Digging in Deeper

I don’t want to write this. I’ve said it about other things, but I just feel like I have to. Not have to, but need to get this just out of my head and onto “paper”. I’m turning comments off because I cannot handle anyone telling me to get over it. To cheer up. To get some perspective. To quit bitching.

I can’t. And while this is a public blog, I won’t listen to it.

That’s the thing about being honest. I try to explain everything. I try to tell you guys all the aspects of the story. But it’s not possible for me to explain every minute detail. Everything that has led to this. Therefore, I can’t take the judgment.

Maybe after some of this resolves itself, I will be able to handle it. I’m usually pretty good at taking advice I know I need to hear.

But today?

I can’t see the light.

I don’t see the top of the hole that I’m in.

I don’t see how this is going to turn around.

Melodramatic? Yes.

How I feel? Yes.

I know I’m in a waiting game. Grad school has to tell me one way or another. They will either accept me, or reject me. I will hear something.

Lucky for me, they have to at the very least send a rejection letter.

Now the schools I applied to for teaching jobs?

Who the hell knows.

They don’t have to call for an interview. They don’t have to contact me at all. And I know my high school had to fire 37 teachers. Guess what? That means they will probably be applying for the two schools I found that had openings* as well. Guess what? Who thinks these schools are going to feel bad for these teachers being laid off just because of budget cuts? I do. Guess who I think they will hire since they already have experience and since they are being laid off, probably won’t mind if it’s a pay cut (which isn’t even true because the places I applied are good distrcits)? They will hire them.

NOT the girl who hasn’t been in a classroom in a year.

NOT the girl who was unemployed for 5 months.

And certainly NOT the girl who could only find a job working part time at a department store.

The worst part is that this isn’t even me.

I feel like I haven’t been me for a very long time.

Things don’t make me happy. Things don’t cheer me up. I’ve always been a crier but this is absurd. I don’t have the strength anymore to put on a happy face for my husband after a long and stressful day and I’ve always been able to do that for him. He has a huge interview tomorrow and all I can do is be short and snippy and not appreciate that he made dinner for me. I suggested he go to the gym. I said it was because it’s a good stress reliever for him, which is true, but really I just wanted an hour in the apartment by myself. An hour where I didn’t have to pretend or try to be in a better mood.

And I haven’t been reading blogs because I can’t handle it right now. I love the puppy pictures and stories about whatever you did on the weekend and the giveaways and the pregnancy updates and all of it. But all I feel is jealousy.

How sick is that?

And yes. I know what this probably means. I’m not dumb. I took several psychology classes and all of that. I know. I logically know.

But I also know that  my husband was diagnosed with it at the age of 16, and is fine now, but because of that, the only reason he has health insurance is because of the healthcare bill and he can be on his mom’s insurance.

Guess what? I’m not going to have that on some record that is going to screw me later on- later on when I’m fine and over this and happy.

I’m not. I refuse.

Would medicine help? Probably. Can we afford it? Not really. Am I even going to go to a doctor about it? Not a chance in hell. Yes, I have insurance (my mom’s, again because of the healthcare bill. And that year I was on my own, I had an easier time because I didn’t have that diagnosis. Mr. A could ONLY get Cobra, which costs more than I even want to think about. And then only covered emergencies. Have I mentioned he has Crohns which sometimes requires procedures and medication?! Yep. Healthcare bill is the greatest thing to happen for us.) But I’m not going to go and have a doctor write this on some obscure chart and I will be reliving it for the next 20 years.

So why am I writing? Because I feel like I have no other option. I may not be able to put on the happiest of faces for my husband right now, but I sure as hell am not going to drop this on him. 4 weeks till finals. He’s stressing about this interview and the summer and classes and the fact that we have no money because we’re here and he’s in law school and I work for less than I did when i was in high school.

Nope. I’m smarter than that.

If I want us to move and that means he gets into the schools he is going to apply to transfer to, I’m not dumping this on him. Not now. This all means too much to both of us and I can’t do it.

So I dump here. On my corner of the internet. And I’m so far beyond caring if anyone thinks I’m whining or being a baby or needs to grow up.

I know all of those things are true. That’s the problem. The logical part of my brain knows this is ridiculous. I need to pull myself up and just get over it, wait for what will happen, and move. But the other part of me can’t see past tomorrow. When this second part of me assumes that I will, yet again, not hear anything.

I’m just done.

* Openings south of Chicago. If I was willing to move there, there are a hundred openings. And before someone says, “Yeah but they’re inner city schools and blablahblah” Chicago keeps all the money in our state basically for itself. I love you Chicago people, but do not tell me that it’s the same. It’s not. i’d take a scary inner city school job over nothing thank you very much.

** If you want to email, you can and I love talking to you all, but I can’t do the comments tonight because if I get a bad one I will lose it. And I don’t want that.



Filed under Confessions, Freak Out Much?, Life After College, WTF

2 responses to “Digging in Deeper

  1. Bah. I’m so sorry girl. I guess you just have to focus on the good outlets you do have… the blog, amazing husband, family and friends. Things will turn around. They have too!

  2. Pingback: My Other Life « New Teacher. {finally} New Wife.