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My husband always tells me “It’s Monday,” whenever I complain about the day I’ve had at the beginning of the week.  Well, it was one of those days.  My students’ results from the High School Exit Exam came in today, I guess, and even though I haven’t managed to figure out how to view them, I can only imagine how bad they are; and today I found out there’s no money for me to attend a health academy conference to prep for next year, and somehow I’ve gotten it in my mind that my students’ low test scores are the reason.  I keep worrying that next year when I teach sophomores, there will be even more pressure for my students to perform well on the HSEE, and I don’t know how to prepare them besides giving them sample test questions.  I have lots of work to do this summer, and actually, I’m glad that I’m not going to that stupid conference–I was feeling a lot of stress around it, anyway.

I’m struggling through trying to teach my students how to write a research paper–students who won’t read–we’ve read nearly everything aloud this year.  But how can we possibly read aloud all their individual references?  I’ve been forced to make their research topic something that relates to the science curriculum (water–pollution or conservation) and they know nothing and neither do I.  I’m learning, though.  (I wonder if they are).

I get this feeling that my husband is sabotaging my efforts to lose weight–he keeps cooking for me and preparing me food, when I’d really rather eat next to nothing.  I’m trying to eat my dinner in the afternoon and then not eat after that–someone told me that not eating after 3 P.M. is a way to lose weight, though I’m eating past then–more like 4:30.

This weekend we were excluded from my sister-in-laws’ plans as usual and were left feeling isolated and alone.  It’s really not fair to my kids that because of the way I feel we never get together with anyone but family, and when family excludes us, we’re alone.  Then when we finally did get together with the family, joy upon joy, my sister-in-law discovered that my daughter has lice and was so kind as to tell her, “Great, now you gave it to my daughter!”  Needless to say, my daughter started to cry and I ended up bitching at my sister-in-law.  I later apologized via Facebook, but when I think about it, why should I be apologizing?  She’s the one who made my daughter feel like shit–not just with the lice comment (oh, and my son has it, too), but for leaving her out of their weekend plans (as usual).  One of my friends told me I’m lucky just to have people to spend time with even occasionally on the weekends, but that’s not how I feel.  I don’t feel lucky in any way.

Which brings me to a self-pitying moment.  Why did I have to be born with this MFIng illness?  And why isn’t there a “magic pill” I can take–I’m in therapy, but it doesn’t keep me from having self-critical and mildly paranoid thoughts. When is this just going to stop?

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