It's been an exhausting past week. I've been chipping away at my thesis-ish thing, resulting in ten hour + workdays since Sunday. There's just a heavy feeling, staying at school until 10pm and then barely getting home and asleep before I turn around and go right back.
It's ok, though. The shields are holding, despite my fatigue, and I'm persevering. We're reading Macbeth which is one of my strong points, and the sophomores are fun when I know what to do with them. One of them even said she wished I'd come back next year because I was a good teacher. Of course, she's a sweet student who would like most of her teachers anyway, but sometimes I just want to hug them I love them so. I want to take a few home with me and just... I don't know, be their friend. Which you can't do, as a teacher or an authority figure. All the more reason not to be an authority figure, I suppose. Whatever made me think I could manage that is beyond me; I can't intimidate worth a damn.
And, really, I don't want to. I've addressed this ad nauseum, but I'm eventually getting to a point where I can accept it. I don't respect myself, and until I don't, I won't command it from others. And even when I do, I'm not sure if I'll be able to "command" much of anything.
But there's a way to like myself, and I'm actively pursuing it. By necessity, it has to be day by day. But my hair's long enough that it's not "mushrooming" nearly as much as it was. The conditioner's helping, too. I like it. I've never had hair this long, and it's one of the few things I'm allowing myself that externally defies norms. Next up: the beard, on May 20th. And clothes soon after that. I'll start full on hormone treatment in two weeks, and even though that's an endeavor for a few years, it's exciting just to be making progress. I'm morphing, bit by bit, and I'm excited about where I'm going.
In fact, despite my exhaustion and some of my doubts, I feel kind of alright. There are good parts of my day, students who I love to pieces, days oozing off the calendar slowly but surely. I've been keeping a rough mental countdown since we had ~52 days to go, and it makes 23 days of instruction seem so much better by comparison. Even with that, I have bits of fun here and there. I'm holding on. And I really hope that, when I leave, I can feel like I made a positive impact. If I can look back on this year and say that I wasn't perfect, by any means, but that I made some positive connections with students and left them better than I found them, then I think everything going forth will be so much easier. I know I'm not meant to teach high school; I'm simply not tough enough. But that's ok. I just have to find somewhere where I'll fit.
They call transitioning a "second puberty," and I've thought of it comparably. I use the metaphor of butterfly and cocoon, but I do feel like I'm building and growing. I think of myself blooming, replacing my distant moroseness with an easy smile (and an obligatory hint of irony) as I swish and sway, and I like it. What will it be like, to like myself? What will it be like, to be able to feel so good about myself that I can truly devote myself to my external relations? What will it be like to live instead of merely existing? Oh, hope springs despite my temporal tears.
And yes, there is sadness. I'm in a place of semi-serious celibacy; I don't want to start a relationship when I am not who I am. Of course, it's not exactly like I have prospects beating down my doors, so the points probably moot. But I miss so much about relationships. The small moments that fill in the gaps of your life, the partner in one's going ons and going outs, the general expanse of life experience by virtue of another engaging, creative mind being so intimately entwined with your own. And, of course, the physical intimacy. Just touching another person is something I miss, stroking hair, caressing, hugging, holding without the need to "break" after an all-too-brief moment. Of this ever returning, I have the most doubts. But I've fortunately found that, already, these are but supplements to a hope with having, a life worth loving. That doesn't diminish the emptiness of the absence, but it makes the echoes so much easier to bear.
I am blessed and thankful. I can only assume that disaster is imminent. But, for now, I growing hopeful.
It's ok, though. The shields are holding, despite my fatigue, and I'm persevering. We're reading Macbeth which is one of my strong points, and the sophomores are fun when I know what to do with them. One of them even said she wished I'd come back next year because I was a good teacher. Of course, she's a sweet student who would like most of her teachers anyway, but sometimes I just want to hug them I love them so. I want to take a few home with me and just... I don't know, be their friend. Which you can't do, as a teacher or an authority figure. All the more reason not to be an authority figure, I suppose. Whatever made me think I could manage that is beyond me; I can't intimidate worth a damn.
And, really, I don't want to. I've addressed this ad nauseum, but I'm eventually getting to a point where I can accept it. I don't respect myself, and until I don't, I won't command it from others. And even when I do, I'm not sure if I'll be able to "command" much of anything.
But there's a way to like myself, and I'm actively pursuing it. By necessity, it has to be day by day. But my hair's long enough that it's not "mushrooming" nearly as much as it was. The conditioner's helping, too. I like it. I've never had hair this long, and it's one of the few things I'm allowing myself that externally defies norms. Next up: the beard, on May 20th. And clothes soon after that. I'll start full on hormone treatment in two weeks, and even though that's an endeavor for a few years, it's exciting just to be making progress. I'm morphing, bit by bit, and I'm excited about where I'm going.
In fact, despite my exhaustion and some of my doubts, I feel kind of alright. There are good parts of my day, students who I love to pieces, days oozing off the calendar slowly but surely. I've been keeping a rough mental countdown since we had ~52 days to go, and it makes 23 days of instruction seem so much better by comparison. Even with that, I have bits of fun here and there. I'm holding on. And I really hope that, when I leave, I can feel like I made a positive impact. If I can look back on this year and say that I wasn't perfect, by any means, but that I made some positive connections with students and left them better than I found them, then I think everything going forth will be so much easier. I know I'm not meant to teach high school; I'm simply not tough enough. But that's ok. I just have to find somewhere where I'll fit.
They call transitioning a "second puberty," and I've thought of it comparably. I use the metaphor of butterfly and cocoon, but I do feel like I'm building and growing. I think of myself blooming, replacing my distant moroseness with an easy smile (and an obligatory hint of irony) as I swish and sway, and I like it. What will it be like, to like myself? What will it be like, to be able to feel so good about myself that I can truly devote myself to my external relations? What will it be like to live instead of merely existing? Oh, hope springs despite my temporal tears.
And yes, there is sadness. I'm in a place of semi-serious celibacy; I don't want to start a relationship when I am not who I am. Of course, it's not exactly like I have prospects beating down my doors, so the points probably moot. But I miss so much about relationships. The small moments that fill in the gaps of your life, the partner in one's going ons and going outs, the general expanse of life experience by virtue of another engaging, creative mind being so intimately entwined with your own. And, of course, the physical intimacy. Just touching another person is something I miss, stroking hair, caressing, hugging, holding without the need to "break" after an all-too-brief moment. Of this ever returning, I have the most doubts. But I've fortunately found that, already, these are but supplements to a hope with having, a life worth loving. That doesn't diminish the emptiness of the absence, but it makes the echoes so much easier to bear.
I am blessed and thankful. I can only assume that disaster is imminent. But, for now, I growing hopeful.
you are so beautiful- inside and out...