Another One About Sirens

After a long car ride I made it to Colorado. My friend Rosemary and I braved the highways together and more the merrier for it. Now that I’m here though, I’m hiding behind my screen in the guise of writing. Now, of course, I am actually writing, but I’m hiding from people that I haven’t seen in over a year. What if they don’t remember me? What if I forget their names? What if I’m a big old goony mess?

I already know the answer to that.

It won’t matter. My Sirens Sibs are the best. They’ll forgive me my faux paus and misremembered names. We’ll bond over the books we read and the sheer joy of being out in the world again.

So I’m about to kick my ass downstairs to revel in the time I have here.

But first… I’m going to finish this page. Anything else would be a rook mistake.

The One About Decreasing Distance

It isn’t like we’re not all hyperaware of the plague that is COVID. We have this mask and that sanitizer – unless you’re one of those idiot anti-maskers. If that’s so, move on. I don’t want your eyes on my words. But we can finally see a glimpse of the future that includes people not in our household. And that’s where we’re going to have to be patient.

Some of us will be touch starved. The hugs, the arm squeezes, the hand holding. They’ll be so ready to feel that human connection. And then there’ll be others that have lived happily all this time without someone invading their space to get a quick hug.

I live in both worlds. I’m lucky enough to have a partner that I can literally reach out and touch whenever I want. And so I do. When I get lonely for the world, I go bother them for a few minutes and get my fix of touch then move on with my day. However, I’m not a receiver. I don’t like being touched unless you’re in the secret inner circle of my Evil Overlord Club. (If you’re not sure if you are, then just ask. I’m happy to tell you.)

My fear is that the givers are going to overwhelm those that do not receive touch well. So.. keep that in mind as we move forward. Givers don’t place your needs above the receivers. Cause if you do, that’d be a rook mistake

The One About COVID

OK, look. I was locked out of my account for months. I don’t know why, but here we go…

It’s real. I don’t care what your weird ass pastor says. I give two shits about your opinion.

Sit your motherfucking ass at home.

Get stupid with your masks. Wear all of them at once. Just fucking WEAR them.

People are DYING. Are you resisting the death rate or contributing to it?

Am I bored? Am I stalking and researching anything and everything online? Am I trying to find the energy and motivation to work out? Am I gaining weight instead?

Damn straight.

You dicks that won’t follow CDC guidelines are keeping me at home. You’re contributing to my boredom and weight gain. This makes me rage. When I rage I bake. Fuckers, you’re going to kill me over here.

DO you want me to have to go to the VA? Fuck you then. If I can come home from the shit, then you assholes cannot kill me at home.

Also – trim your beard.

TLDR; Shut up and wear your mask. Anything else is a fucking stupid bullshit excuse for a selfish piece of shit. That ain’t a Rook Mistake

The one About The Need to be Seen

I’ve just been coasting again. For months I’ve had my head down and shutting out the world with stupid ass games on my phone or Netflix binges to the point that when I’m out of lives or finish a series, I am lost. I’ve disconnected from everyone. Haven’t been out of the house for social interaction since the end of January. I do work, groceries, and then hide in the house. I am so fucking sick of it.

Hooray for fucking PTSD driven depression and anxiety, bitches!

I love my friends. I would move the goddamn moon from orbit for these people of mine. But I won’t follow a text stream or pay attention to Messenger because my head is stuck in nonreality at this time.

Today is the 9th anniversary of marrying my amazing sigoth, but due to some real world complications and issues, we decided not to celebrate. But friends, my packbrother and his gorgeous mate knocked on our door unannounced this morning. They brought a box, sealed with a green duck tape smiley face, full of mini pies (Pi Day) a new board game based on Choose Your Adventure Books, and a ridiculous pink flouf wearing glittery gold glasses that I love.

I had no idea I needed something or someone to just see me, to check on me. To acknowledge my hiding.

They said hi, dropped off the box, and left. They had no expectation of my time or anything. I am just struck by the awesomeness of it all.

TL;DR- Get/Be friends that check on others when they go AWOL for too long. Anything less is a Rook Mistake

But friends, my packbrother and his gorgeous mate knocked on our door unannounced this morning.

Tweet

The One About Opening Up

So, I’m a fake extrovert. According to all the personality tests, I’m equal parts extro and intro. This month is a full on test of those results. I’ve co-paneled HORROR 101 and spoken on an actual stage in front of people I didn’t even know for PTSD: Triggers &Lies. Next weekend is reserved for Sirens packing and the utter meltdown I’ll have when I can’t fit my metaphorical banjo into the literal suitcase.

The PTSD talk gave me the feels. It wasn’t just me typing to an invisible audience who might or may not even exist. I could see them. They listened and asked questions. I felt “normal” while doing it.

After proving to myself that I can do this, I think I’d like to do it again and hit the character developing/writing angle a little harder.

