Tomorrow I Return

So…tomorrow is the day. I return to work after being away from school for seven months.

I’m a little anxious about it. On one hand, it will be good to get back into a routine and do something productive. On the other hand, I’m concerned about the stress and whether I’ll be able to handle everything that comes with returning to school.

At the same time, I’m starting a DBT program that meets three days a week in the late afternoon and early evening. I know the program will be helpful, but it will also take up a significant amount of family and work time. I’ll have to adjust to a new schedule and be better prepared to manage the challenges that come with it.

After seven months away, I know I can’t expect to walk back into school and immediately be at 100 percent. I’m not there yet, and that’s something I need to accept. I also need to talk with my principal about what has been going on so he understands where I am and what I’m working through. Returning to work is going to take some adjustment.

Right now, I only have 19 students, which is fantastic! Of course, that probably means I’ll be first in line for any new students who move into the school. For now, though, I’ll take the 19 and be grateful.

Tomorrow should be a fairly calm way to ease back into things. It’s the first day back for teachers, and there isn’t much on the agenda. We have some work time, a meeting, and then lunch provided by the PTO. I have a feeling the week will go pretty quickly. After that, we’re heading up north for the long weekend, which will be a nice break before the real adventure begins.

I’ll probably be more anxious on Monday than I am right now. That’s okay. I know anxiety doesn’t have to disappear before I can move forward. I can sit with it. I can let it be there without letting it take over.

For now, I’m going to take this one day at a time.

Tomorrow, I return.

And if the anxiety comes along for the ride, I’ll ride the wave.

Half-Smiling

So…I’m feeling a little out of sorts lately, and I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s school. Maybe it’s something else.

I’ve been away from school for seven months, and next week, teachers return. I think I’m ready. I’ve spent the last two weeks in my classroom getting everything organized and prepared. I’ve made a ton of copies, put things where they belong, and gotten myself ahead of the game. On paper, I’m ready to go.

But I still feel unsettled.

I’m anxious. Things haven’t been going particularly well at home, and I’m feeling sad. Right now, I don’t really want to do much of anything. Part of me would rather retreat from everything for a while.

But I know I have to keep moving forward.

This is where some of those DBT skills come in. I can practice half-smiling and willing hands, even when I don’t particularly feel like smiling or being willing. Sometimes changing what I’m doing with my body can help nudge my emotions in a different direction. It’s a little like “fake it till you make it,” only with some DBT behind it.

I may feel out of sorts today, AND I can still move forward.

I can do this.

Back To It

So… I have been going into school to get a handle on my classroom. While I was gone last year, the kids really did a number on the room. I’ve found more broken materials and crumpled-up paper shoved just about everywhere. It will take some time to replace the broken items, mostly games, but little by little, I’m getting things organized and ready to go.

Today, I put up new bulletin board paper and started working on the second-grade curriculum calendar. I want to be as prepared as I can for this school year. The last few months have been difficult, and returning to school adds another wrinkle to everything. I’m looking forward to getting back, but there is definitely some anxiety mixed in there, too.

It also doesn’t help that I’m hobbling around. My calf is still pretty painful, but I have a knee scooter now, which makes getting from place to place much easier. Unfortunately, it doesn’t help much with all the standing I have to do while getting the classroom ready.

Today, I’m feeling pretty anxious. I’m not entirely sure why. I’ve taken my medicine as prescribed, put my foot up for a while, and tried to take it easy, but I still feel on edge. Some days are just like that.

There is something wonderful to look forward to tonight, though. Today is my fourth wedding anniversary! My husband and I are going out to Chloe in Downtown East to celebrate. It’s a new restaurant for us, and I’m looking forward to trying it. We’re always on the lookout for good places to eat, so if you have a favorite restaurant we should try, leave it in the comments.

I’ll let you know how Chloe is!

More later…

The Strange Space Between

So…Today is the first day in a long time that I don’t have a program to go to, and it feels a little strange.

Usually, by now, I would be sitting in the parking lot drinking my white chocolate mocha and waiting for the day to begin. Today, however, I’m home, and I have to admit that I’m feeling a little lost.

I’m sure that once I get back to work and have a regular routine again, I’ll start to feel better. It’s not that I don’t have things to do. I definitely do. I just have to get used to doing them again. I haven’t been to work since January 26, 2026. That’s quite a while to be away.

