failure

Baby, we were born to run

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“Run when you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up.” ~Dean Karnazes

I went for my first run in almost a month yesterday (27 days to be exact).  I was worried that the slow time I was bound to have was going to cause me to become depressed and give up, but in fact, quite the opposite was true.  Yes, I was slow.  My mile time was no where near where I was when I became injured, but it was also no where near where it was when I started running a few months ago. I was happy to see that I wasn’t starting over completely and that I was going to be able to do this after all.  

It was almost humbling to see that I could still run a mile without stopping.  I remember when I first started the couch to 5K program the first interval is run for 1 minute then walk for 1.5 minutes.  Even during that first week, just running for 1 minute was hard.  I wanted to give up, I wanted to cry, I wanted to die from humiliation.  I hated running.  I hated that, for once, I wasn’t going to be able to accomplish something that I wanted to.  Back then, I feel like I really wanted to “run” for the eliteness of it.  To say I was a runner was not only “cool” but it was also going to prove that I was in shape and could do something that so many other people really couldn’t (running is HARD!).  But, now, that’s not the case.  

The best part of my very short, very slow run was the feeling, oh the glorious feeling I had.  I usually feel great (as in happy) when I finish my run, but miserable during. Yesterday, though, I felt wonderful the whole time.  It was hard, don’t get me wrong, and my feet hurt, and my knee hurt, and even my lungs hurt, but I was just so happy to be out and running again that I didn’t care about any of these pains.  It made me realize just how important running had become to me in such a short period of time.  It helps me think, reduces stress, dissipates any anger or aggression I may have accrued during the day.  Honestly, the health and weight loss benefits are simply an added bonus.  I’m not doing this for them.  That’s what the gym is for.  I’m doing this for me.

And now that I’ve realized just how important this is to me, I also realize that I need to do it right this time.  Last time, not only did I do too much too fast, but I also had no consistency with my runs.  I went when I felt like it and made excuses when I didn’t.  I didn’t do any stretching to help out my muscles or range of motion (beyond what I thought I was supposed to do…turns out I was wrong). And, and did nothing to prevent injuries that I might encounter.  As it turns out, my knee “injury” that I babied the last month was simply due to too much strain on my knee because my hip and quad muscles were not strong enough to accommodate my body when running

But, now I’m ready to do this thing, for real.  I mapped out my workouts for the month, used my dicks gift card to buy running socks, hand weights, and a foam roller, and moved the boys into the same room (it’s a really big room, and they love it) in order to create an office/workout space for myself.  

Most importantly I finally bit the bullet and went to Charm City Run (a local running store) to figure out what shoes I REALLY need to deal with all of my foot, leg, knee problems.  I was so concerned with not wanting people to look at my gross feet and watch me run on a treadmill.  Had I not been willing to run I would have wound up with a shoe that felt fine walking, but was terrible when I started running.  I actually settled on a pair of shoes from a brand I thought I would hate because of a previous shoe I tried from them.  It was really exciting to find “the shoe” that was going to work for me.

Running is something I hope I get to stick with for a long time.  It has done so much for me in just a few short months, I can’t believe I was ready to give it up so easily.

So, for now, I’ll take it slow, but I’m ready to run.

“The time has come,” the Walrus said, “To talk of many things”

/ Cassie / 1 Comment

“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.”  ~Marilyn Monroe

I really do love this time of year.  I used to think it had to do with idea of Christmas, family, presents, lights, and all the other things that go along with the season.  Yes, these things play a small part in the overall feeling of contentment I get during December, but they are not all encompassing.  I always thought my favorite holiday was Christmas, but it wasn’t until this year that I realized it is not.

My favorite holiday is New Years and for so many reasons.  Honestly, I am big fan of New Years Resolutions.  While I agree that you can begin a resolution at any time and you should never wait to change something you truly believe in, there is something so wonderful about the year ticking over to a new new number.  It’s almost as if New Years Day is a form baptism.  With the change of a number, the mistakes and regrets and uncomfortable feelings cease to exist, making it that much easier to start fresh and anew.  With the rip of a calendar page the whole world can begin again. You can set goals, make new decisions, basically become the person you have been waiting to become.

