I’m a school teacher. I’ve been doing it for 27 years. And I lost. At least that is the way it feels. I fought this entire year and I finally couldn’t do it anymore. I was teaching high school math in an inner-city school in the midwest. It’s not Chicago – I’ve taught there. I’d take it over where I am.
I just couldn’t do it anymore. I looked around at all the other teachers and thought that …. well, I thought a lot of really negative shit about myself. And, in the end, I’m just not strong enough to deal with the crap the kids were slingin’.
We have academies in the 9th grade where I was. And, I had the lowest functioning group. 1st grade reading level forced by my state to teach them Algebra. It’s tough when the curriculum is a reading based curriculum. But that isn’t even the problem. The discipline issues are nuts. And in the end…. I just couldn’t deal with them. I just couldn’t handle it anymore.
The anxiety was too overpowering and I was unable to walk into my room. A room full of 14 year olds. Intellectually I was furious with myself knowing that I was letting kids dictate my future. I felt like a little kid. I still feel like one now.
My illness won. After 27 years of battling mornings of anxiety and fear… it finally took over and I have finally lost.
Everyone tells me that my health is more important. I realize that it is. But when you fight daily for so long it feels like you have lost everything. I don’t care what anyone says. And there isn’t a medicine in the world that can fix that.
I don’t know if I will go back. I don’t know if I can… the option has to be there by law. So much is wrapped up into that…. I’m sure they don’t want me back. What emotions will be there next year……. I can’t really deal with it right now. I’m just not strong enough for it.
I just don’t know…… I know that I feel like I have lost to a disease that I have been fighting my entire life. That is all I know right now.
What if I decided to never talk to that person ever again?
What if I decided to walk into that meeting like it didn’t matter if those people thought my hair was a hot mess and my chosen outfit came out of an 1980’s throwback closet – except I didn’t know I was throwin’ back?
What if …
What if I woke up one morning and chose to accept that I could? That I could control the Paranoia Patol?
I have had issues all my life. Welcome to the club. But, Paranoia has been the biggest Bitch of them all.
It has created the most anxiety. It has caused more problems with relationships – of all kinds. It has ruined multiple jobs…. It has controlled my life in so many ways.
It just comes barreling into my life like a bulldozer and says “No, no, no! I don’t care what you think! You are wrong!”
I don’t care how in “control” of my bipolar/borderline I think I am -obviously I’m not it takes over. In fact, the better I feel, the worse my paranoia gets.
It’s like mental health has to be outta whack all the time…. Something has to be messed up.
Or maybe paranoia just naturally comes out of that? After fighting it for so many years your like “no way can I be feeling good! Something has to be fucked up. Let me find it!” And, if I can’t find I’ll create the shit! Oh, I am good at that!
So lately, I have been repeating those two phrases above to myself when I start to question my boyfriend – or when I have that urge to talk to the person who is really not good for me. Is it helping? Long term? No clue. My anxiety sure seems to subside though. And, we all understand how awesome it is to NOT have to deal with that little bitch of a problem.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been here to write. Feels good to be back and get some things down.
‘Cause this smoke cloud’s giving me shelter And I feel much better And demons wave the white flag for me Still my bones keep pleading to walk out From all of this fall out But there’s no way that I could leave So I don’t leave Turn my bitterness to sweet I gotta find a new release, yeah. So I’m trading blues for green
And so I write!
I have been experiencing a lot of what I call “snapping” in and out of myself in the last few weeks. Snapping just scares the shit out of me. It lasts just a second. I might be in my closet where my sister kept me locked away… or sometimes I’ll see someone in a messed up situation on the street and see myself as them – there alone – very alone – only I’m 5 or something messed up like that. So they aren’t always situations that I’ve actually been in myself. But the actual “snap” lasts a second. It’s the follow up that lasts forever.
