For some reason I can't explain, I know St. Peter will call my name

Saturday morning and I know it's been a long time since I've written in this space. I can feel it. When I don't write often my brain gets bogged down, heavy, and sluggish. I feel depressed and overwhelmed. I have to sit down and tell myself again all of the things I know to be true. Adulthood often sucks this way, and if I think too hard about it, I'm spiraling into a full-blown existential crisis.

Time for a Come-to-Jesus talk with myself. But first, the whining.

From the outside, my work and school lives seem pretty simple: I'm fortunate to have the opportunities of going to an expensive private school to get a doctorate degree, and as well to have the kind of work skills to make enough money to permit comfort for the rest of my life. I work most of my hours on my own time and I get convenient blocks of time off from my job throughout the year. Having said all of that, the down side is that I never leave it. I don't punch a time clock, go home, and live a separate live until I clock back in. I'm in a constant process of thinking about or planning for my job. There are always papers to grade, things to read, emails to answer, and plans to be made for forthcoming terms. I'm always scrambling for the next semester or quarter and it wears me thin sometimes. It's wearing me thin now because even though it means little or no money, I usually have summers basically off - lots of downtime and recovery from the hectic school year. I guess I always thought the trade-off for working my ass off to the point of near breakdown was fine as long as it was temporary - I can do just about anything for sixteen weeks as long as there's time off at the end of the tunnel.

Now, however, I've hit a wall and it's understandable. I'm at that point where I'm just not quite there with student life but I'm mentally ready to be and want to move on. I'm trying to get jobs lined up for myself, get my foot in a few doors to give me options, and I know this is the right thing to do. What bothers me, however, is that my fall schedule is looking pretty grim and I won't have so much as a week off before it all starts because of my insane teaching load this summer. Alas, I have made this bed and now I must lie in it.

And lie in it is exactly what I've done of late. I feel unmotivated and lazy, slightly depressed, but only because I'm not going to the gym or eating well, I've gained a few pounds, and I can't seem to snap out of it. But I must. I will. Today.

There has to be some way of making life work comfortably. Once upon a time, I was a young single mother with no place to live, no job, and no education. I should be a statistic right now - I should be on welfare and food stamps, smoking cigarettes for breakfast, living in an unsavory neighborhood in a trailer, and weighing 300 pounds and working at Taco Bell. On paper, at any rate, that should have been my life because of how I started adulthood. It was for this very reason - because no one expected me to do anything of note - that I put my heart and soul into school and became the person I am now. I wanted my daughter to have a female role model who didn't settle for anything less than what she was capable of, who pushed her way through to reach the pinnacle of personal and professional education, and most importantly, who was smart and capable and confident. That's how we raise capable and confident children. When I look at my daughter or listen to her views I am often shocked at how self-assured and well adjusted she is, especially for 14. I was a mess at that age - uncertain, insecure, brimmed over with self-loathing - but not her. She's gutsy and doesn't let anyone tell her what to do or think, and she knows she is smart and funny and pretty, but not in a self-centered way. How could I not be proud of this?

Today I'm going to get my fat ass to the gym, walk the dog, and accomplish what needs to be accomplished and try to remember why I do any of it. If for no other reason, it's better than the alternatives - all of which equal giving up, and if there's one thing someone can say about me when I'm gone is that I never did that. No fucking way.