Here I go, manic, posting another blog entry. I promise you won't have to read much more of my crap soon. Everyone should have a voice to speak but I keep posting and posting and posting and I'm still a newb to the site. I promise I'll be quiet for at least the next 2 days after I write this entry.
I fucking hate my mental illness. I'm diagnosed with anxiety disorder, bipolar disorder, and depression. I wanted to be a good teacher. But I can't. I'm shaking. I'm unable to sleep. I never get enough sleep and I'm always tired. I keep myself up with ridiculous amounts of caffeine.
I feel I'm letting everyone down. I'm letting my students down most of all. They need someone to help them with their homework and teach them social skills (I teach special education resource room). I feel I'm doing a fairly good job at it. But lately, I haven't been able to go to work. I went yesterday, but last week I missed tuesday-friday because I started breaking down.
I am so terrified of taking another day off because my principal is already complaining and said he was docking my pay. I don't care about the pay. I just want to make sure that I am safe. I wish I could bring up my illness to my principal. I think I'm kind of forced to now that it's affecting my ability to work.
I'm going to have to quit. This is extremely disheartening. Teaching was not my passion. I was going to do it for two years and then go into a Ph.D. program. But now, I don't know if I can handle it.
My whole mom's side of the family has a history of breakdowns when they reach their twenties. I have 2 cousins and 2 aunts who've filled this pattern. i thought it might skip over the male members of our family, but i guess not.
I want to work. I want to be productive. I want to be content. But mostly I want to be normal.
I'm afraid that the line between genius and madness is slim. Maybe I can create something worthwhile from all the suffering I've endured.
It's just....I want to write, and get paid for it. I wouldn't be asking for more than 30/k a yr off my writing. Just enough to support myself. So, that I don't have live at home with my parents. But I truly don't know if my work is decent. My best friend says it's incredible, but he's my best friend. I think it's great, too. My ex-girlfriend is a fan as well. In fact, no one I showed it to has been critical. I got a warm reception at the reading I gave. My friend with an MFA had some minor issues, but in general, liked it. I don't know if I currently have the talent to break through but I think I have the connections and I have the persistence and I have the madness.
I feel I have the illness of Plath, Sexton, and Dickinson, and the hedonism of Bukowski and Ginsberg. But I don't think I have the talent of any. If I did, it would surprise me. Maybe I do. I don't know. The truth is I've only been writing poetry for 4 months and I think I'm a talented rookie.
I'd love to show some of my work to people on this site, or anyone, but it's not copyrighted yet.
Mostly, I wish I could just be sane. So, that I could work. I hate that I have to quit my job soon because I can't handle the pressure.
I fucking hate my mental illness. I'm diagnosed with anxiety disorder, bipolar disorder, and depression. I wanted to be a good teacher. But I can't. I'm shaking. I'm unable to sleep. I never get enough sleep and I'm always tired. I keep myself up with ridiculous amounts of caffeine.
I feel I'm letting everyone down. I'm letting my students down most of all. They need someone to help them with their homework and teach them social skills (I teach special education resource room). I feel I'm doing a fairly good job at it. But lately, I haven't been able to go to work. I went yesterday, but last week I missed tuesday-friday because I started breaking down.
I am so terrified of taking another day off because my principal is already complaining and said he was docking my pay. I don't care about the pay. I just want to make sure that I am safe. I wish I could bring up my illness to my principal. I think I'm kind of forced to now that it's affecting my ability to work.
I'm going to have to quit. This is extremely disheartening. Teaching was not my passion. I was going to do it for two years and then go into a Ph.D. program. But now, I don't know if I can handle it.
My whole mom's side of the family has a history of breakdowns when they reach their twenties. I have 2 cousins and 2 aunts who've filled this pattern. i thought it might skip over the male members of our family, but i guess not.
I want to work. I want to be productive. I want to be content. But mostly I want to be normal.
I'm afraid that the line between genius and madness is slim. Maybe I can create something worthwhile from all the suffering I've endured.
It's just....I want to write, and get paid for it. I wouldn't be asking for more than 30/k a yr off my writing. Just enough to support myself. So, that I don't have live at home with my parents. But I truly don't know if my work is decent. My best friend says it's incredible, but he's my best friend. I think it's great, too. My ex-girlfriend is a fan as well. In fact, no one I showed it to has been critical. I got a warm reception at the reading I gave. My friend with an MFA had some minor issues, but in general, liked it. I don't know if I currently have the talent to break through but I think I have the connections and I have the persistence and I have the madness.
I feel I have the illness of Plath, Sexton, and Dickinson, and the hedonism of Bukowski and Ginsberg. But I don't think I have the talent of any. If I did, it would surprise me. Maybe I do. I don't know. The truth is I've only been writing poetry for 4 months and I think I'm a talented rookie.
I'd love to show some of my work to people on this site, or anyone, but it's not copyrighted yet.
Mostly, I wish I could just be sane. So, that I could work. I hate that I have to quit my job soon because I can't handle the pressure.