Weak, and On Fire

Man. I'd like to believe there was a time when I responded to criticism with fiery resilience, and impenetrable wit, but I don't think I have. I think I am less resilient than I know. I feel weak, and on fire.

I just finished reading How Children Succeed by Paul Tough, and in between readings, in my unrelenting, very-human narcissism and self-deprecation, couldn't help but think of all the ways I did not have the very traits the author argues I should be teaching my students.

I don't have grit, or curiosity, or any of the character traits the book mentions as the "keys to success." My attention wanders after 15 minutes of sustained work, I more often feel burdened by work than curious about how to improve or do things differently, and I just don't feel like I am good at working hard. I know this is all self-fulfilling, and I know that right now I am writing a blog post instead of actually working — I know all these things! Despite knowing how my own mindset is affecting my work ethic, I can't help but indulge the procrastination, and the weakness.

I just want to be weak, sometimes. Is that okay? Can I just cradle myself in my own loneliness, my inability, and my anxiety for a day? Can I hang out in my own little cave of sadness, mopping the floor with my own tears? Can I let myself be overwhelmed by the slow and writhing pain of disappointment for a moment? Just a moment, please? (Why am I asking you if this is okay?)

I feel a little crazy sometimes. And I miss all of you who would answer "Yes! Yes, it's okay!" to all of my questions, because oddly enough, every time you have, I have always managed to leave the cave. To step out, into the sun, without catching on fire.