You weren’t there, and I felt calmer. The group as a whole felt more calm, more in touch, and I’m mostly sure that’s just my imagination. Or maybe not, because others have validated these thoughts at times too.
But I can tell you that class today — for me — felt less like pushing and more like existing.
The rational part of my brain always tells me: your vocal need to prove you don’t care is really not about me, and that your frustration with school is not about me, and that your pull to distract my attention and disrupt the learning process is just not about me.
And I believe it, I believe it — I do. I know you even like me. But what I also know to be true is that every single goddamn thing that happens in my four walls is personal. It is.
I didn’t know the anger was there. But there it is.
I feel for you. Your humor comes out at times and I appreciate you when this relaxed side shows. I even understand that school has you constantly on edge, guards fully mounted, and the humor is often replaced by mean. I see you: your efficacy is low, your learned-helpless behaviors are high. I feel for you.
But between the mean and the disinterest and the disrupting, lately the bending over backwards to help feels more like enabling.
I’m at a crossroads. We’re both there. You have choices to make. And I wish you could have been in class today and could have felt what this path is like.