Posted on by Denise Hartzler · 1 Comment

A Letter to My Students

Dear Hartzler Students of 1605,

As the school doors opened for another year, you sadly discovered I did not return to room 1605. When summer began, we both believed I would be there upon our return. I know how excited you were to come back and see all the familiar touches that made our room special—the selfie wall, the “You Matter to Me” messages on the board, the standing table that served as both a workspace and “snack table,” and of course, the beloved green jar of mints that rarely went empty. Unfortunately, that is not how you returned, and I sincerely apologize for taking all that away from you without even saying goodbye.

This blog post is to connect with you so that I can try to explain.

Within one calendar year, I faced significant changes in my health and endured a lot of grief. I received phone calls in the middle of class about the death of my father, followed by the passing of my father-in-law, two great aunts, and a dear uncle who was like a father to me. Carrying all that grief is heavy, and it continues to get heavier when you have to put on a positive mask and a smile every day.

As you know, teachers, just like everyone else, experience grief and personal challenges every year. Some teachers can sweep it under the rug, while others cannot. It’s not a sign of weakness nor a sign of strength, but simply a choice. However, the expectation to remain cheerful and energized in the classroom can be incredibly taxing. When anyone suppresses genuine feelings to appear strong, it leads to emotional exhaustion. Plus, when you add in the demands of work both in school and outside of school, in addition to having your own family, the weight becomes too much to carry.

This facade often leads to burnout and mental health struggles. While I received support from my family, fellow teachers, and administrators, I had to step back and honestly examine what the weight of it all was doing to me, both physically and emotionally.

This past summer, during a sunrise stroll along the beach with my journal, I made a list of my priorities, and it looked something like this: 

  • Restore my physical health – as I cheerfully celebrated my 50th birthday with so many of you, my health requires immediate and constant attention. 
  • Realign my spiritual health with God,
  • Regain genuine happiness, 
  • Be present with my family. 

Then, three weeks before school started, more challenges came my way, along with a few exciting opportunities that offered me a chance to prioritize those priorities while reigniting a career I love—writing. 

With these new opportunities, I had to make the most difficult decision: not return to the classroom. Unfortunately, we all have to make such difficult decisions at some point in our lives, and it’s more complicated when it significantly impacts those around us and those we care about; however, making difficult decisions is a part of life.

As you continue this year without seeing me in the hallway or 1605, please know that I am doing well, and never forget that you hold a special place in my heart because You Will Always Matter to Me.

PS: If you see me having lunch with the English teachers, cheering on your rival school (my son’s school) at games, or attending theater events, please come and say “hi.” I truly miss you.

PPS: The mint jar is with a 10th-grade teacher, and he might share one with you if you ask politely. Just tell him I sent you ❤

Posted on by Denise Hartzler

A father’s love is forever

Three months ago, I lost my father. This three-month mark is hitting hard for some reason. I don’t overthink it and ask why. I sit with the loss. I cry when I need to release my emotions. I journal about all the memories that flood my mind. I also journal about conflicted feelings of wasted time by not asking him more about his life. I talk with my father in the quiet moments of the day, telling him how much I miss him. I know he is in heaven watching over us and has us covered in his love, but I miss him a lot. I’m sharing the eulogy I wrote for my father to remind myself that his life was complete, even if I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. 

They say that a man occupies his daughter’s life up until the day she is married. While there is some truth to that statement, luckily for my sisters and me and along with our families, our dad didn’t nearly occupy a space in our lives; his presence and all that he taught us in life is forever woven into who we are and thus handed down into who our children are becoming. 

When someone you love so dearly passes, your memories are scattered as if you dropped a jar of sand, and the granules spread far and wide. Some memories are more easily grasped, while some require more precision to hold on to. Some are only seen when the light makes them sparkle. And then some memories are sprinkled into your hands by others sharing in the pain of loss. 

Everyone here has memories of my dad, and I am thankful for those who shared them with me. If I made a list of all the memories, we’d be here for quite some time, so I’ll share this…my dad was a good man. He never judged any one of his kids’ mistakes. He was firm, lovable, competitive, and protective. His love was unconditional, and I am forever grateful to have been in his life. 

I’m not sure what he would want me to share with you, and while I can share a lifetime of the sweetest memories I have of him, I’ll start with the “infamous” bowling bet we made. I was around eight years old, and he told me that if I bowled a high score and won my tournament, he’d buy me a new ball. Well, that day, not only did I win, but I also bowled a 178. It was a maroon sparkle ball with Denise engraved in gold, and it was all my own – I finally had something that wasn’t a hand-me-down!

Another memory was that of my wedding day and dance. He was proud that I was marrying Chris, but he also reassured me that he would be there should I have any doubts about going through with the wedding. He also reminded Chris at the altar that he knew “where he lived.” Later that evening, the lyrics to a Billy Joel song led our steps. Who could ever imagine words being a perfect fit for two ordinary people, “Don’t go changing to try and please me, You never let me down before, I would not leave you in times of trouble, I said, “I love you,” that’s forever, I love you just the way you are.” And it’s those lyrics that have a more significant meaning than ever before.

