's, a song that I heard on the radio hundreds of times growing up was "Closing Time" by SemiSonic. The line above is one of the more memorable lines from that song, and until very recently, I did not have much life experience that let me relate to that particular quote. A few years ago, I began my teaching career, but that wasn't really the end of a chapter of my life. It was me setting out on something wholly new and unexpected. But not the end of something I had previously set out to do.
Well, today is the end of a chapter in my life, and the start of something new. I began my teaching career at South Iredell High School, and my first year teaching was an incredible whirlwind of learning what in the heck I was doing, getting to know my kids, and figuring out what I wanted to do with the rest of my adult life. In some past blog posts, I have talked about the incredible adventures I had my first year teaching, like the time I did a poetry lecture and the kids actually enjoyed it, to my students helping me grieve for my grandfather who passed away. I have enjoyed every second of my time at South Iredell, where I learned so much about my self, and my kids, and where in life I want to go. I've discovered that the moment a child understands something, where a concept or theme clicks in there head, is one of the most precious, inspiring sights that a person can see. I have seen children at their lowest points and tried to reassure them that their goals are still attainable, and I have congratulated kids when they have reached the zenith of what they set out to accomplish. While on this crazy road, I learned a great deal about myself as a man, and the impact I can have on a kid who is just setting out on a journey of their own.
Sometimes I question the impact I have on my students, until I go out on the weekends grocery shopping, or to Target for things around the house. Without fail, I see one of my kids, and almost without exception, they are excited to see me. They scurry up to me, and we talk about school and sports, and exciting plans for the weekend. With a "See ya Monday," they run off, and I am left with a feeling of happiness and gratitude. I am happy because my kids obviously have a connection with me; I am grateful because the kids let me know what I am doing right. It means the world to me that my students enjoy speaking to me, spending time with me. I teach them english, and a few life lessons, but we teach each other what it means to be humans. How to care for one another, how to seek out other perspectives, how to pick up others when they are feeling low. If I leave any impact on a student, I hope it can be one that tells a kids that doing the right thing, and being a good human being , is always worth it. They will never regret being kind to someone. Hopefully, that is my legacy.
My career at South Iredell High School is ending. I am not sure what the future holds, but I am certain is includes me standing in front of a whiteboard, with a Robert Frost poem behind me, as I explain the significance of nuclear war in regards to "Fire and Ice." Teaching is what I am meant to do, and South Iredell has given me tools and experience that I will cherish the rest of my life. The wonderful people I work with, and great students I have taught, have left me with a strong foundation. It has been a joy teaching the last three years, and every minute has been a positive one for me when I have been at school. This chapter of my life is ending, but something else is beginning. Hopefully, it can measure up to the first three years of my teaching career.
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
On broken hearts and classrooms
When my grandad Sam died, I didn't really know what to do with myself.
I had spent the whole day with my family, hoping against hope that he would pull through against the cancer that was burning through him. Me and my brothers sat around my mom's house that whole day, telling stories and remembering all of those moments that we might have taken for granted at the time. My mom came back from the hospital, and we popped in Mr. Hollands Opus, one of my moms favorite movies and the running theme of a blog post I wrote last year. As we all sat watching Mr. Holland fall in love with teaching and make a lasting impression on an entire generation of kids, I remember saying to my mom that the movie was a whole lot more impactful once you have stood in front of a group of kids, and tried to teach them something.
By the end of the film, when Mr. Holland gets to see his opus, which was not his symphony after all but the children who he taught over the years, we were all crying. Not sad tears, it was those tears you get when you see a baby walk for the first time; the kind you get at the end of a truly perfect day.
A few minutes later we found out that Sam had passed away.
Until that moment, I didn't know that a "broken heart" was a literal expression. For the next 24 hours I walked around in a haze. I wasn't ready to live in a world where the man who had taught me so many things, a man who gave me a Libertarian Party membership card when I was 8 years old, wasn't going to be around to talk to anymore. I emailed my coordinator and coworkers to let them know what was going on, and made arrangements for the week in case I wasn't ready to go to work the next day.
As I trudged through that day, the longest Sunday of my life, the only thing that motivated me was my students, the kids who I teach every day. I truly love seeing them, talking to them, teaching them english and helping them get through the struggles that 16 and 17 year olds see as the end of the world. They don't know it, but they helped me get through one of the worst days of my life. I have gotten to know them well over the last 8 months and I am 100% honest when I say that I don't have to go teach every day, I get to go teach every day. I went in that Monday to school, and when the first student asked me why I looked upset I could barely hold it together. I told the girl that my grandfather had passed away over the weekend, and the look on her face told me that I made the right decision to come in to work that day. She cared and wanted to make sure I was ok, just like the rest of her classmates. The kids helped me heal, and for that I am ever grateful.
_________________________________________________________________________________
I made a good call when I became a teacher. I remember being 16 and saying I would never teach, but then again, how often are 16 year olds right about anything? I can see myself in a classroom for the rest of my working life, teaching kids the craft of writing and the ways to love literature. I am almost done with year 1 of a 30 year journey and I already know this: no matter what happens over the next 29 years, teaching has already put me in the positive. The classroom helped me mend my broken heart. For that I am ever grateful.
I had spent the whole day with my family, hoping against hope that he would pull through against the cancer that was burning through him. Me and my brothers sat around my mom's house that whole day, telling stories and remembering all of those moments that we might have taken for granted at the time. My mom came back from the hospital, and we popped in Mr. Hollands Opus, one of my moms favorite movies and the running theme of a blog post I wrote last year. As we all sat watching Mr. Holland fall in love with teaching and make a lasting impression on an entire generation of kids, I remember saying to my mom that the movie was a whole lot more impactful once you have stood in front of a group of kids, and tried to teach them something.
By the end of the film, when Mr. Holland gets to see his opus, which was not his symphony after all but the children who he taught over the years, we were all crying. Not sad tears, it was those tears you get when you see a baby walk for the first time; the kind you get at the end of a truly perfect day.
A few minutes later we found out that Sam had passed away.
Until that moment, I didn't know that a "broken heart" was a literal expression. For the next 24 hours I walked around in a haze. I wasn't ready to live in a world where the man who had taught me so many things, a man who gave me a Libertarian Party membership card when I was 8 years old, wasn't going to be around to talk to anymore. I emailed my coordinator and coworkers to let them know what was going on, and made arrangements for the week in case I wasn't ready to go to work the next day.
As I trudged through that day, the longest Sunday of my life, the only thing that motivated me was my students, the kids who I teach every day. I truly love seeing them, talking to them, teaching them english and helping them get through the struggles that 16 and 17 year olds see as the end of the world. They don't know it, but they helped me get through one of the worst days of my life. I have gotten to know them well over the last 8 months and I am 100% honest when I say that I don't have to go teach every day, I get to go teach every day. I went in that Monday to school, and when the first student asked me why I looked upset I could barely hold it together. I told the girl that my grandfather had passed away over the weekend, and the look on her face told me that I made the right decision to come in to work that day. She cared and wanted to make sure I was ok, just like the rest of her classmates. The kids helped me heal, and for that I am ever grateful.
_________________________________________________________________________________
I made a good call when I became a teacher. I remember being 16 and saying I would never teach, but then again, how often are 16 year olds right about anything? I can see myself in a classroom for the rest of my working life, teaching kids the craft of writing and the ways to love literature. I am almost done with year 1 of a 30 year journey and I already know this: no matter what happens over the next 29 years, teaching has already put me in the positive. The classroom helped me mend my broken heart. For that I am ever grateful.
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