Negativity's Breeding Ground

I have grown so negative lately. When I wake in the morning, I'm fine. Tired and groggy, but fine. But by the time I reach work, my stomach is aching and I'm professing that I detest my job. I'm known as Smiles, not Grumpy, for a reason. That reason seems to be hiding. My smile has faded, and I don't know how to get it back.

I don't have lesson plans or curriculum to go off. I don't have anything to base my classes off of, really. The standards. Woo. I have two to three different classes all in one. For example, in my morning classes, I have 10th grade, 11th grade, and 12th grade English students all in one classroom. How the hell am I supposed to teach like that?

Then there's the fact that these kids DO NOT listen. They just don't listen. You can be right there in their face, and they act like they aren't in school at all. They don't care, they don't give a fucking shit about education. I can't teach someone who doesn't want to learn.

On top of this, I have my own homework to do for my special education certification. I want to get out of the classes, but I've already been charged for the next class, so I don't even know if that's an option.

I keep telling myself I'll be fine by Halloween. Sometimes that helps. Sometimes that just cements the fact that I'm in Hell, and will be living there for quite some time.

Who knew I'd want to return to the DOC and the thugs I taught before?

Hate To Hurt

I hate hurting people. This week, I was forced to hurt someone that was once near and dear to my heart. I loathe myself for doing it, but honestly, he forced me into the situation.

Wednesday was a looooong day for me. It was the first day I had to send someone out of my class. I had to request several classes to be quiet more than I can even remember, and getting them to work? Pulling teeth. I was exhausted at the end of the day, and I still had to stay late and plan a lesson for the next day. I went downstairs to make copies, and I checked my mailbox.

There it was. A large envelope. With D's return address on it.

My heart instantly started pounding and my cheeks flushed. "What the hell?" I must admit I was intrigued. Inside was a folder full of love quotes and information meaningful to D and me. I could only bring myself to read a few pages. I had to stop. I knew it was wrong.

I told my husband what had transpired. I sat and pondered what to do with the package while I made copies, but I kept coming back to the knowledge that I HAD to tell my husband. We are forging a new relationship, and complete honesty (even when it's uncomfortable) is a huge portion of our new plan. When I left the school, I immediately called him and told him what I had received. He wasn't angry with me at all. In fact, he said he has expected something like this to happen, just not this early.

As a team, we discussed our options. We could either throw the package away, or we could send it back to D. We chose the latter. We both realized this would be the message we needed to send. D will now know that I cannot have a relationship with him, even one as distanced as he was attempting.

I know what I did was right for my marriage, but that doesn't mean I don't feel a twinge of guilt. In fact, I feel more than just a twinge. I know it will hurt D when he sees a package from me, and then realizes it's just the one he sent to me, being thrown back at him. But what else was I to do? Like I said, D forced me into this position.

I hate to hurt people, but when it comes down to the choice between my husband, marriage and family versus someone I cared for that must now remain in my past, the choice is easy to see. Is there even a choice? My husband comes first from now on.

Missing My Frostys

I talked with Sunshine this weekend at a party. She was telling me a story about her going out with friends for lunch. As the car full of my ex-coworkers started back towards the facility, Piggie asked "Do we need to bring someone back a Frosty?" See, I am notorious for yearning for Frostys. Many a colleague of mine would bring me the frozen chocolatey treat as a thank you for some favor I did for them, or just to say 'cheer up.' Sunshine had to remind Piggie, "Sweetie, she's not here anymore."

I thought it was sweet that Piggie hadn't forgotten about me yet. It's nice.

Dang, I could really go for a Frosty now.

Silly Symbolism

I think I've gotten carried away with my symbolism kick. Why, you ask? Well, remember the broken pen I spoke of in my last post? Yea, it was a different pen. Looked like the pen that didn't work, but I came home to realize that pen is here. So was I wrong about symbolism? Or does it simply symbolize something else? Like...'things aren't always how they seem.' Is God trying to trick me into believing this job is a much better fit for me? Am I just blinding myself from the challenge that awaits me because that is my way of dealing with such a huge change in my life?

