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Out of Juice


Have you ever had one of those days where your energy was extremely low?


You were out of juice.


Lunchtime had long passed and my orange juice was now sitting on the floor of the classroom.


This was unacceptable. I must have been feeling sick; I don't usually play with food. It was soon time to go home, but I still had to endure one of my favourite classes, Spanish.


To my surprise, the principal came over the intercom early. Were we going to leave school early? No. We were only informed that everyone should stay inside their classroom for safety or something of the sort.


By now, it seemed as if our Spanish class had transitioned from a formal to a more casual state because I was giggling too much. This was not the first time because I had another bright spark girlfriend in my Spanish class, Rennae, who would bring out the worst sorts of laughter in me.


Obviously, I was no longer out of juice; my energy was up. Like the former Air Jamaica, I was soaring to new heights as I flew out of my seat.


Still laughing, I held my abdomen until everything ceased.


I was standing strong with my feet slightly apart and my hands on my hips when the Spanish teacher exclaimed, "Davia, go clean up the juice!"


I was immediately dumbfounded and stationary as I gazed on the floor. So, a good Samaritan said, "It's not juice, Miss."


"Yes, it is. I can see the box of orange juice on the floor," assured the teacher.


With much confidence, I raised my head, and with a smile, I could only say, "The box of orange juice is still sealed, Miss."


Did the teacher forget that I had asked her to use the bathroom when the principal had come over the intercom?


I could only shake my head in disbelief.


Straightway, my good Samaritan, Shanique, had gone for a mop and cleaned up the "orange juice" for me. The French students who were returning to our homeroom class would not have seen ANY evidence on my uniform which was dry and spotless- perfect.


I was absolutely relieved that no one would have been able to point out my mishap so easily, but for the first time in my teen years I wasn't about to worry about spilled milk.


And from that day until now, I have never been out of juice for too long; when I am not laughing at myself, I am laughing with others and not at them.


In retrospection, this story taught me that mishaps do happen. In fact, I had felt impressed to share this story on social media in 2016 after a medical technologists decided to share somewhat of a series of oddities in his life.


You see, at one point, I was quite a reserved child who would not laugh at the most laughable event , perhaps in an effort to empathize with the person in the situation or just not wanting to be laughed at, so I wouldn't do it to someone else.


How empowering it was for me to be able to laugh at myself because mishaps and mistakes don't subtract from strengths. They add value to my circumstances and there is always room for a different perspective or nudge for a call to action and to fill our cups.


So if should feel low, I draw for past experiences which I overcame by controlling my thoughts or reactions. As a mental health advocate, I like to remind my students that none of us are exempted from the anxieties and stresses of life.



Therefore, we must maximize on the positive possibilities and negative ones too. We get to write our stories if we just accept even our silliness. Recently, I had felt like I was running out of juice, and so I started writing on a 90's old school type beat:


I'm running out of juice;

I need to fill my cup again.

My worth I can't reduce.

Hello! Bye-bye, my friend.


Whether I win or lose

I have to stop to mediate

You can't walk in my shoes

But possibly you can relate.


I'm living in my dreams:

My dreams are my realities.

I need to press my seams-

Dress up for possibilities

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