In 5 days I'll be going home for the summer, and in 5 days and 4 months I'll be coming back. The excitement of the former is currently being drowned out by the anxiety of the latter. I haven't posted anything for 6 months or so because I've worked more in these past 4 months than I ever have before, and the thought of having to do it again next year is not filling me with joy.
I taught three different classes this term. In the biz we call each different class that one teaches during a term a "prep"; so I had three preps this term. People have taught more classes at universities during a single term before, but when that's the case they often double-up: those poor souls that have to teach four or - heaven help them - five classes in a term don't have four or five preps, but instead will teach, say, three sections of one class and two of another. That's still a goddamn tonne of work, but it's the preps that'll kill you. Three is pretty much the maximum.
So this past term nearly killed me. Which is why going home for a while is going to be fun, and revitalizing, and just generally healthy. It's also why coming back is going to be so much harder.
At the same time, I have also gained some people in my life here that I care about, so leaving is even going to be a little bitter-sweet. I'm no stranger to losing people to academia, but every time I leave a place I feel as though I'm leaving a bit of myself behind as well.