Sorting it out

I guess that is the theme of my life. Right now I feel like I am sorting out emotions, sorting out routines, sorting out my identity. It is all a lot more overwhelming and confusing than I thought it would be. Once upon a time I told myself a story. I told myself that one day I would leave Wisconsin. After graduate school. I don't like it here. The emotions tied with originally moving here. And then there is the winter. Truly. The coldness, the darkness, the older I get, the harder it gets. And every winter I tell myself the lie that I just need to make it one more year. This year I come nose-to-nose with the reality: I am trapped. And I feel like an animal trapped in a small place. I am pacing back and forth. I am desperate. I am anxious. Today I felt lost. And I know that sounds strange as life is always busy. Sunday was my grading and prep day. That is just the way it was. And I told myself the lie that it would be worth it one day when I have a tenure track job that I love. This year I come nose-to-nose with reality: I am not an academic any more. I long to be an academic but reality reminds me it will never happen. Right now there is one word that captures me: incomplete. While I love all aspects of my identity, I would be lying if I said that academics was not a big part of my identity. That is how you are socialized in graduate school. I always thought of it as a nag, a weight bringing me down. I thought I would feel free. I just feel lost. I want to write. I want to have academic conversations. I want to move about in my own schedule. I want silence during the day so I can work. I know the rhythm, I know the routine. Every day now moves fast. And furious. And demands. I am a manager yet a patient called me a secretary. I am a doctor yet I am never recognized as such. This year I come nose-to-nose with a new reality: There is no respect. There is money but no respect. I have always loved fall. The pumpkins, the cool air, the fresh and newness, apples. Fall made me feel alive. Fall made me feel full of ideas and energy and hope. As I step into my new reality, I realize that a big part of that hope was tied to teaching. The new classes. The learning opportunities. My life has worked in 16 week blocks. Every 16 weeks there is a break. And then change. Fridays are a day of rest and quiet work. Every 16 weeks I come off the roller coaster and breathe, ride some tea cups, and climb back on. While on the tea cups, I write, I reflect. I get lost in my own mind. That gives a peace and solace that I cannot find any more. I don't feel that way about this fall. I see the leaves, the pumpkins, but the hope and the feeling of alive? It is gone. I feel anxious, I feel trapped. I can't even breathe. I miss teaching. I miss teaching so much that when I think of it, my heart fills with sadness and tears brim. I miss the ups, the downs, and maybe not the grading. I miss the schedule, I miss the great moments. I miss getting lost in my writing. I miss my books, my articles. I miss the red brick buildings and the leaves. I miss the students. I miss the squirrels. I miss the Grind. I miss staring at the buildings on campus that I was so used to and feeling at home. I miss setting my pace, my schedule. I miss my Fridays. I miss connecting to students. I miss scholarly conversations. I miss conversations. I miss my textbooks. I miss listening to music, I miss listening to interviews. I miss being Dr. G. I want her back. But she isn't coming back. I want it back. I want all of it back. I don't care about the money. I don't even care about the instability. I just want to be me again.