This has been me over the last three weeks. I cry where no one can hear or see me. I wipe my tears and put myself back together. I keep going. No one hugs me or rubs my back or says meaningless platitudes because honestly, I don’t let them. As a child, I became a master of hiding my feelings. It’s not a talent I’ve lost as an adult. This week, though, I’ve cracked a lot more. The facade has broken a lot more, and it keeps happening at work during my conference period. In other words, at the worst damned time.
I have fear of missing out at work. I always have. Consequently, I work as hard as I can. I want to do better, be better. I want to learn new things, try new techniques. I expect so much of myself as a teacher, but after last week, I feel so inadequate as a teacher.
I have the wrong master’s degree. Two years ago, I earned a Master of Educational Leadership. I thought I wanted to go into administration.
I was wrong. I don’t. I belong in a classroom. I know that with every fiber of my being. I didn’t even bother to take the principal certification exam even though I made an A on the pretest my university requires of all principal test candidates. I knew by then I didn’t want to be a principal. By then, cancer had come calling and had shown me, very quickly, what I’m really meant to do.
It’s increasingly becoming the expectation that you have a master’s degree in your subject or a master’s in something with 18 hours in your subject. I need five more English classes to have 18 hours of graduate English. Five classes.
I can’t afford them right now. And, I feel an urgency to get them, to do it right now, but I can’t. We can’t afford it, and A is vehemently against me taking out any loans because we have to think about our finances.
He’s not wrong, but it’s a bitter, bitter pill I’ve been trying to swallow since Thursday night. See, Thursday I found out I’ve been accepted to an accelerated Master of English program. I can’t accept the offer. I can’t afford it.
It’s a bitter, bitter pill. I’ll apply to a few other programs that are a little cheaper, but even then…it’s doubtful.
I feel like so many opportunities are going to pass me by because I worked my tail off on the wrong master’s degree, a degree I was proud of, but now? I regret it and am so angry I made another wrong decision in my life. What a waste.
I’m going to be 40 this week. 40. At least I lived to see it, but damn, is it really all downhill from here? It feels like it, especially now. I have a mountain of debt from cancer. I have a mountain of credit debt again (see cancer debt). I have so many regrets. I’ll never be rich. I don’t want to be, but I wish things were easier. I wish they were different. I wish I were different. I wish I weren’t sad and angry, but I am.
40 years have almost passed for me. I’m angry and full of regret, so really, I guess it’s no different than any other birthday for me.