Dear Self: A Moment of Honesty

Dear Self,

Once upon a time in my current situation, I spent the day working and studying. I slept in until 8:00 because I was tired from getting up so early on the day before in order to finish a paper before 8:00. I planned; I ate; I sang to myself; and then I left bravely for the day.

By 11:00, I was teaching a room full of silent seniors, who surprisingly were not as excited about Shakespeare's Othello as I was. I asked them questions. I read with them. And I tried to think of anything that would get their interest. On the inside, I was begging the minutes to pass more quickly so that my misery could end. Finally, they passed. And I was able to sit back and readjust for five minutes before my next class came in; I prayed in my heart that somehow I could shake off my fears of repeat and approach the lesson with a few adaptations. My prayers were answered and the lesson went well.

I went grocery shopping, which I had needed to do for three weeks. I came home and worked on reflection assignments. I went to work only to find that I had overlooked some details in helping mentor one of my athletes. It is frustrating to know that I dropped the ball, especially, when as a perfectionist, I am good at blaming myself.

Although there were some fun finds during the day: like a Shakespeare supplementary reading guide and a National Geographic issue to add to my classroom library, I just ended my day with a cranky attitude that no one could please or satisfy. I came here, here to my writing in order to talk myself out of pointless and unjustified angst.

As I just wrote, I realized that this built up feeling at the end of the day isn't uncommon for me these days. In fact, one time I was feeling emotional because of another long day, and my roommate finally and kindly told me what I needed. I said, "what do you think? Don't you have an opinion?" She said, "I think you need to go to bed." When tonight I saw a repeat of said inner crankiness, I knew that she was right that night and her wisdom will now be my answer to my feelings when living on little rest: sleep it off. Some people may laugh when Scarlet O'Hara says that "[she] can't think about it today. [She'll] think about it tomorrow," but I say "AMEN sister!" Sometimes, the world of dreams is the best medicine for moodiness.

And I never fancied myself one of those females, but I'm starting to believe and be honest: women are weird sometimes. And I am woman. What a realization.

Ado, ado.
Goodnight.

P.S. I feel much better. This shouldn't be a post-script, but writing about my answered prayer immediately made the pent-up mood dissipate. Gratitude changed my attitude and threshold. I was immediately calmed when I wrote that paragraph; The Holy Ghost calmed my inner storm.