My head hurts. Sometimes, I want to cry.
This is what it feels like to grow. I think.
I’m having a really hard time meeting all the demands of my job, and I feel anxiety/pressure/stress/unhappiness.
Mom says that it’s normal. She says that nothing worthwhile comes easily. She’s right.
I’m used to figuring something out right away, or practicing for a while without anything at stake until I get good at it. With this job, however, a lot is at stake right away. I’m just barely surviving and I’m learning how to be good as I go along.
I had classes for my credential last week. The professor (also a middle school principal) told us that during his first year of teaching he would go to the beach and bawl his eyes out, imagining that his tears were his worries.
His example is reassuring, that it’s rough for everyone at the very beginning. I have to patient. And I have to remember that I have a whole lot of years to go before I leave this place. Two years is not a whole lot of time. I just hope that I’m not as miserable as I am now for these next two years.