"Janie stood where he left her for unmeasured time and thought. She stood there until something fell off the shelf inside her. Then she went inside there to see what it was. It was her image of Jody tumbled down and shattered. But looking at it she saw that it never was the flesh and blood figure of her dreams. Just some thing she had grabbed up to drape her dreams over. In a way she turned her back upon the image where it lay and looked further. She had no more blossomy openings dusting pollen over her man, neither any glistening young fruit where the petals used to be. "
- Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston
All of my kids are asleep and I am not in bed with any of them. A rare miracle. And since there isn't much else to do, I am spending it blogging and listening to sappy music.
I had a bit of a meltdown last week. Hence the extremely dark previous post. I am slowly crawling out of the place I have been the last few weeks.
I took Monday and Tuesday off. Today I wrote two articles and cleaned up a LOT. I also applied for jobs outside of the house and I have an interview on the 18th for a substitute teaching position.
As for my husband's illness I have managed to find some good things in an otherwise terrible situation. One positive is that I now feel he has an excuse to not help me out much with housework or financial matters, which is this strange relief. I do not have to be mad at him for not helping because, well he cannot help right now.
Also, I have come to realize how very much he does help with the children. Not sure what I would do without that help. Some what of a blessing in disguise. I think I often let that go to the wayside. It is a tough friggin job keeping up with this guys all day. Though he may not do things the way I do/would, he does manage to keep them alive and not lose his mind, so maybe he knows something I do not.
Last but not least, we had two conversations this week that I did not realize how much I needed. We talked about Tristan's birth and his perspective VS. mine. Which is something I needed to get past trauma and hatred for a certain hospital. That is another blog post, but it was certainly something I needed to see from a different point of view.
Then, there was a conversation where he willingly admitted his part in my no longer being a teacher. It was part apology, part confession and none of it was brought on by my prodding. It was genuine. For years now I have had this unspoken hostility about how that all went down, but I hardly admitted it to myself, let alone anyone else. When he admitted his part in it all, I was suddenly able to forgive him and acknowledge my own part in it.
Clearly I was not ready to be a teacher four years ago. Now I sit around and think about how our life would be thousands of times better if I was a tenure position right now making 40K a year and getting the summers off. But would our life be better or just slightly easier? Would I be truly happy? These are questions I cannot really answer. I know I was not mature enough or ready for the position back then, but I do not know that I have any clearer of an idea what I want to be doing with my life now.
Part of me has been and will always be a teacher. I have wanted to be a teacher since I was a toddler. I can remember in preschool coming home, setting up a classroom full of stuffed animals and dolls and spending the entire rest of the afternoon taking roll and teaching ABCs. Teachers have always been a word apart to me. I do not think I ever truly felt like I lived up to the pedestal I put teachers on. Even when I was a teacher, I still continued to think of my colleagues as better trained, more deserving. Hell, I do that now with other writers and doulas.
On the other hand, I feel worried that I only want to be a teacher because I am in love with the idea of it. I am bypassing all the crying and shitty feelings I had at the time. Brushing them off as being immaturity or not being prepared. I worry that somewhere deep inside I think that if I am ever able to become a teacher again it will solve my problems, my life will automatically go back to the way it was when I was a teacher. Though rationally I know I will never be that girl again. We aren't going to be un-bankrupt, unbroken; Our future will never seem so open as it did back then.
It would not be the first time I have done this. I remember when my first marriage was falling apart, how desperately I wanted to move back to the first place we ever lived in. I had this obsessive belief that if we could get back to that place, we would regain the magic and happiness of our first taste of freedom.
So I do not know the answer. But I am planning on trying substitute work this year and seeing where it heads. Which only partially makes sense. My doula business is blossoming. I should just ride that wave. But there is something inside of me that needs more stability. A piece that simply has been completely out of place since the day I quit teaching.