Then came the memories of my son with my dad. One such visit was when my dad lifted Ryan to touch a plane in the Air and Space Museum. Luckily it didn’t get us kicked out, but Ryan, I want you to know that your grandfather will always lift you up when you need it most. 

We knew his passing would come, but we could never have imagined how deep this loss feels. The weekend before his passing, the five of us were on Skype. I’ve found some small comfort in telling myself that maybe having us all together, even if it was online, made him realize that his life was complete. On the day we said our final goodbye, my mom and her girls gathered together again, just like we did over 40 years ago on the day they married. Even though it’s been 43 years, being together like that once again made me feel like that small, vulnerable little girl who was forever changed and forever proud to be a Kinney girl. 

I hope you are playing piano and chess.

You will never be forgotten.

Thank you for loving us. 

Posted on by Denise Hartzler

Summer of Love Series: Day 15

I quickly learned I needed more self-care as I wrapped up week two of my Summer of Love Series. Taking a hard look at my self-attacks is powerful, and all these emotional surrenders leave me vulnerable and emotionally drained, so tenderness is in order. This deep dive into myself, my actions, my choices, and my self-limiting beliefs require bravery. But sometimes bravery will leave you wanting nothing more than to curl up in a fetal position, cry, sleep, and turn off all the noise. While some of those actions, particularly turning off the noise and sleeping, are options, I want to replenish my spirit with intentional affirmations. 

Affirmation #1: I choose to love myself today. Choosing love over fear is 100% optional. What we say to ourselves unconsciously becomes what we consciously believe about ourselves. I have shrunken myself down for a decade, but now I choose to live in love. 

Affirmation #2: I will give myself a peaceful and consistent reminder that love and gratitude are within me. I have complete, unobstructed access to gratitude. I am grateful for my willingness to change my mindset. 

Affirmation #3: I am grateful to be in this process. As I rest in this mindset of love and gratitude, I will go slow and intentional in the fast-paced world around me. 

As I’ve been journaling and blogging my way through this series, I was compelled to share the following entry with you: I believe I am love. Everything in me and outside of me is love. I believe this, and I commit to this – I am love. 

Along the lines of breathing love back into my mindset, here are a few bible verses that have been showing up lately:

  • “Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.” Corinthians 13:7
  • “For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.” 2 Timothy 1:7
  • “Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others.” Colossians 3: 13

I will be back in another 5 days as I move deeper into love, gratitude, and forgiveness.

Thank you for being on this journey with me.

Posted on by Denise Hartzler · 1 Comment

My father’s love

On April 27th, I lost my father. It’s a deep sadness that I’ve only experienced once before when my grandmother passed, but this feels heavier and more profound. I always knew my father’s time was limited and his passing would come. I didn’t expect it to be so sudden.

I tried writing this on the day I flew out to Arizona, but words weren’t easy. Day 1 came with a lot of crying and grieving. Day 2 was slightly better, but saying goodbye to my husband and son before heading out to Arizona nearly broke me. The waves of sadness came like the turbulence on the plane. I swung from a relaxed and almost weightless feeling with normal breathing to waves thrashing me around from a simple memory. My head hurt from crying so much, and there was nothing I could do other than lean into those I love and lean into God for guidance and comfort.

My father was a good man. He came from humble parents and led a simple life that always put family first. When he married my mom and adopted my sisters and me, we became a family. I was only six when he became our father so he has and will always be the only father I had in my life. One of my earliest memories was sitting in a judge’s chamber answering if I wanted to accept him as my father. I don’t have any emotions tied to that day but the one day that I do remember is going into school learning how to write my new last name, Kinney. My biological name, Rapach, stills hold a place in my timeline but it does not hold any weight like my maiden name, Kinney.

As I reflect on my father’s life, I can’t help but think of his generosity. He would do anything within his power to help anyone. He didn’t make much money driving trucks, but he did what he could. My father took on so many roles when we were growing up. He was an umpire in softball. An active marching band parent. A spectator of field hockey and tennis. A chess partner. He was our bowling instructor, captain, competitor, and biggest fan. Beyond these ordinary never-ending activities of three girls, the most important thing he gave us were his unconditional love and a secure family.

While going through my teenage years, I was not an easy teen – not as challenging as my oldest sister, yet not as good as my middle sister. I learned a lot of lessons from them, and I think my father knew this because our conversations were different than those he had with my sisters. This isn’t to say I didn’t test his patience because I did, but I also knew I could call him at any hour for help. And that’s the ultimate role of a father, isn’t it? To be there.

I don’t know who I’d be if I didn’t have him when I was growing up. I don’t know how to do life without him just yet. He’d say I ‘no longer need him’ because he did his job well, but I will always need him. What I need to learn is how to look for him in the small and big moments of life. I keep telling myself that if I pay attention more to this world around me, I’ll see that he isn’t gone forever.