And, it’s not a panic attack. I’m a math teacher. Let me get black and white. It is fear! Shear, immobilizing, fucking fear! My body goes into Lock. Down. I become the little girl I was years and years ago sitting in the middle of my living room frozen in fear for a reason that now, 40 years later, shouldn’t even matter.
My heart beats through my chest. Sitting. Frozen. Tears flowing uncontrollably. Chest heaving. Just sitting there. I literally CANNOT move my limbs. Then there is my brain. My brain never stops. It just goes and goes and goes. It’s obviously moving into repair mode. It starts shoving shit into places to start protecting me from everything that I’m not suppose to remember. It’s like “oops, sorry… messed you up, Friend! Let me just fix that for ya!” It’s wrapping itself up like bandage. HA… This time it’s my best friend. In true friend form… It just fucked me, but now it’s going to fix me. It’s good though because no amount of xanax can help these episodes out.
The “snapping” is definitely coming from me finally clearing out the men in my life. With them gone, there is all this space for me to actually see me. I haven’t been single since I was 22. And when I say that, I don’t mean I’ve been married or with just one, two men. I have been, like my brain, shoving men (lots of them) into my life so I could avoid shit. So, clearing things up has left a scary little nest of abandonment issues in there to see. And, my 3 year little self is not a happy camper – neither are the 4, 5, 6 or 12, 24 or 36 year olds. Mother fuckers are highly uncomfortable!
Lately, life has been a lot like crossing a river – hopping from one small stone to another knowing that missing is NOT A PRETTY OPTION.
I’m sure this is me just dissociating… but I hate throwing terms around that I don’t completely understand. I’m good with “snapping”.
I have been very fortunate with my disease (Says NO ONE EVER!). Seriously though, I have had lows – extreme lows, that have landed me in hospitals for extended stays. But, I have recovered enough to carry on. I have been able to function as a full time teacher for 25 years – granted not 25 years straight… but the Indiana retirement people don’t care about that.
I have experienced these “snapping” episodes. I have heard voices. Politely I have talked back to them. I have seen things that weren’t there as recently as a year ago – damn monkeys! I have hurt myself countless times. I could go on. But I have always been fortunate to recover enough to get back out there.
Inevitably every new doctor will ask me if I am really a teacher… They are polite about it… I don’t think they believe me until they work with me for a while. Therapy Man puffs me up by telling me I’m not that crazy. It’s just a disease… He’s right. It is a mother fucker though!
I’ve just been damn lucky. And, I am grateful for that. I’m sure I will make it through this as well. But, FUCK these scare the SHIT OUT OF ME! It feels like my heart is going to come out of my chest every beat it takes. The eyeballs are going to fall out of my head with the tears as they come rolling out. And, I argue/fight/bitch at God for making me suffer through another one… for whatever reason. And he will again. 😦
I am grateful for what I have in life. That I can get up and go…. because I know how hard it is when I can’t.
Would I be happier without the FEAR of wondering when the next episode or hallucination or voice will come out? You bet your sweet bippy! But I have accepted that those days are never coming.
Do I know what I can do to help “possibly” lessen the chance of it happening? Yep… but, they will still come.
Should I just quit living my life? I mean… not die, but sit home and let everything happen around me or just keep trying to make it happen around me? Fuck it’s sooo hard to do. SEE NEXT QUESTION, PLEASE…
Do I get worn out trying? Hell yeah….. (see last question) It’s sooooo hard to do.
Do I quit? Well………. it’s not in my mixture to do that……… so, no. This is the do I quit for good question. God made me the person who is either too strong to quit (sorry if that offends anyone, but hang on) or, to weak to quit. I haven’t ever been able to truly figure that one out. Either way… I just won’t quit. Nothing about faith or belief. I just won’t.
‘Cause this smoke cloud’s giving me shelter And I feel much better And demons wave the white flag for me Still my bones keep pleading to walk out From all of this fall out But there’s no way that I could leave So I don’t leave Turn my bitterness to sweet I gotta find a new release, yeah. So I’m trading blues for green
Missing Peace 