Some days literally kick my butt. Recently it was 8:47am and I sat down at my desk thinking this is going to be the longest day ever…mind you…we don’t get students in our school until 8:30 and I didn’t even have a class at that time. Let’s just say dysregulation was at an all time high that morning. My second class I was called a phrase of words that might have contained Guinness World Record amounts of the letter F. In my next class, not only did my most talkative student– I mean off-task, rambling on, pulling everyone else off task – talk the entire hour, but he pulled up a chair and sat right next to me so he could do it. The first student to enter my next class got right up in my space and asked if she could stick her finger in my ear…uh no! It was 10:02 am. Yeah, one of those days.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my students and I love my job, but somedays it is hard. It’s these days when I need perspective. I need the big picture. Yes, one way to do this would be to get all zen and reflective and have gratitude for what I do have. Maybe use a little mindfulness? But sometimes what works is I just laugh, and I remember one of my worst experiences and choices I ever made. Then, it helps me to remember everything will be okay. I just tell myself that no matter how crazy today seems as least it’s not an a** out on the side of a sand dune kind of day….

(As a precaution before you continue reading, my filter quickly disappeared during the experience I am going to share. Too often for me the “acceptable” words just don’t fit – my brain just doesn’t react that way. I used and thought all the words – yes, even the big ones. Just wanted you to be aware…)

Rewind a couple of years. My family is visiting Sleeping Bear Dunes National Park in Michigan. Absolutely beautiful place. We had already been out hiking all over the dunes for a couple of hours when he came across the Overlook. Beautiful. Seriously beautiful. Aqua blue waters meeting the towering sand dunes. There was a sign at the top of the Overlook that cautioned visitors not to go to the bottom of the dune as it would be a very strenuous trip back up and you must pay if you required rescuing.

This should have been a deterrent, but my two older boys immediately wanted to go, and other people were down there and I considered myself to be in pretty good shape and so of course I said let’s do it. The boys took off and I followed. It was a little slipping and sliding on the way down but easy. The view from the bottom was beautiful – totally worth it. At least at this point. We hung out at the bottom for awhile before turning around to begin our ascent.

Holy crap. It was a big dune. It was a lot bigger looking up from the bottom than it was looking down from the top. We started to climb. I guess I had never really climbed in sand and hadn’t though about the fact that every step I took my foot would slide half a step back down. Pretty sure my first “D**n” was about 20 steps in and my first “S**t” was about 10 steps later. My first break was literally about 8 feet up the dune.

I looked to my right seeing this little brush type stuff growing out of the sand. I thought I would climb there to hopefully get better traction. After about 3 feet of climbing and trying to use the brush to hold on to, the brush gave way, I slid back down, scratching my legs, my chest, and one of my elbows on the brush. I ended up about 6 feet up the dune. I had just managed to climb negative two feet.

Back out of the brush, with renewed determination I told my boys we were going to climb 30 steps and then take a break. This would be the plan we would use until we got to the top. First 30. Success. Second 30. Slower Success. Third 30. Stopped at 20. I was dying. This was the first time I thought am not getting up this damn dune. We had literally climbed about 10% of the total distance we needed to climb.

My boys were losing patience. My middle son, good at everything athletic and with no concern for anyone else, proceeded to scamper up the dune with no trouble. Mental note – never get stranded with him because he will leave me, and I will die. My oldest son started to move ahead of me also saying he would wait for me at the top. Before he could get away, I grabbed his foot and pulled him back to me. Through the gritted teeth of a forced smile, I told him if he left me, I would rip his leg off and throw it into Lake Michigan to use as fish bait. I know, parenting at its finest. He chose to stay with me.

We slowly continued. 30 Steps. D**n. S**t. Rest. 30 Steps. S**t. S**t. D**n. S**t. Rest. 30 Steps. Time for the big words. F**k. F**k. F**k. Rest. Lay down on my back, sprawled out, and contemplating crying for the first time. We were about 20% up the dune. My older son, always so positive, is still encouraging me and trying to motivate me at this point. Back up and the pattern repeated several times, however, now the climbing had moved from upright to an down on all four process. 30 steps. 30 steps. 30 steps. “D**n” and “S**t” and “F**k”. You don’t get much slower than barely freaking moving– 40% up the dune.

My son says Mom let me just go on up and I will have a water waiting for you. Proud parenting moment #2. I grab his shirt collar in the front, twist it around my wrist, pull his face within inches of my face, and in something that sounded like a voice from the Exorcist I told him that I would snuff out his life, literally, if he left me alone on the side of the dune. He chose to stay with me. We proceeded.

We had made it about 70% up the dune, when I slipped again and slid about 15 feet back down. In a motivational story this would be where the heroine would find her perseverance and determination and press forward. This would be the life-changing moment.  Well, I wasn’t a heroine. I was a big damn baby at this point. So, I did what felt right and I just laid down flat on my stomach face down in the sand. My son came and sat next to me and our conversation went something like this:

     He said, “Mom, your butt is hanging out right now.” (I had a white athletic skort on so the skirt had blown up and you could see the panty part and my underwear underneath.)
     I said, “I don’t care.”
     He said, “Mom, like people can see your butt. It’s pretty noticeable.”
     I responded again, “I don’t care.”
     He said, “Mom, I think people are taking your picture from the overlook…of you and your butt hanging out…there are a lot of people up there…So, just how close to rock bottom are you right now?”
     I couldn’t help but chuckle a little as I said, “I am laying on the side of a sand dune with my ass hanging out. I can’t move. I’m contemplating paying to be rescued which might get me on the nightly news. That man on the overlook has a zoom lens and I will probably become a picture on the internet with a caption this contest. I may lie here and dehydrate on this damn dune. Yes, this feels pretty close to a rock bottom moment.”
     He says, “Well, on the positive side if search and rescue needs to find you it should be easy because we can just say find the woman laying on the dune with her butt hanging out.” How the hell I raised a positive kid is beyond me.

Over two hours later, I summitted the top of the dune. I’m not proud. I cussed. I cried. I whined. I threatened. This is where in most of my posts I write about some really profound lesson I learned that changed my life and made me want to be better or showed me some type of inner strength. Nope. Not this time. There wasn’t that euphoria of making it to the top – of accomplishing something. No bravery. No badass. No strength. No overcoming. Just tired. And stupid. And a really bad experience. The first lesson I learned was I hate sand.  I really hate a big pile of freaking sand.  More importantly, however, I learned that when a sign says don’t climb down the hill because it’s really hard to get back up then you don’t climb down the damn hill. That’s really pretty freaking easy.

So, when I have bad day, I often think about being stuck on the side of sand dune with my a** hanging out. Sometimes remembering “it could be worse” is just enough to get you through. So, the next time you are having a rough day, and if you don’t have your own “sand dune” moment, feel free to think about me stuck on that sand dune, threatening the life of my child, with strangers taking pictures of me and my a** and hopefully your day will be a little bit better. You’re welcome!