Under Attack

Lots of negative, hurtful, mean thoughts swirl and crash into one another as I sit here, trying to do my taxes. Nothing else in my life sets me off like filling out these forms. It's not so much that the numbers, the rules, and the exceptions make my eyes glaze over. Believe me, they do. It's just that I don't make much money considering and having to justify every little thing is mind-numbing. Each year, when I do my taxes, I end up thinking about the education I have (an MA), the amount of time I spend on my job (upwards of 55 hours a week), the amount of time I put into professional development (reading, conferences, publishing), and the amount of money I bring home (enough that I can save a little out of each check--not a huge amount but enough to create an emergency fund). All of this combined makes me feel like I make squat compared to a lot of other people who have less education, spend less time doing their job, and aren't required to participate in professional development. It's all completely and utterly depressing. Tears have already fallen once. Tears will fall again before it's all over with.

Perhaps a long bike ride will ease the pain and clear the mind.

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