Bad Day

This is a rant. If you don't enjoy rants, then I suggest you tune in to something even-toned and bucolic, like Michael Bolton or whalesongs. I want to be joyful. I want to be happy and enjoy The Season, as it is popularly called. But I can't. I can't because I am weighted down with the burden of dealing with all this STUFF. School stuff, home stuff, family stuff...stuff...stuff...stuff. And it's all on me. There's no backup, no substitute Mom and Teacher sitting in the wings with bated breath waiting to take my place. I have so much to do that I am imobilized. I can't think straight. I have "Christmas" stuff to do, a great deal of it begun and never finished by my husband who is out of town until Christmas Eve on a combination sales trip/visit. I wish I could see the generosity in his gesture to visit his father's friend, but where does the generosity to me and our kids start? It's like we are always supposed to do for everyone else, but it's never ever our turn to be on the recieving end. I hate sounding bitter and I hate feeling this way, but I do things for people all the time at work, at home...I am tired. And I need to think that someone gives a damn about me. But lately, it seems likes I am just the housekeeper with outside income. I am everyone's handywoman, everyone's source of solace and support, but nobody is there for me. I am really not trying to have a pity party, but I am exhausted and at the end of my rope. I nearly broke down in tears during class today. The kids were awful. They just don't care. They break stuff and throw stuff and you can call parents and send them out, but NOTHING CHANGES. And I need this job. I need it to help my kids get through college. And to pay off debts. But sometimes I fear that I will be one of those pathetic teachers that they find lying dead on the floor of the classroom. Today my heart was pounding so hard because I was so angry and disappointed with those kids that I honestly thought I might be having a heart attack. I had this horrible vision of dropping to the floor clutching my chest and having them laugh and dance around me like some bad permutation of Lord of the Flies. Scary. I wish I could be more upbeat, but this schedule and this long term are sucking any enthusiasm I ever had. I keep telling myself that I can endure anything for six hours a day. But I am beginning to think I could be wrong.