The day the dam broke

For a number of reasons, the last few months have been quite difficult financially. So far, I've been able to put on a brave face to the world...juggling bills and paychecks...eliminating luxuries like pedicures and hair appointments. But today, the levees broke.
A quick check of the bank account before making my pre-Thanksgiving visit to Kroger brought me to tears. The money I thought was there...was not. Two unexpected debits from my account had sent things spiraling.

Before I could stop it, several months of pent up emotions crashed through my carefully constructed walls. I was crying. Choking, sniffing, wailing tears. The more I tried to stop, the harder I cried.
Even now, my soul feels so heavy. Weary.
I'm not just another struggling single mom. I refuse to be that. Why does it seem that the cosmos is so set against me?
Finally, the sobs have subsided. I am spent. But there is no time for self-pity.
I've already broken out the calculator, made a few phone calls, transferred funds.
Leila will still get her glasses today.
I will still bring a dish to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.
I will smile.
I'll keep right on living.

Seasons Sequesterings

This, after all, was the month in which families began tightening and closing and sealing; from Thanksgiving to the New Year, everybody's world contracted, day by day, into the microcosmic single festive household, each with its own rituals and obsessions, rules and dreams. You didn't feel you could call people. They didn't feel they could phone you. How does one cry for help from these seasonal prisons? - On Beauty- Zadie Smith

'Tis the season. Right? That must be why the only recent calls on my cell phone are to/from my mom or bf. Conversations with both consisting almost entirely of inconsequential details or random reminders.

Mom: Can you believe they're having the wedding shower in Sherwood? The wedding invitation didn't even have her parents' names on it!

Me: Sherwood's right across the river Mom.

Mom: It said something like ___ and ___ request the honor of your presence at the wedding of their children. Her parents' name nowhere to be found. What kinda stuff is that?

Me: (melodramatically) Oh my God! How dare they! Surely they don't expect you to GO!

Mom: Stop it....so disrespectful! You do your best to raise decent children and this is what you get. What did I do wrong?

And so goes my holiday. At the start of it we all wish each other well, and scatter like so many billiard balls. Impenetrable holiday walls rise up around families. The season demands we spend quality time with people we suddenly (annually) realize that we barely know....are tired of... or can't stand.

The characters of my "normal" life have all exited stage left, each to his own family gatherings. Who can I call? Who can I text? Who's probably not doing anything?
I'm left standing alone...early-bird sale commercials blaring in the background. Is this the break I had longed for?
I think. Yes.

Leila and I sit on the couch, stealing glances at each other, thankful that it's just us. Without the pile of grading between us, I notice for the first time that she sighs deeply, at random, just like I do.
How could I have missed this?
And then I understand the reason for the season (other than baby Jesus, boosting the economy, an old fat man's improbable mission, or eating). Americans live too fast.
If we weren't made to stop, hole up for a few days, we probably would be too busy living to see who we're really living for (besides ourselves).
Be thankful.

Working to Relax

I pushed myself through hell to get to this week. Thanksgiving break. A glorious week off of work.
And now that it's here, I find that I'm facing an even bigger dilemma than how to 15 year olds to care about literary analysis and objective mastery.
My problem: I don't know HOW to relax.
I mean, I think I know what it means.
According to dictionary.com, relax means "to reduce or stop work, effort, application, etc., esp. for the sake of rest or recreation".
But what do you do when you've BECOME work? How does one stop being?
It's almost like I don't know what to do with myself. No bells, no weekly action plans, no meetings. How the hell am I supposed to schedule my life?
Sad, huh?

It's always like this the first few days of a holiday. It takes me several days to decompress (sometimes weeks).
So far, I've resorted to domestic duties...cleaning, grocery shopping, cooking. But any efforts at relaxing are interrupted by restlessness and (dare I say it)... boredom.
As always, I need to formulate a plan. I think I'll make one for every day...to replace the lesson plans and action plans I live by. You can't expect a girl to go cold turkey, can you?

Today's Relaxation Plan

I will...

