Do any of you know that feeling of being on the very edge of falling off of sanity into utter madness? No? Just me? Well, here’s what it’s like. Much like an exposed nerve of a tooth, I feel every single sensation around me. It’s not pleasant. I can see a moment before it happens, but am somehow unable to alter the outcome. It is as if I am always driving into yellow traffic lights – I cannot decide until the last minute whether I should speed up or slam on the brakes. Given my chosen profession, this is definitely not a career enhancer. Teachers need to be able to anticipate every possible outcome BEFORE a situation occurs, and have all supplies ready for every outcome. For some reason, my “supplies” seem to be unavailable to me right now. I cannot tell if it is just the time of year that is wearing on me, or if I am in the presence of something greater and more destructive. Even more disturbing is the fact that I apparently have lost track of how to get my “supplies” at home. For those of you who have decided that the word “supplies” is a metaphor for something sinister, I am entirely too tired to come up with an encrypted post right now. These are emotional supllies of which I speak, and they are running dangerously low.
Don’t get me wrong – I have a wonderful support network and a family that I desperately love. They are not the problem. I am the one with the defect, the tear in my psyche that is widening with each passing day. I’ve been running these damn yellow lights forever, or so it seems. Well, maybe just for the past week or so. But still, I am in danger of running the light when it turns to red.
Or maybe it’s just the fact that it’s the last full week of school, and this year has been exceptionally rough for everyone around me. No one has escaped this year unscathed, and we still aren’t done. My supply load will increase and I will be able to reach into it again, but it won’t be today. Today I will make do as best I can, and hope that next time when I see into the future I can alter it in positive way.

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