So far I’ve succeeded with Tom Selleck’s Daily 150-word Challenge, although yesterday, I cut it close.
As much as I struggled balancing grading this week, my rhetoric class was awesome as usual. I say it every semester, but 🤣 this is the best college English class I’ve had so far; I’m so damn lucky! 🤩
I’m not sure why I ever let anyone convince me, I ought to be teaching anything other than community college composition… and I’m never teaching more than 2-3 classes a semester again either, because two semesters ago, I felt so overwhelmed and underappreciated… but by whom?
Everyone at the college treats me kindly.
In My Life Today 😥 Family Anxiety 😭
I think I felt underappreciated by family. By my shadow. By too many conversations I took too deep to heart. Judged, in wanting. I grew so paranoid of opinions that didn’t matter, I forgot the love of teaching in moderation, with teacher autonomy, in Tower District and Visalia.
I let teaching spiral into an all-consuming dreadnought, until I was hiding under my high school teacher desk during lunch break, eating peanut butter and jelly, rocking quietly.
In therapy today, I elaborated more on the tension within my family; the struggles of being a first-generation college graduate; how my parents are proud, and supportive too, but I know that’s not the overall family consensus; and I fear aunts, uncles, and grandparents, the pressure they’ll put on me, the pressure I know they put on my mom and dad, negative-thinking people who will be at my wedding, who like to wrinkle their noses at me or anyone else “walking away from a good-paying job,” who don’t believe I have autism, who think mental illness is about sucking it up breh, the kind of family who point forks at one another during Christmas dinner to say, “Now dun you talk about Obama Effects right now. Kourtnie likes him.”
They love me. I love them. But I haven’t learned to leave it at that. I’m continuously ripped apart on the inside by the differences between them and me, by the thin, perilous sinew of DNA that connects us.
Lifeview 🤓 Ignore the One-Star Reviews 🤫
My therapist is a high-spirited man who starts my session five minutes late, then runs our conversation seven minutes over; we always exchange, “How’s your day so far,” then he sits like a cloud, and I bumble into a couch with a cup of tea.
He’s usually smiling or considering things, as I shamble together loose strings and threads, creating awfully organized stories about life—from my last week to last ten years to the last meal I ate and why—until I exhaust myself; then, when I’ve finally nothing left to give, and I’m crying about someone who matches my DNA, I wait for him to sift pieces around in his head. He always offers questions I hadn’t considered before, and this is why I come back.
Today he asked, “You like Amazon Reviews?”
Yes, of course. I told him about the review assignment I assign students in my rhetoric class.
“Which reviews do you normally read?”
- Five-star reviews, because I like to feel good;
- Four-and-three-star reviews, because I want an honest opinion with pluses and minuses, written by someone who thinks like me;
- Funny reviews, and I try to spread the word about them, because laughter;
- And I follow people if I like their reviews, so that I can see what they have to say about future books or assorted trinkets they buy on Amazon.
He asked about the one-star reviews. Naturally, those are only meant for nerd-raging, right? I would give this zero stars if I could!!1! They’re too Negative Nancy to warrant reading.
Yet this is what I do with my family. I listen to the Negative Nancying. Ugh.
Every therapy session, we talk about different solutions to issues, compare-contrasting situations to metaphors, fables, good books. I like the predictable structure, the spirals that leads to ideas obfuscated until now.
Listening to Now 🙉 Sci-fi Novella 🙈 Chapter 7 🙊
This YouTube not only lulls with 3 hours of gentle music, it plays beautiful natural imagery, so I can glance at my other monitor for inspiration. The woodlands and rivers dramatically impacted the setting in the seventh chapter of my novella mss.
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