Another blog post, I know. I'm overwhelming right now. I just needed a space to vent after today.
I love my job. I'm good at what I do. I have a special bond with kids that allows me to help in ways their parents can't. I see them and understand them and try to treat them with respect and understanding. Most of the time it seems like I have magical powers. I can get through to this one girl that all others seem to have given up on, herself and her parents included. She's smart, witty, brilliant at putting certain concepts together, but she drags her feet.
Usually I can get her to do her work- today, though, today was just awful. Part of me blames it on the fact that I skipped out of the shower and left the house without any makeup whatsoever, as if some preternatural mascara would have made all the difference. I've never seen her so frustrated, so determined to pit herself against me, so ruthless in her efforts to free fall into a dive I know she'll never come out of. Trust me, once you have 25 missing assignments in one class, there's no way you're making them all up.
Today I felt bereft of my magic. I felt defeated and upset. I was exhausted and irrationally disappointed in myself.
I can't make her choices for her, I'm not even her family, but I care about her, and for her to push me away totally sucked. Also, I hadn't eaten anything because I was running late for work, so it wasn't until nearly eight o'clock at night that I actually consumed a handful of calories, which might account for some of my irrational feelings.
I'm tired, I'm frustrated, and I'm afraid I'm going to lose this girl and watch her flunk out of school. Maybe mascara has no special powers, but I'm putting on two coats tomorrow in hopes it'll be a better day and that whatever is going on with her, she'll open up to me and help me help her.
Showing posts with label child. Show all posts
Showing posts with label child. Show all posts
Oct 23, 2012
Dec 29, 2009
Houses/Unpacking
When I went off to college, I didn't go through the normal routine. I went to a conservatory, where one is expected to put in 16 hour days (sometimes more), six days a week. I was one of the youngest in the class, with most ranging between 25 and 30. I lived in a house with roommates instead of a dorm, was required to cook and clean and split bills. It was all very...adult (or as close to being an adult as I have ever experienced). Whereas I tend to think of university as an extension of high school with dorms, cliques, and not a whole lot of responsibility.
So, after living more or less as an adult for three years, I had to return home. My father has a fatal disease, and my mother is not coping well. We weren't doing well financially. So, after three years, here I am, in my old bedroom of my childhood home. I moved back home in June of 2009.
I started unpacking today.
I never unpacked because I thought maybe there was a way to leave quickly. I worked long hours for three months, so long that I was never home, and then left on a road trip for another two. Five months of trying not to live here.
Today I threw out three bags of stuff that had been lying around. Things from when I was a kid, things from the road trip, just things in general. I started with one section. One section that, after today, feels a little more like myself. Feels a little more like if I were to bring a girlfriend home to see it, she would get a glimpse of me- of what is important to me. I finished my bookshelf today, and that is a huge start.
I think part of the reason that I haven't felt like an adult, haven't felt capable of dating, is that being in this room again makes me feel like a child. The angel figurines, the stuffed animals, the collector barbies-they all shrink me down until I'm no more than a small girl.
It's time to give those away, to pass them on. Not to get rid of them, but to take back this space as my own; to make this room grow up with me, so that I no longer shrink under its gaze. A place to play guitar, read a novel, finish my psychology homework, a place where I can lock the door and feel sexy (because I'll be damned if a woman doesn't need to feel sexy in her own bed once in a while).
Today I took a step toward that, and feel a little more comfortable inside my own house.
So, after living more or less as an adult for three years, I had to return home. My father has a fatal disease, and my mother is not coping well. We weren't doing well financially. So, after three years, here I am, in my old bedroom of my childhood home. I moved back home in June of 2009.
I started unpacking today.
I never unpacked because I thought maybe there was a way to leave quickly. I worked long hours for three months, so long that I was never home, and then left on a road trip for another two. Five months of trying not to live here.
Today I threw out three bags of stuff that had been lying around. Things from when I was a kid, things from the road trip, just things in general. I started with one section. One section that, after today, feels a little more like myself. Feels a little more like if I were to bring a girlfriend home to see it, she would get a glimpse of me- of what is important to me. I finished my bookshelf today, and that is a huge start.
I think part of the reason that I haven't felt like an adult, haven't felt capable of dating, is that being in this room again makes me feel like a child. The angel figurines, the stuffed animals, the collector barbies-they all shrink me down until I'm no more than a small girl.
It's time to give those away, to pass them on. Not to get rid of them, but to take back this space as my own; to make this room grow up with me, so that I no longer shrink under its gaze. A place to play guitar, read a novel, finish my psychology homework, a place where I can lock the door and feel sexy (because I'll be damned if a woman doesn't need to feel sexy in her own bed once in a while).
Today I took a step toward that, and feel a little more comfortable inside my own house.
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