Build connections

PART II: Feelings, Truth, and More Truths about Life

Arielle Miller / Acceptance, Accountability, Adventure, Alive, Build connections, Celebrate, Celebration, Central Coast, Central Coast California, Challenges, Community, Gratitude, LAUSD, Lifestyle, mindfulness, Remembering, Santa Ynez Valley, School, Teacher Life, Teaching, Updates / Be there for others, Gratitude, Tell Someone You Love Them / 0 comments

June 6, 2019

As a heads up: If you haven’t checked out PART I: Feelings, Truth, and More Truths about Life that was published on May 23rd, 2019, before you continue reading this, be sure to check out that post for context.

But before I continue with Part II, I wanted to point out that you may [or may not] have noticed a common theme from my last few posts on this blog, Instagram, and on my podcast, Leveling Up with Arielle Miller.

My colleague made me this beautiful cake for me as an early birthday present and to serve as a send off as I gear up for my new adventure in Santa Ynez and with Lompoc Unified as a high school English teacher.
It’s little things like this, well this wasn’t so little, it took her two days to make this cake, that show others they matter to you and that they have positively impacted your life. This cake made me feel so special, loved, and valued.

As of late, I’ve been spending a lot of time reflecting on life and the relationships we choose to foster with others. And in leaving what I consider to be some of the most important years of my life, it has shown me what I mean to others while reminding me that the only time we have is the present. Tomorrow is never promised, so please, please, please take the time to celebrate people you care about in real time. Do not wait for a deadline before wanting to call someone, grab drinks, go to brunch, or to host people in your home. Reach out now, don’t wait for great change or catastrophe–let those know whom you love that you love them.

I am by no means a perfect person. I have made mistakes. In fact, I have made many. Some that haunt me even today, and I can still feel the bitter sting of my past actions and choices, but I deserve that. I have hurt friends by not being there for them, not showing up for birthday parties, or dinners and more.

Nearly, eight years ago I lost my Uncle Craig. A beloved family member to all, adored for his eccentricity. Nevertheless, when he fell very ill from his diabetes, and was in assisted living, the drive from my parent’s home on Long Island was ‘always too long’ or ‘too much’. There simply was never ‘enough time for a visit’. Therefore, I never went. I never visited my uncle in his last few years and months on earth because I was too selfish, unable to carve out a few hours to ease his suffering. I mark my Uncle Craig’s death as the impetus, illuminating how I needed to reformulate the manner in which I was living my life. I said then and now live this truth: There is always time for anyone who is suffering, ailing, or in need of company. Period.

In the wake of my Uncle’s death, one of hardest things I have ever faced was reflecting on what I did, and in this case, did not do while my Uncle was alive. I vowed to never make the same mistake again. Subsequently, when my grandmother had a series of strokes after hip replacement surgery, rendering her bed ridden and in a care facility, I made sure to ALWAYS visit her when I came back to New York. ALWAYS. It did not matter how long or short my trip to New York was, and it did not matter how inconvenient going to see my grandmother was or potentially could have been. I made a promise to myself that I would not make the same mistake I made with my Uncle Craig ever again. Truly, I have tried to live my life in accordance to what I have learned from my past mistakes so that I could become an honorable person. One that when I looked in the mirror, I was proud of.

As we ushered in 2019, I consciously recommitted to go out of my way to support friends in any and every way I could. That meant showing up to grand openings of new businesses, for performances, parties, baby showers, and more. I started feeling better about my renewed purpose in being there for others. Showing up to these things felt right and has contributed to a wholeness I missed feeling. Sadly, I think all too often that people show up for others and events out of necessity, and that is not what I am talking about when I say to be there for others. Being there in the physical sense is not enough. Being there, fully committed to someone else is what I am talking about. It is about letting go of this notion that our time is somehow more valuable than others, that our shit is more important than being there for someone, and that there will always be time later on. Well, what happens if there is no later? There is only now.

Show up for others, and in turn, you are showing up for yourself. And hell, if people like you enough for being there for them, perhaps you’ll be lucky enough to have someone bake you a killer unicorn cake to show their appreciation for you.

Just saying.

To Live, Luv, + Leave El Lay

Arielle Miller / Adventure, Alive, balance, Blog, Build connections, Central Coast, Central Coast California, Challenges, Community, Fitness, LAUSD, Lifestyle, Santa Ynez Valley, School, Teacher Life, Teaching, Updates / Begin Again, Being Courageous, Equinox, Leaving Los Angeles, Lompoc, Lompoc Unified School District, Los Angeles, Los Olivios, New Job, New Life, Overcoming Obstacles, Podcast, Proud Teacher, Santa Ynez, Santa Ynez Valley, Starting a New Life, Starting Over, Teacher, Teacher Life / 7 comments

May 8, 2019

The last 15 years of my life have been the absolute best, most challenging, formative years of my life.

Immediately after my undergraduate studies, I ran off to Los Angeles after my college boyfriend broke my heart. I left behind family and virtually no friends, as I did not cultivate relationships with people from high school. While in college, I struggled with my own demons, making it hard for others to want to be around me, so leaving the few lasting friendships did not faze me.

So, at 22 years old, I ran off to Los Angeles to escape myself, masking it as self-discovery and reinvention. I started my new life teaching 8^thgrade English at a low-income, high needs, and ‘rough’ school in the heart of urban LA. I did not know of gangs, LA traffic, lip fillers, butt implants, which hipster neighborhood to live in, the meaning of cholo, or how to get into the coolest clubs. Nonetheless, I leapt head first into a life where ignorance was bliss, thus allowing me to thrive. Precisely because I had zero sense of failure, it never crossed my mind that I could actually fail at something.

My love affair with Los Angeles blossomed virtually instantaneously, and I was smitten with this city. From the late night burrito and taco spots, to the laid back nature in which teachers dressed for work, to the upper echelon of bougie Beverly Hills, fancy restaurants, bars, and clubs, to the beach, to the gritty and tough environment of my teaching jobs—I loved this city and she loved me.

Los Angeles embraced my incessant desire to express myself through clothes, hair, and tattoos. Various administrators turned a blind eye to my self-generated, edgy, and contemporary English Language Arts curriculum, thus allowing me to find my place as an educator and flourish. Even my no nonsense and unapologetic approach to teaching my fitness classes was welcomed [in most cases, haha]. Los Angeles just seemed to get me and LA looked damn good on me.

Oh, to live and die in LA.

Los Angeles is my home. In fact, if you were to ask me where I were from, I would respond, “El Lay”. Yes, I was born and raised in New York, but Los Angeles is where I grew into the woman I am today. Los Angeles has shaped my belief systems, passions, politics, and so much more.

I am a proud Angeleno through and through.

Life in LA is not just good for me. It is great.

And so, it seems only fitting that after the best years of my life, having established myself in working for Equinox, one of the most prestigious fitness brands in the world and recently getting promoted at the school district, it is time for a new adventure…Right?!

Recently, while on Spring Break in Los Olivos with my husband Greg, we were presented with an opportunity to relocate to our Happy Place. A place that we dreamed of living ‘one day’ without ever really thinking that ‘one day’ would actually come [well before retirement that is].

After a beautiful love affair with Los Angeles, my husband and I will be moving to Santa Ynez Valley, California’s Central Coast to begin a new life and adventure in Los Olivos.

Before I get into the details, I do want to share something with you all.

When I first met my husband nearly six years ago, I told him I dreamed of moving to this ‘small town called Los Olivos’. Greg scoffed at the idea of me—ME, living in a small town. But after our first trip up to the area together in June 2014, Greg said to me, “Now, I get it.” It was then our little dream started to incubate. We toiled with moving. We chuckled while drinking wine in the tasting rooms and talked about how “One day…” while telling everyone we met during our trips to the Santa Ynez Valley that ‘we want to move up here’. I mean, come on. How many tourists say shit like that?! Ahem, like everyone, but how many actually do it?!

