Summer—a time most teachers eagerly await: the mental break, , sleeping past 6.30am, the sunshine, beach trips, and endless social activities. But for me, summer is a fucking prison sentence. While others bask in the costa del fuck you, I’m trapped in a cycle of depression and anxiety. The longer days, the pressure to entertain my kids, and the financial burden of holiday expectations all weigh heavily on my mind. Instead of enjoying a break, I’m overwhelmed, unmotivated, and consumed by a feeling of being stuck, unable to escape the monotony, and not worthy of the good things and people in my life-I’m a fucking let down. The expectation that summer should be a time of joy only amplifies my malaise, leaving me feeling even more isolated and lost and damaging family connections amplified by the fact that my wife and kids, and seemingly everyone else in the world, lives for the summer!
Problem
When summer arrives, having spent the last month or so in intolerable and disgustingly hot classrooms, necessitating a shirt change by lunch, I break up to weeks of shit British weather. It’s not just the persistent overcast days that become unbearable—it’s the crushing weight of anxiety and depression that intensifies. The world outside is rife with energy, but inside, I’m struggling to find the motivation to get out of bed, to smile, to talk… I want to hide… I want to hibernate and wake when it’s all over, and sometimes not at all. The high cost of summer holidays means I’m self confined to the same four walls, feeling like I’m missing out on life. The guilt of being trapped with the kids, unable to provide them with the summer experiences they deserve, eats away at me. It’s a vicious cycle: the more I try to shake it off, the deeper I sink. The societal expectation to enjoy summer only adds, making my struggle feel even more suffocating. I take actions that worry my family; I leave family WhatsApp groups, I withdraw, I struggle to keep up with my gym routine, I let toxic news from right wing trash like the telegraph, gb news and twitter penetrate my usually strong barriers. I buy shit looking for that adrenaline kick I need, I consider just going out and getting shit faced, I encourage my wife to go out, to make plans and go and enjoy the summer “I’m fine, don’t woory about me” (it gives me the dangerous solitude I crave and makes me feel better that she isn’t trapped with me). I want attention from men/woman; to at least feel attractive and elevate my low self esteem, perhaps into believing I’m not a worthless existence and someone sees a least one attractive, albeit superficial quality. I dwell on the hopelessness and monotony that is life for me, and the idea that perhaps others are better without me. And, to top.it all I have “keep calm and carry on”, “let’s have a pistivie time”, “now no moaning, you are stronger than that” boomer parents who grew up in a time where you could buy a house, car, get fucked on ket, coke and beer, hire two high class hookers in vegas and still have change from a tenner, not to mention retire at 40 on a 50k a year pension.
Causes
Where do I even begin? First, I think there is a lot of childhood trauma that amplifies this but let’s skip that (even though I just mentioned it above) because this is an educational blog, and I want people to read to the end without wanting to top themselves (not the time?) So, there’s the unrealistic expectation that summer should be a time of endless happiness and relaxation. Everywhere you look, life is flooded with people having the time of their fucking lives—vacations in the SLT infested Balearic Islands, barbecues, festivals, beach days. Snoop dog getting paid 90 billion dollars to wank at the beach volleyball, Tom Cruise jumping off something with a face stiffer than my cock in my twenties., Raygunn living her dream, doing her own thing FUCK THE HATERS! It’s as if there’s an unspoken rule that if you’re not enjoying summer, you’re doing something wrong. Then there’s the financial strain. Summer holidays come with a price tag, and if you’re not rolling in cash (slt or academy leadership), you’re stuck at home, watching Schitts creek again, seeing everyone else live it the fuck up. I Google to see how much I can earn on only fans wanking for ex news readers…not much! (insert adequate pause to emphasise a necessary contextual change) Add kids to the mix, and the pressure multiplies. How do you explain to them that while their friends are off riding dolphins and getting early onset diabetes at an all inclusive , they’re stuck at home because we can’t afford it? Urgh… Maybe it’s the sudden stop in routine, the chance to breathe … “What the fuck is this space….how do I cope? Why isn’t there a member of SLT telling me I’m not good enough?” Maybe it’s the lack of Premier league football (I know that sounds lame but I get at least some joy out of seeing at what point in the season my team has no hope of beating Finance-chester city) . And let’s not forget the physical toll—long, sleepless nights where the mind races, turning small worries into insurmountable problems; waking up at 4.30am at the only time of year I can actually get a lie in!. It’s a perfect storm of expectation, financial stress, and mental exhaustion, all amplified by the relentless shit weather (presently I’m camping in the UK, our second camping trip and again rain is expected every single fucking day… Where the fuck is the desert heat I was promised in every single dystopian fucking fantasy of the last 50 fucking years? Fuck you Ballard!)
