One Year.

One year ago, my remission ended. I knew my immune system was trying to deal with a cold, and instead of lying down and letting it pass as I had during the rest of my remission, I pushed forward, because my trainer was in town, and she was speaking at a parent evening along with one of my students about the continuum of Montessori education. That was an event I could not miss. And I'm still glad I didn't miss it, for all it cost me.

I was so proud that night. My student, let's call him Gord, had written a speech about what he gained during each level of schooling. He wrote beautifully about his memories and thoughtfully about what he'd gained as a student at our school. I barely helped him polish the speech, more listened and helped him to do it himself, just like any good Montessori teacher would do. It was so good, that even his mother couldn't believe he wrote it himself.

I got to go out for dinner with two incredibly inspirational women - my mother and my trainer. And they treated me, not like daughter and student, but as equal. We shared thoughts and ideas, and talked about school stuff and personal stuff, and it was a lovely night. And then in the parent session, I got to brag about what my class was doing in order to better answer the parents' questions about how the school works. I mean really, how good does it get?

The next day, I wasn't feeling quite so hot. And the following day, I went back to school anyway. I took my students to the gym, and literally felt myself sink into a pile of mats and my head just fell against the wall. It was all I could do to make it home that night.

And that's how it all started again.

The rest of the semester, I went in here and there, and then eventually, I pushed my limits to the point where I had no choice but to stay home.

And so I have. It is odd to think back today, and see how much has changed in that year. It's not the anniversary of being home, or crashing out, but it is the day that I remember feeling sick and pushing it because I felt I had to, and because I wanted to. It seems like a pivotal moment for me. Maybe because it was such a great day. Maybe because part of me knew what was going on in my body, even though I refused to listen.

I think the two most salient things that have changed in me since that day are that I now accept my need to heal as a reality, as a gift and as a part of me, and that because of that, I no longer judge myself by or push myself to meet external standards. I choose more carefully when and where and how to push myself, because the consequences are all too clear.

Given the choice today of going back a year and changing something, I would perhaps change one thing - I would include in Gord's introduction that he wrote the whole thing himself. Otherwise, I would do everything else as I did it a year ago. It was a valuable evening for me, and the consequences, damn them, have also been valuable for me.