Now is the time. 2.5 years later in 2017. Looking back, the funny thing about this prologue, that I wrote in 2015 about my thoughts in 2014, was that, at this time, in 2015, my life was getting ready to change. When I wrote this blog in 2014, it was the first time I admitted to myself that I was ready to make a change. I started the mental process. In October 2015, I had just applied for a job in Kansas City that I would end up getting. That was me. I would think about any semi-large decision and think about it for years (it could be as simple as buying a TV... or dresser as documented), but then once the decision was made, I moved fast. Since that time and since my move to KC, I have been less scared of the big decisions. In 16 months since I originally moved to KC I have moved apartments and moved jobs. But more on that soon (I promise not to wait another year). For now... here is my post from 2015 describing my post from 2014.
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October 2015
I wrote this in October 2014. I never published it due to fear of someone realizing they 'had me' and realized I was a sham. Today I reread it and, then realized, it was my exact October from 2015 and it needed to be published. I needed to put this out there. It reminded me of a great quote. "You can't live the same year 75 times and call it a life."
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October, 2014
Failing.
Probably my biggest fear. Failing at accomplishing my goals. Failing at being a good friend. Failing at being a good daughter. Failing at being a good employee. Failing to living up to the expectation. That big 'ol expectation, I have created, of being Kim Greene. I have a million fears of failing. Honestly, recently I have failed at most of them.
The funny thing about failing is that it didn't look like I expected. It didn't just come all at once like the winter in Missouri. When a 75 and sunny day turns into a freezing winter overnight. It came slow. It didn't take my breath away.
Getting overwhelmed is a process for me. I am convinced I can do all things. I am a problem solver. I pride myself in customer service. I constantly say to my students I teach and who are in my program, if you ever have an issue, contact me, if I don't have an answer, I know someone who does. I will fix the issue. I do not want to burden anyone else because, I know, everyone is as equally overwhelmed. I want to be the one contact for the student. I will not give anyone the runaround. However, I what I think I can handle is much higher than I expect of everyone around me. I can take on more. No problem. It's not factual. It's not even the truth. I just really would rather put myself out than anyone else. Then, the gradual slope becomes slippery, and I hit bottom.
Over the past few months and years, I have told everyone, I was fine. I know everyone says they are 'busy' when asked a question about work. I did too. I knew my load was too much. I knew I was barely keeping my head above, but is my busy anymore than anyone else's workload?
Like I said, it happened slowly. I knew I was slowly drowning, but I didn't want anyone else to see. You know when you trip or slip and don't want anyone to notice? I did that every day. For hundreds of days. Every semester worse than the last.
And this is where my failure became my fault.
I would reach out for help in a meaningless way. I would say I needed help, but still put in the hours to accomplish what needed to be done. No balls dropped. I would constantly be checking my email on my phone, to not miss an email and leave a student or parent in stress. It started slowly with working over every lunch. NBD. I can totally eat at my desk if it means I don't come back after 30 minutes to 35 actionable emails and 8 voicemails (I hate checking voicemail). Then, there were months during registration periods where I would come in for a few hours on Saturdays to catch up. Seriously. No big deal. I kept comparing my life to an accountant during busy season. Then, the last registration period hit. I did not leave my office before 7p and worked at least four hours every Saturday and Sunday for four weeks. But it was 'busy season.' I can do this was my mantra. It will be over on September 15th (again, just like an accountant).
And then, in the fall, my slow season, my to-do list grew longer. Items never getting checked off.
I would spend my days trying to make my life easier. Automate and teach others. Plan and project. Constantly interrupted by day-to-day student issues. Nothing ever finished due to constant interruption. I was sinking. Holding my head above, but slowing sinking.
Today, it happened. I failed. I felt so great about what I accomplished Monday. And yesterday. And last week. I worked so hard. So diligently. I accomplished so many giant tasks on my to-do list. I listened to students. I advised them and, I did what I love to do so much, solve their problems and frustrations. And then I looked down at my checklist, that I had built daily for myself, and noticed items that were past their deadline by two weeks. I solved a student's issue but then asked, 'Can we count him?' like a number.
So how do you feel when everything that you needed to do is left unfinished, but you helped a ton of students?
I looked at the next six weeks of my life and realized there is no way I can do this again. I realized my program had has doubled every year I have been coordinator. The thing about growing 100% for four years, is eventually doubling a number becomes an exponential and you have not multiplied yourself.
Everyday my checklist has grown and my voicemails and emails are getting returned more slowly. I realized today that I will not be able to assist my students with the service I expect from myself. I will create more frustration with my students, counselors, parents, and principals. I have prided myself on having a frustrated student come to me and I solve their problems, and now I realize, I am creating their problems.
That was me today. It hit me. It's my fault.
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