Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

My go-to for relieving the annoyance that comes with reading the final drafts of some student work is wrapping my favorite knit scarf around my neck, putting on my quilted deep green coat, then donning my boots to head out for a walk. So far today, I've needed two walks. I simply don't understand. During the last sixteen weeks, I've repeated some very basic information. Still, I get essays that don't demonstrate the student heard what I was saying (or even read the information as much of what I said was also offered in writing). After I give a failing grade for not following directions, I receive an email asking why the paper didn't pass. I then have to take time explaining, usually to a student who didn't attend class on a regular basis, which resulted in the student not hearing what I was saying and the student not going into the folders where the information was provided in writing. These students wear me out. Over the last fifteen years, much has chang...

Back in 2012, after returning home from two months on the bike, I began thinking about living a car-free life. After all, I'd just spend 60 days without a car. I'd ridden a bike up mountains. I'd ridden a bike during downpours. I'd ridden a bike for hours under a sun pulling every ounce of moisture out of my body. Surely I could continue riding my bike for wherever I wanted to go once I settled back into life as usual, right? Nope. In fact, in July 2015, I bought myself my first ever new car. Well, it was used at a year old, but to me it was basically a new car. It only had 14,000 miles on it. The interior and exterior were pristine. It was mine and mine alone. No one else would be driving it. The first year I put around 5000 miles on the car. The second year I put another 5000 miles on it. Last year to now, since I began letting Funny Delightful Son drive it to work and wherever else he wanted to go, another 9000 miles have been put on the car. Even at the ...

I have found myself fumbling about, grasping at trying to become motivated to do something. Anything. Just do. For several weeks now, I've not been able to convince myself to shed the dispiritedness that has taken hold. I do enough to get through my days, completing the tasks required of me at work, but even those are done less than half-heartedly. I desperately want to move past whatever this is making me feel like my whole body and mind are trudging through mud. Yesterday, my husband tried, again, to convince me to stay. He'll get a job. He'll fix this financial issue he created. He'll take walks with me and Ado. He'll do all kinds of things if it means I will stay. I want him to become a better version of himself, but I doubt that me staying will make that happen. And I think this because as we talk, woven between what he'll do to make things better are comments about how the reason we are where we are is my fault. Perhaps I am the reason we are at the po...