Then, in November of 2018, I made a vision board. Upon arriving home from another blissful trip to our “Happy Place”, I started gathering images evoking positive feelings associated with the life I wanted to live…The life I wanted—no, was going to manifest. These images were simple, capturing rolling hills, wine, horses, books, some athletic clothing, and a simple life. Quite the departure from the life I lived in LA. I looked at my vision board and if I am being honest, I didn’t think much other than it was pretty badass. Before landing on my closet door, my vision board remained propped up on our bar in the living room for a few weeks.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think, could I think, or would I think that in a matter of months, literally every single thing on that vision board would leap off the page to become my new reality. Talk about The Law of Attraction, that’s for sure!

Greg will soon, and by soon, I mean very soon, transition back into managing a restaurant as the General Manager for The Bear and Star at The Fess Parker Inn. In addition, I am eager to report that I too have gotten a new job at Lompoc Unified School District (LUSD). Talk about mind meld—from LAUSD to LUSD that sure is going to take some getting used to on my part. I am thrilled to share with you all that next year, I assume my new position at Lompoc High School teaching 9^thgrade English and English Language Development (ELD). Now, as someone who has just spent the past year in an out-of-classroom district role, the terminology used to reference this transition is, ‘I am going back to the classroom’. And I need to tell you, I never liked that phrasing and I like it even less now seeing it ascribed to my venture moving out of LAUSD. The term ‘going back to the classroom’ implies some sort of demotion, or assumption that the role of a classroom teacher is somehow lesser than working in an out-of-classroom capacity. Simply, that is not true. I am not going ‘back’ anywhere. I am returning to a place where I am needed most. A place where 150 bodies walk through my door every day and it is my job to empower, inspire, and educate them. A place where what I say and how I do my work can potentially alter the trajectory of someone’s life for the better. A place where hormones, out bursts, pimples, and boyfriend/girlfriend drama are commonplace. A place, a place…

A place where I feel whole, overwhelmed with purpose doing the best work in the world. A place where I know what I say may not resonate in the immediate, but will reverberate years down the line. A place where I learn everyday through the eyes of a child. A place where I am the best I can be.

That place is THE CLASSROOM.

So, when I say I am ‘going back to the classroom,’ I am going home. I am going to MY PLACE where I shine brightest by helping others tap into their greatest potential.

Now, that is not without saying that I am not scared to take this step, because I am. I am terrified to leave the only meaningful friendships I have ever known. To relinquish my fitness classes that I worked so hard for, earning my place on a schedule, and then building a following. To leave a well-respected district position with LA Unified where I thrived and looked at my career in education and said, “It’s all up from here!”

And trust me, I saw it all. In two years I would be an Assistant Principal…then a Principal, then…

Nevertheless, sometimes things change. Sometimes plans, ambitions, and dreams evolve and that is OK! For the last seven years, I have taught group fitness, six of those years for Equinox. The grind and hustle of working, maintaining, and remaining at the top of my craft in two career fields has taken everything I had deep within me. Also, it has taken my time from self-care, social engagements, and didn’t leave anything left for passion projects like this blog, my motivational speaking, my new podcast Leveling Up with Arielle Miller, and so much more. My entire 30’s have been dominated by work, work, work, and all I have to show for the ferocious commitment to my careers are some Instagram followers, extreme fatigue, low self-esteem from the fitness industry since I will never ‘look good enough’, and a wholllleee lotta leggings.

Seriously though, we celebrate this no-days off mentality, this constant “I’ll sleep when I am dead’ mentality but that’s just it—you’ll be dead, so you won’t be able to reap the joys of your constant laboring. There must be—no, there IS more to life than zipping through life at a million miles an hour. How can I, rather, how can one, enjoy this life if you are too busy to even experience it? For me, this move is about re-establishing balance and boundaries in my life. This move is about giving myself the permission I would have never been able to give myself living in Los Angeles. Permission to begin again, to step back, to give up classes, to work out more purposefully, and to simply DO ME.

Wow, do me. Now, that frightens me. How does one go from having seemingly ‘no time’, to now being able to have the accessibility to pursue matters of the heart and soul simply because one can as opposed to IFthey can…?

Sure, some may call me brave for willingly catapulting myself into the unknown, but remember this:

People are only brave because they are scared.

Moving is scary. Leaving a fitness community, gym, job, colleagues, routine, and so much more that is familiar, safe, and comfortable is a lot for me to grapple with and I would be lying if I told you that I was so strong that I handled this in stride. I have cried every day since Greg and I said “YES” to us and a new life. And I haven’t cried for any other reason than lamenting leaving whilst being SO excited to hit the reset button on my life. Also, in some respects I am mourning a figurative death as I leave my beloved El Lay and all that I have come to love in all its familiarity.

In deciding to leave LA, I feel like I am letting so many people down. I feel like I am turning my back on those who need me, even though we damn well know I am doing nothing of the sort. It just feels like I am choosing to throw away a life I have worked tirelessly to build, even though I know that is not true and it’s only my silly perception. However, in reflecting with my husband…Should we move? Should we not move?

Me and Greg at a Carhartt wine tasting in LA in March/April 2018

What if it doesn’t work out?

We kept asking ourselves,What if it DOES work out?

For the both of us, the resounding thought was, what if in 20 years from now we looked over at one another and wondered what could have been…What if we said aloud, “Remember when we could have taken a grand adventure, but we were too scared to…”

What ifwe don’t take this chance?

Shoulda

Coulda

Woulda

Truth be told, I am more terrified to take this giant step then words can convey. But you know what’s even more scary? Not taking this leap of faith and living a life of what if, and wondering. Frankly, I believe the greatest tragedy of one’s life, is to not live life to its fullest capability because of fear. That is not living. That is always playing it safe and never growing or learning because one was too afraid to leave their comfort zone.

I really cannot think of anything more tragic than wishing, wanting, hoping, and never DOING. Life is meant to be lived by taking risks. This risk needs to be taken.

My friends will always be there.

Work will always be there.

Fitness will always be there.

But this chance to jump head first into the abyss of the unfamiliar, most certainly won’t.

Fifteen years ago I ran away to LA to flee a life I did not have. Now, while this move looks as if I am walking away from so much, I do not see this as walking away from anything, so much as running towards something.

The LAUSD Teacher Strike, Part II: Gratitude is the Greatest Gift!

Arielle Miller / Abundance, Build connections, Celebrate, Community, Current Events, Featured, Giving Back, Gratitude, LAUSD, LAUSD Teacher Strike, Motivation Monday, News, School, Teacher Life, Teaching, Top Stories, Uncategorized, UTLA / Community, Community Support, Education, Grateful, Gratitude, LAUSD, LAUSD Strike, LAUSD Teacher Strike, Middle School, Proud Teacher, Public Education, Public School Teacher, UTLA / 0 comments

January 28, 2019

Outside Virgil Middle School picketing when a few of my former students came out to show their support

PART II:

During the rain, parents, members of the community, and former students came to Virgil Middle School to bring doughnuts, homemade goods like hot beverages, tamales, tacos, and other tasty treats. One passerby stopped to drop off a stack of ponchos. Teachers took turns bringing food to share, setting up and breaking down the tents daily, purchasing various necessities like mega phones, batteries, and materials to make signs. People looked out for others—guarded their gear when venturing to rallies, gathered materials and items left behind, and above all, no one got left behind. Every single person on the picket line wasn’t a friend, they were family. We took trips to local businesses to use the restrooms. We painstakingly helped one another peel the layers upon layers off when breaking for lunch. We shared food, offering bites of burritos and pizza that we may have waited an hour in line to get at a rally because they were free. We took photos with and of one another, and giggled in delight after deciding if we should take another picture. These weren’t just people I have known and worked with through the years, these people became my brothers and sisters. What we shared out there, marching, walking, protesting, singing, dancing, chatting, yelling, and crying, can never be recaptured. Nor can the feelings of support from the community, city, and nation for the teachers of Los Angeles.

