So something shitty happened this week, and I’m afraid if I don’t get it out I’m going to be up all night crying.

Yesterday was Back to School Night.  It’s a lovely evening of awkward small talk and low level interrogation.  We start off all together with remarks from the Headmaster, during which he talks about our school and the faculty.  Everyone gets a little introduction; where they went to college, some interesting fact about them, the odd anecdote.

Except me.

I get:

“And Andrea Francois came on to replace Previous Third Grade Teacher who now has, well, I think 2 children now.  Oh yes, two, I just saw pictures of her little girl on Facebook.”

Yup, that’s it.  I am a replacement.  Nothing inspires confidence in a parent like “yes, your child’s teacher is the one we put up with because the one we had left.”

I mentioned to the Assistant Headmaster that there might be room for improvement in the remarks introducing the faculty.  He agreed, and assured me that I am more than a replacement.  I would love to say that was the end of it, but here I am, on the verge of tears.

Because all day those few sentences sat in my heart, spreading slowly across everything I felt.  About my job, my life, and myself.  It made everything I did today harder, because I questioned the value of dedicating myself to my tasks.  I kept wondering why I don’t find a life outside of my job, since clearly my place there wasn’t as secure as I thought it was.  And as the day went on, as tiredness set in, I finally had to admit that I couldn’t shake it off, because completely unintentionally my greatest insecurity was paraded out for people whose respect I need.

A room full of people found out that I wasn’t necessary.

Now there is just hollowness.  And ice cream.  And the need to vomit since I can’t digest dairy.  And then, after I vomit, there will be even more hollowness.  I honestly think going to bed and crying might be the best way to deal.  I know that I’m necessary, that there are distinctive things about me that add value to the world, and that I am love beyond my comprehension.  I know that my boss wasn’t thinking the effect his words were going to have, and that there was no malicious intent aimed at me.  But I’m too tired, and too hurt to really absorb any of those things.

Right now what I see is what I saw so much of for so long; who I am and what I do are completely irrelevant and beneath notice.

But I know enough to know that I won’t feel this way for long.  It will pass, probably by Monday.  A weekend relaxing will give me the space to let go of the old habit of mind that unintentionally got stirred up by some misplaced words.

So, to bed I go.

(2 Years, 7 Days Sober)

I had an amazing, frustrating, wonderful, crazy, impossible, terrifying, and blessed day today.

Today is the 2nd anniversary of my sobriety.

2 years ago I was shaking so hard my teeth almost fell out.  I was dead inside.  I was lost, and afraid, and barely able to put one foot in front of the other.  I had to make a choice to live.

Today I took class pictures, and worked on map skills, and read saint stories, and totally skipped reading because I was too tired for it.  I managed to get completely pissed off at a co-worker who picked the wrong day to be a passive aggressive nightmare, I was seen by my Assistant Headmaster crying my little heart out in Adoration, and end the night almost choking laughing at an impromptu dinner with the new teachers.

I’m too tired now to tell you how thankful I am, how awestruck I am by the love and support I’ve received, and how I cannot even fathom how different my life has become in such a short time.  I’m too tired to contemplate how different I’ve become.  I’m too tired to tell you how scared I am of whatever is going to come next, how worried I am that I’m going to fuck it up, or how I have the niggling suspicion that I’ve become too comfortable in my existence.

This day was too much for me to have that many thoughts, let alone express them in any sort of order.

But two years ago was the worst and best day of my life.  And every day since has been a gift.

(2 Years Sober)

My friend got married yesterday.

I couldn’t be there.

My freshman-year girlfriends are planning our next reunion trip.

I already told them I can’t go.

I attribute these fact to the cause of waking up this morning immersed in sadness.  Blinking sleep out of my eyes I dug my phone out from under my pillows and started doing what all social-isolated narcissists do first thing in the AM: checking my email and Facebook.  Confronted with pictures of many of my friends gathered together in their finery, smiling and laughing, I could just see how my day was going to go.  I was going to lay in bed, torturing myself with photographs, until I made myself cry.  Finally, I would fall asleep again and not rise again until sometime in the early afternoon.  At which time I would realize I had no food in the house, order pizza, and sit on my couch in my pjs for hours.  By the evening I would convince myself I had a headache and was just too worn out to go to Mass, and I would go back to bed.

How do I know this is exactly what would happen?

Because it has happened before.  Many times.  More times than I care to admit, even to myself.

BUT NOT TODAY!

Today, I decided that I didn’t want to be that self-involved sad-sac who wasted her day feeling sorry for herself!  I jumped out of bed, threw on clothes, pack my backpack, brushed my teeth, and set off on my To-Do list.  I sent off a package at FedEx that I had been meaning to take take care of all week, returned Library books that I’d actually finished, and bought groceries without any ridiculous indulgence buys that I would keep on my waistline forever.  When I got home I took out the recycling that was piling up, cleaned up my room, showered, put away my laundry, made hummus, and have even managed to sneak in about 4 hours of TV.  In about an hour I’ll head to Mass.

I’m still sorry I missed my friend’s wedding.  I’m still sorry I won’t be seeing my girlfriends in January.  But at least I don’t have to add “being a pathetic child” to the things I’m sorry for.  Right now I am facing the consequences of my poor financial choices over the last, well, um, 8 years or so.  I’m terrible about staying in my budget, I hate saving, and I’ve always over-used my credit cards.  I’m just bad about saying no, to myself and to others.  Be it ice-cream, or new shoes, or the weekend out of town, I agonize over it, but eventually I give in, telling myself it will be the last time and I’ll cut up the card tomorrow.  (Any wonder the booze got me?)  My sister very very very generously pays my student loan bill every month.  She never complains about it, but it is a burden on her.  I agreed with my mother to be as diligent as possible in paying off my credit card debt so that as soon as possible I can put that money towards my student loans and only be taking about 1/4 as much from my sister each month as I was before.  This means trimming down my budget, putting all my AfterCare money towards debt, and possibly getting another job (like a weekend one, not a new full time job).

More than anything it means no traveling until the debt is paid off.  And this is a big thing for me.  I travel a lot.  A lot more than someone who is as stoney ass broke as I am should.  There are always weddings, and new babies, and old friends, and holidays, and one-in-a-lifetime opportunities.  Last summer I practically lived at Reagan airport.  But that cannot be my life for a while, because living my life like that has finally caught up with me.  I have to stay put for a while.

And I have to learn how to deal with staying put without lashing out like a child.  I have to remember that I am not being left out, but rather that I made choices and those choices have consequences.  Today has been a good test run; a new example of how things can go to use in comparison for all those other times when things having gone my way and I’ve reacted like a spoiled brat who no one loves.  When you’ve done the same thing so many times you forget (or don’t know) that it can be different.  But it can.  

You just need a To-Do list.

(1 Year, 11 Months, and 18 Days Sober)