Feeling Small, Speaking Anyway
I thought that leaving the classroom would solve my chronic stress and anxiety. And while it did help, it didn’t make it all go away.
Because now, the state of society impacts me differently. And strangely, I feel just as overwhelmed as I did when I was teaching. Maybe even more.
When I was in the classroom, I at least felt like I was contributing to help. Teachers are such an important pillar of society (the backbone, really). And now that I’m no longer in that space, I often feel… helpless.
That’s why I started Acre Minds in the first place.
But I’ll be honest: I’m struggling. Not with the mission, I know in my bones that supporting teachers and school communities matters, but I’m struggling with bringing the vision to life. Or maybe I’m just struggling with the process of it all.
Part of me feels silly, selfish even, for asking for help (donations to be more specific), especially when the world feels so heavy right now.
However, after having a recent conversation with someone whose story mirrors mine: a former teacher, burned out and stretched too thin by the system, but still shows up for education, just from a different seat at the table.
She reminded me that everything is connected. That listening to your body and your heart is resistance in a time like this.
Yes, it’s painful to scroll and see the horrors in the news. But we must act, even in small ways. The smallest action can ripple outward and have a real impact.
Lately, I feel guilty that a part of me feels somewhat grateful that I’m not in the classroom during such an abysmal time in our country and world. Because I catch myself thinking:
“How would I even begin to teach the three branches of government right now… when they’re barely functioning in real life?”
“How would I protect my students if ICE agents showed up in the neighborhood again?”
Just thought of it puts my nervous system into overdrive. I can’t imagine what current teachers are going through right now.
This is why I keep coming back to wellness. But not just as “rest” or “unplugging,” but as the deep work of sitting with our emotions, regulating our nervous systems, and reclaiming our peace so we can survive systems that weren’t designed for us.
My mission with Acre Minds is simple:
I just want to help.
First and foremost: I want to help teachers. Because I was one, and I always will be.
Because I come from a family of educators. My mother and sister are still showing up every day.
Because many of my closest friends are teachers.
Because teachers are our village, they care for our children, our communities, and our future.
I’ll admit: I was feeling guilty (more guilt, I really need to work on this) about nurturing this idea while so many other urgent things are happening. But the truth is, my idea is part of the solution. It's all connected.
Yes, many organizations are asking for support right now. And it’s hard to know where to give.
So here’s what I’ll say:
If you’re able to support Acre Minds, know that your donation goes directly toward the work of sustaining teachers through care packages, Marigold Meetups, and wellness-based community support.
And if you can’t give right now, that’s okay! Sharing this with someone who can means just as much. Every small ripple matters.
I know these words feel scattered, but I just needed to get this out. I’ve been feeling lost in the noise, in the chaos. And I suspect that’s by design. That the systems in place want us, the “little guys,” to feel overwhelmed and hopeless, so we stop building the good we want to see.
But we can’t stop.
Take the breaks you need. Rest. Regulate.
But don’t become complacent.
Remember, even small actions ripple.
We have to look out for each other.
We have to unite.
Be strategic. Be safe. Be loud.
And whatever you do, don’t lose your light.
