It has been a hellacious week. Between the anxiety of administering "The Test" and watching my beloved students and oldest son take the test, I feel as though I have been drained of whatever energy I had.
I have been mindful of taking my vitamins, of getting enough rest. Regardless, I feel sapped of myself. I feel as though I am in a funk.
So, after school, I took the boys to get a haircut. Nothing gets me feeling better than being surrounded by newly shorn young men. They looked as handsome as ever, but no relief.
I took them to get a cookie for celebrating the end of testing (for at least one of them). I even got a free cookie, which I had enough will power to resist. Still, no better.
I walked around the mall, in search of a cute top or a nice pair of shoes on sale. Nope. Nada.
I got home, started reheating leftovers, fed the kids early. Got them showered and in bed reading, early. Nothing.
And then, in the quiet house, came the deluge of emotions.
After worrying and wondering what would make me feel better, the tears came. Like rain renews the Earth, those tears will help renew me.
Because after a month of skill and drill, of stressing over whether the kids would do well or not, of actually administering and monitoring; day after day, of basically, just holding it together: I couldn't anymore.
Don't get me wrong. I am NOT a crier. Certain things will get me to mist up some, but rarely do I just let go and sob. I just don't do it.
Maybe it is because I like to feel in control. Maybe because I think it makes me look weak. Maybe, it just scares me to feel so vulnerable.
But I needed it.
And after this good ten minute cry, I don't feel as sad. I feel relief.
And there is nothing weak about relief. There is nothing wrong with being vulnerable. There is nothing wrong with caring.
But there is something very wrong with not giving yourself permission to let go. For always having to be strong (for who exactly, I will never know) and not letting yourself have a healthy way to find release.
So, with that behind me, there is much to look forward to: my oldest niece will be two tomorrow. John and I have big plans to celebrate the end of testing with the boys on Saturday. My mother finally left rehab a month after being admitted (after that wicked fall she took).
Smiling, because Spring Break is a couple of weeks away, and the beach is waiting.