Figuratively True

I'm running on empty.
I feel like a wire that's stretched so thin it's about to snap.
I look like a zombie.

Yes, ladies and gents, it's the end of a semester. Finally, after Friday, I'll get two weeks to recharge, two weeks to find myself, two weeks to relax, two weeks to catch up on sleep, two weeks to write quizzes in advance so that I'm prepared next semester, two weeks to remind myself of all of my capabilities, two weeks to turn myself back to what I used to be, two weeks to do what I enjoy.

At first, I wasn't quite sure why this year stressed me out more than last year. Last year, I was a first-year teacher. Last year, I was also taking university classes in the evening. Last year, I was creating a portfolio and other assignments for my alternative certification. Last year, I was training for a marathon (then 2 halves, then another full). Last year, I was in a production.

So why are things so much harder this year? I've finally come to my conclusion. This year, I'm no longer a first-year teacher, and thus I know what I'm supposed to teach. This year, when I miss a concept, I'm cognizant of the fact (man, last year was "ignorance is bliss" year). This year, I have four preparations (instead of last year's two). This year, I'm dating someone (my longest relationship last year was 2 months... this one's been going on for much longer than that). This year, I'm teaching new novels, therefore I have to read and/or re-read them and create assignments, quizzes and tests, all of which suck up a HUGE amount of time. This year, I'm finding less personal time and therefore becoming stressed out.

I find myself scarily slipping into harmful bad habits, bad habits which I want to be rid of, bad habits which have harmed me in the past, bad habits which could cause harm in the present and future. Don't worry - none of those bad habits are illegal or costly, but they are habits which make me feel like a worse person. They are habits which have begun to kill the hard work I did a few years ago. They are habits that I hoped would be gone forever. They are habits I do not wish to have when I'm old.

Sometimes I wish I was a child again, wish I had innocence again, wish I could do things differently. Oh, to be a child and have no pressures upon you, other than passing a test or coming home on time; to find happiness in little things; to be a child again and heal from wounds quickly because a little bruising wouldn't stop you from having another adventure; to feel that home is safe and feel excited about the endless mysteries tomorrow might bring.

Adults are very cynical. We find problems with little things. We stick to routines because it is safe. We forget to laugh, unless we're laughing at someone for the wrong reason. We forget to smile at flowers, the dog running across the street, the birds chirping overhead. We forget to go outside and play because that time can be spent on cleaning the house or working overtime. We work and we frown and we worry and we stress and we think about what went wrong today and what went wrong yesterday and we think of the problems of our lives and we forget that solutions are right in front of our faces. We become blind, we become deaf, we become bitter, we become jaded, we become old. We fear the future because it is not certain. We hate the past because of mistakes we've made. We're uncertain of the present because it is new, and adventures seem like foreign, abstract ideas to us.

Or maybe I'm just talking about me.