Tired...

Couldn't cope yesterday, so I called for a sub. Husband calls the neurologist when they opened and they were able to work me in, so he took me. She basically threw her hands in the air and said she just didn't know how to help me, so she's sending me to UT Southwestern med school in Dallas; surely someone there will know what to do!

In the meantime, I'm extremely discouraged by the contract my district is offering me next year. When I agreed at the beginning of this year to take on the middle school and high school theater & one-act play, my understanding was that it would be for one year only. If it was something I felt confident in, I'd go take the ExCET for theater and then I'd be certified in it.

Well, I hated it. As in, it literally contributed to my catastrophic health crash in December, in which I spent three of the worst days of my life in ICU with bacterial pneumonia and sepsis. I'm still not all the way better from that, either -- I still have days of crushing fatigue in which I can barely get out of bed or answer my phone, and the lower lobe of my left lung still aches when I take a deep breath. Kind-of like a permanent "stitch in my side" feeling.

Anyway, back to my contract. No more choir, because I can't play the piano, but along with my art classes I still have to teach theater and they're giving me two sections of junior English. The new principal promised that he would carefully screen the middle school theater class (unlike this year, in which it was a convenient dumping ground for ill-mannered brats with no intention of learning drama) and make sure that the only students there will be ones who are actually there to study theater.

I haven't mentioned, however, that I do not trust administrators. Not ever. Maybe they don't mean to lie, but when push comes to shove, their promises become piles of pigpoop because they're stuck with kids they don't know what to do with, and the fine arts department is ALWAYS the first choice of dumping ground real estate. Oh, look! Here's a new kid with an ankle bracelet; oh, he's not an athlete? Meh. Who cares what we do with him? Just pitch him into an art class. Kids who don't play sports don't even ping the radar here.

I'm pretty sure they're trying to kill me off.

I haven't signed a contract yet, and I'm not sure I will. My mom said I needed to bargain with them, and I explained that this WAS their final offer. I've already e-mailed all of them with suggestions for how I could better serve the school district's needs. Doesn't matter. They don't WANT to spend the money to hire someone (they haven't even LOOKED or ADVERTISED for anyone) to teach theater AND choir.

It's a short trip to my mental rabbit-hole from here... workplace anxiety like this is a huge factor in me having a depression crash. Gradually losing sensation in my hands and then feet and then legs over the past year has furthered subjected me to crashing waves of fear and cowardice.

After returning home from the doctor yesterday, I made it up the ramp using a can and holding the rail, but after getting onto the porch, I tumbled sideways. I'm glad I didn't fall off the porch or break any bones, but that was a little scary.