Effects
This summer I have had two anxiety attacks having not had any since last summer. My stomach is constant butterflies , my chest tight and it’s difficult to calm. I read books about it, I listen to the fantastic Diary of a ceo podcast in the hope for some nugget of wisdom that can help. Sadly, money or the lack of, feels like the laregest factor to the point where sticking a tenner on ‘May the horse be with you’ for the 4.15 at Aintree is increasingly attractive. The impact of the struggle is profound. Depression and anxiety don’t just ruin your summer—they invade every aspect of your life. The lack of motivation means basic tasks become monumental challenges. I struggle to concentrate, I struggle to focus, and the more I try, the more futile it feels.. I can’t even get through a film. I paint walls, literally out of boredom, a positive byproduct driven by catatrohising that our next mortgage renewal will be rejected due to interest rate rises, meaning we have to sell the house. Side note : My present calculations tell me that the recent 5.5 percent pay rise announced for teachers would result in our mortgage renewal only costing us 20 quid extra each month, rather than 200. (Thanks Liz you fucking thick , selfish twat!) The beautiful kids, my amazing wife, my family feel the struggle too—they sense my stress, my frustration, and it affects them. I’m less attractive. I’m loved less. They miss out on the joys of summer because I’m too trapped in my own head to move. The guilt is overwhelming, creating a toxic feedback loop that only deepens the despair. And then there’s the loneliness—while everyone else is out getting sucked off on sunbeds, I’m stuck in the shadows, feeling more isolated and disconnected with each passing day. My wife is the most amazing person on earth, she doesn’t deserve this, her life could be so much better without me. Furthermore, It’s not just a bad mood that consumes me—it’s a pervasive sense of being trapped in a life that’s slipping out of control amplified by the impending doom of the return to a classroom of junior Tommy Robinsons, Tates, Trumps and Musks and more profoundly , the school leadership that creates them.
Solutions
How do I escape alcatraz? I write this knowing full well it is near impossible to follow my own advice. First, it’s time to lower the expectations. Summer doesn’t have to be a whirlwind of excitement—it can be about small, manageable joys. Instead of feeling guilty about not affording a big holiday, focus on what’s within reach. A picnic in the park, a walk, a bike ride, swimming, a movie night, or even just a walk can be enough. Next, reach out for help. Whether it’s talking to a therapist, joining a support group, or just confiding in a friend, don’t carry the burden alone. Talk to your partner, if like Obama advised and you married someone more intelligent than you, like my wife, they are amazing at listening and helping . Self-care isn’t just a buzzword—it’s essential. That might mean setting boundaries, saying no to overwhelming commitments, or simply taking time each day to do something that brings a bit of peace or self care, whether it’s reading a book, sitting quietly with a cup of absynthe…I mean tea, rocket league or a sly wank in the gym showers. Futhermore, GET THE FUCK OFF SOCIAL MEDIA: Instafuck, facefuck, fcuk-toc, musk-media , whatever the fuck it’s called now. Finally, remember that it’s okay to struggle. You’re not alone in feeling this way, and there’s no shame in admitting that summer isn’t always a magical time; it’s a bit shit, it’s lonely…that’s ok. By acknowledging the struggle and taking small steps to address it, you can start to reclaim your summer—one day at a time. Move, socialise, talk, make plans, celebrate small wins : today I got out of bed, made a coffee, pushed over a small annoying child in tesco while no one was looking.
Conclusion
So yeah, maybe summer isn’t the paradise everyone pretends it is. Maybe it’s just another pressure cooker in a different costume—no fucking lesson plans, but all the same expectations to perform, smile, and be “grateful.” For some of us, it’s survival, not sunshine. And that’s valid. It doesn’t mean we’re weak or broken—it means the system, the culture, the timeline, the fucking weather, and the economy are stacked against us. If you’re in the thick of it, know this: you’re not a failure, you’re not alone, and you’re not wrong for feeling this way. You don’t have to fix everything. Just get through. Talk, move, breathe, push a trolley into an arsehole on purpose—whatever keeps the dark at bay. Fuck summer. But also, fuck the idea that we’re supposed to be fine just because the sun’s out. You’re allowed to struggle. You’re allowed to say it. And that, right there, is how we start taking a bit of power back.
