Sad Sack
When I was in high school, I suffered from pretty serious depression. It runs in my family. Every now and then it really comes back to me. When it does, I ache from so deep within that I can't even tell where it begins. It bothers Andrew when I tell him that, deep down, I am really a sad person, but at my core I have this certain darkness that's just always been there.
There is the time of year, for one. I'm tired. My students are tired. There are days I want to leave and never return. There are many days when I wonder why the hell I am forcing myself to go to work every day. And the constant anxiety that I am not a writer and may never be one if I continue to teach eats away at me. It is the deepest pain for me - that of unfulfilled dreams and empty expectations. Then again, I fear being a bad, unsuccessful writer just as badly. At least, I tell myself, I know I am a good teacher. I have no such assurances as a writer.
Then there are events - recent and not so recent - in my life. Neither Andrew or I have felt satisfied since we returned from Oxford. Sometimes I literally break down and cry about it. We're trying so hard to pay off the debt we incurred moving there and back and living overseas, but meanwhile we're miserable, slaving away and wasting years not quite fulfilled. It's not that I don't want to teach necessarily. I just don't want to have to work so hard. I would like to have the option to work somewhere else or maybe take a year off and write. But right now the focus is paying off the albatross that is our massive consumer debt. It will be another 1-2 years. I don't know if I can do this for that long.
More recently, we have discovered we will have to move again - this time not our choice. I will write an entirely separate entry about that becuase it is a long and somewhat interesting story.
But for now I am just wallowing in sadness and self-pity. One of my favorite all-time students is beyond sad about personal stuff which I'm trying to help, but feeling rather inadequate.
A current student is making me want to open a vein with every class period. She's a born again Christian and I have never had a student who was so frequently offended in my class. Believe me, I try extremely hard to make my class gentle and safe for all comers. Today she was very upset that we were watching Pleasantville and there were sexual situations. First of all, it is rated PG-13. Secondly, it was their homework for a month to see the movie on their own and make sure they understood it and did not have a problem with the content. Thirdly, I told them at the start of class today that there were sexual situations and strong language in today's scenes and they had permission to leave if they wished. Instead, she watched the scenes at Lover's Lane and the one where Betty takes a bath (there is no nudity, but masturbation is suggested in the scene). Afterward she called me over very huffy about it. I apologized and offered her the pass, telling her that she did not have to stay. Despite the fact that I have told her repeatedly the reasons for my choosing this movie, she questioned why I would choose "this movie." She then questioned how it got a PG-13 rating. I told her again she was free to leave, to which she told me she did not want a lower grade. I again explained her grade would not be lowered in any way. She said she would stay, but if there was "one more scene like that" she would ask to leave. I just don't get her. Her favorite movies list included things like The Matrix and she plans to write a paper on Terminator 2, but we watch Pleasantville in class and she freaks out. It literally gave me an anxiety attack. Not the first this child has brought on.
I'm just down today. I need a lot of things to fix myself. Time. Writing. A job with a lot less stress. Out of debt. I just worry all the time it seems.
Maybe Spring Break will clear my head.