Fuel on the fire
Fear and shame have a feeling of insidious tendrils, twisting and winding their way through the cracks in your wall of identity, forcing it asunder and exposing the inner, small, worthless you to the world. It is these times that I cling to the small beauties of life: rays of light flooding from holes in cloud-darkened sky, a side comment from a well-meaning friend that reminds me of my worth, a pleasant greeting from a feline who knows nothing but affection and trust. As the semester lurches onward, my duties spiral into near untenable heights, but the joy of seeing students make those connections–I see it every single day–slakes my thirst and invigorates me even when I am sitting in the driveway after an hour’s commute, ears ringing, head stuffed with cotton. Love propels me forward, knowing that there is another day and another chance to do better. To pick up in the here and now the threads of obligations laid aside in the triage of yesterday’s panic.