If you have the chance to attend Writers in the Field next year, do it. It was a fantastic experience. If you were there, thanks for attending.

TL;DR: It’s a good day, but now I need endorphins and a nap. Opening up is part of the recovery process for me. Anything less would be a rook mistake.

The One About Trying Again: VA 2 Electric Boogaloo

Still haven’t seen a therapist. Still having paranoia and the sleeping habits are getting weird again. I’m not even tired until about 2 or 3 and by that time I’m mentally strung out and having almost waking dreams. It sucks. It also leaves me little energy to do things around the house or to write or – you know – take a shower. Yeah, I know when my hair starts getting greasy I’ve got a problem. As vain as I am about the silver fox moniker, I cannot bring myself to wash it. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. Maybe that’ll happen before I try out the VA again.

Yeah, you heard me right. I’m going to the VA on Thursday to see if I can take it. I’m not sure if I’m testing myself or I’m honestly seeking help. Maybe I’m testing them. Whatever.

It’s like I forget how to people. I don’t want to be around anyone. When the sig-oth comes home, I fake it til I make it. I don’t want his company. But then I enjoy being around him. But all I really want is to be alone.

I mean, what can the VA do? Give me more medication? Take this feeling of defeat and that I am a fucked up waste of resources away? Sure. That’s why we read about all their success stories, right?

TLDR: I need to seek help again. To continue to pretend it’s not happening would be a Rook Mistake

The One About Yesterday

Yeah, it’s been awhile. Again, pretend I’m wearing a hairshirt and have mea culpa tattooed across my forehead. You know, like every other time I religiously skip blogging for long periods of time.

It’s who I am.

So, yesterday.

I missed the Leadership in Teaching meeting because I didn’t know they rescheduled. That meant I didn’t get my hour and a half of prep time before classes and I had a huge embarrassment issue with missing a LEADERSHIP meeting.

I drove home.

I didn’t go to work after staying home all weekend. I am now super attached to HOME.

Had a full on panic attack on my way HOME from the writing class last night. It was brought on by the anxiety of leaving HOME for work.

HOME is good. HOME is safe.

So here I am today.

Home. And I do not want to leave it.

The aftermath is that I know how ridiculous it sounds. That my body aches from being clenched up into a tight ball. That my throat is raw from crying.

Yes, I’m on medication.

Yes, I have support.

Yes, I have a weighted blanket.

Yes, it’s been months and months since this happened.

But it still happened.

And I’m still here.

 

 

TL;DR: You can be prepared for a panic attack, but they will still happen. To expect anything else is a Rook Mistake

 

The One About Sarcasm

Y’all June is almost here and you know what that means, right? An end to another School Shooter Season! Watch as the number of school shootings decline rapidly, tapering off to zero. Watch as those months become part of the statistical formula. Watch as SOMEONE tweets about how his administration has all but STOPPED that problem. Just wait for it. You know it’s coming.

How can we protest any louder? How long before they shoot someone you know, love, or care about? And I did notice that everyone in this pic is white. What does that say about our country and who’s “acceptable” to protest anything?

 

TL;DR: Sorry shooters, school’s out!

The One About Acceptable Losses

Yeah, it’s the world we live in.

Yeah, you need to understand that safety is nothing but a fucking illusion and the glass doors of the cube farm won’t stop anyone that is a motivated shooter.

This isn’t hyperbole or an overreaction. It’s the goddamn truth.

I work in a school.

I have had a plan in place for the 14 years I’ve worked here. Every class that I’ve taught knows pieces of my plan. And I have always been very careful with my words for the kids’ sake and mine.

Yesterday I attended a school safety briefing. The language changed. It’s not IF it happens, it’s WHEN it happens. It’s having to say that there will be dead and injured no matter what you do. It’s explaining to PreK-2 teachers that hours of silence is not likely. There are legal business things that had to be said, but when asked away from the crowd, telling those teachers to break out the glass in the windows, toss kids out, and fucking RUN as the best option for them living through this without being acceptable losses.

It’s helping a teacher “bulletproof” her room as much as possible because there’s more of a chance of wall penetration than knocking down doors.

It’s telling teachers that they have 3 seconds to lockdown.

There’s explaining not to react to a fire drill on lockdown – even it’s a real fire.

There’s explaining not to open the door for ANYONE. ANYONE. Even if that means listening to their coworker, friend, or student crying in the hall.

It means teaching our kids where and how to hide. There are 740 of them and 80 of us.

There’s seeing the realization on civilian faces that this is a fucking reality and that kids and staff will DIE. That there will be acceptable losses.

It’s me puking in the restroom after.

This isn’t a case of people coming for your guns. This is what it’s like to prepare for those guns coming for our kids.

Fuck you and your AR-15 that is safer than kindergarteners.

TL;DR I am sick of kids dying.

 

 

The One About Asking for Help

For real and true, this post will be long.

