entry four

 Sunday 3/2/25 

Even though today was supposed to be a day of rest, it didn’t feel like one. The weekend disappeared in the blink of an eye. I’m left feeling like I barely had time to catch my breath before diving back into another long week. I stuck to an early bedtime both nights (before 10:00pm), thinking that prioritizing sleep would help, but it didn’t. My body refused to let me sleep in, as if it knows the stress that’s waiting for me on Monday and won’t let me escape it. Instead of feeling recharged, I woke up with my heart already heavy with anticipation for what’s ahead. 

Burnout isn’t just something I feel at work—it follows me, even when I’m off the clock. Today, it showed up in my inability to relax, my struggle to focus on anything enjoyable, and the tightness in my chest every time I thought about the week ahead. I found myself mentally rehearsing conversations and thinking about upcoming deadlines (two annual IEPs, two initial IEPs, IEP report cards, and parent conferences). In all, I am dreading the exhaustion that I know will hit me by midweek or sooner. 

To ease some of my stress, I took my dogs for a walk to the park today. The crisp air helped a little, giving me a moment of clarity before my thoughts started racing again. Journaling has allowed me to put my worries into words, but it didn’t take them away. The reality is, no matter what I do to prepare myself, the demands of the job will still be there, waiting for me like an unrelenting tide, pulling me back in before I’ve had the chance to catch my breath. I already feel myself drowning. I keep telling myself that I can only do so much, but it’s hard to accept that when it feels like “so much” is never enough. Tomorrow will come, whether I’m ready or not. And right now, I’m not. 

 

The Countdown to Monday

The weekend was a blur,   

fleeting, a half-formed dream   

that slipped through my fingers   

before I had time to truly breathe.   

 

I woke today with the weight of the week ahead,   

the list of tasks already piling,   

the faces of my students   

etched in my mind,   

each need, each moment,   

waiting for me to show up again. 

 

I can feel it in my bones,   

the tightness in my chest   

as I try to push away the thoughts,   

the fear of not being enough,   

of falling short,   

of the exhaustion that never truly ends. 

 

I want to rest, to forget   

but my mind won’t stop spinning,   

the clock ticking loudly   

as it counts down to Monday. 

 

I walk, I breathe,   

I remind myself to slow down,   

but the anxiety lingers,   

a constant hum in the back of my mind.   

Tomorrow will come,   

and I will face it,   

but right now,   

I just want to be free   

of the noise.