I’m constantly reconsidering things. Re-planning. Revising. Reflecting.
Things never seem to be “good enough” or “right…just yet.”
On the one hand, that’s okay, maybe even preferential, as it keeps me striving for something better all the time. Motivated.
But on the other hand, it wears me the fuck out sometimes.
Currently, I’m involved in hybrid teaching – a blend of in-person AND online. While I’m sure it is better for kids to be with their teachers even if it is only once a week, trying to manage two types of learning, simultaneously has created a situation where I basically have 12 classes instead of 4, the way our schedule works. Between the wonky attendance practices, the grading, and the in-person health and safety protocol, I’m wearing thin. And we are only just beginning our 3rd week of hybrid. If you know a teacher…hug them. They need it right now.
I am also going to school, myself. Which…why? Wtf was I thinking? (This will be the easiest year to do this because we don’t have students in class. This will be the easiest year to do this because we changed our schedule to quarters and I only have 4 classes at a time.) Before hybrid happened, this was truth. I had a bit of time. But now?
And I’m trying to keep my health in check. While I didn’t workout like I should have last week, I’m back on track as of yesterday. I know this is one of the things that affects my state of mind and my emotional well-being. Diet is, too. And I’ve been cognizant of that.
The hormones I’ve been taking don’t seem to make a difference one way or the other, really (that I’ve noticed), but the stress? That does. It takes my libido, wads it up in a little ball, and throws it right out the window.
I’ve had heartburn. I haven’t been able to sleep. All tell-tale signs.
So, I’ve gotta get the stress in check.
Which is why I’m constantly re-evaluating what I do with my time – attempting to prioritize things.
I obviously don’t have time to do everything I must, which means i certainly don’t have time to do everything I want. Realizing this is half the battle. Accepting it and working around it to find some semblance of balance is the rest of it. And it’s never-ending…at least for me.
I try to take it week by week, day by day, attempting to keep my anxiety from getting the best of me. If I do, it gets dark, and the anxiety becomes depression. These are the early stages. The irritability. The frustration. The overwhelm.
None of it is sexy.
Not that I have to be all the time. Believing so in the past has just added on another level of stress. One more thing to get down on myself about.
I know I’m bitching. And things will get better. But, I think it is important to share when my life isn’t working, because that’s part of my story…and writing myself out of these times is part of my process.
I’ve been holding the blog together with photos this month, but I’m going to do a better job using this place for what it was originally intended. A place for my internal voice. And right now, that voice is whining and complaining and stamping her feet.
It’s not reinventing. It’s returning.
It’s like when I was young and I played tag. I ran and ran and avoided becoming it as often as possible, and when I needed a break, I went straight to home base for a breather.
That’s what this is. Home base.
And I need a breather.
(Or maybe I just need a good spanking. Or a good fucking. Or all of it wrapped into one rehabilitative night.)
What do you do when you hit the wall? What are your strategies? How do you regulate…realign? What is your “home base”?