Today, I’m going to school to start getting my classroom settled. They promised me that my room would be ready today, and I really hope it is. I’m guessing it will be a bit of a disaster after the full-time summer daycare program. Why do we always have to host it? I don’t know. Spread the joy around! The other schools can take a turn once in a while.

I think getting my classroom back in order will help with some of my anxiety. There’s something reassuring about putting things where they belong and getting ready for the year ahead. Maybe getting the room back in shape will help me feel a little more settled, too.

I won’t be at school all day, though. I also have a doctor’s appointment to have my right calf checked out. I think I may have torn or strained the muscle while doing high-knee exercises. Apparently, I forgot that I am old. 😂 Maybe I’ll stick with crunches and squats for a while. Whatever I did to it, I have a feeling it’s going to take some time to recover.

So, this is another transition. For months, my days have revolved around treatment and programming. Now I have to figure out what my days look like without that structure and slowly find my way back into everyday life.

It feels strange. It feels uncertain. And, yes, it makes me anxious.

But I know I can manage. I’ve got to.

One day, one classroom, and one white chocolate mocha at a time.

OUCH!

So…Tomorrow is my last day of IOP, and I’m a little nervous.

Over the past seven months, I have learned a lot about myself and how the sexual assault and other traumas I experienced have affected my life. When I was a young teenager, I developed behaviors and ways of thinking that helped keep me safe. At the time, I needed them. As I grew older, however, those same behaviors stopped helping me. In fact, many of them began getting in my way.

I’m older now. I’m not thirteen anymore, and I’m not facing the same circumstances or challenges I faced back then. Yet those old patterns remain.

That is one of the frustrating things about maladaptive schemas. They become so deeply ingrained that I often don’t even realize they are there. During my time in residential, PHP, and IOP, I have begun to understand what these schemas are, where some of them came from, and how profoundly they affect my behavior.

Out of the 18 maladaptive schemas, I struggle with 16 of them. Obviously, I’m not going to change all of that overnight. It takes awareness, time, patience, and a lot of practice.

One of the hardest parts is simply recognizing when a schema has been activated. They operate quietly in the background, influencing how I interpret situations and how I respond to them. They are also self-perpetuating. A schema becomes activated, I react to a situation through the lens of that schema, and my reaction can create an outcome that seems to confirm what the schema was telling me in the first place.

And around and around we go.

I think of these schemas as paths that have been traveled so many times that they have become deeply worn into the ground. My brain knows exactly where those paths go, so it automatically follows them. Now I have to learn to notice when I’m heading down one of those familiar paths and choose a different direction.

That is incredibly difficult.

My WET (Written Exposure Therapy) has helped me identify some of the schemas working quietly in the background. Now that I can recognize them, I have an opportunity to challenge them. I can begin asking myself whether the old pattern really fits the situation I’m in today or whether I’m responding to something from long ago.

I know this work won’t end just because IOP ends tomorrow. In many ways, I think I’m leaving with a better understanding of the work I still need to do.

I have to keep trying.

And I will.

In other news…

Because apparently I needed another challenge, I tore a muscle in my calf while exercising.

It sucks. So. Bad.

School starts in a few weeks, and I’m really hoping I’ll be able to walk normally by then. I see an orthopedic doctor on Monday, so hopefully I’ll know more after that. I’m also hoping to get a knee scooter because the crutches I’m using right now stink. Getting around is ridiculously difficult.

I’m sure I’ll get better at navigating all of this as time goes on.

Until then…

OUCH!

More later…

The End or a New Beginning

So…This is my last week of IOP. I have two WET (Written Exposure Therapy) writing sessions left, and I’m a little anxious about them. WET has been challenging, and knowing I still have two more sessions makes me nervous. At the same time, I feel bittersweet about leaving the program.

I’ve been in this program since May 5, and for the past three and a half months, it has provided some much-needed structure to my days. It has become part of my routine and, in many ways, part of my life. Now, that chapter is coming to an end.

I will miss Lindsey and the crew who have gone through this program with me. They tell you that you’re not supposed to make friends while you’re in treatment, but you do. How could you not? For three and a half months, we have sat together, shared difficult moments, supported one another, and worked through some incredibly hard things.

