Maybe it’s the fact that it’s 9:00 at night (which, as a teacher, is basically my bedtime), or the fact that I got up this morning at 4:45 to go to spinning class – maybe I’m just tired.
But really, honestly, I’m miserable.
Driving home from watching one of N’s men’s league softball games (we took two cars) I formed this post in my mind, and I decided I wasn’t sure that I wanted to even share it with you. Mostly because I don’t – know what I want from it. I don’t want pity (I have enough of my own), I don’t want to become the whispers of gossip that spread like wildfire (not that I’m saying you all would…but it just seems to happen sometimes), and I don’t even know what the hell is wrong with me.
But then I decided that if anyone out there can sort of pull me through all this, it’s you. And at the very least, writing it down does seem to help. This is kind of long, I’m warning you.
Here’s the problem: Besides the obvious, I just don’t feel like myself. I’m not happy with my life, let’s face it. I’m of course happy with my husband, my dogs….but not content, not fulfilled. I’m just living and breathing every day, but I’m not experiencing anything. Something is missing. In addition, I feel like I can’t – connect to people like I once could. I have this dark cloud hanging above me, and I can usually fake it, but those who know me know it’s there – and I hate that they know it, that I’m not myself. I feel like I’m letting myself down, because others who once knew me as happy-go-lucky (if not slightly high-strung), now might see me as this negative ball of dust.
So not only am I not happy with my home life, in that it’s all work and no play, the connections I have with people I care about IRL, but also, I don’t want school to end.
It’s pathetic to even say that – what teacher doesn’t want summer?
This isn’t the first time this has happened to me. And I’m starting to notice a trend. My first class ever, 5 years ago, was beyond amazing. They were just – wonderful, supportive, helpful kids. And we all formed a tight bond – there was crying and hugging on the last day and nice notes shared. That summer, which was when I was in limbo – not married, living in a tiny apartment, hoping to keep my job and get engaged soon, going through the motions – I had a hard time getting over that class. I couldn’t wait to get to school, to see these kids, who made me so happy because they were full of life and energy, jokes and laughter, and I wasn’t, and it helped. But then, when summer came, it sucked.
The following year, my second year, I was engaged and planning a wedding. That class was fine enough, but they did nothing for me. I was excited for summer. They all cried on the last day and I was grinning. I wasn’t in limbo anymore. I had a solid plan (getting married that July) in a house of our own with two dogs. The plan was in place and everything felt perfect. Interestingly enough, I also had no hives or autoimmune issues this wedding planning year. I was stress-free.
So, after that second year, I told myself, the way I emotionally handled the leaving of my first class was just because they were my first, and every year after that, I’ve never gone back to that weird place.
Until now. This is my first year all over again, in a way. I’m in a new school, new teachers, new grade level, new curriculum. My kids are awesome. They make me laugh, a lot, every day, and they are kind and helpful. They are also hyper and messy, but that’s another story. I can already feel the emotions of this school year ending deep inside, just like that first year, except maybe worse this time. I dread summer. I don’t want to be home, cleaning or doing random house projects. I want to be with kids, with my kids, kids who make me forget about this lack of a pregnancy and make me feel important, needed, and in control.
This class is seriously doing more for me, I fear, than I am for them. They are filling a void. And it has hit me all of a sudden. I suppose it’s not just my class – it’s children in general. Not too young, because then I’m reminded that I don’t have a baby. But a little older, when they are funny and amazing, and have baseball games and piano lessons. I want to attend those games, and those lessons.I want to BE their mom. And I’m not – not even close.
I feel odd saying this, but I have never dreaded summer more than I do right now. And there are 5 weeks until that day comes. It also doesn’t help that my students always go to the junior high the following year, so the majority of them, I never see again. It’s very sad. I’m already sad about losing them and we still have 5 weeks.
Again – I don’t even know if I want to post this rambling nonsense. I feel foolish, idiotic, and slightly insane. I’m attached to my students because they fill a void in my life, and that’s just weird. My only hope is that my life follows some type of a pattern (highly unlikely), and this year, the limbo year, is followed by a year of stress-free, pregnancy life. No need to be attached to other people’s children if I’ve got my own.
I think I’m having a quarter-life crisis. Seriously. Call it an identity crisis, if you will. I’ve said this before, and this is a big issue as well, but I either want to be my age or a little older, with children I’m driving around town, or I want to be young – really young. Like, high school. Or even elementary school. Those years were the best – carefree, mom’s got dinner covered, all you have to do is your homework and clean your room. The innocence of those years is what I think I really miss most of all, and I try to remember my days as a 5th grader. It’s hard to do, and that’s sad, too. I only remember quick little moments, but not the fun and excitement that I see in my own students.
So, either 30 with kids, or 10. There is no in-between, but unfortunately, that’s where I find myself. Hence being in limbo. Hence why I find myself, on Friday afternoons, playing kickball, basketball, or running races with my students. And loving every minute of it.
I feel like a total nut. Completely out of character, definitely not my old self. N used to call me naive, but I preferred optimistic and innocent. I am so not that person anymore, and I really, truly wish I was.
As usual, I do feel better after writing this down. And a new thought – perhaps it’s the Clomid that’s causing my emotions to totally whack out.
I’m on 150 mg, though it’s only the third day of taking the pills this round. Anyone else experience weird emotions while on Clomid?
Hey, thanks for reading. I post this to the internet because I know somewhere, someone can relate, and that makes me feel better.