Blog - Page 4 of 5 - Rachel What If

Leaving Teaching

How quitting my job is helping me break negative cycles.

I put in my notice to leave teaching right after spring break, and have been a mess ever since. Actually, my mental mess went from a ‘little untidy’ to something that could resemble a hoarder’s episode, with piles of trash and old food, and rare items I might want to collect.

The process of leaving teaching has been an emotional ~~roller coaster~~ wreck. There is a reason a two week notice should be only two weeks. Going through months of explanations of why I was leaving was like tearing off a very large band-aid very very very slowly. Perhaps you could understand this if you have ever had a break up with someone, but then continued to live with them for months until one of you could find a new place. Yeah, more like that.

Needless to say, I have had more than enough time to reflect on the decision, justify it to myself and others, and rationalize the many reasons for it. One of the biggest discoveries I have made, is that life is lived in cycles. (Yes, I know that is a huge epiphany I just had, but there are so many levels to learning, and I am having a hard time getting past level one.) Some cycles are necessary to sustain life, and some are like a super annoying song you can never get out of your head.

The following is an illustration of the emotional cycle I am currently in, but also hoping to break.

When excitement becomes anxiety

The feelings of panic and anxiety were quieter when I first started my student teaching 5 years ago. I knew it was normal to feel uneasy when starting out as a new teacher. If you search the internet for new teacher memes, there are plenty of references to drowning, drinking, and trying to build things while flying and being on fire. Generally, its a hilarious, hopeless, and still somehow exciting challenge to take on a classroom full of unpredictable, emotional, and eager to please humans.

But, when the feelings of panic and anxiety grow with every parent teacher conference, state testing window, and every single Sunday evening, things are out of alignment. When you are out of alignment, no amount of meditation or medication will magically move you into believing this is the right path for your life. The decision to leave was not actually the difficult part. I knew before I began that it wasn’t the right fit for me. The difficult part has and will always be the disappointment I would face from myself, my family, and my colleagues.

When anxiety becomes disappointment

Disappointment is defined as “sadness or displeasure caused by the non-fulfillment of one’s hopes or expectations,” according to Google. Interestingly, success is listed as the antonym for disappointment. (I’m disappointed in that.) Quitting my job can be summed up so far as a general feeling of disappointment. Did I say disappointment? Yes, I am so disappointed that my hopes and expectations were not fulfilled.

To be clear, this is no fault of the people I worked with, or the students and families I served. Each year, I loved my students (even the harder ones), loved the content, and brought everything I had to each day. My walls were decorated with Bigfoot references, paper airplanes, and heartfelt notes of appreciation from students and parents. The priorities in my classroom were to be kind and have fun.

My family and colleagues have all been wonderful and supportive of me over the years as well. When I say I disappointed them, I mean they have felt the discomfort of my inability to cope and make changes quickly.

Still, the disappointment is there. It’s there because I realized my hopes and expectations for teaching were unrealistic. I made up some things in my mind that education could be what I wanted it to be. That I could rise to the top, change lives, change the world. It was naive of me to think I could do all this, while raising a family, contributing to my marriage, running a business, and still feeling a sense of creative freedom and purpose each day. I know there are people out there who are crushing it in these areas. My job is not to be them, it is to be me.

When disappointment becomes compassion

The best piece of advice I have heard since leaving the classroom has been to be compassionate with myself. To give myself space and time to think and relax. To be open to whatever is next. Disappointment can be a natural part of any loss, or break up, or transition. It can also make you believe you should say no to more things. To protect yourself from further disappointment, and to be more cautious about your decisions and investments. What I have found, is that this can be a slippery slope toward depression and hopelessness.

I am so grateful to have been part of a profession of service. I will apply the lessons I learned about myself, effective teaching, and how people learn for the rest of my life. Schools are strange and unique little worlds where you can believe in impossible things, practice being empathetic humans, and discover opportunities. I don’t know how I can replace the priceless moments when a student shares something he is thinking that embodies all the hope of the future.

When compassion becomes excitement

So, now, here I am. Sitting in the library, trying to write my feelings about this huge thing I have just done but not realized. I still have student loans to pay, I am 41 years old, but I don’t really feel like it’s starting over. I am trying to combat the disappointment part by re framing teaching as an important step I need to achieve whatever is next. I don’t know exactly where this path is leading. What I do know is that it will not be in circles. I will not play the same songs over and over again in my mind, and allow my bad habits to control my life.

Excitement is the opposite of depression and a synonym for happiness, or something like that, so says lots of self help books. What am I excited about? I don’t know yet, but mostly it is that I can choose. I am in a wonderful position to choose what is next. I will say no to a lot of things because I am now more cautious and wise as a result of this life change. However, I hope I will say yes to all the things I never wanted to say no to before it.

