. . . which is merely to report that there are problems--some problems--with my online courses. I am not, however, freaking out. It's a part of my new personal non-freakout policy. At this late date, and at this advanced age, it has finally occurred to me that my freaking out upsets people who care about me, and, moreover, people that I care about. So I'm quitting. Cold turkey.
I have not freaked out upon the following occasions, when:
1. I realized that the wrong section of my composition course was associated with WebCT, which meant that the e-mail I had just sent to all my students would make no sense to them.
2. one of the speakers in our living room stopped emitting sound.
3. probably some other stressful occasions I can't exactly remember right now.
Part of the problem is, apparently, I've been a big enough freaker-outer in the past that I can no longer utter even the tiniest little shriek without my offspring swarming all over it, telling me to calm down. "I'm calm," I say, in a calm voice. "No, you're starting to stress," they rejoin, which of course makes me want to Freak. Out.
No more, I say. Life's too short. I am going to practice the breathing and the counting to ten and the "life's too short" speech. Then I am going to lie down, possibly cry a little, or shriek into my pillow. Then breathe and count some more.