Thank you.

Me enjoying a much needed hot beverage. This is arroz con leche (rice and milk) that a parent of a student at Virgil Middle School made for the picketing teachers. Check out the size of that pot!
I am forever grateful to the parents of the community that I serve, thank you doesn’t seem like enough for the things you have done for us

For me though, one of the biggest things I am walking away from this experience with is feeling like I must have done something right in my life. During the strike, I received countless communication from students I’ve had over the years. These messages were former students sharing how my work as a teacher positively impacted them and included extensive gratitude for walking the line and taking a stand.

Rain or shine, and even if the strike went on for longer–every single bit of the effort I put forth into standing up for public education was worth it. It’s a pretty fantastic feeling to know that by proxy of being the teacher that I am, and for being who I am, that I changed people’s lives.

Marlen and Ashley, now 8th graders are two students I had in the 7th grade

Some powerful highlights of the six days were when one of my students, now 22 years old surprised me by showing up to the picket line with doughnuts. But that’s not even the best part! This young lady wanted to tell me in person that she is in graduate school to be a teacher…because of me. It’s ok, you can cry now. But wait, it keeps getting better.

Another one of my students came to show his support before heading to class. He now attends Syracuse University in New York and heralds his time in LAUSD and his teachers as the reason for his success[es].

And finally, another highlight comes from a man—I cannot even say young man, because he is now 27! He was in my first ever group of students when I started with LAUSD and now works in law enforcement. He is a single father with full custody of his two beautiful children that he is raising with the help of his parents. He is articulate, bright, responsible, and informed. The one thing though that spoke to me most that he is a thriving adult and proof what good teachers can do for a child’s future. Great teachers forever arm people with the skills and capabilities to live life wholly and completely on their own accord. Unable to picket with us due to his job, he took me to lunch. See, it’s the acts of kindness that reverberate for me.

Astrid, 22 years old, Graduate Student, future teacher.
Franklin, 20 years old, Syracuse University
Eduardo, 27 years old, Father and works in law enforcement
Leah, 9th grader at Bravo Medical Magnet
Karla, 8th grader, Virgil Middle School, Medical Magnet
Some of my former students showing their support
More students showing their support during the LAUSD Teacher Strike
Me with more of my former students, AKA my heart

It’s not that I taught these kids to write a kick ass essay (though that’s super important and really cool too), it’s that these kids clearly got ‘it’. And by ‘it’ I mean what it takes to be good human, to show compassion for others, to be an active participant in your community and society, to support others, to stand up for what you believe in, to view life’s challenges as opportunities, and above all, the value in expressing gratitude.

This strike wasn’t just about a fair contract for teachers. Well, in part it was. But it was a message to the world that teachers can and will stand up for what is right for students. The strike also showed me just how valuable a good teacher is (not that I didn’t already know and all). Teachers possess the power to forever alter the trajectory of one’s life for the better and the proof exists in the faces of those children, now adults, who stood by my side, reached out to me, or quietly watched their former teacher talk the talk and literally walk the walk.

This is the legacy I choose to leave behind.

Karla and Kimberly, now 8th graders were in my honors class and homeroom in the 7th grade–oh, the great times we had together!

Simply, I walk away from these six days with my newfound family, and a better understanding of how much both my colleagues and I matter to the kids we serve. I say this a lot and I will say it again. Being a teacher is a privilege. I have and will continue to take every single second I stand in front of kids seriously, and I thank you for calling me your teacher. I proudly wear the title Teacher (or ‘Miss’). And while I didn’t need a strike to show me the importance of the work I do and its impact, it only reinforced that quality teachers are needed more than ever.

The LAUSD Teacher Strike, Part I: What Happens When It All Ends? And What Happened To Those For Which It Never Began?

Arielle Miller / Abundance, Adversity, Build connections, Challenges, Community, Current Events, Hard Work, LAUSD, LAUSD Teacher Strike, News, Teacher Life, Teaching, Top Stories, Uncategorized, UTLA / Austin Beutner, Hard work, Huelga, LAUSD, LAUSD Strike, LAUSD Teacher Strike, Picket Line, Protest, Public Education, Scabs, Strike, Teacher Strike, Teachers of LA, Tentative Agreement, UTLA / 2 comments

January 27, 2019

Nothing and everything has changed at the same time.

How do you go back to the way things were, when you are no longer the same person before nothing and everything changed simultaneously?

After being on a six-day strike that has now been resolved, I am sitting here alone, anxious and overwhelmed with emotion. For six days, four of which occurred in torrential rains and wind that eventually culminated in Southern California’s signature sunshine; the LAUSD teacher strike is now over.

Me outside Virgil Middle School during the strike and picketing

Hours of chanting, marching, helping others make signs, taking bathroom trips, venturing to rallies on the Metro, shouting on a megaphone at oncoming traffic [that very well may have just been me], or hunting for something to eat, are over. I know I am supposed to feel happy, even elated that I am going back to work, but I’m not. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and cannot wait to settle back in to the rhythm of my routine; but how does one measure a lifetime lived over the course of a week? How does one press on with the mundane after the extraordinary?

It’s hard to really quantify the week’s events, but I am going to do my best to illustrate that the ending of the strike, is ironically really anticlimactic. There’s all this tension, build up, and intensity funneling into what’s believed to be grand finale of sorts. But in reality, it’s not like that at all. There are no bells and whistles, signal, or culmination of all your strike efforts. It all just abruptly ceases.

Things went down like this:

We got word there was a tentative agreement via text message on Tuesday, January 22, 1019 at 9:30am.

Union representatives went to learn the details from Union officials at 2pm, then brought the ballots back to school sites anywhere between 4-5pm.

Between 5-6pm we voted, went home, and by 8pm the strike was officially over which was confirmed by an 80% ‘YES’ vote to approve the tentative agreement.

And that was it.

No swan song. No grand finale—it was just over. I’m not going to lie, even now the shock of it all coming to an end feels so unfinished and like a total let down. If you’ve ever been on a picket line, you likely understand how this feels. The overwhelming sense of sorrow that has engulfed me since has been intense and at times made me so anxious that I find myself wondering why my heart is racing while at rest. See, while there is some semblance of resolution with the tentative agreement, all of the energy spent on the picket line just seems to evaporate like morning dew, leaving the lasting feeling as if the whole thing was just a dream. Did it happen? Was it really like that? Did we really all just stand in the pouring rain for four whole days? Did we all just share something so special together that it forever binds us in a closeness that only we could possibly fathom? Holy shit, did we just make history?

I am not going to take you through my day-by-day, but what I will do is try to bring you ever so much closer to what life really looks like on a picket line.

First, for some reason people in the city of Los Angeles and maybe even elsewhere were confused. When an entity such as UTLA (United Teachers of Los Angeles) members vote, approve, and actually strike, the people on the picket line do not get paid. They do not call in, leave sub plans, check nor respond to email, or fulfill any of their job duties. Now, if someone chooses to cross the picket line, meaning they choose to work, they are a scab. If someone calls in a sub claiming to be sick, they are still paid even though they do not report to work, and they are a scab. If someone conveniently gets a doctor’s note riiiiight before the strike and is miraculously healed when the strike is over; while I cannot prove it, I am going to call them the worst kind of scab. Period.

The picketing teachers at Virgil Middle School. Sadly, there wasn’t 100% participation and several teachers did not strike. There were a handful of Teach for America (TFA), first year teacher’s who did not, fearful they’d lose the loans awarded by TFA and shamefully three veterans that did not strike. There are also several other teachers in question as to their whereabouts and whether they called in sick, etc.