The other day I looked back on a New Years Eve post that I wrote as 2011 rolled into 2012.  2012 was the year, I decided with a vengeance, that I would have no regrets.  No matter what decision or choice I made, I would go with it, own up to it, and if it didn’t work out, I would roll with the punches.  Needless to say, this did not happen.  I still have a lot of trouble letting go, moving on, and not dwelling on past mistakes and regrets.  But really, in hindsight, this was a terrible resolution to make simply because the failure rate was astronomical.  While I can learn to take my regrets in stride, they will always occur.  It’s how I handle the feelings of regret that is the important part.

I think the reason I am looking forward to this New Years more than any other holiday is because, for the most part, 2013 sucked.  And I don’t mean in an “Oh I dropped my ice cream cone on the ground” kind of way.  I mean in a real, traumatic, life changing kind of way.  The most obvious thing is, of course, my father passing, which lead to a downward spiral of depression, but there was also going through the IEP process with Max, learning nothing was “wrong” with Max, but people made me think there was, a very rough school year last year, money problems, marriage issues, losing a car, and probably a myriad of other small things, that when pieced together were a recipe for disaster.

But this year, it will be different, if for no other reason than it has to be.  I can’t go through another year like last year.  In all honestly, I don’t think I would survive.  I think that because of everything that has happened this year I have grown and changed.  I’m not the same person that I was 365 days ago, and I couldn’t be happier with that.

I don’t have all of my specific resolutions figured out quite yet, but I do know the overarching theme.  Basically, I just need to be myself.  So many of my problems seem to stem from me hiding who I really am or even not allowing myself to shine too brightly in front of others.  I keep thinking that I don’t know who I am, but really I do, I’m just too scared of judgement to always show it.  There are all things we need to work on and change within ourselves, but sometimes, it’s ok to let the weird shine a little bit.

In so many ways I know who I am. I tend to have too many emotions and too often, the way I express them is over the top.  I cry too much, feel too much, love too hard, get jealous when I shouldn’t, and have a terrible temper. I’m loyal, but cautious.  I don’t always believe the best in people, and I’ve been proven right.  These are simply things I am not going to apologize for anymore.  I shouldn’t have to apologize for my feelings because they are real and a part of who I am, and the way I feel is important.  I need to stop worrying about constantly being judged.

Judgement seems to come at all times, even when we are doing something to better ourselves or set out in the right direction.  I think that is part of the reason I never really got anywhere with my running.  Sure, I improved, but I definitely didn’t try as hard as I could.  Basically, it was because I wouldn’t allow myself to take myself seriously and this was a mistake.  I was so worried people were going to judge me: Why does she think she can be a runner?  She’s not a real runner.  Why are you buying another pair of running shoes, you’re not a real runner…you’re like a really fast walker.  These are all thoughts that I thought other people were going to say about me because these are all thoughts that I was saying to myself.

Yes, I’m probably never going to run a marathon.  Yes, I’m pretty slow. Yes, there are a million reasons why I shouldn’t be running.  But I am.  And I like it.  And that’s all that matters.  And I don’t need to apologize for it.

I’m allowed to try hard.  I’m allowed to be good at things. Hell, I’m allowed to be bad at things.  I’m allowed to love you too much and tell you about it.  I’m also allowed to tell you why you are hurting my feelings if you are.  I’m allowed to take a break from people who aren’t letting me be me and are constantly trying to put me down to make themselves feel better.  I’m allowed to be who I am, and if someone doesn’t like it, it’s their loss.  I actually think I’m pretty awesome sometimes.

2014: The year of being me.

Best not to leave a trail of breadcrumbs this time…

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

**I wrote this post almost two weeks ago, but didn’t realize I hadn’t published it.**

“Go back?” he thought. “No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!” So up he got, and trotted along with his little sword held in front of him and one hand feeling the wall, and his heart all of a patter and a pitter.” ~J.R.R. Tolkien – The Hobbit

Made it to the gym today.  It felt good to get back into the swing of things after quite a few days off.  My knee and my shin hurts, but it was worth it.  I only did 30 minutes of cardio, but it was 30 minutes more than I would have done just sitting around my house with a sick kid, a cranky kid, and a tired husband.  My workout today made me realize just how far I’ve come since I started working out; farther than I ever thought I could.

My last post was about how, even though time has passed, I haven’t changed.  I still have the same thoughts, insecurities, obsessions, emotions, that I have been working so hard to change.  Today was a good day; a great day even.  Across the board (family, work, friends) I have no complaints.  I was in a great mood.  I accomplished a lot, and generally, felt all around elevated.

