Am I the only one who just stands in the middle of their kitchen at 10:15 AM waiting for a bell that isn’t coming? I mean, I spent thirty-six years being the person who KNEW what time it was to the literal second. I was the one people came to when the department head was being an idiot or when the new curriculum didn't make a lick of sense. I ran that classroom like a well-oiled machine, you know? And now I’m just... here. In this house. It’s Tuesday and I’ve been staring at a bowl of fruit for twenty minutes because I don't have a syllabus to prep or a faculty meeting to dread. Is anyone else just completely losing their mind? People keep saying "Oh, you must be so relaxed! You must be LOVING the peace and quiet!" and honestly? I want to tell them to shut up. Like, seriously. I worked my way up from a junior instructor to the Senior Faculty lead, survived five different principals who couldn't find their way out of a paper bag, handled every performance review with my head held high—and for what? To sit here in a cardigan and wonder if I should go to the grocery store just to have someone to talk to? It feels like I’ve been decommissioned. Like an old car that still runs perfectly fine but they’ve decided to put it in a garage forever. I’m not relaxed. I’m BORED and I’m annoyed and I’m—well, whatever. The silence is what really gets me. You know that hum a school has? That constant, vibrating energy of a thousand teenagers and the smell of floor wax and old textbooks? My house just smells like... nothing. Dust, maybe. I tried to "organize" my office yesterday and I ended up just sitting on the floor looking at my old planners from the nineties. I actually miss the stress. I miss the "Mrs. H, do you have a minute?" and the office politics and even the parents who thought their kid was the next Shakespeare. At least then I mattered. Now, if I didn't get out of bed until noon, literally nobody would care. The world just keeps spinning and I’m just... surplus. I caught myself looking at my watch today to see if it was time for third period. Third period doesn't exist anymore. It’s just... time. A huge, empty block of it that I’m supposed to fill with "hobbies" or something. I don't want a hobby. I don't want to learn how to knit or join a damn book club where people haven't even read the actual book. I want my life back, but I’m sixty-eight and I’m tired, but I’m also NOT tired? If that makes sense? I have all this adrenaline and nowhere for it to go. Am I the only one who feels like they died the day they handed in their classroom keys and nobody told them? Seriously, anyone else? Or am I just supposed to be "grateful" for the rest of my life while I wait for something to happen? I don't even know what I’m looking for. I just... I looked at a stack of ungraded papers at the library today and I felt jealous. JEALOUS of someone else's work. I’m clearly losing it. Please tell me I’m not the only one sitting in a quiet house feeling like they’re screaming underwater. Because right now, this "freedom" feels a whole lot like being invisible.