Monday, 8 October 2012

"Non, je ne regrette rien."

I had to say enough today, and it nearly made me cry.

"Right," you say.

Emotional weirdo, you think.

And you'd be right, if I meant that the word made me sad, but it isn't, so those of you who were googling synonyms to try out next time you see me, it won't work. 

I had to give in my notice for teaching today. Which will sound bizarre, because if you know what I've been doing over the summer you'll know that my face lights up when I mention my job, and that I will happily talk your ear off about how clever my pupils are and how they're doing at school. It's my joy.

But I'm back at university, which is like a full-time job in itself, and doesn't leave room for prepping my own lessons or coordinating with teachers to support the kids outside of school. As much as I love this job, I will not be giving my best to either uni or work if I try to do both.

Enough is a lesson I have learned the hard way. Basically by getting to the point where I was like a piece of dough which had been worked too hard and stretched too thin. I lost everything which kept me flexible and able to just take stuff on. I sagged.

It didn't become any easier to say it for a long time. Oh, I was slowly learning the when, but it still felt like a failure when I had to say enough.

I felt like I was saying, "I'm not enough. I'm not good enough or big enough or clever enough or together enough to manage everything."

And actually, I'm pretty sure that the attitude that comes with never saying enough is something many of us have.

I can do this.

I can manage.

Scraping by isn't healthy. Somehow managing to fit everything in because, let's face it, there are technically twenty-four hours in the day is not looking after myself, the many things I've committed to, or letting you see the best of me.

I wanted to give my best to everything I did. And I wasn't. I was sleeping on average three and a half to four hours a night, forcing myself to get up and get on and everything started slipping. Nothing was my best. Nothing was right.

So yeah. Just that one word.

Finally being honest. Recognising that I am human and fallible and that that is, actually, very okay. That people won't suddenly turn away on finding that fact out.

There is an awesomely amazing verse of which the truth of hit me like a wet mackerel to la visage.

"The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. 
He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, 
he will rejoice over you with singing." ~ Zephaniah 3:17

I don't need to worry about having it together all the time because the biggest thing has been done for me. The perfect man was enough to save me. Boom.

I don't need to worry about disappointing people by not having it together all the time because he delights in me. For some mindblowing reason, God is happy I'm alive. As in, a daddy going into his little girl's room and standing in the doorway with a massive grin on his face just because, and not for any particular reason.

With these revelations, I've now got time to learn origami. (Which also happens to be about as an extreme a sport as I can manage at the moment which doesn't put undue stress on my wrists, knees, hip or back.) *snicker*

Badly, of course. It took me more than half an hour to graduate from folding the perfect square. (And for those of you who don't understand what that means, it's like step ZERO in origami.)

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to fold an owl.

Well, to try, anyway.

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