You may view me harsh for my judgments, but let me teach you a thing or two about how a strike, or at least the LAUSD Teacher Strike of 2019 went down. Buzz of strike was brewing for about a year. On August 31, 2018, 98% of UTLA members voted YES to authorize a strike. Read that again, AUGUST 2018. The initial strike date was October, then it was pushed to November, then it was announced that UTLA members would work two days of the second semester to precure their health benefits, THEN would strike on January 10, 2019. However, due to Austin Beutner’s efforts, an injunction prevented the January 10th start date and the strike was pushed off yet again. This time until Monday, January 14, 2019. So, why I am telling you this? Why am I giving you this timeline?

Because I heard some people defend scabs saying things like:

– Everyone has mouths to feed

– You don’t know someone’s situation at home

– People have bills to pay

And that bullshit isn’t even all of it. Yes, that rationale is bullshit. UTLA members knew a strike was coming FIVE MONTHS before it actually happened—FIVE FREAKING MONTHS. If one could not sock away a little cash over the course of five months to prepare, then the state should revoke this person’s teaching credential. I’m sorry. Actually, I am not sorry for feeling so strongly about scabs and not crossing the picket line.

My husband and I live very modestly and I am not ashamed to say, we live paycheck to paycheck. I don’t have much in the way of material wealth to account for my 15 years of service as a public school teacher for LAUSD, but at least I have my dignity. There were 30,000 teachers standing in solidarity, fighting for the rights of our students, to improve our schools, save public education, and to advocate for the tools needed to do our jobs better. WE ALL TOOK A FINANCIAL HIT. Each one of us didn’t earn money to stand up to “The Man” (and we won by the way, hell yes!). But you know who got paid, didn’t take a stand, AND now reaps the benefits of the new contract? Guess.

The scabs.

Yup. For whatever excuse, because I refuse to call it a reason, these people crossed the picket line. There were teachers in wheelchairs, using walkers, canes, and some even running fevers from the inclimate weather on the picket line. What was their excuse? As far as I am concerned, when it comes to my comrades, you are either in or you are out. And if you are out, then you have committed social suicide. You are now and shall forever remain a pariah. Scabs deserve whatever backlash ensues in the wake of the strike. Thanks to the hard work of 30,000 other people that decided there was a just enough cause to forgo pay, the scabs walk away from this all with cash in their pockets; but it sure has me wondering about their conscious. How can they sleep at night? Drift off to slumber, knowing they didn’t play a role in all this?!

But hey, what do I know?

What I do know is that the as a result of the six-day LAUSD Teacher Strike, I am not the same person I was before the strike. I am more fired up than ever. More inspired to become active in my union, to truly understand collective bargaining, negations, and the innards of union work/leadership. I am inspired to empower myself so that I may in turn unify and mobilize the masses.

Walking the picket line in the rain showed me something about humanity.

It showed me that people are watching, listening, and care about our cause. Teaching is a thankless job, that we all already knew. But what I saw in the rain, the cold, the marching, and the sunshine, was that people come together in times of adversity. While we tend to think as challenges and hardships as catastrophic, the opposite is, or could be the case. I am awed by the outpouring of support we received from parents at charter schools, students, community leaders and members, and the parents. Thousands of people made the choice to stand by my side—no, our side, during this battle for public education. I will never forget the kindness people are capable of when it seems like you have nothing and like no one is listening. Because the truth of the matter is when you stand up for something you feel passionately about, you are more wealthy than you could imagine. And when you use your voice, people are listening to what you have to say.

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s follow up to today’s piece,The LAUSD Teacher Strike, Part II: Gratitude is the Greatest Gift!

Dear Teacher, a Letter for You

Arielle Miller / Abundance, Acceptance, Awareness, Build connections, Challenges, Community, Giving Back, Motivation Monday, Teacher Life, Teaching / A Letter to My Teacher, Dear Teacher, High school, Middle School, School, Stay the Course, Student Teacher, Student Teaching, Students. Los Angeles, Teacher, Teaching / 3 comments

February 12, 2018

I have been spending a lot of time thinking about my work as a public educator. This recent introspection has been brought on but the fact that currently I am mentoring a student teacher. And it wasn’t until these last few months in working with him that I had a new reverence for my profession. As a matter of fact, this recent experience has shown me that the work I do day in and day out cannot be quantified. On a daily basis my work is all-consuming. From the constant adjustments to my lessons based on the needs of my students, to grading paper after paper, to the tedious documentation of student interventions in our district-mandated system, to meeting with and calling parents in my free time, to making copies, grading more papers, and finally doing it all with a smile and grace–I am simply amazed at how demanding ‘just being a teacher’ really is!

Now, even though I have mentored several student teachers throughout my career; it is right now in this very moment and school year that I feel I am at my very-best self. The nuances of how I run my class truly are all-encompassing. At any given time, I am navigating 2-3 different novels, facilitating individual and group projects, creating and giving assessments, and preparing for what’s to come next. Wow, being a teacher is HARD, especially when you write your own curriculum. So, you can imagine just how difficult it is to help guide someone in their quest to become a teacher then layer on your discipline policies, grading scale, organizational techniques, and classroom management approach. Ugh, it is beyond me why people still devalue the teaching profession and why we pay our educators so little…but I digress.

But the reason I wrote this piece was not to tell you how friggen awesome I am. Trust me, I am fully aware of my gifts as an educator and there is no shortage of self-confidence. I wrote a letter to new and struggling teachers and I wanted to share it with the world.

Recently, another student teacher at my school, (not under my guidance) abruptly pulled out of her teaching placement. After 6 months of being in the classroom, she just couldn’t do it anymore. She reached her breaking point, citing not being supported in her classroom, and ultimately the needs of our students being too much, ultimately causing her to crumble under the weight of our work.

My heart hurts for this young woman and for all the others whom have come into this profession and given up before her. This job is not just a job, nor career. Teachers are charged with the greatest task of all, sculpting today’s youth into tomorrow’s leaders, doctors, lawyers, mechanics, writers, painters, innovators, movers, shakers and more! My brain struggles to make sense of how we demand so much of teachers, yet compensate them so poorly while allowing them to be disrespected by multiple entities such as administration, lawmakers, the press, parents, and more. But for me, out of all this darkness must come light—it always does.

To my fellow educators, new and veteran, from far and wide; this is for you.

Remember you matter and have a place here.

Thank you for all that you do in shaping young hearts and minds.

Dearest Teacher,

This work is HARD. It is soulful and soulless at the same time.

You are expected to be everything to everyone at all times—while being your best self, day in and day out regardless of what may be going on in your personal life; all while delivering culturally relevant and rigorous content to the masses.

The demands are never-ending. The stakes are high and the cost to you and your soul is heavy.

It takes a strong person, almost one with a hardened heart to do the work we do in urban schools, but also someone with a soft-gooey center to let the kids in. To love them when they need it most, yet also just hard enough to push them to reach beyond themselves into the vast unknown.

This job and this work isn’t for everyone. It demands a ferocity of heart and soul that can fizzle out faster than a candle without oxygen IF you do not take care of yourself FIRST and FOREMOST, always. Cardinal rule number one of leading a life of service is to serve yourself FIRST. You must always remain number one in your life. For in order to be a great leader, to guide these children; you must ensure you are protecting your head and heart at all costs.

As a teacher, your heart and soul is boundless. You see the good and untapped potential in every child that walks through your door. Your unbounding positivity is precisely what sets you apart from others and why you sought out this profession. But doing this work, being of such great importance to so many people comes at a price and often times, since we do not protect ourselves from such vulnerabilities, it is us whom must pay the toll. However, you must learn how to adapt, how to survives, and above all how to preserve yourself. And while you do not see it now in the midst of all the trials of your day, and trust me you cannot—what you do and what you say matters to these kids.

