For the past couple of weeks, I have been an unhappy person. I am defeated and worn out. My default mode is frustrated. I don’t like the me I am at the moment.
I hit burn out.
I won’t bore you with all the details, but anyone who has been a teacher for very long will understand when I say it all began with a parent meeting. The meeting itself went really well. I was prayed up and ready to show love and grace. I listened to an attack and responded with genuine care.
However, the stress and the strain in waiting for the meeting, the energy it took to display love and grace as someone tried to cut me down, an unrelated event two days later of a student responding incredibly inappropriately to the consequences of his actions, and the bending over backwards for students to try to get them to succeed (and their refusal to put forth the necessary effort…a.k.a. senioritis)– all of this together has me feeling empty.
I’ve given what I have to give. I am walking through the day praying no one else will need me to go above and beyond.
It is a season. I will get through it. I am exercising, making time for friends, and taking most of Saturday off now.
I have a great support network, and I will be myself again soon.
The purpose of this post is to say, “me too.”
I’m saying, “me too,” because I know I am not the only one feeling there is nothing left to give today.
I am saying “me too,” so you will know you are not alone.
He sent me a link to this poem to share with you all.
Never One For Him
Each morning before the opening of the store
Sidewalks not swept, drunks still dreaming
He arises early to see them, he lives alone
Silent, he writes to no one in particular
Each has a name, so he wants to arrive early
Hospital scared and scarred him just for talking to no one
He greets each with a pleasant “good morning” and
compliments them on the slightest change especially on days
when he is convinced they even changed their make up
Old theater, down the street, somehow still open
Since he knows their names, he asks them out on dates
one by one of course
Then, on every Friday night, he buys two tickets
but always sits alone while he imagines
how nice it would be
to have a real person in his life
Before the street cleaner arrives
He has talked with each of them
Compliments more than questions
since mannequins don’t murmur
Back to his apartment he waits
for the postman to arrive just before one
he hears letters slide into receptive slots
Never one for him
Never one for him
We don’t have to be alone. We don’t have to go through life as mannequins, plastic and put together. We can reach out to the people who think they are alone and say, “me too.”
Rick blogs at DiscoveringAndSharingGrace.com.