On Returning to Work - A Review

Thanksgiving break was one week. It was, for the most part, fun. I got to spend a lot of one-on-one time with my brother, something that was generally reserved for one off’s on weekends back when I was home. I ate a lot of good food, too much to be honest. And got a much needed break from the stress of managing and being responsible for over fifty kids on a daily basis.

But when Austin left and I was alone, I was itching to get back to work. I had a lot of pre-work to do, intellectual prep and the like. So, that kept me occupied during the day, but when night came and I was too exhausted to do anything but wait for sleep. I found myself meeting problems I thought I beat.

So far, New York has been one big step forward for my mental health, but this break took me two steps back.

To explain, I think I said it best to a friend the other night. When I’m working, I’m too “busy” to be depressed or stressed. And, for the most part, that’s true. But I’m not actually that busy. I pretend to be, sometimes, and I find myself getting caught up in whatever the “next” moment might bring. But there’s only so much you can do. And I’ve always been good at preparing for whatever is coming. So, I tell myself I’m busy.

But then I spend thirty minutes on Spotify making a playlist waiting for my next class to start.

Being busy is a lie I tell myself so I don’t get bored, and so that I feel overwhelmed over something quantitative, rather than something internal, so I don’t feel like I have time to be depressed, or stressed, or deal with my compulsions, or my anxieties.

But, there’s two beautiful things about realizing this.

One: that means I can set aside all that stuff when I need to. And hey, that’s brilliant and great.

Two: that means I am still able to maintain perspective and beat back this silly brain of mine when it acts a fool.

So, yesterday. After feeling completely overwhelmed about the small amount of time I had to get ready for a lesson on grammar, for a history project, for a handful of meetings, and for taking ownership for one of my kid’s mistakes, I sat down and wrote.

It was during elective, so there was no one around except a couple of other teachers. I managed to crank out 7 poems that I’m actually like… proud of? And when I went home and had all my work finished, I sorted some stuff out that was bothering me and could have a genuinely nice night.

Crazy. Yeah?

Today, I’ve caught myself falling into old routines. Feeling like I’m drowning despite being near the shore; getting upset with myself over something that, in the long run, is insignificant; and feeling like I wasted my own time and other people’s time. But then. I sat down. I put on that playlist. And I wrote.

I’m feeling better already.

Class is starting. So. I’ll talk to you later.

Have a good week. And look! It’s already Wednesday!