I don’t have time. That’s my mantra lately when it comes to anything me-related. I don’t have time for me. This blog entry? I honestly don’t have time for it.
I have an IEP meeting tomorrow during my one planning period and I didn’t know about it until moments before I stepped out of the door to go home today after helping a kid after school. I lost my planning today because I sacrificed it to help out with another student who needed me. And that’s okay. Sort of. I mean, if someone needs me, I’ll do what I need to do for them. Some of the best parts of my day include rescue missions. I just wish I knew how to make up for that time.
Meanwhile, I come home, I work on homework with my son, who hates working on homework, do what I have to do for the kids, and then I should get the work done that I didn’t have a chance to do at work. By the time everything gets done, I’m up later than doctors recommend and I’m exhausted the next day. I don’t have time to sleep.
The weight loss program I’m on suggests that I exercise for 30 minutes at least 5 days per week. Perhaps I should get up early to fit in that exercise. I get up at 5:10 every morning. Shall I get up at 4:30? I’m on my feet all day at work. I barely eat all day. I come home, I hardly have energy to move, and I make myself eat dinner. I should go for a walk after dinner. That’s when I should fit it in. Then again, Squeaker has homework he must get done. When we do fit that in? I’ve stayed at work until 5:00-5:30 by this point. The minutes in the day speed by, and I find the time for exercise doesn’t exist.
I should do the things that I enjoy so that I can relax. I’m no good to anyway if I’m stressed out. This suggestion coupled with the suggestion that I not bring work home makes me wonder if people really have any real perception of what I’m going through. For instance, I literally just had a meeting scheduled for me for tomorrow. The paperwork doesn’t just do itself. Lesson plans don’t magically appear on my desk. “Winging it” never works out very well. With all that’s going on right now, I’m forced to bring home work, which leaves me with little time to enjoy the things that I want to enjoy.
At work, I’ll tell people not to worry about me. I’ll tell them it’ll work out. I’m okay, I say. I just need a little sleep. No worries. I’m not going to spend extra time complaining about something no one can do anything about. What’s the point? This has just become my life. Which, in the end, kind of makes me feel all the more hopeless. Like I’m stuck in the endless loop of fatigue and thinly veiled depression. When I don’t have time for me, I get lost and I don’t even know who I am anymore. I sure wish I had time to figure it out.