It’s no secret I’m a teacher. Since before the first day of school I’ve asked my principal for help because our class size is out of control. I have 32 students in a smallish classroom and it sets off my anxiety. It’s too crowded and I can’t move around the room. Also my kids this year have some serious challenges. Normally those are my kinds of kids – there are just SO many.  One of my students is currently awaiting a trial date for his FELONY SEXUAL ASSAULT charge. (He is in an alternative school, but he’s on my roll.) I have another with gang ties who’s been seen driving (this is 6th grade) around the neighborhood. I am responsible for teaching 96 students the joys of reading and grammar. AND I am not too shy to say this is a job I have rocked the shit out of for 14 years. On Wednesday things changed for me.

The student with gang time is pissed off in the hallway. He’s yelling and throwing a fit because some boys in my class told him that I said he was stupid. And then he says he’s going to tell him mom on me. Totally lost it. I have never seen nor spoken to the women who never returns my calls. So I’m just as loud as him. “YEAH? I’ve got some stuff I want to tell your mom too. Let’s call her! Right now!!” And everything said after that blurs a little because I started seeing stars.

I head down to the school nurse and she take my blood pressure. It’s so high she won’t tell me what it is and has me sit there. I’m cussing up a blue streak and having a general meltdown. I decided I was done for the day (at like 9am) and put in for sub. The nurse took my blood pressure again before I left and wrote it down for me.

This is the email I sent to my AP and my principal:

Ladies,

I just left the doctor’s office. Nurse (XXXXX – the school nurse)  took my blood pressure this morning and it was 187/122 – so high that she didn’t even want to tell me what it was. An hour later she took it and it was still 168/99 which is still too high. The doctor put me on medication, so I won’t be in tomorrow because we need to see how I react to it.

This is not a blood pressure issue. This is an anxiety issue.

 I need help.

I have asked for:
another teacher – can’t afford it
move classrooms – they’re all the same size
get smaller desks – no

I am not trying to assign blame. I am still asking for help. Help that isn’t another person in my room. That isn’t me trying to teach someone else how to do their job. I’ve loved (XXXX) so much that I’ve given 14 years of myself to it.

 I don’t want to stop now. I just don’t know what else to ask for or what can be done.

“What we want is to see the child in pursuit of knowledge, and not knowledge in pursuit of the child.”
–George Bernard Shaw

Their reposes was LITERALLY thoughts and prayers:

Mrs. XXXX,

I hope that you are feeling better today. You are in my thoughts and prayers.

XXXX XXXX
Assistant Principal
XXXXX Elementary

AND THIS ONE from the woman I’ve known and worked with for 14 years:

XXX,

I am sorry to hear that you are not feeling well. I hope the medication helps with your blood pressure. I have experienced that personally and I know how dangerous it can be to your health.

When you return on Friday, let’s set a time to talk.

XXX

Principal

XXXXX Elementary

No here’s what we’re going to do. No I’M SORRY I couldn’t be bothered to read your entire email or revise the things I’ve said NO to in the past. Just.. hey I have high blood pressure so let’s make this about ME. Ugh and fuck you.

My team, the infamous crybaby math teacher and the Are dinosaurs real since they’re not in the bible science teacher, is about 0 help. I texted them on Friday (when I was still out because dying on the floor in my classroom doesn’t sound like a good idea) and this is the text I got in return:

It’s been a nightmare of a day, be thankful you’re out! There have been 4 different fight threats. OE and ER yelling and cursing at each other across the cafeteria, CW disrespectful, IP tried to trip the sub. I printed progress reports for my class and said something to B about there not being any math grades in, she just put it off, so I asked XX the best way to handle it, and she took it to XXXX (the principal). Apparently B (The crybaby teacher) is bad mouthing everyone and telling people she’s done acting professional and doing favors for us. I don’t think she’s done favors for you and I.. oh and we are going to be self contained after the winter break.
Sent from my iPhone  

Self contained means I will be in the classroom with the same kids all day and be responsible for teaching all subjects at a mastery level. I will be planning every subject. Grading every subject. Which will be 6 subjects 6 assignments daily = 192 a day. As opposed to 1 or 2 assignments a day = 96 to 192. The difference being I know these assignments and would be grading 96 of the same thing. Make grading easy-peasy.

SO…

Since then I’ve seen a doctor and received a prescription – but I cannot DRIVE when I’m taking it. When I think about going back to school – dying on the floor is my first concern. And then I work myself back up.

SO…

Today I went to the ER. The nurses, PAs, and doctor were amazing. Now I have a note that says I can’t go to work until the AT LEAST the 14th of December because I’ll see the psychiatrist on the 13th.

Now I have to figure out the best way to tell my team and admins. They’re going to be pissed off.

TLDR: Don’t trust anyone else to do the right thing for you. Corporations and school districts consider themselves more important than any individual or class. Believing anything is definitely a Rook mistake.