Or is it just a freaking pen, and I need to stop looking for meaning in every mundane thing. Sometimes a pen can mean much more, but there are also times when 'it is what it is.' A pen.

Nervous Anticipation

Tomorrow is my first day with students. It's a very odd feeling. I haven't been in this situation for six years. I am nervous, scared, excited, and fearful all at once. I keep going over what I am going to say to my new students in my head. Repeat, change, scratch out, add, repeat. I am trying not to think about it too much, but the more I try not to think about it, the more I actually do.

I feel a bit better about my new job after today. We had a big kickoff today for all the schools of the township. Afterwards, more than one person asked me if I wanted to join the group for lunch. It was so nice to be included. AND, one of the teachers saw my tattoo and went ga-ga over it. She said it was totally adorable, and that sparked an entire conversation about tattoos: who had them, where, who wanted them, etc. There was even discussion about all going together for our next one. On top of that, the same woman who noticed my tattoo started talking about her birthday gift from her husband. She said she received a gift certificate to go 'swim' with the dolphins at the zoo. I got the same gift for my anniversary, so she suggested we go together, and she seemed really sincere. Wow. I feel like things are really coming together.

Before I stop for the night, let me write about one more piece of symbolism (I know, you're tired of these) that occurred today. During one of my last weeks at my old job, I semi-broke a pen of mine. I was beating on the desk with it, and after that, it wouldn't click up anymore. It was still usable, but it was so ghetto. I had to force it to click into place. It paralleled my job. It would work for me, but I had to force it to work. I had to work hard to make it useful. Today, I picked it up, and it just easily, smoothly clicked into place. Wow. Just....wow.

Can God really talk through ink pens?

Even BIGGER news

My little one peed on the big boy potty today at daycare. He's tried before, but he's never been successful. That's not the biggest news, either. He peed TWICE on the potty at daycare. Who knew I'd ever be so ecstatic about urine?

BIG news

My son is now officially a BIG boy in my eyes. He slept in a real bed last night. He now has a firetruck bed in his room, and he went down to sleep like a trooper. No whining. No getting up and opening the door. Just laid down, closed his eyes, and went to sleep. I have officially lost 'my baby' and now have a full-fledged toddler. I couldn't be prouder.

Not So Great Start

There's nothing like losing a bit of dignity. Ever hid in a public restroom? I have. Just yesterday. I didn't want to be the first person at dinner at my retreat, so I hid in the bathroom until I heard voices. Pathetic, I know.

If you haven't figured it out yet, I didn't quite fit in with my new coworkers at my retreat. I felt SO out of place. About 2/3 of the staff is at least 45 years old and what I would classify as 'almost white-trash.' There are some fun people, but they don't seem very willing to allow 'newbies' into their mix. I spent two hours of my free time sitting in my hotel room doing homework or talking on the phone with my husband. Then after dinner, I ended up in the hospitality room with everyone, but during the two hours I was there, I said maybe 20 words. They are funny people, but just not...inviting.

I keep trying to tell myself that it was like this in the beginning at my old job, too. Hell, a whole group of people thought I was a 'snob' because I never talked. They didn't seem to realize that I wasn't a snob, I was just painfully shy. I don't want these new people thinking I'm a prude, but my timidness keeps me from jumping right into the mix. God, I hope things get better with time. I don't want to miss my old job like I do right now. It hurts too much.

Nothing Like The Fair

There's nothing like the fair to make your bad mood into a better one. Seeing a smile bigger than I've ever seen on my son before while he rides around in a boat that's not even on water snapped me right out of my 'depression.' He smiled the entire ride, and every time he passed me, he waved frantically yelling "HI MOMMY!" And if that didn't help, the donut sundae hit the spot. Donut...good. Ice cream...good. Whip cream, hot fudge, hot caramel, nuts, sprinkles, and a cherry on top....GOOD.

Ya gotta love the fair.

