It was never my intent to just get up and leave this place behind, but as all writers know shit happens and often things like life interfere. But the inner writer in me has been itching to come back and at least explain my absence.
Those of you who have followed me over the years know I am a teacher, A special education teacher at that. A few years ago I began to really struggle with my desire to continue to teach to such an audience....many things caused these feelings....administration that simply wanted to get rid of my kids rather than deal with them, the unrealistic caseload, the paperwork!! ...the paperwork!! the PAPERWORK!!! I think you get that point. But the overwhelming reason is the non support from the good old boy administration that refused to deal with anything other than their own interests.
So I thought long and hard about it and decided I wanted out of that environment and away from THOSE people. I put in a request to make a move to another position, for reasons I will discuss in another post, I will not divulge what that position is....I wanted out so bad I literally said I'd scrub toilets if need be...I was that done!
My request was granted and I left for summer break thinking I was going to refresh and go back in the fall with a renewed vigor to teach. Then I got a phone call, "Would you consider another position instead?" I knew that it wasn't special education, and well I also knew that if I took it, my original position would go to someone who got laid off....unfairly laid off if you asked me....me being me accepted....and if I could have had a crystal ball and seen my future in that decision that day I should have said no.
To make a long story short, it was a job no one could tell me how it was supposed to be done, but certainly could tell me I wasn't doing it right. I was put in a position to fail and basically had to dig my feet in and proclaim YOU WILL NOT DEFEAT ME!
Needless to say it made for a nightmare year, which didn't renew my desire to teach...during this time I also quit going to therapy..not because I didn't think I needed it but because with my health insurance changes, I could afford the 4 hours a month she wanted to see me at $125 an hour, Now I agree that was probably the worst thing a clinically depressed person with PTSD should have done, Stupider was going off my meds, No therapy means no Meds and I didn't think my prick of a general practitioner would agree to fill them for me.
Well things went from bad to worse and by Christmas of that school year I was a complete mess, Still clinically depressed unmediated and had developed a hellacious anxiety disorder that completely paralyzed me in every aspect of my life. A few days after Christmas I made a appointment with my General Practitioner to get back on my meds and to address the anziety disorder. I was not completely sure he'd prescribe the meds for me and was ready to tell him I was checking myself into to psych ward of the local hospital if he didn't....was I suicidal?....as much as it pains me to say this ...yes...the only thing keeping me from it was the 4 people in my life that truly be forever wounded if I had. Yes I am sure there are more people than that, but they are the 4 that only mattered in that moment and that's all that mattered. I never had to tell him that though, one look at what a mess I was he immediately got out his prescription pad and wrote me a huge dose.
I'd be lying if I said I had no shame in having to need meds. But there is, I've come to the brutal truth that without them my demons will drive me to insanity....So I swallow that jagged little pill with some water every morning but I only allow myself to feel defeated for a nanosecond and give a pre verbal Fuck You to darkness as it begins to dissipate.
And so it goes...
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