With a Capital F

I’m failing at this. I’d like to say I’m failing bravely, dangerously, or at least loudly. That I’m going down with one hell of a fight. That I’m giving it everything I’ve got, and it’s just not pulling through. That I’m having a good failure.

I’d like to say that, but I do try to be honest, above all with myself, and perhaps second with the internet, because lies on the internet always come out anyways. This is not a good failure. This is a slow, creeping failure that rather than occurring in a glorious blaze of fire and thunder, happens so slowly, so quietly, that nobody really notices it, even the person who’s doing the failing.

As usual, that would be me.

I’ve been spending so much time focusing on the small victories (chocolate cravings, the hilarities that emerge from the mouths of five-year-olds, and watering my teeny tiny tomato plant) because I’ve been unable, with the instinct for self-preservation that I have, to address the big picture. Because the big picture kinda sucks.

Yes, I’m living abroad. Win.
Yes, I’m doing something I once thought I’d never be able to do. Win.
Yes, I’m somehow managing to continue feeding, bathing, and clothing myself. Double win.

But I’m exhausted. The kind of exhausted that makes you think about etymology. (Who am I kidding? Waking up in the morning makes me think about etymology.) The kind of exhausted that makes you think about the etymology of the word exhausted, the original meaning of it. Like: the supplies were exhausted. Like: my supply of energy is exhausted, there simply isn’t any more and I don’t know how or where to get anymore.

Being at the end of my rope makes me think about words. And stories. And grammar, of all things. Obviously I’m a natural English teacher, right?

Bull.

I’m an English teacher, sure. I’m an English teacher at the end of my rope. I’m not doing myself any favours by continuing in this track, and it’s beginning to look like I’m not doing my students any favours either.

If I can’t figure out a way to get my groove back, or, let’s face it, get a groove at all, I don’t know what I’m going to do. However, it’s getting to be pretty clear what the answer should be:

Not this. Something else. Anything else.

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Comments
One Response to “With a Capital F”
  1. Caitlin says:

    Oh hun. I’m so sorry you had to experience this. Please don’t quit though. Do you think you can get through the rest of your contract? If you can manage that, it would be the best course of action for you. There is a possibility that things might get better if you stick it out.

    Another possibility is if you aren’t getting enough vitamins. Especially vitamin D and iron, I’ve noticed a huge difference when I forget to take my vitamins. I somehow doubt it’s the case, knowing you, but I figured I’d bring up the possibility.

    BTW, I miss you. You have an indomitable spirit, and I KNOW you can get through this.

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