We all have our own traumas and our own stories, but there is something powerful about being around people who understand what it means to do this kind of work. Going through it together creates a connection, whether we intend for it to happen or not.

I am grateful for the people who have supported me throughout this program. Thank you for listening, encouraging me, laughing with me, and simply being there. You have been an important part of this chapter of my recovery, and I will miss you all.

Four days to go. I’m anxious. I’m excited. I’m sad to leave.

AND I’m ready to see what comes next.

“AND”

So…It has been several days since I last wrote, so I thought I would share an update.

This year has been filled with challenges. I have been through inpatient treatment twice, Partial Hospitalization (PHP), residential treatment, another round of PHP, and now Intensive Outpatient (IOP). It has been one of the hardest years of my life, but it has also been one of the most transformative.

Through all of this, I have learned more about myself than I ever expected. I am beginning to understand that the traumas I have endured do not define who I am. They are things that happened to me. They are part of my story, but they are not the whole story. I don't have to carry the shame and guilt forever.

One of the greatest lessons I have learned comes from the dialectic of AND. It reminds me that two things can be true at the same time.

I was sexually assaulted, and I can be strong in the face of that trauma.

I was raped, and I can heal.

Those statements don't erase what happened, but they remind me that my past does not get the final word. "AND" is a small word with incredible power.

I have about a week left in IOP. It has been a long journey, and while I know recovery doesn't end when the program does, I can honestly say that I am healing. Some days are still difficult, but there are more good days than there used to be, and that gives me hope.

Tomorrow I have an intake appointment for a trauma-focused DBT program. From what I understand, it meets two evenings a week, and I should learn the final details tomorrow. The fact that it appears to be in-network with my insurance is an added bonus.

After IOP ends, I'll have a couple of weeks before school starts to prepare for returning to work. I walked out of my classroom on January 26, 2026, and I haven't been back since. There will be a lot to do to get my classroom ready and, perhaps even more importantly, to prepare myself mentally for returning.

But this time, I won't be returning as the same person who left.

I am going back stronger, wiser, and better equipped to face life's challenges. I know there will be difficult days ahead, but I also know I have the skills, the support, and the determination to meet them.

I can do this.

I know I can.

More later…

Bad?

So…Written Exposure Therapy (WET) has led me to think a lot about the idea of good versus bad.

As many of you know, I was sexually assaulted when I was 13 years old. During that assault, I did things that I have spent decades believing were "bad." I have carried the belief that I participated and that I asked for it. That is where I find myself stuck.

It leaves me asking one question over and over:

Am I a bad person because I did things that I believe were bad?

Merriam-Webster defines bad as "not good, poor in quality, or wrong. It describes things that fail to meet a standard, cause harm, or feel unpleasant."

My mind takes that definition and turns it inward. If I believe I participated in my own assault, does that mean I am not good?

These thoughts have followed me throughout my life. In Trauma Group, we have been learning about Maladaptive Schema Theory. There are eighteen maladaptive schemas, and several of them seem to describe the way I have lived for years: Defectiveness/Shame, Vulnerability to Harm, Social Isolation, and Negativity/Pessimism.

Looking back, I can see how those schemas affected my relationships. I rarely let people get close to me, and when they did, I often pushed them away. Keeping people at a distance felt safer than risking being hurt again. Unfortunately, that also meant hurting people who cared about me. There is a trail of broken relationships that I deeply regret.

Those experiences reinforce the belief that I am somehow a bad person.

My therapist has challenged me to question these beliefs instead of simply accepting them as facts. That is incredibly difficult. My mind keeps returning to the same painful conclusions. I think about the people I have hurt. I think about the assault. I think about the guilt and shame that I have carried for forty-three years.

Forty-three years is a long time to believe something about yourself. Those beliefs become so familiar that they begin to feel like truth, even when they may not be.

I don't have the answers yet. I am still doing the hard work of facing these memories and challenging the beliefs that have shaped my life. Recovery is not about finding instant answers. Sometimes it is simply about being willing to ask difficult questions and continuing to move forward, one day at a time.

More later…

If you are carrying guilt or shame from your own past, know that you are not alone. Healing is possible, and every step you take toward understanding yourself is a step toward hope.