Mending a Broken Heart

I left my job for good on Friday. I got through the first half of the day just fine. I was surprised, actually. I got a little choked up when telling my AM students, but I got over it and moved on. I even felt a little...relieved. I had this odd sense of calm. I was lulled into this false sense of security. Just when I thought I would be fine, BAM, on came the waterworks. I walked into the lunch room and saw my cake. My coworkers had gotten me a Mickey Mouse cake. Everyone was looking at me, though I didn't know that from seeing it since I was staring at the ground. I didn't want to cry, but the tears came anyway. I should have been prepared. This is ME we're talking about. When don't I cry?

That was just the beginning anyway. The rest of the day, I was uneasy. My hands would start to shake, and my left eye twitched for no reason. I would find myself on the verge of tears at any moment. Walking out those doors was so difficult. Everyone was stopping me and giving me hugs. A few close friends walked me all the way up front, struggling for normal conversation.

Though I wasn't supposed to be with him, D walked me to my car. It was fitting, I suppose. The man that was the main reason for me leaving was going to be the last person I saw from work. He hugged me, and I started to cry. I know why I left my job. I know this decision was the best decision for my family. This move gives my family a fighting chance at surviving. But that doesn't mean the decision comes lightly or easily. Hugging D just brought everything into perspective. This would be the last time I talked to him. The last time I saw him. The last time I touched him. And as I was hugging him, I could feel it in my heart. Me, finally letting go. Finally telling myself and him that I have made my final choice, and it is set in stone.

Friday was a horrible day for me, but I am trying to mend my broken heart. Friday night I spent time with my husband at the fair. He/I won a frog at the mouse game. I picked #83 to symbolize 8/3, the start of our new life. It landed on 84, but it was still the same column. Maybe not too much symbolism there, but I pretended there was to ease my pain.

Yesterday (Saturday), I watched my son catch his first fish. Seeing the joy in his face after helping Grandma pull it from the water was priceless. Today I watched him ride some kiddie rides, and the happiness that I see in his eyes lets me know that what I did was right. It was hard. Damn was it hard. Probably the hardest thing I've done in my life to date, but if my son is happy, then it is all worth it, and I'd do it again if I had to.

Tomorrow I get to see him ride a stick horse in a mock competition. Anticipating his smile that will no doubt be on his face makes me light up, and my broken heart begins to mend, piece by piece by piece.

Big Girls Don't Cry?

Tonight on the way back from the store, I heard the song "Big Girls Don't Cry" by Fergie.

"I hope you know, I hope you know that this has nothing do with you. It's personal; myself and I, we got some straighten' out to do. And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket, but I gotta get a move on with my life. It's time to be a big girl now, and big girls don't cry."

This made me think of my job. It's like I'm singing to my colleagues. I'm not leaving because I don't get along with them. In fact, I love them. They are like my second family. The thought of walking away from them rips at my heart. Fergie would tell me I'm not a big girl. I cried 4 1/2 times today. (Yes, a half. If the tear doesn't go past the nose, it's only a half cry). How can I leave these people I have bonded with over the past 4 1/2 years? How am I going to make it through the day tomorrow?

I love you all, and I will definitely miss you like a child misses their blanket. More so, I think.

Humanity

People are busy. Most people are so busy and wrapped up in their own lives that they don't even realize there are billions of other people out there who are busy as well. You may be hurting, so you don't notice the girl sitting on the side of the street, crying from her pain as well. You may be happy, so you don't see the older man walking out of the grocery store with flowers for his wife, a smile spread from ear to ear. You may be confused, angry, or frustrated, yet you don't see the people at work who are feeling the same way you are. Why? Because, because you are selfish and think only of yourself.

We all do it. We all are selfish at some point in time. We're human. The important part of life, however, is to remember humanity.

I was at Marsh this evening picking up some vanilla ice cream in order to make some delicious root beer floats later. A young man was in front of me buying a can of green tea and some beef jerky. His total came to $7.04. He only had $7.00. He frantically started checking his pockets for change. I remembered humanity, leaned over him and handed the cashier a nickel. He looked up at me, smiled his awkward grin and said 'thanks.'

Life can be grand in those simple moments of humanity.