Wednesday, June 9th

Sometimes, you don't realize how stressed you are until the unknown cause of the unknown stress is gone.

I feel like a new person now that Wednesday is over.

Wednesday was the last day of school with students. 

Wednesday was the day of the speech that, for months, I had been working on and preparing for, and for which I did not feel adequately prepared at all.  But then, I don't know what I could have done to feel more prepared.

All day Wednesday, I was in a panic...was my speech too long at twenty minutes?  Should I cut some?  Does it make sense?  Will it sound stupid?  And the worst - will I even make it through?  The first time I practiced it for real, in my classroom, by myself, I had teared up at the end.  What would I do as I delivered the speech in a room full of people?

I practiced many more times, still not feeling that it was enough, but at twenty minutes a pop, I could only do it so many times.  The first time through was the only time in which choking up was involved.

That evening, as I prepared dinner for the kids and my mother-in-law (who was going to be watching them while John and I were at the banquet), I went through the speech one last time.  Too late for any changes by that point.  We left (with Cortlan happily playing, and Everly crying) and headed to the banquet hall.

I took a few deep breaths and we were ready to go in.  I saw the podium where I was soon to be delivering my speech...into a microphone...which somehow amplified the nervousness I was feeling.  We made small talk, greeted some wonderful former teachers and friends, ate dinner.

As we clipped through the program at a pace not nearly slow enough, we eventually got to the key note speaker - me.

Ok, I am going to be fine.  I can do this.  It is just a speech and these people are all so nice and are on my side with this.  What's the worst that can happen?  It will be over soon.  Be confident.  Be strong.  Be enthusiastic.  Be inpirational.  Take control.

I listened to my introduction, which was a bit surreal.  Were they talking about me?  I approached the podium, said my thanks and good evening, and began.

In my head I was confident.  In my head, I was ready for this, and knew that it was a wonderful opportunity, and that I was strong.  But my body gave a completely different message.  My stomach quivered.  My hands shook.  Suddenly, I had to pee.  The words that came out of my mouth were right, but they even surprised me by their tremble. 

Deep breath.  Keep going.

I gained momentum.  I started to feel better.  And then came the line about 1/3 of the way into my speech (a line, incidentally, that didn't catch me off guard through any of the many practice speeches) in which I mention my love for my children.  The tears began.  I ignored them, thinking they would be short lived and that I would quickly recover.  Nope.  The gate had been opened.  I was laying it all out there at this point.

I pressed on, and recovered briefly, before the tears began again.  I made a joke out of it, referencing that this was not the panic attack that I mentioned at the beginning of the speech, and at another time, laughing through the tears, saying, "What is wrong with me??!" The audience laughed with me when I hoped they would. 

I could hardly see who I was talking to, partially because of the tears, partially because it was as if my mind and body were in two different places, completely disconnected from one another in thought and action.  I hardly stole a glance at the table where my husband sat, for fear that would make my emotional reaction worse. 

My mouth said the words, and I was paying attention and focused on what I was doing, but yet there was this other part of my mind...What the heck is going on right now?  Why are these tears not stopping?  Why do I have no control??!

I did notice a few people pull out tissues, a few others slyly wipe their eyes with the side of their hands.  Are they crying, too??

I got to the last part of my speech - the part where I had gotten emotional as I practiced.  I knew this wouldn't be good.

Smiling, I whispered through tears into the microphone.  I felt I should prepare them.  This part is going to be tough for me.

It was.  I took it line by line.  I wanted to be able to speak clearly enough for them to understand what I was saying.  The tears fell harder.  I ended.  Congratulations, I said.  It was over.

This was either a really good speech, or I just embarassed the hell out of myself.

I got to the table, feeling humble, as the mother of the valedictorian handed me a tissue as I walked past.

I sat down.  John put his hand on me and told me I did great.  Then leaned over and whispered in my ear, "You made me cry."  The teachers that I sat with complimented me.

I felt relief wash over me.  I felt like I had just accomplished something huge.  It was something I had dreaded, but knew I had to do.  I still wasn't sure whether the speech was good, but I felt like I was on top of the world. 

On our way out of the banquet hall, a girl who was being honored at the banquet stopped me.  "Thank you so much," she said.  "Really.  That meant so much to me.  I feel like I am you, and the things you said really affected me.  They made me feel so much better.  I feel differently about things now.  Thank you."

I was in the right place at the right time and said the right thing to affect at least one person's life.  I am so thankful to have had the opportunity.

And when I woke up Thursday morning, I felt like a new person.