He’s taller than me when he stands on the bench, and he takes joy in jumping into my arms, wrapping his legs around mine and smiling his big smile. The problem is he is too big for me to hold. I am losing my grip as I say to him firmly, “feet on floor.” He pulls at my hair and jumps higher onto me and arches back. “Feet on floor, I can’t hold you any more,” In my panicked state I get a burst of energy and strength, walk him toward the wall and bend my knees as I set him on the bench. I almost dropped him.
I was standing, looking around the classroom, taking deep breaths. A voice screaming inside me says I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore. I know in the moment this is it. My brain is fighting itself, a smaller voice said I can still do this, but it was quickly drowned out by the negative voice. This is it. You are going to resign. And really, his jumping on me is not that big of a deal. But my bipolar brain made it a defining moment.
My immediate goal is to go home now. I approach the teacher and tell him I changed my mind, I am not okay. He offers for me to take a break, but I know this is not enough. I ask to go home. I tell him I will talk to the principal and resign. He says he will be sorry to lose me but he understands. I know he is not too surprised, since I previously told him that my psychiatrist thinks I should resign. I go into the closet, grab my coat and purse and walk out the door.
Someone played a joke on me I keep thinking. Someone nominated me for employee of the month. Congratulations! You have been nominated for employee of the month! What a joke, I think. My perception is very twisted I suspect, because in my small heart voice I know it was someone who was being sincere. Someone thinks I am good at my job. But I don’t.
I walk into the office and ask if the principal is available. He is still giving a tour to the woman I met just moments ago in our special ed classroom. I will text him when I get home.
I am in my car, driving home, and it all feels so surreal. Tears stream down my face. I just walked out on my job. This is not something the former me would have done. But I am fractured now, and I need time to put the pieces back together. I just want to be home.
The sliding glass door announces my arrival, and I exhale as I step inside. I get a text from my principal wanting to know if I am ok. I tell him I am ok physically, but I sent him an email as I am not doing well in other ways. He texts that he will check it out soon.
I get another text from him. “Wow.” But he is super supportive, saying he understands my reasoning, and do I want to resign effective immediately? I hadn’t even thought of that as an option, anticipating a grueling two weeks, but I said yes, and felt immediate relief. I won’t have to face my co-workers again. It hasn’t yet occurred to me that this morning was my last time to see my students ever again.
This is the end of my career as a teacher. There was a time I was good at my job. I even had truly inspiring moments of teaching, but not anymore. Bipolar has taken that from me. The insidious way that it crept into every fiber of my being, until I am lost and drowning in black and white thinking, assuming I am no longer capable; I am making decisions based on twisted thoughts. It starts out small, and has a ripple effect, until my whole being believes in a fallacy. I was a good teacher. I think that is a reasonable thing to say. I could have been so much better, if only my brain could bounce back at the right time. For it only takes a moment to make a decision that changes your life forever.
Moody Paper 
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