The longest night

Last night was the longest stretch of darkness this year, and from here on the days get longer, there is more light, more day, less dark.

I'm not at all sure this hasn't been a journey of metaphors as much as anything else. It's interesting how my inner climate is reflected out of doors, though. To extend it a little, it occurred to me that contact with friends and others is part of this pattern. When the first storm hit, I pulled in, took shelter from the winds howling, the rain lashing and the anger of the elements.

Now that I seek or need my refuge less, I find myself more often reaching out. Including a whole bundle of outgoing Christmas cards, and chats with friends too long left ....in the dark.

They scold me for not leaning on them, and plead with me to let them help, and celebrate with me that I've taken steps--finally-- to improve a bad situation. And I mean "bad" in the sense of "soul-crushing evil".

As the sky brightens fully, finally, and promises an extra few minutes of daylight along with another chance to start again...and The Bare Naked Ladies are playing on iTunes

I’ve been burned before
You’re not fooling me there’s no mystery you've forgotten what you’re hiding for
Call it self-defense
You can obfuscate and manipulate but it’s only at your own expense

And I'm heading down to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and start this new day. Work is miles away from me, and getting ever more distant.

I'm starting to look forward to the weather, come what may.

So this is the story.....

I'm still feeling pretty dazed....this is Day 15 off work. I realized I had hit the wall on October 27. I had 6 kids out of control out in the hall, I had a colleague tear my head off in the paper room, and I cried all through recess and my 40 minute prep block.


Oh hell....that can't be a good sign, I thought.

I made it to the end of the day, but I knew I wouldn't be back for awhile....in my heart, I knew there was a good chance I might not be back at all. How on earth had things gotten this bad?

I realized I was just like one of those women in an abusive marriage. I kept coming back every September, hiding my bruises and breaks. Of course, a wounded spirit is easier to hide than a black eye, and no one knows your very soul is being steadily and slowly smothered