Well. Guess what? Had something good happen this week and almost immediately, something horrible happened.

Good thing first :: I’ve been offered a promotion of sorts at work. Will be teaching at-risk students starting in the fall, for a year, for a grant the VP for the university received. Things are still a bit sketchy, but when I know all the details, you’ll know some of them, LOL. I felt proud, knowing that my supervisors believe in me and my dedication and my teaching enough to have me be the English representative for this new program. I felt validated even if I have my “moments” still when I wonder if people truly believe I can get the job done.

Bad thing next :: Well, I road high on the above news for about two days, and then bam, Friday, my house was broken into. I was off, taking my mom to work that night and my sis was across the street at a friend’s house. I was gone for not even 20 minutes. When I got back, the door was busted in and the ONLY thing taken from my home was the laptop, which was in my bed under pillows and a blanket.

Needless to say, I’m overly numb. Everything I’ve ever thought, designed, wrote was on that laptop. Some, many of those things were not saved because they were recent, and I hadn’t gotten around to saving on keys and cds. I will be starting from scratch with a LOT of things, and right now, I’m trying hard not to break.

I haven’t slept in the last couple of days, watching the door. The first night, we had to move a heavy bookcase in front of the broken door. I stayed up, mace and knife in hand, waiting and hoping someone would come back. We have a door now, but I still feel unsafe. Can’t sleep. When I do manage to close my eyes, I have bad dreams. Any sound has me up and running from room to room. Now, though I was ALREADY OC about checking doors and locks and keys, I’m even more so now. Every once in a while, I tear up, let a few fall because my baby is gone, so much is gone.

I’m physically tired, like somebody kicked my ass, I have tight pain in my chest, I’m just “quiet” and tired and about ready to say, “Okay, I give up. Every time I try to pull myself up by the bootstraps and make shit happen, another thing occurs to make me question whether I just need to lay down and not get up again.”

This weekend, I’ve tried to break out of my slump. Prepare myself for class this week, figure out what I’m going to wear tomorrow, study up on some Latin so I can begin my tutoring in about a week or so, read…basically do the things I would normally do if my world didn’t fall apart around me. People will say, “Now come on. Worst things have happened to people.” And I would agree. But this is me. This is now. And this is how I feel. Period.

Thing is, I’m angry, I’m pissed, I’m scared, I’m numb, I’m violated, I’m so many things, and yet, the world keeps going, the swishing sound of the hands on my clocks and watches keep moving forward, and I have to prep classes, and come tomorrow (well, later on today), I have to stand in front of my students and smile and teach, and say hi to people when really, I just want to be, FUCK THE WORLD and all the ignorant asses in it who can’t stay off drugs and keep a job and get their own shit and must steal from others (if you had a “notion” of the person who took your shit, you would say these things, too).

But of course, I won’t do that. Can’t do that because I’m me, the world keeps moving, and I’m a cog in its system, destined to move forward and let the pain and heartache accumulate until one day I suffer a massive at work, while grading essays, prepping classes, and revising an academic book because my laptop is gone and I have to work at school. *sigh* Alas.

Tomorrow, I call pawn shops to see if they have any laptops and wireless cards. Tomorrow, I teach exemplification. Tomorrow, I sit in on a meeting for online education. Tomorrow, my aunt and uncle come for a few days (more time to act like I want to be around people). Tomorrow, I say good bye to my friends for two weeks as they go to Kansas for the summer. Tomorrow, I lock the door of my home and worry that when I get back everything will be okay. Tomorrow, I hope to get some sleep and not be too scared to sleep in my bed knowing that someone was in there and touched my stuff and stole the main tool for my creativity. Tomorrow, I hope to make it through the day–each hour, each minute, each second.

Tomorrow.

And then the tomorrow after that one until hopefully, things get “almost normal” again.