Tattos Today Part 2

So...I headed over to Minneapolis Tattoo Shop and met with Teal. She already had my designs prepared, so all we had to do was decide on the sizes. Once we settled on that, she quickly created the stencils and brought me back to the chair.

The session flew by. We talked the entire time while she worked, which made the experience feel relaxed and comfortable. Before I knew it, the tattoos were finished.

I couldn't be happier with how they turned out. Teal did an amazing job bringing my ideas to life. Check them out and let me know what you think!

“And,” the great dialectic.

Origami Paper Crane for Anna.

The Seal of Rambaldi.

Semicolon. My sentence is not over yet.

Tattoos Today

So...today is tattoo day!

I'm heading to the Minneapolis Tattoo Shop, a female-owned and operated studio, to get some new ink. My artist is Teal (which has to be one of the coolest artist names ever).

I'm really looking forward to it. Each tattoo has its own meaning and represents an important part of my journey. I'll share photos once they're finished, but for now, here are the designs I'll be getting:

The Great Dialectic!

The Seal of Rambaldi.

My Story isn’t over yet.

An origami crane for Anna. I am getting the third one.

The Blame Game

So…Written Exposure Therapy (WET) (read more here) has been incredibly difficult lately. Each writing session feels like it tears open old wounds. Right now, it has only reinforced a belief that has haunted me for years: that I carry much of the blame for what happened. I know that trauma can distort the way we see ourselves, but I still can't seem to get that thought out of my head. It hurts more than I can put into words.

It is painful enough that the abuse happened. What hurts just as much is the feeling that I somehow participated in it. That belief fills me with shame, even though I am working hard in therapy to challenge it.

My latest WET assignment was to write about how the abuse has affected my life. As I sat there thinking, I couldn't identify a single part of my life that hadn't been touched by it. My relationships, my home life, my time at school, my mental health, and the way I see myself have all been shaped by that trauma. It cast a shadow over so much of my life, and I am angry about that.

What makes me even angrier is that I am the one doing all of this difficult work while the person who abused me has gone on with life as though nothing ever happened. That doesn't feel fair.

People sometimes ask why I didn't tell anyone. The answer is simple, even if it isn't easy. Shame and guilt kept me silent. I was terrified that people would judge me, blame me, or think differently of me. I carried that secret for more than thirty years before I finally told someone. Sadly, some of the reactions I received confirmed exactly what I had feared all those years.

Tomorrow, I'll write again.

That may not sound like much, but right now, simply showing up is an act of courage. Each session is one more step toward laying down a burden I have carried for far too long. I don't know how long the journey will take, but I do know this: I want to put this weight behind me and begin living again.

Seven Days

So…If you live in Minnesota, you may have heard about the Minnesota Paid Leave Program. If you ever need to apply for benefits, learn from my experience: submit your application within seven days of the start of your leave.

I applied about two weeks after my leave began, and that delay created a complicated situation. The doctors involved in my treatment would only certify my leave beginning on the date I entered their program, not the actual date my medical leave started. That discrepancy caused a major headache.

Recently, I had to go to court for an appeal involving my employer. According to the paperwork, my leave appeared to begin later than it actually did. As a result, the state determined that I received two weeks of Paid Leave benefits that I may not have been eligible for. Now I may have to repay those benefits.

Needless to say, it has been a stressful experience. At this point, I am waiting for the judge's ruling and hoping for the best.

If there is one piece of advice I can offer, it is this: apply for Minnesota Paid Leave within seven days of the start of your leave. Doing so could save you a great deal of stress, paperwork, and uncertainty.

More later…

More Tattoos I want

So…Here are a few more tattoos that I want:

• A paper crane—for Anna.

• A ; tattoo—my story is not over.

• An & tattoo—the great dialectic “And”

• The Seal of Rambaldi

An Oragami Paper Crane Tattoo

Ampersand Tattoo

The Seal Of Rambaldi

A Semicolon tattoo.

Almost There

So...I've started posting again on X (@madzander_1) and Instagram (@madzander.david). I wanted to reconnect with everyone and share what I've been up to since taking medical leave from school.

I have about four weeks left in my treatment program, and then it will be time to start thinking about returning to the classroom. It's hard to believe how much has happened over the past several months. Recovery has not been easy, but I can honestly say that I am beginning to feel like myself again.

