Bottom

The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.  ~William Shakespeare, Othello

As long as you keep getting born, it's alright to die some times.  ~Orson Scott Card

Yesterday, I hit the hard, rocky bottom.  All my optimism died.  All my hope, all my ability to see good in the situations, all of the deep wells I pull from to keep going dried up on me and left me with nothing.  

It happens sometimes despite my best efforts to the contrary.  I can't always juggle, can't always shuffle step, can't always pretend away all that's making me sad or crazy or tired isn't there.  

I think I used to be better at it than I am now, though.  And that worries me, frankly.  My students see that I'm sad or tired, and they comment on it sometimes.  I don't want them to know it.  I want to hide it better than I am or not be so stressed all the time for them.  Being that person for them is just wrong.  I need to do better, be better for them.  Their mood so often comes from mine, and I have to be very careful about what I'm putting out there.


So I'm trying to pick myself up off the floor.  I got my hair cut.  I bought a silly shirt with Yoda on it at Wal-Mart.  I bought food, real food.  I left school early the last two days rather than stay until the darkness wrapped the building in its fist and crushed it.  I'm watching Firefly, some of my favorite episodes.


I have to get up.  I have to stumble to my feet.  If I don't, then I'm no use to anybody, not to my students, not to myself.