As I’m sitting outside writing this with the trees blowing a cool breeze, I think of how a family is like these trees – broken branches, small branches sprouting from the strong trunk while others are sprouting out from limbs, brave branches reaching for the sky in all directions, old bark slowly peeling ready to return to the ground, closely stacked branches providing a place to shelter, a sturdy and fully exposed trunk, and unseen roots stretching far wide giving water and nutrients keeping the whole tree grounded – keeping it all alive. It makes me think of all the branches of my family providing me with strength, protection, and love.

As I said, I knew his end was coming, but that small child in me thought he’d be here forever. The adult in me knows that the love he blessed with me these last 43 years will last forever in my heart. I miss you a lot, Dad.

Posted on by Denise Hartzler

COVID, Christmas, and Creativity

There were three weeks after Thanksgiving break until winter break. I had hoped and prayed that I could make it through; after all, it was only three weeks. However, I spent half of those three weeks battling COVID. It was my first bout of COVID, and I hope it will be my last. The coughing felt like knives in my chest and throat while the rest of my body ached from fighting a fever, eventually leading to shivering and sweating. The congestion was choking me, and I was desperate for nothing more than ice water. It was misery. My doctor said she hadn’t seen someone with a severe case in a while, and I had it bad. Unfortunately, the antiviral meds gave me night terrors, so I stopped them immediately. Sleep was my friend, and I was desperate to protect it, even if it meant missing out on several hockey games, interactions with family, and life in general, especially Christmas shopping and planning. By day seven, I slowly began to feel sort of human again. I could do essential functions around the house, but they would leave me exhausted.

I should be enjoying this time of year, but I’m struggling with the preparations this year. I’m trying to understand why my parasympathetic system goes haywire whenever a virus attacks my body. When I finally feel better physically, the anxiety returns with a vengeance. I am not as bad as in the fall with panic attacks, but that old familiar anxiousness vibrates through my body. I rely on the tools I learned to keep the panic at arm’s length. Christmas music helps. Now that I can breathe without coughing fits, I’m forcing myself to sing along. It allows me to quiet the anxious vibrations. We will have a house full of family on Christmas Eve, and I refuse to let anxiety ruin my time with them. It’s not often that we get together like this, so I will ask for help and allow others to help; I will excuse myself at/around 10 PM to head into bed because rest is a non-negotiable for my health and wellness. Christmas’s busyness will not exhaust me; I am the only one who will exhaust me. My husband knows this about me and will protect me, even when I’m the cause. Just the other day, he watched me fighting sleep when it was what my body needed. I was determined to stay awake and make it to our son’s hockey game. He looked at me and said, “stop being stubborn and get up to bed now. You need to rest.” His support lifts that self-imposed weight I place on myself. A moment like this makes me appreciate how well we know and respect each other.

Besides family, Christmas, and time off from work/school, I love this time to curl up in front of the tree and write. Christmastime always gifts me with creativity. It’s often the last of the year rush to get more words released like I’m making up for procrastination days or, in this case, writing days lost to COVID. It could be simply the warmth of the house from all the decorations. Whatever it is, I have a fountain of creativity flowing, and each year, I am more determined not to let the busyness of work and life take precedence over my writing. So I capitalize on this time and let the creativity flow onto the pages. I am excited about what I have planned for 2023 for my writing journey, and I cannot wait to share it with you. Together we will go from page to page on a writing journey where we will nurture a tiny seed of an idea into a relatable world full of characters that take on life and all of its twists and turns.

For now, I wish you all a Merry Christmas! May you be blessed with joy, warmth, good health, creativity, and peace. ~Denise

Posted on by Denise Hartzler

A moment to say…thanks

Thanksgiving signifies the act of expressing or feeling thankfulness. It’s the act of giving thanks to express gratitude for the blessings in one’s life.

I have so much to be thankful for, but I want to focus on people this season. It’s easy to be grateful for the blessings in our lives, like a warm home in the winter, food, clothing, a running car, etc. While these necessities are essential, I want to show gratitude for those I love and who have taught me lessons.

When my son was an infant, I would often walk and rock him while saying thank you to all our “angels” who watch over us. I would say, “thank you, Gram, thank you, Uncle Pat, thank you, Wanda, thank you, Pop, thank you, Uncle Freddy,” and this would continue until the fussiness subsided or he fell asleep. There was something very cathartic about calling out to those I loved dearly to help calm my baby.

So the other morning, as I was journaling, I started listing all the people who have helped me this past year. The list is long, and for that, I am grateful. I even listed people who had wronged me or made life more challenging. After all, I did learn something from them or about them. This exercise gave me tremendous perspective. It was very humbling to realize how many I have not reached out to or who I have not heard from in a while.  

I wish all my readers a very HappyThanksgiving. As a simple thank you, I encourage you to download this gratitude page from my upcoming journal. If you are reading this early in the morning, remember, it only takes a moment to be grateful for all those in your life, even those who may have been in your life for just a season.

Happy Thanksgiving!

As always, I encourage you to comment, like, and share. Writing is a journey meant to be shared.

A moment to say…Download