Day 10: 9 Days
I think sometimes that I drank to numb the emotions that I feel roiling up beneath the surface. Today, a student that I have particularly struggled with all year did something amazing. He read. Out loud. By himself. Sounding each syllable out until he was able to hear the word in his head. When he decoded it, he'd shout it out, in exclamation! The light in his eyes inextinguishable. The class stood and gave him a standing ovation, and I was so proud of him that I almost cried. I had to turn my head and blink really fast to chase away the tears.
I don't like feeling like that. It makes me vulnerable and susceptible. I like to be in control of EVERY.SINGLE.ONE. of my emotions, even the good ones.
Sometimes I am so struck with the simplicity of my relationship with Dick and the happiness that it brings me, that I'll feel myself start to well up in the grocery store while we're picking out condiments. And then I feel stupid. When we're alone, and I can bury my neck in his collarbone and just inhale, then I don't feel so naked.
But also as proven yesterday, I am just as likely to anger quickly. And I suppose this is something that I will deal with in time as well.
I didn't realize how much I was using myself up by partying and partying and partying until I went to work today, well rested, relaxed. The kids were amazing. Yes, we had our normal challenges, but my tolerance for their age increased a million times over. Instead of feeling frustrated I was laughing. Instead of feeling attacked, I was guiding. And when I realized what I had been doing to myself, and them, I felt terrible.
And sad, because I think I've been robbing the kids of who I REALLY AM since December, when I started trying to work two jobs and be super fun and super wife and forgot about super teacher. I can't cry over spilt milk, but I can feel badly about it, and I do.
Well part of reading this chronicle over and over and OVER again is painful, because I am the type to expel and (what I thought was getting) rid (of), to read it repeatedly is bizarre. Maybe it is like a bee sting. I will read it so much that it will no longer affect me, but it will be there in truth, my words, lest I forget and feel tempted to erase. Again.
Jane Says: Build a little birdhouse in your soul.
I don't like feeling like that. It makes me vulnerable and susceptible. I like to be in control of EVERY.SINGLE.ONE. of my emotions, even the good ones.
Sometimes I am so struck with the simplicity of my relationship with Dick and the happiness that it brings me, that I'll feel myself start to well up in the grocery store while we're picking out condiments. And then I feel stupid. When we're alone, and I can bury my neck in his collarbone and just inhale, then I don't feel so naked.
But also as proven yesterday, I am just as likely to anger quickly. And I suppose this is something that I will deal with in time as well.
I didn't realize how much I was using myself up by partying and partying and partying until I went to work today, well rested, relaxed. The kids were amazing. Yes, we had our normal challenges, but my tolerance for their age increased a million times over. Instead of feeling frustrated I was laughing. Instead of feeling attacked, I was guiding. And when I realized what I had been doing to myself, and them, I felt terrible.
And sad, because I think I've been robbing the kids of who I REALLY AM since December, when I started trying to work two jobs and be super fun and super wife and forgot about super teacher. I can't cry over spilt milk, but I can feel badly about it, and I do.
Well part of reading this chronicle over and over and OVER again is painful, because I am the type to expel and (what I thought was getting) rid (of), to read it repeatedly is bizarre. Maybe it is like a bee sting. I will read it so much that it will no longer affect me, but it will be there in truth, my words, lest I forget and feel tempted to erase. Again.
Jane Says: Build a little birdhouse in your soul.
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on Tuesday, May 30, 2006 at 3:21 PM.
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