The Price

I read an article from a teacher blogger I follow about how she was rediscovering all these things she loved to do now that she has moved from what she called a "low-performance, low-support school" to what is apparently its opposite.  She's about 3/4 of the way through her first year there, and it's like she's coming back to life again.  The particular thing she was talking about was cooking, specifically baking.

I had such a mixed reaction about that article.  Part of me was felt happy that she was able to recover.  Part of me was more than a little jealous that she could.  Part of me was absolutely and completely numb, so tired and stressed and dead that I don't think it ever will be able to come back to life at all.

That last part is growing.

It made me look at my own life.  There are lots of things I used to love to do.  I liked to go work out, to swim and go to the gym.  I loved to cook, to have friends over and make food for them, to bake and take those things to other people and places.  I loved to fool around with plants, to do calligraphy and stained glass, to write.  I loved to research things, go around and get in trouble taking photographs, travel, have silly conversations online with people who were interested in the same things I am.

I do so little of any of that anymore.  I go to school.  I teach.  I come home.  I sleep.  Rinse.  Repeat.

It's not that I don't love what I do.  It's just that I am coming to believe that the price for it is a lot higher than I ever realized.  I also don't know what to do about it.  I still feel that I am where I am supposed to be.  What do I do if it uses me all the way up?  Is there something I should be doing to stop it from using me up?  Is there really anything I can do to prevent that?

Is this what life is supposed to be?

I feel very confused.  Well, at least part of me does.  The other part, that part of me that has turned to stone and that is slowly, slowly getting larger, can't quite work up the energy one way or the other....