At this point, though, it’s hard to be optimistic.  It seems like every time I get to this point, the point of feeling happy and together and simply ready to live, something happens to drag me back down.  If I could pinpoint what it was it would make it a little easier to avoid, but I can’t.  It’s something subtle that I really can’t discern, almost as if the moon was shifting or the tide was turning.  It’s something just big enough to make me topsy turvey, but not big enough to be seen with the naked eye.

I joke about how I will never be lost, never lose who I know I am because I always find my way back to that place, a place I really don’t want to be.  When I was able to run I felt so much happier.  It may be because the more I ran, the farther I got from the place of sadness.  But now I have to rely only on the gym and only on the machines that mimic movement but never take you anywhere.

I sometimes wonder if part of the reason I always find my way back to complacency and sadness is because it’s what I know.  It feels comfortable and this is what I know how to do.  The feeling of sadness and depression is one that has been a part of me for a long time.  It’s familiar, I can’t mess it up, and once you’re down there’s a shorter fall to rock bottom.

I realize the best path to change and happiness is the one that I am going to really work for.  It’s the one that is a slow incline, with roots and sticks to trip over, but it will be less likely that I fall down a steep and slippery slope.

Taking the shorter, easier, way out hasn’t been working for me.  It’s about time I suck it up and really work for what I want.

Who’s got W-I-L-L-P-O-W-E-R? Not me…

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“Willpower is trying very hard not to do something you want to do very much.” ~ John Ortberg

Things have been going well and not well all at the same time.  Is that even possible?  I’ve been pretty sad lately because a knee injury has sidelined my workout and running efforts.  I probably could have worked out this week, but it was hard to motivate myself knowing I was going to be in pain.  Running was simply out of the question, as it hurt just to walk sometimes.  I got back on the scale and was happy to see I had not gained anything, especially during my crappy eating binge of our snow days.  There were times I should have said no when I whole heartedly said yes and it was reassuring to see that the healthy band wagon didn’t get too far ahead and I am still able to jump back on.

I realize, though, especially during these snow days, that I have a terrible problem with willpower.  The fact seems to be that I don’t have any, or at the very least, I seemed to have misplaced it somewhere around the end of spring.  I’ve tried finding it, but have not had any luck.  I was doing so well last winter.  Eating healthy, working out, letting myself have random treats when I needed them, but for the most part saying no to those things that were going to harm me in the long run (I only ate a small piece of a homemade red velvet birthday cake last year, so that should tell you something).  I had gotten to the point where saying no felt good.  I wasn’t doing it to be pretentious or show that I was better than anyone else or that I could say no when others were saying yes.  I simply knew what that piece of cake/glass (bottle) of wine/cheeseburger was going to cost me in the long run and how I was going to feel if I gave in to the fleeting wanting; to that small dose of happiness I would feel during, but not after.  After, of course, I was going to feel like utter crap.

But lately, the “cravings” are getting the best of me and while I still feel like crap when I give in, I keep going back for more anyway. Part of the reason I deleted my Facebook account was that I was spending too much time on there when I should have been concentrating on other things (work, family, in-real-life friends).  I was wrapped up in this world of needing to know what someone ate for dinner last night, who went out with who, looking at photos, and spending too much time in the past.  And you know what? Every time I did it, spent way too much unconstructive time online, spent too much time on profiles that I have no reason to be on anymore, read conversations that had absolutely nothing to do with me, I felt gross.  Almost as if I had eaten an entire chocolate cake.  I’d get upset because I wasted time, jealous because I wasn’t invited somewhere, hungover on information I did not need.

I spent too weeks off Facebook and really did manage to get more done.  My basement is spotless.  My bed was made everyday. I read three magazines.  I was amazed at my willpower.  I couldn’t believe that I, a self-proclaimed Facebook junkie, had kicked the bad Facebook habit.

But you know what?  I hadn’t.  I had deleted my Facebook account, I had deleted the apps from my phone and iPad.  I had deleted the book mark from my computer.  There really wasn’t an easy way for me to get back on without having to re-log in or re-download something.  Essentially it wasn’t willpower.  Willpower would have been having access to it, but making the conscious decision not to get back on. I made it close to impossible for me to get back on.  Willpower would have been keeping my account, but forcing myself to limit my interactions and time online.  I made it so there was no choice to make.  I took the easy way out, the cowardly way out.

