I just don't know how much more of this I can take.
For those of you that don't know me in real life or follow me on Plurk, you may not know that I got pink slipped from school on Friday. It's the teacher half of my job, not the ed tech half, although where that's concerned I've been told I *might* not be a high school literacy ed tech III next year; I may be an ed tech II in the Elementary school Special Ed room. While the superintendent is "confident I'll be able to return in the spring," I am not. I don't believe that the town will care enough about my half of a position to save it, when it means less money out of their pockets. I didn't get either of the two jobs I applied for a few weeks ago (I got my application in too late), so I'm becoming increasingly desperate and frustrated and hopeless and anxious.
School is technically "out," as the last official day was last Thursday. I am here Monday through Thursday from 8-1 working on my curriculum. Because they pay me extra. Because that extra money is going towards buying me a spinning wheel. Every morning I wake up and wish I could stay in bed. The drive in to work I can actually feel my body resisting the trip North. I am antisocial while I am here. I shut my door, attempt to work, and spend large quantities of time staring in a stupor around me, wondering what the hell I am going to do if I have to move my entire classroom. Wondering what the hell I am going to do next year if I'm not here. Because teaching jobs are few and far between right now, and honestly? The drama I've dealt with all year is making me question myself. Question my choice of career. Question whether I was meant to be a teacher.
While all of this is going on, I am trying to keep a game face on. Trying to appear as though I'm shrugging it all off, as though it's all just rolling off of my back. But on the inside, I am roiling. While sitting here at my laptop I scrawled these lines down:
This feeling is building -
rising inside me.
The panic, the pressure,
that makes me want to throw up.
It wants to scratch, claw its way out,
Loose a long low cry
Rip itself from my center
so I can feel relief.
My outsides are still
But my insides are boiling.
A roiling sea of anxiety, of nausea,
I wrap it, strap it, swallow it down.
Tighten my muscled
against its insistent urging,
its pushing to be free.
To rip, claw, hack, tear its way out,
And leave me,
All I want, all I need, is to make it through Thursday. Once Thursday is over, Bear and I are on our way to Bar Harbor for my birthday/our anniversary weekend. It's the first trip we take each summer and the one we look forward to most each year. Nothing is allowed to intrude on our weekend - no stress, no work, nothing but the ocean and each other. If I can make it to Friday, I will be okay. I will be able to deal with this situation, with this clusterf**k that is my life.
I'm trying. I really am.