California Science Center Field Trip January 2018 with my 7th graders

Take it from someone who routinely is branded “The Mean Teacher” because I have high standards and push my students to produce meaningful work. What the kids say about me hurts. It hurts in ways I cannot convey. BUT, I am the teacher they never forget. I am the teacher they know would do anything for them. I am the teacher they come back to see years later, contact, and herald as the person who helped get them to college. So, while it’s hard to see the light now…You are igniting the spark to a fire that will burn brightly for many, many, many years to come.

Stay the course and keep fighting the good fight.

Yours in Solidarity,

Arielle Miller AKA as my students call me “Miss”

Live Your Best Life As Your Best Self in 2018

Arielle Miller / Abundance, Acceptance, Accountability, Adventure, Adversity, balance, Build connections, Celebrate, Celebration, Challenges, Community, Fitness, Goal Setting, Goals, Gratitude, Hard Work, Lifestyle, Married Life, mindfulness, Motivation Monday, Updates, Yoga / 2018, Dedication, Goal Crushing, Goal Digger, Goal Setting, Goals, Happy New Year, Married Life, Motivation, New Year, New Years Resolutions, Setting Intentions / 0 comments

January 1, 2018

It’s the New Year so you’ve committed to a “New You”. You have bought yourself new kicks, snagged a new gym membership, and you are ready to re-invent yourself in 2018. Whoohoo! Well, here’s my problem with this whole “New You” business. This concept suggests that the person you were in 2017 wasn’t good enough and I don’t like that. What was wrong with who you were in 2017? So maybe you didn’t achieve what you set out to do, you didn’t meet the partner of your dreams, get that promotion, whatever—but that doesn’t mean the entire year was a wash and what’s more, it certainly doesn’t require an entire personal overhaul [unless of course, you are are horrific human and in that case-well, tear it all down and begin anew].

Ladies and gentleman, we are entirely too hard on ourselves. We HAVE to love ourselves more so that we can thrive (yes, yes, yes I am working very hard on accepting certain aspects of myself, sigh). For us all, last year like any other was filled with joy, struggle, and laughter. For all the bad that may have happened, there was also SO MUCH good! In looking back at your 2017, as you prepare to tackle 2018, I want to ask what I feel to be more pertinent questions:

What speaks to your heart?
What are you doing to bring the things that speak to your heart alive?
How have you nourished your soul?
How are you filling your cup while you are serving others?

What terrifies you?

I mean what is something you have always wanted to do, but let your own fear and self-imposed inadequacies stand in the way of you reaching out, branching out, and growing?

Get involved in something.

Be part of something bigger than yourself.

Commit to something.

Train for something.

Find your faith or connect to a higher power. Whatever your faith maybe or whatever it is for you where you derive your spirituality from should be something that brings you strength.

The thing is here, there are no right answers to how you need to cultivate your soul, fill your heart with life and light, and wake up invigorated and energized by life. I invite you to move away from thinking you need to change the you that the world knows. The current you is just fine. Simply, look to this New Year as a season of hope, after all–obstacles in our lives are merely opportunities in disguise.

I wish you all the happiest New Year as you look boldly and confidently ahead. I will be here to celebrate your journey, laugh, sweat, and cry with you. So stop what you are doing right now. Reflect and dare to dream big. You hold the pen to craft this tale and it is up to you to fill the pages of your story.

Arielle’s Goals and Vision Board

And to help hold us all accountable, I am sharing my personal vision board with you all. About a month ago on November 19th, 2017, Greg and I each created our own vision boards to kick our lives into gear before 2018–’cause why the hell not?

We mapped out 3 things to focus on individually: Short, Mid-Range, and Long Range goals with tangible time frames, as well as couple goals we hoped to accomplish together (seen on my board above).

At present, Greg and I have our goals hanging on our closet doors so we see them daily. Personally, I like to take a quiet moment when starting AND ending my day to check back and reflect on my goals while rereading them.

We had a great time doing this little exercise together: markers, colored paper, wine, and them some good TV when we were decorating…Or when I was decorating, haha. Doing things like setting intentions, goal setting, and vision boarding helps not only bring you closer to your hopes and dreams, but also those you care about!

Greg’s Goals and Vision Board

Happiest of 2018, my Fitness Family, Friends, Loved Ones, Students, and those whom I have never met. I hope this year is truly transformative!

When Given the Choice Between Being Right or Being Kind, Choose Kind

Arielle Miller / Abundance, Acceptance, Adversity, Autoimmune Disease, Awareness, Build connections, Challenges, Chronic Illness, Community, Giving Back, Gratitude, Hard Work, Married Life, Scleroderma, Teacher Life, Updates, Yoga / 2018, Autoimmunity, Choose Kind, Fitness, Helping Others, Holiday Season, New Year, New Years Resolution, Scleroderma, Sclerosis, Wellness, Yoga / 2 comments

December 30, 2017

As the New Year rapidly approaches many of us turn our gaze inward for our annual forced introspection and goal setting. For me though, I like to check in with myself periodically to hold myself accountable to the things I love in an effort to live my best life; but like many of us, I too cannot help but feel that same pull as 12:00am on December 31^st inches ever closer.

This year for me has been filled with unforeseen trials, tragedies, and triumphs. From competing in my first ever powerlifting meet, to taking a hiatus from teaching yoga after 5 incredible years, to sharing a blissful 2^nd wedding anniversary with my love, to my sister’s engagement (it only took long enough!), to sadly my grandmother suffering multiple strokes and landing in a nursing home, to coaching at Orangetheory Fitness [then quitting], to gaining 22 pounds, and so, so, so much more.

But also amidst 2017, I was voted onto various committees at my school where I started assuming more responsibilities in pseudo-leadership roles. This year, I have thrived in my classroom as a middle school teacher, and experienced a rejuvenation for my craft I haven’t felt in YEARS. It seemed that my life, while filled with challenges was [finally] falling, no—it was settling into place.

My second life and career in the fitness world teaching cycling, yoga, and other fitness formats for One Down Dog and Equinox was coming full circle. I was being sent to trainings, teaching more formats, and getting recognition in being selected to participate in high-profile events through Equinox like Cycle for Survival and Cycle for Heroes. It seemed that my life was hurling right ahead in all the positive directions I had intended until one fateful April morning when my husband Gregory was diagnosed with Limited Systemic Sclerosis, more commonly known as Scleroderma.

As I have previously written, those early days are hard to recall. They are kind of a blacked out blur. And to be completely honest, much of what I take away is the fear in my husband’s eyes and the ceaseless crying. Just flirting with 2 years of marriage…my beloved husband was delivered earth-shattering news that would forever alter both our lives…

Would Greg die?

What would happen to his body?

How would I assume the role care-taker?

The questions didn’t stop and they haven’t stopped—that’s one of my husband Greg’s greatest and most irksome qualities: His ability to ask incessant, albeit mostly great questions.

We mobilized immediately and jumped head first into the Scleroderma community meeting new people, touched by their stories and strength, making life-long friends, attending galas, donating money, but above all—giving back. Together, side-by-side, Greg and I held a fundraiser at One Down Dog where we got our yoga on and auctioned off donated goods from community partners in raffles and a silent auction for the Scleroderma Foundation of Southern California. Jessica Rosen, One Down Dog’s owner graciously donated the space, matched donations, and helped us do something great for others for no reason other than it was the right thing to do–help those in need.

Inspired by the success of our first fundraiser, Greg and I set our sights on a second fundraiser, but as fate would have it; Greg was promoted to Group Fitness Manager at an Equinox club out of the initial proposed location—putting the fundraiser on hold for the moment. Again, so much darn good this year—that’s for sure.