I'm not exactly the same person I was before. In many ways, this experience has changed me. I still carry the scars of what I've been through, and I still have intrusive thoughts related to my trauma from time to time. The difference is that those thoughts no longer control me. They are manageable, and I have the tools to work through them. A big thank you to CBT and DBT for helping me get to this point.

I know there is still work to do, but for the first time in a long while, I am genuinely looking forward to returning to school. I'm hopeful that these next few weeks go well and that I can continue building on the progress I've made.

More later...

PHP to IOP

So…Today I am graduating from PHP (Partial Hospitalization Program) to IOP (Intensive Outpatient Program). Instead of attending treatment all day, I will now be going for half-days. It feels like an important step forward, even though I have mixed emotions about it.

I have made a great deal of progress over the past several months, but I still struggle with self-harm urges. Part of me thinks they should have faded by now, yet they are still there. Maybe that is simply part of my journey, something I will continue to manage one day at a time rather than something that disappears overnight.

Every day I see the scars I gave myself, and they are painful reminders of one of the hardest chapters of my life. They remind me of the fear, the depression, and the anxiety that I have fought so hard to overcome. But perhaps there is another way to look at them. Maybe they are not just reminders of pain. Maybe they are battle scars, evidence that I survived a fight against mental illness that often felt impossible.

This journey has been long, exhausting, and incredibly difficult. There have been setbacks, moments when I wondered if I would ever make it through, and days when hope felt very far away. Yet I am still here. I am still doing the work. I am still choosing recovery, even on the days when it is hard.

As I begin IOP, I know there is still work ahead of me. Recovery is not finished just because I am taking the next step in treatment. But I also know this: I have come farther than I ever thought I could. For the first time in a long time, I can see the possibility that this experience will not only heal me, but strengthen me. And that gives me hope.

Rolodex little People

So…

Last year, someone at school was giving away a stack of old Rolodex cards. I grabbed them without really knowing why. Sometimes you just have a feeling that something might come in handy someday.

As it turns out, they make the perfect canvas for art.

Lately, I’ve been creating my Little People drawings on the cards. Their small size makes each one a fun creative challenge, and I love giving these forgotten office supplies a new purpose.

Here’s one of my favorites. I’d love to hear what you think. Leave a comment and let me know!

A curvy line of Little People on a Rolodex card.

Little People in Windows.

Early To Rise Is Early To Rise

So…

It seems that sleep has become a stranger lately. For the past week or so, I’ve been waking up around 4:00 a.m. every morning and usually give up trying to fall back asleep by 4:30. It’s not because I’m staying up too late. I’m usually in bed by about 10:00 each night.

The problem is that my mind refuses to shut off.

Anxiety, depression, worries about my upcoming Minnesota Paid Leave court date (next week, and I’ll let you know how it goes), and Written Exposure Therapy (WET) all seem to compete for my attention. By the time morning arrives, I’m already exhausted. Sleep deprivation makes it harder to think clearly and even harder to keep my emotions in check.

One thing that has been helping is walking. I’ve been walking about five miles a day at a pace in the low 15-minute miles. It feels good to move my body, even though the Minnesota heat has made those walks a little more challenging. I put on some music and try to focus on the rhythm of my steps, but my mind often wanders back to everything that is weighing on me. Rumination has a way of following you, even on the longest walks.

I know I’m doing important work. I’m trying to get to the root of my trauma and finally begin to heal. But healing is hard work.

If you’ve been following along, you know that I was sexually assaulted when I was 13 years old. I buried those memories for forty-three years. Everything finally came to a head on January 26, 2026, when I ended up at EmPATH. Since then, I’ve been climbing out of a very deep depression. While I’ve made progress, the anxiety has been much more stubborn. It doesn’t seem ready to let go.

Some days, anxiety feels like a constant companion, whispering worst-case scenarios and making even ordinary tasks feel overwhelming. Every day is an exercise in pushing back against it and choosing to keep moving forward.

What helps you manage anxiety? If you have something that works for you, I'd love to hear about it. Leave a comment and share your ideas.

Today, I’m tired. I’m irritable. But I’m still here, and I’m going to keep doing my best. Sometimes, that's enough.

More later…

Insomnia Strikes Again

So...

