October 30th, 2009
Ugh! I just want to hide today.
I am not working with the school district anymore, and while that is definitely a good thing, I have the most troubling dreams that keep me from feeling rested, no matter how much I sleep. The themes all revolve around the precious child I was responsible for and the fact that I won’t know or be a part of how he progresses or grows in the future. If I know the hope in every person to grow and change, I just feel paralyzed with concern for this 4 year old who is already having such a hard start to life.
And that’s just the start of my worries.
Because the deadline passed (while I was working) to set up a meeting with the University Studies advisor to officially change majors, I am on hold with the university, which means that I can’t order transcripts. Because my job at the school district required me to have 60 hours of college (with an official transcript to prove it), I cannot get paid for the work I did until the hold is removed at A&M. It’s all very trivial and arbitrary in the longrun, but right now it’s costing me time, money, sleep, and sanity. I could just burrow my face in a pillow.
All of this is depressing to me.
Contrary to the child I cared for, I grew up in gifted classes, outperformed my peers on national exams, committed to learn from everyone I would meet in life, and STILL I’m struggling to find a courseload/extracurricular mix that inspires at A&M, a job that I can handle, and a life that I can enjoy day in and day out. It is a let down to be carried on such great expectations for success in childhood, only to meet this reality of deadlines, appointments and formality with a blow to the gut instead of a friendly handshake. If it’s this hard for me–the one who was trained up with the gifted, rewarded alongside the well-connected, and raised by a well-equipped family–I have no idea what people with harder beginnings are facing.
I am beginning to understand that nothing positive or negative about yesterdays guarantees anything about the future, whether for me or an autistic 4 year old. It both haunts thoughts about my own future and comforts me when I’m thinking about his.