• work on my cross-stitch
• read On Beauty until I get tired of reading
• watch several episodes of TLC, HGTV, or Food Network programs
• play a game with Leila

I will not...

• grade anything
• think/worry about lesson planning or event planning
• argue/debate anything with my boyfriend
• pay attention to the time

Let's see how it goes. I'll update you tomorrow during 5th period.

S.M.U.R.F.S.

Today I stayed home from school, recuperating from yet another bout with upper respiratory issues. For the 3rd time in 6 weeks, I was blindsided by some coughing-sore throat-headache combo, this time accompanied by a rather scary-sounding hoarseness. I went to the doctor yesterday afternoon. One hour in the waiting room and 5 minutes of routine poking and take-a-deep breaths later, I was diagnosed with chronic sinusitis and handed a prescription for an antibiotic.
I was mildly disappointed. It seemed like this disease that keeps reincarnating itself every 2 weeks should be called something more rare-sounding than sinusitis. It first appeared disguised as the flu, reappeared about 3 weeks later bringing with it runny nose, watery eyes and sneezing fits, this time...coughing and post-nasal drip (gross...I know).
You'd think that the last few years of teaching would have made me immune to most of the diseases passed around by the germ-infested youth. Guess not.
Anyway, thanks to the internet and several episodes of Mystery Diagnosis, I've figured out EXACTLY what I have.
Semi-Mutating Upper Respiratory Facultative Syndrome (S.M.U.R.F.S)
Aptly named seeing as, right now, I sound a bit like Papa Smurf.The treatment for this disease is antibiotic (cefuroxime), cough medicine (preferably something that will make you delirious), plenty of water (to wash down the nasty antibiotic horse pill), food (to be vomited up due to the antibiotic) and pain reliever (for the headache and dizziness caused by the stupid antibiotic).

Ideally, one would have a few days in bed to rest. I had one....half of which was spent responding to emails, grading week-old exams and obsessing about how on God's green earth I could finish grading and teaching everything before Thanksgiving break.

Medical researchers (like me) are still seeking a cure for S.M.U.R.F.S.
Donations are welcome.

Yes we did

This year, I am not the only one for whom change will come. If not the change itself, the promise of it.
I am without words.
I am...
I'm in shock.
I'm excited.
I'm anxious.
I'm nervous.
I'm hopeful.
I'm proud.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

The last few weeks have been hellacious. Frantic days, restless evenings, random outbursts of tears. These were just the aftershocks, but Uncertainty is the fault line.
When I began this blog 2 months ago, I thought I had it all outlined. Grad school would be the focus and this writing project would be all about getting there. Now, I'm not sure.
Relax.
I'm not trying to say I've changed my mind.
But I have had to change my course.
The road I once thought was wide and all-encompassing, has diverged.
I THINK both lead to the same place (not that I can be sure).
Down one path, I must continue giving my whole self to a rewarding, yet highly-demanding job, hoping to parcel out enough time to apply for and attend a low-residency master's program. Obstacles have already begun to appear along that path. Extra responsibilities, special projects and programs, due dates, unresponsive and unappreciative students. The people and things neglected in favor of my life-job are beginning to revolt. I feel lost.
But I've come upon another path. The entry is narrow, but it seems to open into a wide field of possibilities. However, it requires that I put down my life-job and open myself to others...positions that would give me room to breathe and be.
For the first time in 4 years, I'm beginning to believe that I could live a life which INCLUDES a job, rather than having a job that IS my life.
I've broken out my binoculars and peered down this path. There are some promising opportunities out there. So, I'm brushing up my resume and sending it on ahead of me via carrier pigeon (since internet seems to be a illusive luxury both at my life-job and my home).

For now, I must continue down the other road (stalling isn't an option). But you better believe I'll be watching for the carrier pigeon to come back with the message that all's clear. I'll cut a hard left so fast, God'll do a double-take.

Both paths appear to be an uphill climb. The sign for where they both lead is hidden in the fog. But I believe in God (and Flannery). Everything that rises must converge.