Running for Home - 57. February 18, 2022

February 18 2022

Thank god it’s the end of the week.

I’d love to say that I was great, that I handled everything awesomely, that my teaching was phenomenal, that the students loved me, but that would be a lie. It was a slog. It felt like I was trying to run the Ironman without any training. I think the students really noticed by the end of the week that I was struggling. I’m not sure if that made things better or worse.

I’m not sure what they think, really, about anything. I was kidnapped. Emma had told them that much, anyway. I am not sure whether I am comfortable with that or not, but so be it. The reality of the situation is that there are telepaths with varying degrees of proficiency and scruples all over campus, so it was inevitable that word of what happened would get out. Maybe it’s best that the information was released in a controlled way. My students aren’t treading around me like I’m spun glass, but there was this air of them being unsure about how to behave that was frustrating for me to deal with. Then again, it was really only my Writer’s Craft students that were acting much different. My other classes maybe seemed to regard me partly with a bit of curiosity and a little less mayhem than usual, but my Writer’s Craft students… I mean, they know me. They know me as well as any student who’s had a teacher for a semester does, anyway. We have a bond of some sort already. They were pretty well behaved to being with, but this week it felt like they were walking on eggshells around me. I don’t know whether to be grateful or annoyed. Both?

I guess it will be old news soon enough. I just have to keep working, keep doing my best, keep my shit together in front of them and it will all be fine. They don’t need to deal with my issues. They don’t need to know that I’m having trouble walking down the corridors when they are empty, or when they are full and people are following too closely. They don’t need to know that I find myself looking over my shoulder, just for a second, whenever I enter a room, especially if that room is empty.

Bobby doesn’t know. I mean, I haven’t told him, but I do think he’s noticed something is up. I know Jubilee has figured it out, though she didn’t say anything to me about it. I just got this stupid sympathetic look that I couldn’t stand. It doesn’t matter. There isn’t anything either of them can do about this. I talked to Dr. Sofen about it at my appointment yesterday. I didn’t experience anything like this after Iraq, so it didn’t make sense to me immediately. It’s linked to the fact that I was attacked from behind while I was kidnapped. I don’t trust my sense of space or my ability to discern danger anymore. Not completely. Not if it’s something behind me. We talked about using a mindfulness approach, to try and listen and feel but not turn and look unless I absolutely had to. I hope this isn’t something that lingers for long. I also hope this isn’t going to bother me while I’m driving.

We did end up going out for dinner tonight, me and the gang. It felt a bit hokey at first because Jubilee was treating it as some sort of welcome back thing but eventually it transitioned into one of our usual hangouts. Jean Paul avoided engaging with Bobby very much. Bobby tried a couple times to chat him up, but JP managed to deflect things without it being too awkward. It kind of sucked for me because I was sitting next to Bobby so I couldn’t really talk with JP unless Bobby was turned the other way talking to some of the others. Even then… sigh. I don’t really know what to do about this situation. I guess there isn’t really all that much to do, just let it play out. I’ll have to make sure to schedule some one-on-one time with Jean-Paul next week. Maybe on Thursday night. I’m sure by that point I will have enough things my students have done that I’ll have an excuse to hang out with a bottle of wine and some chocolate and just bitch about things, even if I do want to have a serious talk with him about Bobby. From the sounds of things, one of Jean-Paul’s classes is a huge struggle to control. Some of the students’ personalities clash, a lot of them are chatty, and there are some minor bullying issues that have carried over from the fall.

Bobby paid for my meal, which was nice. I think he still feels a bit like he owes me since I refused to do any sort of date night on Valentine’s Day. If that is the case, he should just schedule a date night for us. I sure as hell am not scheduling one, not right now, not with my head the way it is. I don't know why it feels like it is okay if Bobby schedules it but not if I do. I guess I just… I don't trust myself, as stupid as that seems.

I had a steak, rare and bloody, in a cognac brie sauce with some garlic mash and asparagus on the side. Bobby pigged out on a rack of ribs. It was expensive, but it was a ‘special occasion’, after all. We shared some crème brulée cheesecake for dessert. The steak was decent, but the cheesecake was an oral orgasm. I almost asked the waiter to bring out a second piece for us, but I was stuffed.

I probably ate too much, but I don’t really care. It’s not like I can’t stand to gain some weight back. Although I didn’t lose too much weight while I was captured, since Dom fed me okay, I did lose some muscle mass. I started back in the weight room on Wednesday. I have a Danger Room session booked for the late morning tomorrow. I’m going to be good and not overdo it. No nanoflames, no major creations. Cecilia gave me the okay to start back with it, but I feel insecure. Not about my ability to do those things, or that I’m going to pass out or something like that… I just… sigh. I’m worried I’m going to go in there and have no control - not control over my powers, but control over how destructive I am.

I’m entering the angry phase of recovery. I’ve been feeling flashes of it this week and I know it’s going to get worse before it gets better. I talked about it with Dr. Sofen for a bit yesterday, after we addressed the looking behind me syndrome. I am worried, really worried about snapping in the classroom. I am not talking about just an above-normal level of bitchiness, but me having a complete meltdown. One of my students in the junior lit course, Quentin Quire, is a total brat who thinks his shit doesn't stink. He’s supposedly incredibly smart, but he's so goddamn indolent that it barely shows in the classroom, neither in his work nor his attitude. He’s a bully, too, and he has his little posse of yes men backing him up - the Cord twins, Christian and Christine, and Vincent Stewart. They were okay this week, but I could tell they are going to be an issue just from this week. Piotr and Rachel confirmed my suspicions tonight.

Quire was getting on my nerves all week. He’s that kid that has to be the centre of attention, who can't do quiet work, and having his friends there only makes it worse. I am not sure whether they are better off sitting together like Paige allowed, or whether I should break them up and just rearrange the seating plan of the entire room to accommodate that. I don’t know whether having them contained in a small space or spread out will less disruptive to the students immediately surrounding them and to the class as a whole. Sigh. Something to ask Emma about. I bet Jean Paul would also be the best person on faculty to ask about how to he does seating plans to deal with these kinds of issues. He’s impatient and bitchy enough, kinda like me. I probably could learn a lot from him about how he deals with some of these situations. He's been at this gig long enough. Then again, I should probably shop around. Maybe Piotr, our gentle artistic giant, will have some ideas for a softer approach.

I have to deal with this, though, and be proactive. I can't wait until something happens. If I do, I know what’s going to happen. I will be standing there, right on top of Quire, screaming and yelling myself hoarse while the little shit stands there trying to pretend he's not smirking. I will be fighting with myself to not torch the little fucker and his loser friends, fighting with myself to not ask Emma to give the stupid kid a psychic lobotomy.

And I will lose all credibility.

This is different than how I responded to Julian. That was me being fed up with bullshit from a kid that is an asshole but someone actually good in his heart of hearts. With Quentin, I am not so sure. There was a moment this week when he heckled something to annoy me. It was innocent enough on the surface, but deeper down it felt like it was laced with this trace of malice, this utter contempt… I need to talk to Emma about him. I am sure she wouldn't have placed him with me if she didn't think I could handle him, but all this class assignment business was all done before Dom kidnapped and violated me. I need to know. I need to know if he’s a project of hers, if he is here because she wants us to change him. If he is here because he’s too dangerous to be in the outside world as he is.

I need to know, because I don't know if I can handle this. Not right now. There is something about this kid… he makes me nervous.

I feel like such a pussy.