Look at that smile! Michael, a Scleroderma Warrior!

The holiday season rounded the corner and Greg stumbled upon someone’s Instagram page that piqued his interest. It was of a mother sharing photos and the story of her 9-year-old son Michael fighting Scleroderma (click HERE to visit Tiffany’s Instagram). Immediately, Greg and Tiffany started talking via social media. We came to learn much about Michael’s struggles and bravery. At just 9-years-old, Michael had been battling Scleroderma since he was 3-years-old! Additionally, Micheal’s condition was further complicated by his Parry-Romberg Syndrome, (also known as progressive hemifacial atrophy) which is a rare disease characterized by progressive shrinkage and degeneration of the tissues beneath the skin, usually on only one side of the face (hemifacial atrophy) but occasionally extending to other parts of the body (Wikipedia.com). Needless to say, Michael’s story touched our hearts deeply.

Both Greg and I repeatedly poured over Tiffany’s Instagram…our hearts aching for poor Michael. At times, I even felt ashamed of myself for having the audacity to pity myself by calling myself fat, or ruminating on the 22 pounds I put on—I mean, c’mon. There are people who have REAL struggles and my biggest issue in my life is at times I think I am fat?! What in the actual hell is wrong with me?!

Michael’s mother posted to her Instagram about his upcoming surgery—a fat transplant procedure that would help restore some symmetry to Michael’s face. She discussed an online giveaway she had entered with the hopes of winning a Nintendo Switch to give Michael for Christmas. Tiffany went on to discuss in her post that her husband was trying to work overtime to afford the pricey console. It was then when Greg turned to me and said, “I want to buy Michael the Nintendo Switch.”

The Brave Michael pre-surgery

There was no hesitation, and no discussion needed. Immediately, I responded, “Great. So buy it.”

Greg reminded me that we’d be spending money on a complete stranger and that spending this kind of money would have its repercussions; but we both didn’t care. This was the right thing to do, just like the many others that have done the right thing/s for us. Finally, it was our turn to pay it forward.

To me, money is just that—money. If something I have can alleviate the pain and suffering of someone else, then so be it. Seeing Michael open his Nintendo Switch on Christmas…knowing that Greg and I were able to do something truly altruistic this holiday season was all the thanks we both needed. We knew buying Michael that Nintendo Switch was money well spent.

In looking back, to say I lived a lifetime this year would be an understatement. Filled with lots of good, some bad, and few very ugly parts; I need to say that Greg’s diagnosis has come as a blessing in disguise. Greg has been entrusted to be the face of this little-talked about and very rare autoimmune disease. Greg’s diagnosis inspired him to head back to school for a Master’s in Public Health so that he can help others afflicted with autoimmune conditions. We have collectively fundraised thousands of dollars to help in Scleroderma research and patient advocacy. And as of yesterday, Greg officially registered for the LA Marathon and will be running to raise awareness and funds for Scleroderma!

Yes, there isn’t a day that doesn’t pass that I do not look at my husband and worry about his health. There are times where my eyes well with tears in a collective sadness, lamenting for my husband’s lack of mobility, range of motion, and incredible discomfort in his body. Nothing about Greg’s daily life, or mine for that matter is, nor will remain easy—and that’s ok! Personally, I wouldn’t have it any other way. For it is only through trials and tribulations does one truly cultivate perseverance, wherewithal, and character.

So, while we may not have had a choice in what 2017 dealt us when Scleroderma chose us; in 2018 it will not define us. There is no time to be sad, worry, and feel bad for ourselves as that won’t change anything. The only way I see my year and moving grandly into 2018 is by taking action. We won’t stop, and can’t stop.

Wishing you all a very happy and healthy New Year, here’s you my friends and family as we rise up together to live our lives as our best selves.

The Advocate I Should Have Always Been

Arielle Miller / Abundance, Acceptance, Accountability, Adversity, anger, Autoimmune Disease, Awareness, Blog, Build connections, Celebrate, Celebration, Challenges, Chronic Illness, Community, Confidence In Movement, Fitness, Gratitude, mindfulness, Motivation Monday, Scleroderma / Autoimmune Disease, Awareness, Charity, Chronic Illness, Family, Gratitude, Love, Lupus, Mother, Mother Daughter, Scleroderma / 0 comments

July 31, 2017

Over the years I have encountered my fair share of friends raising money for AIDS, Breast Cancer, and so on. Often times their reasons for involvement were obvious; but I always still wondered, why people got involved, how they got involved, and what kept them involved. So when I could, I happily donated.

Just this past year, I was bestowed the incredible honor of being able to ride (as a support cycling instructor) on stage at Equinox’s annual Cycle for Survival event which raises millions of dollars a year to fund rare cancer research at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. I cried while listening to the harrowing tales of sadness, but I was struck by the strength of our community. Cancer or no cancer in my life, my heart felt deeply for every family that lost a mother, father, friend, daughter, son, niece, nephew and so on. Cancer affects us all. Sadly, cancer and cancer-related deaths are on the rise; thus its visibility and diagnoses at this point are not a matter of if cancer will strike a family, but when.

The big ‘C’ or ‘FUCK CANCER’, like so many say, rightfully so garners a serious reaction from people. You mention cancer and people instantly give you their attention and sympathies. Cancer is something we talk about, know about, and are much more public about. It is something we are more comfortable discussing because tragically cancer has become so commonplace in our world as a result of environmental factors, diet, industrialization, and more.

But this post isn’t about cancer.

And this post certainly isn’t about devaluing anyone’s battle or struggles either. My problems are not bigger than yours, and we are not in competition with one another with respects to whom has been dealt a shittier hand of cards. This post is merely about my life and experience with respects to growing up with my mother, someone afflicted with an autoimmune disease.

For me, this is about drawing awareness to chronic illness. It has been my experience that when I encounter people afflicted with autoimmune conditions, they down play them or very quickly mention it as an afterthought. Usually, the thought is then followed up with, ‘Well, you probably haven’t heard of it…’ before changing the subject. And maybe, no—I haven’t. All of us haven’t because when it comes to chronic illness, there is no cure or potential cure, and in the interest of being completely candid—we just do not know what to say or how to react to something we do not know, nor understand. We all fight our own battles and choose to wage war differently. For me, the way I wage a war is to strike straight to the heart and make you feel something in order to stimulate action. I openly discuss the happenings of my life with the hopes that somehow, somewhere, my story is touching a life…

My amazing mother and I. This pic is from September 2016 when she flew out to LA to support me in my first body building show!

My mother has lived with an autoimmune disease virtually her entire life. At 19 years old her youthful body was fatigued and rundown. She was diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis (JRA). However, as my mother aged, her symptoms worsened and did not subside. It wouldn’t be until almost 20 years later when my mother would be diagnosed with Lupus. I was in middle school at the time (though my mom seems to think elementary school) and this was well before the internet, so all we had to work with was from what the doctors told us. Still, the gravity of my mother’s Lupus never truly made sense nor hit home. I think this happened because as a pre-teen one’s only thoughts and focus are on and of oneself.

As I moved into my teenage years, I was a nightmare to deal with. I was not only unruly, but a raging mess of hormones. I was violent, aggressive, and my moods erratic. I spent much of my high school years grounded and bitching to my boyfriend Josh how much I hated ‘them’. During our family blowouts, my father would scream at me, “YOU ARE KILLING YOUR MOTHER!”

That was the only time my mother’s illness ever came into play or conversation—when I upset her or the status quo at home, which trust me, was a daily occurrence.

