Sometimes this is how I feel. Like no one is home. Like I am not at home. Like no one gets me. Sometimes this is how I feel. Lonely.
I have no reason to feel lonely. My loneliness is self-inflicted. My loneliness stems from not feeling understood, or more precisely, from wishing others would understand. Maybe these two things are one and the same. I don't know.
I do know that I wish those around me would take responsibility and act, well, like grown-ups. But, then, I know that grown-ups have often disappointed me in their actions so clearly that is not the answer either.
I guess what I really want is that people take responsibility for what is bothering them. And, yes, I am listening to myself here, too. But still, it has been a day of people telling me about things they are worried about, or pissed off about, or upset about, but they won't DO anything about it. I am tired of talking and listening to the same issues over and over. Speak up. Write a letter. Tell someone that you are 'mad as hell and not going to take it anymore'.
Maybe it is because I am teaching about revolutions and trade unions, and listening to the idealism of 14 year olds. When they are mad about something they let me know. I like that. They let me know.
So, I am letting myself know. You don't have to take this anymore. Draw the line in the sand, and stand your ground.
And, really, while I am writing this, all I can think about is my dear, dear friend whose blog said today - My son is dead. Every day she lives with those four words.
I have nothing to complain about that begins to compare with those four words.
I need to call her tomorrow, email her tonight, and make a date for tea. I need to put everything into perspective.
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