There are two weeks left of this school year in which I have responsibilities to teach, clean out classrooms, conduct conferences, and the like. (Report cards are already written, which is the silver lining now, as arduous as that process certainly was.)

I’m compartmentalizing my ass off trying to keep my mental health from breaking at the seams, because there’s a lot I need to process that I haven’t let myself touch yet, in the interest of staying functional.

I have been fighting a heck of a head cold (maybe sinus infection?) since last Thursday. It’s rendered me pretty minimally productive, which is hard for me to accept enough in order to properly rest even while sitting still. But I’m trying.

All of this to say, you know that part of a race where you know the runners can see the tape marking the finish line? Some runners find that last push getting to the end to be the hardest stretch of all. (Or so I’ve heard. I wouldn’t know. I’m not a runner; I like the idea of it but my joints would never allow it. Essentially, I don’t run unless I’m being chased, and even then, odds are I’d try to negotiate first.) Anyway, on occasion, you’ll see a runner finish the race by stumbling to and falling through the finish line.

That’s me right now. Windmill arms and all. I’m in the midst of collapse — but I’m just about to cross the finish line! Almost there!