Saturday, August 15, 2009

seventeen can take so long

It’s amazing how dependent on writing I have become over the summer. I didn’t have a second to write on Thursday or Friday, and I feel like I am about to explode today. Hopefully, getting to write will bring some relief, as I am really struggling today (and last night). Maybe due to today being Saturday and seventeen weeks, staying up till 3AM for CP’s bday party last night, getting into the school routine, or maybe the combo.

I was shockingly pleased to discover how natural it felt to be back at school again. It didn’t hurt that they redid all the lights in the building. It is now so bright it literally hurts my eyes by the time I leave at the end of the day. However, since my classroom doesn’t have windows, I love it. My emotional health is so dependent on sunlight, that it has been hard to be in a dingy classroom—so I am thrilled with the change. And, while I would prefer to be writing all day every day, and have that be my career, I remember that I really do love teaching, I love my kids, and that I work with some truly amazing people that genuinely care about me (nearly everyone asked me immediately how I am doing with the Chad thing and if I got published yet—it was nice to be able to actually tell them progress is being made in both areas). It was also shocking to see how truly out of it I had been the last month and a half of school last year. I didn’t wrap up any of what I needed to do or get anything prepared like I should have. I really am thankful that nothing worse happened during my work hours outside of me turning into a zombie. I don’t really even remember what I did most of those days. While I am not back to my ‘normal,’ it is good to know that I will actually be able to be a real teacher and human with my kids again.

The routine has been hard. The first day, I reached for my phone to call Chad as soon as I left the building, just like I always did. I realized what I was doing before I even had the phone out of my pocket, but it still cut through me. Then, trying to come home and attempting to not think of the evening routine Chad and I had established. I am ready to quit grieving. Part of me feels like I should grieve forever—that I ‘owe’ it to the love Chad and I had, but I can’t. He’s not. He doesn’t have any desire of me, and I have to figure out a way to get over it. Remember and treasure what we had, but also somehow shrug and say, ‘Fuck it.’ I am cutting the antidepressants in half in the next day or so. They are causing some side effects that aren’t conducive to enjoying all aspects of life. However, I am nervous about it. I don’t want to feel wore than I do.

I am going to see “The Time Traveler’s Wife” tonight with RM. It is Chad’s favorite book—he made me read it. It was unreal. One of the most well-written, heartfelt books I have ever seen. I honestly don’t know how she wrote it—I am incapable of writing in such a way. I also don’t see how she can ever write again. It’s perfect. Truly perfect. Not one word or scene wasted, even ounce a treasure. There is nowhere to go but down for her. When I told Chad about movie months and months ago, he was thrilled and we instantly agreed we’d go see it on opening night. Since then, obviously, things have changed. I think he went to see it last night. One of my friends asked me when I am going to stop doing stuff like this to myself. I can see his point. I will be a wreck during the movie. I’m sure I will weep for all the characters lose in the movie, for all I have lost. However, avoiding it would be just as bad. I think it would give it even more power—this terrifying thing I can’t face. I have to face it. I have to. Just like I have to face that he doesn’t love me, that he finds the life he chose much more appealing and valuable than me, that he will never return, and that I have to get over it and get on with my life. Face things (wallow in them like I do for a while, maybe) and hopefully, they will not always control everything that you do. That you will be strong enough to flourish once more. Again, I am thankful for all I was blessed to have and loose, and I am thankful that I have the opportunity to continue to struggle to live the life I have been given and do all that I can to make it the life I desire (at least to the best of my power).

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