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.
“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)