And really, the whole Facebook issue is reminiscent of most of the issues I have with my life.  I lack the willpower to say no or make a better decision.  Even when I know that what I am doing is the wrong choice I simply do it anyway because I can’t say no.  And really, I can, but it’s hard and sometimes I don’t know what I want.

But instead of taking the easy way out, I need to “man” up.  I need to learn to do what is best for me in the long run, not what is going to be a fleeting source of happiness.  I have to stop being so blind sided by what is right in front me and begin looking at the big picture.  I have to realize that pretty much everything is OK in moderation…but I need to make sure I am moderating (food, time online, time with family, etc.)

I’ve seen what I can accomplish when the challenge was easy.  Now let’s see what I can do when we up the ante.

Starting as one thing, ending as another

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“When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point in pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not yet ready. The challenge will not wait. Life does not look back. A week is more than enough time for us to decide whether or not to accept our destiny.” ~Paulo Coelho

As per usual, I had a whole post written in my head already, yet when I sat down to begin writing, I knew I was going to change what I said.  I guess that’s one of my biggest problems.  I’ve never truly made up my mind about anything.  I never fully commit to anything.  I feel like I’m kind of the anti-stereotype; a 32 year old women who is afraid of commitment.  It’s almost like an oxymoron.

I was so proud of myself last Sunday.  I was 3 days into the Runners World Runner Streak challenge.  I was getting into a groove with my morning gym workouts and my night running.  I was truly happier with myself.  And this made me happier in most aspects of my life.  So, on Sunday, when I was running in my neighborhood I didn’t want to stop.  My knee was hurting a little, but I was really enjoying myself.  It was cold, but I didn’t care.  So when I realized I went almost 2.5 miles I was ecstatic.  The most I had run without stopping to walk at that point was a mile and a half.  I couldn’t believe that I went a full mile more, and mostly uphill.  I came home, stretched, and iced all the ailing parts of my body and went to bed happy.

And then when I woke up, I could barely walk.  My gym visit didn’t go so well either.  And the pain, while subsiding, has stuck around all week, so I haven’t been running since the first of December.  And I’m upset.  And depressed, and my temper is shorter. I feel like every time I get somewhere and hit some sort of consequential milestone for myself I have to stop yet again because of some injury to something.  Now that the plantar fasciitis is pretty much gone (it’s always going to be there, but I barely feel it anymore), and I have no more IT band pain, my knee starts to hurt any time I take a step.  I really started to feel like I should give up on running.  I’ll still go to the gym and take classes, eat right, and hopefully get into better shape, but maybe running was just a pipe dream I had.  I get that a lot of it has to do with using muscles and joints I’m not used to using, my weight, running on pavement, etc. Deep down, I know and understand these things, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

I was thinking that maybe I wasn’t meant to be a runner.  Not everyone is.  I don’t have to be.  Going to the gym everyday (and sometimes twice a day is more than enough.  Eating healthier is a major step in the right direction.  I don’t have to run.  I’ve got my water classes and the elliptical.  I’ve got my strength training three times a week.  I don’t have to run.  I don’t have to be a runner.

And then, I drive through my neighborhood, where I do most of my running, and get a little sad knowing that I probably won’t be running through there anytime soon.  And then I watch people on the treadmill at the gym, beginning runners as well as accomplished runners, and I actually feel jealous and envious even though I hate the treadmill.  And then I get a text from a friend telling me that she went running today and we should go together at some point (when she actually begins to enjoy it), and I get sad knowing this might not happen.

And after analyzing the way I feel, I know it isn’t over yet.  I immediately went online and bought two different knee braces to try out. I may need to go slower, but I don’t care.  It was never about being fast or winning a race for me.  It was about the feeling I get during the run and the feeling I get when I finish.  I felt like I could accomplish anything.  I felt like I had never been happier in my life.

It felt like I was home.

Miles accomplished in the 100 Mile Challenge: 74.75

Miles to go in the 100 Mile Challenge: 25.25

 

Throw Back Sunday (an oldie, but goodie about marriage).

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

I wrote this post over a year ago on my old blog.  A YEAR AGO.  I identified these problems a year ago and still have not done enough to solve them. 

