Saturation

Found here

This is now the fifth day that has been relatively free of meetings and work. I can't make myself work. There are tons of things that need to be done and I have nothing left to give toward these things: two articles that are due in 15 days; a certificate proposal for the university council committee; policies galore; letters of recommendation for students. All I want to do is crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head. Better yet, sit in the recliner and doze off and on whilst mindless television shows play. Or, just sit outside with the cat in the lawn chair and look at the sky.

I understand what burnout and fatigue is now, even if I love this job more than I thought anyone could love a job. I'm tired.

It probably doesn't help that I'm emotionally exhausted from the ups and downs of waiting to get our new house, or that both office and home are cramped unfriendly places. I was moved into a temporary office in December where I was to wait for two weeks for the social work faculty to move to their new building. Of course, I am still sitting in the midst of boxes and higgly-piggly bookshelves full of boxes and other odds and ends that I've had to pull out for use in a class. It is distressing to be in such a messy environment for this long. I'm told that I can have a different, more spacious office by the end of this month. We'll see.

Now I get to pack up the house. Have I mentioned that after moving 18 times since I turned 21, I hate packing? I love moving into a place, but moving out of a place is not fun.

But moving and messy living space aside, I feel as though my legs have been shot out from under me this last week. A student has sent me some inflammatory emails. She is friends with the student that I had such trouble with last quarter--wouldn't you know it! So the fight is on. The other day my Chair said, "Barbara, it is always something. You need to adjust that it is almost never calm and business as usual. Business as usual is the unexpected. The unexpected is business as usual." I'm starting to understand this at an experiential level. It is a far cry from the "Sage on the Stage" idea of teaching I held when I went into teaching. It's the tiring committees with the endless discussion of everything under the sun; of dealing with obstreperous students who are ungrateful for the quality of education they are fortunate to obtain from our faculty; the endless red tape involved with simple procedures. And yet, I am happiest at this job and in my life than I could have imagined.

It's the end of the year. My head is full. My plate is piled high with the writing, editing, online course design, and now moving, painting, and unpacking that will need to be done this summer. Perhaps I should go take that nap.