The air is warmer, the days are longer, the trees are budding--and I am freaking out!

It’s March 14th.  That’s mid-March.  The month of March is halfway over.  April is quickly approaching, and then after that, May.  My year-of-writing-a-book, my year-of-creating-a-better-life, my year of finding-a-new-career–it’s almost over.  In five months I will be getting ready to go back to my classroom.

I don’t want to go back to my classroom in five months.  I don’t want to go back at all.

Last night while wandering around Target (a great use of my time, I know) I made the mistake of picking up a book called The Happiness Project.  It’s a book–written by a real woman who actually finished her book (unlike me) and had it published (obviously)–about a year-long self-created project wherein the author made conscious decisions and followed a logical plan to live a happier life.  And as I stood there in the florescent light of the Target book department, I had a mini nervous breakdown.

What have I done with my year?  I didn’t follow any wisdom of the ages.  I didn’t find a higher power.  I didn’t circumnavigate the globe, I didn’t start volunteering, I didn’t clean out all of my closets, de-clutter my laundry room, or start eating whole foods.  Hell, I didn’t even lose the twenty pounds I know I need to shed.  And, worst of all, I didn’t find a new career.

And so, as March 15th approaches, and the 16th, 17th, 18th and beyond all roll slowly past, I’m beginning to feel a bit desperate.  I need to find something else to do with my life.  Something that will make me happy.  Something I am good at that I can do in exchange for money.  Is that too much to want?

 

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