For the past week or so, I've been waking up much earlier than usual. I toss and turn throughout the night until, eventually, I'm just awake. I'll lie in bed for a while, ruminating, before finally deciding to get up and start my day.

If there's a silver lining, it's that those quiet early morning hours give me time to get a lot done. According to my Oura Ring, though, I've accumulated more than five and a half hours of sleep debt. I definitely feel like I'm dragging.

I know that poor sleep can make my depression and anxiety worse, so I've been paying close attention to how I'm feeling. Thankfully, today has been a good day. My maladaptive urges are under control, and the world doesn't seem quite so dark. When I'm exhausted, it's much easier for depression and anxiety to creep back in, so I need to stay vigilant and continue using the skills I've learned.

Part of what has made this week so challenging is Written Exposure Therapy. Confronting trauma is incredibly difficult. It asks you to revisit memories that you've spent years trying to avoid. It is painful, exhausting, and emotionally draining.

I also find myself feeling angry. I'm the one living with the anxiety, the sleepless nights, and the emotional aftermath, while the person who assaulted me has never been held accountable. That reality is hard to accept.

As much as I wish I could, I cannot change what happened. I can't erase the past. What I can do is choose how I respond today. I can continue doing the difficult work of healing, even when it hurts. I can acknowledge what happened, refuse to let it define my future, and keep moving forward one day at a time.

More later...

The Hardest Pages

So...

Today was another Written Exposure Therapy (WET) writing day. I explained what WET is and how it works in an earlier post, so I won't go into the details again here. When I wrote that post, however, I hadn't actually experienced a writing session.

Now I have completed three.

The first two sessions were incredibly difficult. In fact, the emotional aftermath was so overwhelming that I ended up in the hospital after them.

Today, I feel emotionally drained. I also feel guilty and ashamed.

Writing about something so painful is incredibly difficult. Even though the trauma happened many years ago, the memories still feel as vivid as if they happened yesterday. The emotions come rushing back with remarkable intensity.

The hardest part is that a part of me still believes it was my fault. Somewhere deep inside, I still hear the voice telling me that I asked for it. That belief has stayed with me for decades, and it is one of the most painful burdens I carry.

For thirty years, I told no one. I kept the trauma locked away because I was overwhelmed by shame and guilt. I couldn't imagine anyone knowing. What would people think? How would my friends react? Would they believe me? Even now, part of me wants to hide it again, bury it, and pretend it never happened.

Written Exposure Therapy doesn't allow that.

Instead, it gently but persistently brings those memories to the surface. At times, it feels as though I am reliving the experience. It is exhausting work, and it asks more of me than I ever imagined.

The difference today is that I am not facing it alone.

I am surrounded by a safe treatment team and a wonderful support network. They remind me that I don't have to carry this burden by myself. The sadness is still there, but this time I have people beside me as I work through it.

Recovery isn't about making the pain disappear overnight. Sometimes it means having the courage to face what you've spent years trying to avoid. As difficult as these writing days are, I hope they are leading me toward healing, one painful page at a time.

North

So...After a couple of difficult weeks, it was wonderful to spend a long weekend in Northern Minnesota. We have some land near Eveleth, Minnesota, and it was exactly the change of scenery I needed.

The Lake Place at sunset.

The weather was beautiful, with just enough rain to keep everything green. It felt good to get away from the cities and, for a little while, out of my own head.

I was able to stay active throughout the weekend. We walked five miles each day, and there was plenty of work to do around the property. We finished mowing the driveway, which is about a quarter of a mile long. It took nearly two hours and added another two miles of walking to the day.

My husband had spent the previous week building a shed, and by the time I arrived, he only needed help installing the roof panels. Those sheets of roofing material were heavy, awkward, and definitely a two-person job, but together we got them in place. We also installed a rain barrier, so the shed will be ready for shingles the next time we head north.

As productive as the weekend was, what I appreciated most was the peace. There is something restorative about being surrounded by trees, fresh air, and the quiet of the lake. For a little while, my anxiety eased, and my self-harm urges were almost nonexistent.

Nature isn't a cure, but it can be a powerful reminder to slow down, breathe deeply, and simply be present. This weekend was exactly what I needed.

The Airstream at the Lake Place.

Thank you, nature.

More later...