We never changed our diets; my parents remained relatively sedentary outside of commuting to and from their jobs in New York City, and life rolled on. However, yearly we attended the Lupus Walk to raise money for research. The impression though that I got from my parents was it was a half-assed effort. Something they did because they felt obligated to; as opposed compelled to participate in because of a deep seeded want to help their cause. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing either—to each his or her own. Just because someone is afflicted with something doesn’t call for instant and complete mobilization of charity events, fundraisers, and involvement. The difference between my parents and their approach to my mother’s illness when compared to my husband and his disease is vast. People like myself and my husband Greg rally our community around our passions and causes. Albeit, the world we reside in is immensely different than the world of yesteryear with things like crowdfunding and social media; but we are public and visible with our successes and our struggles.

My beloved family at our wedding in LA

My mother never complained, asked ‘why me?’, or even demanded special treatment. As a matter of fact, my mother retired from her work at Con Edison after 41 years of service never even informing her employers of her condition or filing for FMLA (Family and Medical Leave Act). To say my mother, whom is this sweet and kind soul is tough, is an understatement. She’s a quiet kind of fierce. The kind you never saw coming—a woman that in her retirement took up yoga and water aerobics after YEARS of inactivity. My mother, as she ages is getting super weird as ‘old people do’—doesn’t miss a thing. Observant and thoughtful, she thinks of others first. Two days after I got my braces on, a package arrived at my house from Costco. My mother sent me a waterpik to ease my efforts in trying to keep my [new] braces clean. She is and always has been that behind-the-scenes kind of woman who deserved more from this life. Hell, from me. More on that in a bit.

My mother, now 61 years old lives with her Lupus and thankfully it doesn’t appear to be an issue. Granted, as with any disease these things manifest enormously different from person to person and can take a turn for the worse at anytime. My mom does take medication for various things and has throughout the years, but aside from minor hiccups here and there; she’s earned a relatively clean bill of health. I am convinced part of my mother’s longevity and relatively healthy life is a direct result of her mindset when it came to her illness. Granted, both she and my father could certainly eat better and be more active (yes, I am totally throwing you both under the bus here); but her mental state is precisely what’s correlated to her overall well-being. My mother chose to define life on her terms as opposed to letting her illness define her. Similarly, my husband Greg recently wrote about this topic on his blog. You can read his post by clicking HERE. I cannot emphasize enough the power of a positive mindset. We cannot control the things that happen to us in this life [like I mentioned in my last post, click HERE to read it], but we can consciously decide how we proceed forward.

Now as a woman now of 35, I feel deep sadness that I didn’t invest in my mother’s health and illness sooner. As my mother and my father age, I worry incessantly about their health and well-being. But more than that, I feel selfish that only now with my husband’s own chronic illness (Scleroderma) I am using my voice. I am embarrassed to say that my uncle has diabetes, my cousin breast cancer, and many of my friends are living with debilitating illnesses and NOW—now I am using my voice?! At times I grapple with feeling like I am not good enough to lobby for a cause, this cause in particular for I have willing sat idly for so long…And then I step back and realize that I need to be kinder to myself. Beating myself up to rally around and for every cause is not only not possible, but the timing wasn’t right for me.

The time is now.

I am grateful to have such inspirational people in my life to model how to gracefully approach adversity. Moreover, I am inspired by their strength to use my voice as a rallying cry to direct more funding towards autoimmune disease research, treatment, and spread awareness. I cannot look back at what I didn’t do but I can look ahead to the future and know what I can and will do.

When Life Hands You Lemons…

Arielle Miller / Abundance, Acceptance, Adversity, anger, Build connections, Challenges, Community, Fitness, Fitness for Men, Married Life, mindfulness, School, Teacher Life, Teaching, Updates, Yoga / Autoimmune, Autoimmune Disease, Blessed, Chronic Illness, Community, Disease, Donation Yoga, Fitness, Giving Back, Helping Others, Never give up, Positive Mindset, Positivity, Scleroderma, Southern California / 12 comments

July 17, 2017

One of my beloved honor’s students from 2016-17. She bought us matching dolphin necklaces after our unit on marine mammals, their rights, captivity, and activism.

My relationship with my job as a public school teacher is touchy. Many days I love it and I am emboldened by the work I do. Many days I am angry and bitter about the work that I do. And many days I am too depleted to even process emotions other than count down the seconds from waking to sleeping. But as my life evolves and the more I think about the legacy I want to leave behind; working with children to improve themselves to be better humans socially, emotionally, and academically seems to routinely hit the nail on the head as far as fulfilling me.

Despite that fullness though, for years I have complained and begged my husband to let me quit my job to work exclusively in fitness. And for years, he begrudgingly agreed I could leave my teaching position, so long as I could make enough money teaching group classes, training clients, and even with my writing. It finally seemed like 2017 was going to be my year. My group fitness schedule swelled, my classes were packed, I was getting good feedback, and I was so swamped that I had to start turning down personal training clients! I was so close. Sooooooo close to finally getting what I wanted when the universe had different plans.

[More on my teaching job later]

Four months ago, my beloved husband was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disease called Scleroderma. To say the diagnosis rocked our worlds is an understatement and immediately thoughts of fear and terror took over.

How much time do we have left?

Would my husband die?

Would I have to morph into a caretaker?

What’s going to happen to Greg’s body…?

The day of Greg’s diagnosis, we left the doctor’s office in shock. I found myself unable to really process much and Greg kept pushing me to ‘talk about my feelings’. I came straight home and crawled into bed—jeans and all, immediately falling asleep. For me, sleeping is my escape and avoidance behavior. It’s my way of running from things I choose to not address or cannot face. Perhaps Greg needed me in that moment to hold him as he cried, but what I needed was stillness to allow things to fully sink in.

The days that unfolded consisted of lots of crying. Much of that time I held my husband as he divulged how scared he was of dying and leaving me. As a newlywed of only 2 years, the thought of losing my husband is completely unfathomable. But during this time, through the tears and initial distress, something magical happened.

Greg sprang into action instantly and started reaching out to members of the Scleroderma community. He spent hours online conducting research, learning about his disease, finding support groups, learning about treatments, etc. Through his search, we connected with the Scleroderma Foundation of Southern California where we met Tina, a patient advocate not afflicted with the disease. Tina spent hours talking to Greg and sent us both many emails during those early days of his diagnosis with support groups and other resources. In one of her emails, she invited us to attend a patient information day at Cedars-Sinai so we could meet others battling Scleroderma, learn more about how to live, manage, and treat the disease. Both nervous and excited at the same time to attend the patient day, we signed up immediately.

While attending the patient day at Cedars, Greg and I looked around the room and both had the same thoughts: How could we help these people?

Scleroderma affects mobility in its patients. It targets connective tissue and the skin thickens, making it hard for many people to move their faces, hands, and bodies. Some patients suffer internal organ complications, gastrointestinal distress, and some may struggle to breath as a result of pulmonary fibrosis. Sure, Scleroderma could be devastating and ravage someone’s body, but the spirit of the people I kept meeting touched my heart. Their indomitable will inspired me to my core.

I kept asking myself over and over and over again, how can I help?

The answer I kept coming up with was yoga.

Chair yoga.

Yin yoga.

Restorative yoga.

Yoga with props and balls for myofascial release.

Yoga.

Yoga!

And so, things come full circle (remember all that stuff about me being a teacher and all…).

My heart right here. Sam and Nadia, two beautiful young souls that without fail always made me smile and happy to inspire them!

Whether it’s in my full time job as an English teacher to underserved minority youth in Los Angeles, as a personal trainer, group fitness instructor, or coach; everything about my life has been and shall be dedicated to lifting others up (literally and figuratively).

I have spent so darn long trying to suppress my gifts, hell even run from my gifts while trying with every fiber of my being to NOT BE A TEACHER, but as life would have it; I AM A TEACHER. Being a teacher simply IS my path. And truly in recent months it has become more obvious than ever that my place in this world is a bold call to action to serve others: To teach children how to analyze text, think critically, be socially responsible. To empower others to take control of their lives and bodies, to move with joy, to sweat, and above all—to love themselves unconditionally.