*Hangs head in shame*

I have been home for the past five days because of Hurricane Sandy.  It’s been nice being able to spend so much time at home and with the kids (really, I’m not being sarcastic).  Of course, every night when they have gone to bed I have spent many hours reading, knitting, and playing on the internet.  I actually started about 5 different blog posts as well, but something made me want to spend more time on this one today.  On one of my MANY Pinterest visits I came across an article called “16 Ways I Blew My Marriage” It was written by a man so I figured I could get a lot of information from it, showing new ways that I am right in our arguments, but my husband was wrong.

As I began reading (and continued through the entire list of 16), I realized this article actually detailed all the ways that I was creating strife and conflict in our marriage.  It really did hit me hard and I have spent a lot of time thinking about this article the past few days. Below are a list of the 10 things from Dan’s article that I identified with the most with an explanation of how I am currently ruining things.  You can find his complete post in the link above.

1. Don’t Stop Holding Hands

I am terrible at this.  We held hands so much in the beginning, but now, not so much, and it is entirely my fault.  I don’t know why.  Maybe it’s the fact that I have two littles vying for my hands now as well?  I don’t know.  Point is, I need to stop thinking that my kids are the only ones that need a little affection.

2. Don’t Stop Trying to Be Attractive

Guilty as charged again.  As a kindergarten teachers most of clothes are practical and stained.  On the week-ends I tend to wind up in khakis and jeans.  I do have make-up and jewelry and nice clothes, which, for some reason I only wear when going  out with friends.  Why?  Again, I don’t know, but maybe if I tried a little harder I would gain the confidence that I seem to be missing as well.

3. Don’t Always Point Out Weaknesses

For some reason I was under the assumption that all my nitpicking was good.  In my head I was challenging him to be a better person.  Now, I realize, I was just tearing down.  I truly believe that spouses are supposed to challenge each other and you should want to be a better person for your spouse, but at what expense?  Not at the expense of love, happiness, and self esteem.

4 & 5. Don’t Yell at Your Spouse or Call Names

This is the number one on my list.  No explanation needed.  I need to stop.  Period. Especially in front of the kids.  Enough said.

6. Don’t be Stingy With Your Money

I do this all the time.  How many times do I spend $7 on a cup of coffee from Starbucks (yup, I said $7) only to yell at him for buying a soda at 7-11.  I know why do it.  I am a control freak.  I need to be in control of EVERYTHING.  Only I don’t.  And I need to sit back, and let go sometimes.

7. Don’t Argue in Front of the Kids

I’m stealing Dan’s words here because I can’t write it better. “There was never any argument that was so important or pressing that we couldn’t wait to have it until the kids weren’t there. I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist or super-shrink to know why fighting in front of the kids is a dangerous and selfish way of doing things.

8. Don’t Encourage Each Other to Skip Working Out

We should want each other to be the best versions of ourselves, and I would hope that he would do the same.  Maybe, though, this is one of those things we can start doing together.

9. Don’t Stop Kissing

I know this isn’t just me and happens to most of my married friends.  When you work full time and have two kids everything becomes a time crunch and I always feel like every minute of every day should be filled doing something useful and kissing simply takes up those minutes. But I have to remember that spending time connecting with my husband is also useful.

10. Don’t Stop Having Fun Together

The kids have great grandparents in the fact that they spend a lot of time over there and are usually gone one night a week.  And what do we do? Watch TV, play on the computer, sleep.  I have to remember that there are a ton of things we can do that don’t require money and would probably help build up our relationship.

So, now the challenge comes to start to make things better.  Identification of the problem is half the battle, right?

What the F**k?

/ Cassie / 3 Comments
“You’ve done it before and you can do it now.  See the positive possibilities.  Redirect the substantial energy of your frustration and turn it into positive, effective, and unstoppable determination.” ~Ralph Marston

Most of the time I try to stay positive.  Most of the time I try to simply find some sort of bright side or silver lining.  And usually I can.

I’ve worked out every day this week.  Gym 6 times, running 3 times.  Eaten pretty healthy (or at least I thought so, definitely healthier than I had been).  I could feel the changes (my muscles weren’t as tight, my knees didn’t hurt quite as much).  I knew I was doing it right.

