In college, only five of us actually wanted to be teachers. the rest of the class got into it thinking it would be easy, that they would get and easy job, or any other stupid reason. I bit my tongue and tried to do my best, still.
I got a bad grade at my thesis due to the evaluators not bothering to even reading it (It was painfully obvious, they would ask puzzled and unconvinced about stuff that was carefully explained in the first ten pages). Still, since I got my teahing license, I thought I had somehow made it.
I got employed at a country school. Second grade had a rate of over 50% of students with mental retardations, as all their mother worked handling toxic pesticides, hence physical disablings were common too. Cleft palates, missing limbs, you name it.
Still, I felt empty. No matter how hard I worked, nothing coud be improved. Besides me and another teacher, nobody cared, as long as they got paid by the end of the month. I had tried my best during the second half of my life, I gave it all, and I still felt empty, and being unable to improve anything. I tried to commit suicide almost before the graduation time. I was 32.
Most of the interns at the metal hospital lasted one week, two weeks at most. I was hel dthere over two months. My first pshychologist gave up, since my logical reasoning behing my uicide attemp was pretty sound. The second one just waited for the medications to kick in.
It was not a bad thing, I sill felt lke dying, but I was able to endure it a little more. That was two years ago.
Today, medications seem to haveno effect. I'm taking venlafaxine, quetiapine, conazepam, and zipiclone. Every day gets lnger than the one before it. I've lost all my drive to teach, my drive to live, and I'm passively waiting to die of a cardiac insufficiency. Every day it gets harder to breath. My liver does not work as it should, neither . All the medicatons broke it.
At night I get nightmares I can't remember, but I recorded myself and I scream a lot. I'm looking through the windows as the day get darker, and I wish my life to fade like that. I feel guilty of failing to the kids. They loved me, even if I could not love them back. It still felt god when hey hugged me and greeted me everymorning. It was not happiness, but at east I did not feel as miserable.
I am 34.