All good things don’t necessarily end, they change like the seasons…
“All good things” is a place for anyone with OR without chronic illness, debilitating illness, disability, or the carers for us to come and get away for 5 minutes to have a read and a piece of hope. Goodness can come out of hardship, and darkness can cloak itself for only so long until it bursts into the light.
Warmly,
Jonathan
“Hope is the last thing that dies. Maybe because hope is one of those dratted things that is truly, honestly, genuinely immortal.”
-Vera Nazarian
“All Good Things”
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One Lifetime Isn’t Enough
One lifetime is not enough. It feels selfish to write these words; still I do at age 43.
Some will say I’m cutting myself out of roles I could be cast in by disclosing this number.
Some will say that the act of writing creative nonfiction will tank my teaching career.
Some will say I am fulfilling a prophecy by manifesting what I write.
Return to Start
That’s your chapter right now. I’ve faced the disease–now it’s time to walk with the illness. From surgeries to being hit by a car, I faced a few things that seem like a really twisted fairytale this year. Very unexpected things. I’ve gone to rehabilitation to get back to where I was one year ago. I returned to start.
Summer Remission
I sit drinking my club soda and lemon, with my legs crossed as I sit on a barstool across from my friend. The bar is dark with cherry-wood high top pub tables. A green pool table with a red awning just within my sight line. I stop and look down. I’m sitting on a stool, wearing flip-flops. In retrospect, I imagine it’s what hiking in high heels must feel like. I smile.
When the Bleeding Stops
They say: “All good things must come to an end.” Vacations, family gatherings, a piece of birthday Godiva chocolate cheesecake, a piece of yourself…
All good things…
A former educator for those with special needs finds the next chapter in life he was searching for. The “All Good Things” blog is moving to Medium.
Valentine’s Day Purrs
I may be single, but I do smile when I see gestures of love on television, or two people holding hands as they walk down the street. This year, I will be spending the day with who else but my cat, Bridget. The day falls on a Tuesday and not much gets me to trudge out in the cold on a Tuesday without a really good reason, which would include a trip to the store to buy chocolate, but when I look up the definition of Valentine, I see one that catches my eye…
My Language is Hope
I started All Good Things as a resignation letter from my job: I used the SEO: “A former special needs educator faces a rare disease, using writing to learn to live with disability in this next chapter of life.”
Listen
I sit by the lamplight at my desk. My laptop is open and my kitten, Bridget, has surveyed the area and is now sitting on my (our) bed bathing her stuffy. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and the recent bite to the Chicago air has blown havoc around not just myself, but the community at large.
Crash
I sat in the passenger seat, laughing, recounting the crazy things my former students said to me as I returned to the school as a substitute teacher. Then there was a sound that took my breath away. Crunching. My chest lunged into the seatbelt and my head snapped forward; a roller coaster I never wanted to ride. “Oh God. Please don’t let this be how it ends.” My head snaps back into the headrest.
Let it Scar
When someone passes, words, my profession, are sometimes inadequate to stitch up the wounds of someone in pain. Sometimes, we need to let the wound bleed and when the scar is there, tend to it. The aftercare of wounds is sometimes a matter of life and death.
A Sturgeon Moon
What comes next when staring at a new season of life, especially when winter falls before our summer has even been written?
Celebrations
My phone holds “Speech Assistant,“ a Text to Speech Augmentative/Alternative Communication (AAC) app on my homescreen as well, which I have used time and again to speak for myself in times of celebration when the words in my heart would not make their way into the world.
Blue Memory
Jonathan recalls memories of walking the shores of the Gulf of Mexico with appreciation for what was and possibly can be. Some stories yearn to be told even when they feel out of reach.
That Old Life: Myelin, Magic, and Memory
I try to make others feel comfortable with my condition, and that Chronic Inflammatory Demyelinating Polyneuropathy (CIDP) with central nervous system involvement doesn’t make me angry. Or sad. Or scared. But fear is part of this journey and the medication I choose today is a return to a shade of blue that can only be called peace.
Something Blue
Upon exiting the teaching profession, a teacher wonders searches for what to do next.
The Commencement
A teacher says goodbye to his classroom after attending the high school commencement ceremony.