Hi! My name is Kaylyn, and welcome to my blog! This space is intended to be a place for me to put out my thoughts on various things, so expect it to be a hodge podge of ideas and mediums!
I’m aiming to post every Thursday (and Sundays too, maybe?), so make sure you check back in to check out what’s new!
The second time I ever spent a whole day crying at school was in the fifth grade.
It all started over the weekend. I woke from my slumber with a jolt and opened my eyes to see my sister, her off-white hair falling in front of her eyes, looking down at me. My eyes blinked a few times to rid the sleepiness as my eyebrows furrowed. Why is she waking me up on a Saturday?
As my vision sharpened and cleared, I could see that behind my sister’s wispy bangs, her soft face was twisted ever so slightly and her eyes were red and wet. “Why are you crying?” I yawned.
Lyndsey used the back of her hand to wipe a tear from her cheek. “Daddy left,” she said, her voice breaking.
I pushed her away from me and pulled my Dora blanket up to my chin. “He probably just went to the store. He’ll be back.” I rolled over and allowed my eyes to shut, but soon felt my younger sister’s cold hands on my shoulder, shaking me.
“No, he didn’t. He left,” she said, her voice shaky. She was only seven. I let her pull the blanket off me and clumsily stood out of bed.
Lyndsey grabbed my hand as we walked, zombie-like, through the hallway and towards the kitchen. We entered the room and I glanced at the blue cabinet-lined walls. Everything looked normal. So why didn’t it feel that way?
My mom, her black hair pulled into a messy ponytail, sat at the island on a chestnut-colored stool. She was turned away from me.
I yawned, covering my mouth with my hand. “Mommy, will you please tell Lyndsey that Daddy went to the store and that he’s coming back?”
I watched as Lyndsey approached our mother and became wrapped in her arms. Mom, holding my sister, looked at me. Her face was red and puffy.
“Sweetie, he’s not coming back.” Her voice broke too, just ever so softly, like the sound it made when I dropped a glass cup on the floor.
I shook my head. Of course he was coming back. Being gone was normal — he drove a truck and left every Sunday, but always came back on Friday. “He just went to the store, right? He’s coming back,” I insisted, trying to convince myself.
Mom held out her hand and I accepted her invitation to fall into her arms. “I’m so sorry honey,” she cried, “I couldn’t make him stay.”
It changed everything. Well, really, since he was gone during the week anyway, it just changed the weekends — but it felt like everything changed. I had just turned ten — how was I supposed to deal with this?
So I went to school on Monday and my usual smile was absent from my face. My teacher noticed. “Kaylyn, what’s wrong?” she asked me quietly.
Once I let one tear fall, I couldn’t stop the rest. “My dad left us,” I choked.
I don’t remember what she said. I’m sure it was compassionate and loving, but it didn’t really matter. Her words couldn’t change the reality I was facing.
Now, as a fifth grade teacher, I find myself in my old fifth grade teacher’s shoes. My students come into my room with so many different life experiences and adversities and challenges, and I find myself struggling to find words that will be helpful. I have to accept the fact that sometimes, my words aren’t enough.
Saying “I’m so sorry” won’t bring back a parent or a sibling who’s passed away.
Saying “I understand” won’t make a chaotic home situation easier.
Saying “You’re okay” won’t make their anxieties disappear.
So, from here on out, I’m not going to worry about the words I say. Because they don’t really care what we say, really — they just need someone to listen and show they care. They need someone who’s willing to sit with them when they’re upset or angry or hurt.
Students, I’m sorry I can’t take the hurt away.
But I’ll do my best to help you carry it.
I can’t go to the dollar store anymore.
I went in just a few weeks ago without even thinking. My sister and I were on a mission to buy cat litter, and I went to the back refrigerator to grab a soda. I wrapped my too-large-for-a-girl hand around an orange bottle and let the door to the case close.
Yesterday, I had a really bad day.
Last week, I went four days without looking in the mirror.
I’m a dreamer. I sort of always have been. I sort of live with my head in the clouds a lot of the time. But I feel like it seems almost like a negative thing to have big dreams sometimes.
Three months ago yesterday, a really wonderful man died.
He died. He died, and I am not okay.
I’m feeling a little tired and overwhelmed this week, so the post is a little bit of a cop out, but that’s okay.
I think it will be fun to occasionally post more creative pieces of writing on here, and so here’s a poem I wrote last semester. Continue reading “Water, a Poem”
As a disclaimer, I am not an English professor — if anything I’m about to say is not what your specific professor wants, then by all means, don’t do it. I do, however, work as a writing coach on campus, and with classes having started, I’m about to get super busy helping other students edit and write essays. (I have the best job ever.) Continue reading “7 Things to Remember When Writing a College Essay”
I’m not sure that I typically come across as “an angry person,” but lately, I’ve felt a lot of anger. I think anger is hard to deal with because it often fuels and stems from other emotions. It can drive our thoughts and lead us to do or say things we wouldn’t normally do.
So, in case you are having some anger too, I thought I’d come up with a few things you can do to alleviate some of that anger!
Okay, if it wasn’t obvious already, there are going to be spoilers in this post. If you haven’t seen the movie yet and are planning on it, please stop reading now. Continue reading “My Thoughts on “The Meg””
Kaylyn Marie 