But today, seriously, what the fuck?  I mean, really?!?!  I decided I should go ahead and get on the scale since it had been a week.  I wasn’t expecting much change.  Just a little, maybe, to let me know I was moving in the right direction.  I know I am moving in the right direction.  But do you know what ISN’T moving in the right direction?  The damn scale.  Because somehow, after all my hard work, I am UP two pounds.  So, I ask you again, WHAT THE FUCK?

I try not to let the numbers on the scale define me.  I try to tell myself to look at the overall picture.  Clothes are getting loser, energy level is going up, runs have become a lot easier (still hard, but easier than when I first started).  I *know* I am moving forward.  I know I am moving in a positive direction.  I know the numbers on the scale don’t paint the whole picture.  But come on.  Help me out a little.  Give me something tangible, something in “writing” to show me I am doing a good job.

I’m not going to let this moment define my day like I would have a long time ago.  I’m not going to give up and think “why bother now” like I would have a long time ago.  And that’s progress.  I know that’s progress.

But really, come on!

End rant.

What the hell am I doing?

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“Bottom line is, even if you see ’em coming, you’re not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So what are we, helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are gonna come. You can’t help that. It’s what you do afterwards that counts. That’s when you find out who you are.” ~Joss Whedon

I had my formal observation at school today.  Normally I am nervous and fret about it for days on end.  I can’t sleep the night before, I stay late in my classroom every night cleaning and getting ready, I spend hours writing my lesson plan.  Not this time.  I spent maybe 20 minutes on my lesson plan, stayed maybe an hour later the night before cleaning up and slept like drunk (though I was not) last night.

You might think it was because in the four years I have been working in public schools I have learned a lot, gained more confidence, and understand the value of growing as a teacher.  You might think it is because I have a complete understanding of my students and their needs, and what I, as their teacher, need to do to meet those needs.  You might even think that I’m simply amazing at my job so there was never a need to worry in the first place.

None of this is true.  Not one bit of it.

The fact of the matter is I simply don’t care.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I am pretty good at my job.  My children learn.  Everyone is alive at the end of the day.  I still continue to go above and beyond what is expected of me.  But really, I think it’s because those things are ingrained in me.  I have a strong work ethic.  I will never just quit and walk away when other people are counting on me, nor will I simply not do what I am getting paid to do.  But I just don’t care anymore.  I don’t really like teaching.

I was at an Arts Everyday meeting with a friend the other day (on my own time, not getting paid) and we were listening to this person behind us who was obviously new, or at least relatively new, to teaching.  He was going on and on about all these programs he wanted to start, how he’s in it for the kids, basically that this job and the children in his class are his reason for getting up every morning; his reason for living.  All I could think was that this is a clear sign that I shouldn’t be doing this job anymore.  None of these things applied to me.  Yes, I used to be that idealistic and love my job and love my kids.  Pretty much as recently as last year I knew (thought) that this is what I was meant to be doing and I couldn’t see myself doing anything else ever.

But things have changed.  Something in me has changed.

I don’t like waking up every morning spending my day with this eager little people.  In fact, most days I loathe it.  I hate the fact that I spend more time with (and on) these children than I do my own.  I hate the fact that my children get the brunt of my bad days because I’ve listened to whining and tattling all day so when I get home I literally explode when my own children do it.  I’m upset over the fact that I used to have so much idealism, used to believe I could “be the change you wish to see in the world” and now I’m just happy if I make it through the day without having to call a parent and pray none of them text me for some insane reason.

But mostly, I simply hate the fact that I don’t care.  I wish I liked my job.  But not liking it has lead to not caring and really, it’s not fair.  It’s not fair to me because I am miserable.  It’s not fair to the people around me who I make miserable because they have to deal with me being miserable.  It’s not fair to the kids who really, for the most part, didn’t do anything wrong.  It’s not fair to the teachers who don’t have a job, because I’m selfishly taking this one and I don’t even want it.

So, really, what does all this mean?  I means I need to look for a new job.  I mean really and truly look for a new job.  No more thinking I’m going to and then getting lazy because I make pretty good money and have great benefits.  Frankly, it’s not worth it anymore.  I have to stop sacrificing my happiness.  Ever since the end of last year, ever since the summer, I feel like I have been simply going through the motions, not being completely here or there.  It’s like I’ve been holding on to something I shouldn’t have, been waiting for someone or something else to come along and make this decision or change for me. And I have to stop.  I have to let go.  I have to move on from whatever it is.

I have to grow up, put on my big girl panties, and make some real choices.