I had a conversation, just a couple e-mails back and forth the other day with a blogger. I mentioned thinking that I was too serious. Too affected. Too emotional. Too "and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this blah blah blah." With ridiculous anecdotes in between, because you know! I have to be funny.
And that's what it really comes down to for me as of late. This blog is more frustrating than fun. What started as a cathartic form of therapy has just turned into more *sigh* of me giving in.
I don't know if my feeling this way has to do with being a teacher. I remember telling a counselor that I wanted to do that, when I was in high school, and he looked me dead in the eye and said, "You know what? I just don't think you're cut out for it." And of course I was filled with 16 year old "I'll show you!" and "I can do whatever I want and succeed," but that's because I was 16. I had no earthly way of knowing what he meant.
I remember when I first felt like this. My first teaching job. I was so exhausted at the end of every day that I would just come home and sleep. I was incapacitated, I believe my first husband said. I hated him for it, but I think that he was right. Some people were born to be teachers. Me? I was not. I am not. My frustration from the day spills over into my life at home and it seems like it is beyond my control.
I think I was drinking so heavily because I could blame mishaps on alcohol. "I was so drunk," I'd say, or insert lame excuse here. Now there's just nothing. Just me and myself. Today I thought I would be happy that I was able to just grab the grape juice instead of the champagne no big deal in public and instead, it was obliterated by my inability to separate school from work.
What does this have to do with the blog? Nothing. Everything. I have no release. I run and run and run on that treadmill and do lunges and chest presses and it all stays with me, like a cloud. Out of respect to my colleagues and my husband, I keep that which is most important to myself. And it's still not enough. I always try and imagine how I would feel if I checked on a friend's blog and saw the details of my life, albeit intertwined with theirs, on the world wide web. Betrayed, probably.
The students impact me in a very simple way. They misunderstand me. All day. Through no fault of their own. They're children. I'm an adult. English is not their first language. It's all I speak to them. All day. I repeat myself minute after minute day after day. When the bell rings? I want to come home and say ";sajfdjfak" and have dh and everybody say, "I know exactly what you mean." Which is of course, impossible. So we speak in circles and snippets, not really talking to each other to avoid conflict until those unavoidable moments that end up with me wanting to act rashly, but just letting my fingers fly over the keys, even if I do hit 'delete.' At least I can think that it was out there and I was understood for one second.
In real life, I long for an MTV crew. Someone following me around so that when I am where I am now, I can see on tape exactly WHY I AM HERE. Did I say that? As I recall, I didn't say that. How can I twist words when I spend ALL DAY repeating back what the students say VERBATIM! so that they are encouraged to expand on their ideas? I'm like a fucking parrot, I am. IF I AM the hypocrite, show me. Maybe it would be an ugly slap in the face. Maybe I AM delusional, but until I can SEE it, I have no way of knowing.
I thought I was doing the best job I could, but as with other times in my life, it's not enough. My temper is too short. My English too improper. My motives too selfish. The one person who I used to whisper all my secrets to, who I credited with saving my life is more a stranger to me than anyone else who reads this. Intended jokes slap like insults. I speak Farsi. In all my relationships.
I dreamt about Thailand last night. I was driving along, with dh, on the beach, and it was just sun and sand and a warm wind and a smooth ride. We drove and drove until we got lost and then we saw the bodies that they had hidden from the tourists. And there were just dozens and dozens of them all disfigured and missing limbs. Drowned, maimed. Just dead. I was running over them with the car, they were in such abundance. I couldn't turn around, and I just couldn't get back. I was frantically driving around the gate, looking for a way back in, but it was just me and all those bodies. I couldn't get back in. I didn't want to run over any more people, so I just sat and cried.
I don't know what I want to do from here. To feel like a circus poodle is not what I was put here for, I don't think. To vent my problems under the guise of hypothetical situations and seeking majority approval would be utterly disrespectful. As many relationships that I have bungled in the last few years, I think I know that that is wrong.
Pride is a hurtful thing.
And that's where I'll leave it. If none of this makes sense, just ignore it. MY inability to express myself clearly is what got me in this mess.
Nanoo, nanoo.
I think that the fact that you wrote all this out and recognized your frustration is a wonderful thing. Don't fret too much, because things will ultimately take care of themselves.
Pain is a beautiful thing. Don't try to quell its screams.
You know, I think everyone uses their blogs for different things. With me, what blithely skates by as entertainment-for-others is constantly intertwined with me expressing feelings about my own life, where I've been, and where I'm going. That works for some people, and for others it just doesn't.
No matter what you choose to do I know I'm privileged to call you my friend, and I'm so glad that through this blog I got the chance to get to know you...
Everyone needs a place and a time to be able to vent, and everyone needs to feel understood. We all seek it in different ways and through different things. I know you'll find the way that most fulfills you.
Just remember that things are always evolving and changing. You know that. Even blogs! Vent your frustratioins and let me and others read them. It's nice to know that I am not hte only one with some problems. And anyways, I want more posts about adventures in tropical settings.
It really does take a VERY special person to be a teacher. I was an education major for oooooh ONE semester! I will always give my childrens teachers the best gifts my budget will allow for christmas, and even then it wont be enough. I am not one to underrate teachers. You guys are extraordinary. It's expected of you to be completely frazzled at the end of the day, but still come to school the next looking perfect and teacher-like!
-Laura
It seems to be a cyclical thing, wanting to write the blog and not wanting to write the blog. I'm going through a "not wanting to" stage right now. I can't find anything in my life that's funny, and I feel like I HAVE to be funny. But honestly, I just feel like shit. Why don't I feel like I can just write about that? Trying to please others- even if they're anonymous.
Sorry to hog the comments section...
This was a great post, Alex. I did something kind of similar last week, about the need to talk things out and release, yet not having the way to do so. I think most of us go through this phase, too, but I do want to say that I have also enjoyed reading you and getting to know you. For me, the blog has been very cathartic, even though I haven't revealed the kinds of things I probably need to. Just writing about something, anything helps me out.
I hope you are able to find your voice, whether it be through this blog or maybe with a different job.
You are great! Your blog is very entertaining, but I won't leave if you don't "entertain me" everyday. In fact your blog is deep and interesting on many levels. I enjoy the fact that you have a short sassy whimsical blog followed by a long life changing story, but I always look forward to reading it. You should endorse yourself for bravery. I write a blog too, but not another soul has ever peeped it. Now that is probably a lot weirder than worrying about being entertaining... BTW, we were all put here to be circus poodles of one sort or another! -- You're so cool.
I agree, write what you need to write, you don't need to impress us, just write what you feel. And take some time for yourself, doing something YOU enjoy doing, sometimes all's we need is a breather to ease the stress of everyday living.