Leaving my play pretend

How in the world is it already December 31, 2021? So much has happened since I last logged in to post. There's a blue crystal apple sitting on my desk. I am a different person than the girl who posted last. I did things I never dreamt I would have to decide to do. My heart was broken. I grew a year older. So much has happened since I last logged in to post. One day I will explain it all away. Tell you about the choices I made, the nights I thought about giving up, the days I conquered instead. 2021 has been a year full of leaps of faith. I took a chance on myself and grew into the person I dreamt of becoming. I would like to believe 2020 Jess would be proud of me. This chapter of my life is officially coming to a close. I'll see you in the next novel. xoxo

Say goodbye and go

How do I explain this away? That I just wasn't careful enough? Maybe I was being reckless. It is a mixture of relief and anguish. Why is this happening now? Is there some cosmic meaning to all of this? If there is a lesson to learn, please just show me. I want to be as loving as possible, as strong as possible. but I am beginning to wonder if I am even meant for this life at all.

I couldn't remember how to get here

I am counting down the minutes until the possibility of a planning meeting. We have no lesson plan and we teach tomorrow. "Y'all are rising to the high expectations" as if these exepctations need to be met in our current timeline; that's why we student teach. At least I am becoming prepared for the unpaid labor and demands to meet unrealistic expectations. No one is talking about the toll of remote learning. No one is expressing gratitude for our children who have sacrificed their emotional well-being to do their part in curbing the spread of this virus. Now we want our children to go back into schools where they cannot sit next to their friends or move around the room. I am sitting at this fucking computer for hours on end every single day. I am wondering how can I possibly connect with these children and make them feel seen? "Y'all are rising to the high expectations" of burnout, exhaustion, distance. I am so tired.

The soloist

I always write when I'm sad. Maybe that's why I haven't started that book yet, because I can't put myself through the trauma all over again. But I think I may have found my way out. xoxo -Vi