Mini-Epiphany #9,238,002 (approx.)

This weekend I posted another whiney woe-is-me writer blog. It needed to be done. I’ve been struggling with it. Then after doing some research for pictures I’ve used on this blog, I found a very similar whiney woe-is-me writer blog  FROM TWO YEARS AGO. Have I really been bitching for two years about this? Uhm. Yes.

So.

Enough.

This weekend I went on a quick walk with my friend L. She’s so great to walk with. We’re both the same kind of neurotic personalities and our ups and downs seem to happen at different times. That’s great because when one of us needs to vent, the other can listen and be supportive-pseudo-therapist. A week later, the roles switch.

 

I was venting about Kealoha being sick and how it affects his personality, and the struggles with the kids and making sure they’re happy, and the stress of writing and working and cooking etc. and then I realized that there was a big stress I was no longer worrying over: my teaching. I’ve sort of just let go of the control I have, because I don’t really have any. They’ll either renew my contract for another year or two, or not. At the end of two years, if they continue to renew me, they’ll either have to hire me full time or my contract maxes out and I won’t be able to teach for them anymore. I’ll be able to adjunct, but not full-time. I can stress about it and try to find another job (even though I love what I’m doing). But no matter how much I stress or fuss, really, there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t have any power over this. They’ll either hire me or they won’t.

 

I’ve decided to just enjoy this time in my life where I get to be a professor. I love every minute of it, so instead of wasting all my energy obsessing over whether or not my contract renews, I’m just enjoying my time.

 

I didn’t decide to do this. It honestly just happened.

 

It’s sort of freeing, the way I imagine it will feel to go braless in public if, you know, your boobs weren’t so heavy and pendulous that random children would run to you requesting a feeding. Not that I speak from experience, mind you. Nope. Not me.

 

I’ve been annoying myself for months.

 

It’s time to stop.

 

I just need to get back to work, which is exactly what I’m doing. My books will either sell or they won’t. People will like my work or they won’t. I’ll either lose weight or I won’t. My kids will fuss over dinner or they won’t. Somehow, I’ll be okay.

 

Or, I guess, I won’t… but I’m trying not to think about that too much right now.