So I am not working exclusively in fitness. This duality and polarization of my life has been tough for me to wrangle over the years, but the more and more I moved forward with my life I have realized that being a teacher has made me a better fitness professional and working in fitness has in turn made me a better English teacher. Being a school teacher has allowed me to do so much more than I could have imagined with my life. At times, I feel burdened to elevate my community and those kids in my efforts to get them to college so they can change their lives, circumstances, and this world. Other times—well, much of the time, I feel bestowed insurmountable power to positively touch peoples lives. But I need to be totally honest here, that is all I know how to do: Push people to strive for excellence at all times—regardless of the modality.

Photo credit Craig Stubing

And while I chose my career in education, and I chose my incredible husband, Scleroderma chose us. We could very easily succumb to the diagnosis or we can rise up and channel our efforts positively because friends, never forget—positivity is a choice. Ultimately, we’ve decided to use our presence in our community and talents as fitness professionals to help others afflicted with this rare and little-known, and little-talked about disease.

Both Greg and I truly feel a higher calling and pull to help others feel better in their bodies while raising money for research and patient support. Talk about turning something seemingly negative into a positive!

In a few short weeks, I will be leading a donation yoga class for those fighting Scleroderma with my husband and our new friends. I couldn’t think of a better way to use what I know, while sharing what I love to do while doing some serious good in this world.

I am going to say it again because it never gets old, but I feel honored and blessed right now. I am grateful that my job as a teacher affords us phenomenal health care and treatment. I am grateful that my work in the classroom transforms kids lives. And finally, I am also grateful that my work in fitness enables people to feel better in their bodies, to get healthy, and stay healthy.

How we choose to look at our lives and circumstances are a choice. Things do not happen to us; they happen for us. Being sad and angry about something is ok—but we must not allow those emotions to overrun our lives and existence. And trust me, there are times we cry and crying is allowed but wallowing is not. I promise even amidst the darkest days there will always be light, and sometimes rather than constantly seeking the light can choose to be the light.

Lean on others. Ask for help. Find your people. Let your community support you. And remember, when life hands you lemons; make lemonade.

What Really Matters

Arielle Miller / Abundance, Acceptance, Accountability, Adventure, Adversity, Alive, anger, balance, Build connections, Celebrate, Celebration, Challenges, Community, Fitness, Goal Setting, Hard Work, Lifestyle, mindfulness, Motivation Monday, Remembering / Challenges, Death, Family, Grateful, Gratitude, Life, Loss, Love, Mourning, Overcoming Obstacles, Reflection, What Really Matters / 4 comments

April 10, 2017

I have been working on this piece for a while, initially crafted on March 23^rd, it was really hard for me to write. Also, as life would have it, the events in the piece to follow seemed to parallel some trying times in my personal life; ultimately delaying the timeliness of getting this completed. Despite the delay in publication, I still wanted to share it because I felt it was and still is an important story to tell.

I need to start this off with an apology to my readers. I am sorry for the things I have written about myself and my life where I allow myself to feel bad for myself or even allude to anything other than the reality that is my life.

My life is effing fantastic. No matter how I think I want to see things, or when things don’t go my way, or whatever challenge physically, emotionally, and professionally I think I am enduring—it is NOTHING compared to the reality of people with real obstacles and problems.

I am not only sorry for my lack of clarity, but I am also incredibly ashamed of myself. As of late, I have been carrying around this overwhelming sense of shame and it is truly heavy in my heart and soul. How dare I?!

Recently, my world has been seriously rocked. And while my heart is swollen with pain and sorrow; these events and people in my life have taught me invaluable lessons in what I am going to call perspective.

A dear friend of mine gave birth to beautiful baby boy in late February. Upon his arrival he struggled to breath on his own and suffered from seizures. A full term baby and deemed healthy prior to his birth, doctors couldn’t quite figure out what afflicted the child. It was agonizing to watch this horror unfold on social media as we learned that the fate of the child was grim. A GoFundMe was set up to help pay for medical expenses as this innocent child spent the entire duration of his life hooked up to machinery. Daily I not only wept, but sobbed uncontrollably while asking God to take from me and my life and give to my friend. I was angry that it appeared God didn’t hear my cries. Yet, despite the baby’s worsening condition, my friends, community, and myself kept hope alive. We had to believe the baby would survive and miracles do happen—why couldn’t we be fortunate enough to witness one?

Sadly, the baby did not make it. After 3 weeks of a short but very loved life, he passed. While I am not a mother, the hole in my heart for a child I never knew is bottomless.

The death of my friend’s child has taught me more about myself than his teeny soul could ever fathom.

What is truly important? What matters?

Love. Family. Time with the people I care about. That’s it.

In the same time that my friend’s baby was born, my college best friend and former housemate was diagnosed with a rare neurological autoimmune disease. I have watched the unfolding and unraveling of her health via Facebook for years, but never comprehended to the extent her health has degraded. Once a talented and star athlete, this woman who was our leading scorer in college, now cannot walk without assistance. As her body deteriorates at the young age of 35, she will be wheelchair bound in the very near future. What’s more is she has 2 young children and they have to move since she needs a handicapped accessible home.

In spite of her prognosis, my friend seems to be in such good spirits. Her positivity and strength are refreshing, but a stark reminder that whatever I think I am fighting, whatever I think I am grappling, whatever shit I think life is hurling at me—truly, it ain’t that bad.

Now, to be clear, I am not downplaying the things in my life, I don’t think that’s necessarily a healthy outlook either. And in due time I will unveil some other layers, but really, my life’s problems are small in comparison.

I mean, my biggest issue in my life is that I think I’m fat?!

Are you kidding me?

I’ve spent this time in reflection. Honestly searching within myself to make sense of this loss of life, but also how could I memorialize my friend’s baby? How can I keep his spirit alive? How could I be present everyday for myself physically, emotionally, and grateful? And the answer almost seemed easy. It was apparent to me that by loving myself wholly and fully, that was the first step to taking the teachings of this lesson in perspective and showing my learning.

I’ve stopped the nonsense.

I have showered myself with love. I have hugged my husband every chance I get. I call my mom everyday despite the fact she always has to jet to yoga or water aerobics and can’t talk to me (I still love ya mom, and I AM SO HAPPY that you have found bliss in your retirement!). I have stepped back to look at my life and realize that I am bountiful in more ways than can be measured. And by more ways than you can imagine, I am talking about the new-found gratitude for my physical capabilities.

Everyday now when I walk through the doors of the gym, I look around in utter amazement that this is the life I am privileged to live. I get to sweat in one of the world’s most beautiful facilities and above all—I can move my body any which way I darn please. THAT is a gift. These recent weeks have shed a light on my life that only go to show you that through darkness there really is light. And maybe you can say that this light is my friends baby, and maybe you can say it’s my friend’s undying spirit and zest for life, and maybe you can say it’s just me.

I don’t really care how you choose to see it or look at it. We ultimately see what we choose to see anyway. But what I do ask you to do is take a hard look at yourself and life today. Look through photos, strip down to your underwear and gaze upon your body in the mirror. Admire your strength, your power, and who you are in this very moment. Lovingly look at those in your life who bring you joy and seek them out. Make a plan, [one you will keep, you LA flakes] and get coffee, hit a workout, or just sit in a park on a bench and talk sans posting it on your Snap or InstaStory.

See? I bet you didn’t realize how damn blessed you are. Don’t wait for life to slap you in the face hard and sting before you wake up. Live life now.

Hug now.

Kiss now.

Run now.

Jump now.

Fix now.

Repair now.

Dance now.

Wander now.

GO NOW.

BE NOW.

DO NOW.

Build connections

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