04/06/2026
My husband found me rocking on the bed.
That's not a metaphor. That's what happened.
I'd moved schools. Left the toxic department, the head who chased me back to work after a car crash, all of it. I thought the next school would be different.
And for a while, it was. I was identified as someone who could add value. Given responsibility. Asked for my opinion. It felt like being seen.
Until the day my face didn't fit anymore.
I won't dress it up. Someone younger, shinier, with higher heels walked into the department, the SLT shifted, and just like that... I was invisible. Treated differently. Left out.
That was mental breakdown number two.
And my husband, who had already held me through so much, came home one day to find me rocking on the bed. Broken. Not coping. Completely lost.
I left that school too.
At the time I couldn't have told you why I kept going. I think some part of me knew, even then, that I had value. That I was a good teacher. That this wasn't about me, even though it felt entirely about me.
It took years to be able to see it clearly.
What I know now is this: when your environment tells you you're not enough, it is not evidence. It is noise.
And sometimes the bravest thing you can do is leave.