The Empty Man

The fact that I've returned to The Dying Year is indicative of one of two things:  I've either learned that I'm dying, or I'm praying that I will.  I left here on a wave of optimism, with a fresh start, and the hint of a future.  I'm returning with neither.  The only insight I gained was this:  

The possibility of my 52nd year being my last may be more than 'possibility.'  It may be that ending it all is the only option I'll have left.  Or at least, it will be my best one.  

The reason I was unable to see past my 52nd year as a 12-year old has also become clear.  I don't think I was able to see past it, because the events that occur within it are of such magnitude that I won't want to.  The most recent events in my life have diminished the waning desire I held to live it.  The next time I'm told about the impact I had on the children I worked with, or how their parents said that I was the catalyst for the new direction their child was now on, as I'm simultaneously ushered out the door, will be the last.  The choreography of those two things together will be my cue to vanish.

Deja 'F'u

Once again, I was hired by a district that bent the rules to get me in, and once again I was ushered out as the plan collapsed.  I was hired under the intern credential that was only valid in the district where I worked as an intern.  I was hired under the intern credential that was only valid while I was in my internship program in 2012.  And I was released when the new credential analyst at my university pointed out that the previous analyst, the one who mentored me, approved two courses she shouldn't have, and I'd have to make them up before my intern credential expired, in two days.  I was released despite the document my mentoring analyst signed, the one stating I had successfully completed my program, and I was released without any promise of accountability from the person who signed it, and then vanished into retirement.

"But don't worry, you should feel really great about what you did in the classroom, with your students.  Everybody said you accomplished amazing things, and that you were great to work with.  Parents were thrilled with you.  One even said you were responsible for her son's new found desire to learn.  That says a lot about you."

Now, get out.

There's one other thing that occurred that's not related to education, but it occurred at the same time, and it's bigger.  The two, combined, have left me unable to feel joy, or to care.  If the sole purpose behind my existence was to help the few that I've helped, I'm honored.  I'm also done.  This existence has had its rewards, and it has depleted me in the process.  If my 52nd year holds any significance, it can be this:  This year, my 52nd, is the one that left me empty.

Cast Away

I have no plan to follow.  
I have nowhere to go.  
I have no role to fill, or purpose to pursue. 
I have no family to lean on.
I'm a perpetual castaway, without hope, or promise.

My sites are set low now. Maybe 

I'll apply at Home Depot.  Maybe

Orchard.  Maybe I'll care for the elderly for nine dollars an hour, or become an Outflow Technician.  The truth is I'll take whatever's offered, if anything's offered at all.

I made the mistake of believing in all of this.  I made the mistake of believing in Wonder, and the Soul, as if those were the things that mattered, while we're awake, and breathing.

Oddly, I had one other premonition when I was a boy.  I saw myself alone, away from culture, and people, doing my best to stay alive.  I saw myself writing.

Every time I find a bottom it gives way, and I find another.  It doesn't matter how good I am at what I'm doing, or the impact I'm having.  My journey is Down.  

My journey isn't over.