What are you excited about? Have you made any big changes in your life? Let me know in the comments below, and thanks for reading

How a small change led to big surprises

We all know everyone really wants sweatpants to become so totally in fashion that you could wear them to every event, and be completely admired for your “unique style,” and also taken seriously at important business meetings. It’s an important goal that I fully intend to create a sweatpants style movement when I become a household name. Passionate dreams aside, another lesson was recently learned about how having the right tools is sometimes an overlooked, but critical component to overcoming challenges.

New goals, New tools

I have run 5ks, 10ks, relay races, 18 miles over rugged mountain passes, a marathon, triathlons,and obstacle course races. However, almost 3 years ago, I joined the crossfit craze and totally love it. The idea that I wanted to be able to do pullups is what motivated me to join. I knew I could do it if I learned the proper form, built the strength, and worked at it. After all this time, I am finally able to do one actual pull up without assistance. I’m still working on it. Turns out it takes a whole lot of practice and consistency to master this skill. Who knew?

I don’t really understand why pull-ups are so challenging to master, I guess it’s because you have to lift your entire body weight using nothing but your little-used upper body muscles. Oh, and there is also gravity. I could try to lose a little weight to make it easier, but that has proven to be something in the “too hard” category. Please see my previous post about the difference between hard things and challenging things. Although I am still working on this goal, something interesting has happened as an unexpected benefit. I can climb a rope. This has come as a total and complete, wonderfully blissful surprise. Surely, all the pull up practice has contributed to this success, but there is one other thing that proved to be the key to the climb: the shoes.

Running shoes are not for everything

As a runner, I was a bit picky about the brand of shoes I would run in. I have never been that girl who would spend more than $75 on a pair of running shoes. For a casual runner like me, you can usually find a great pair for around $50 or less. There is no need to drop over $100 . Getting to the point. One day, I just decided to get a pair of shoes for Crossfit. Crossfit shoes should have a lot less support. This allows you to distribute your weight onto your heels more when you lift. Running shoes vary in the amount of support that they offer, and it depends on whether you run asphalt, trails, indoors, or on a track. Personally, I generally choose shoes with a bit more support to protect my joints and lots of traction for trails and dirt roads. When my shoes kept getting caught in the jump rope or bands, I knew it was time for a change.

Impress yourself

The day came when rope climbs were scheduled as part of the WOD (Workout of the Day). There is not really an opt out button on Crossfit workouts unless you are injured in some way, and it’s beside the point anyway. The modification for climbing the rope still involves holding the rope, which is brilliant because it encourages you to give it a try and at least practice the form. It’s so powerful to put people in a position where they are willing to take a risk. With my super cute, light new shoes, I got myself into position to try a little pull. When I pushed down on the rope between my feet, they stuck! I had never been able to get a good grip with my feet before. That was truly all I needed, and up the rope I went. You can’t imagine the feeling of pride you have in yourself when you accomplish something like this.

It is such a cool feeling when you impress yourself. When was the last time you gave yourself a little internal fist bump? Sometimes its a matter of just putting the right tools in place to move you closer to your goals. Switching from running shoes to Crossfit shoes turned out to be a small shift that yielded awesome results. I’m still looking for ways to incorporate sweat pants into all of my problem solving adventures. Let me know in the comments how sweat pants have solved some of your problems. What other tools are you putting into place to set yourself up to be impressed?

Is consistency the path to success, or is it commitment?

I am kind of fascinated with tattoos. I don’t have any, but when I see people who do have them, I instantly try to evaluate what kind of person they are. What character trait do they possess that I do not? I’d like to think its commitment, but I think I am committed to a lot of things. What is the difference between commitment and consistency? Maybe I am more consistent than committed. I know I am consistent because I have exercised at least 3 times a week, every week for the last 20 years. I’ve been married to the same awesome person for 20 years. I eat almost the same foods everyday. I am probably the most predictable person you would ever meet. Just writing that made me yawn.

Stuck Between Commitment and Consistency

Commitment implies dedication. I’m not sure what this has to do with having tattoos, except when you get something permanently etched on your skin, you should probably be dedicated to it. I’m having trouble figuring out what it is that I am dedicated to. Other words pop up when you look for the meaning of dedication: enthusiasm, tenacity. These are not synonyms for consistency. I wonder if I could somehow use my powers of consistency to be more committed, dedicated, and enthusiastic. I also really want for someone to describe me as tenacious. It just sounds really cool. “That Rachel, she is tenacious.”

I already grew up. My body stopped growing automatically around 20 years ago (20 years seems to be a theme here). Still, I keep wondering why I feel like I am not growing into the person I wish I was. I do read, a lot, and I know I am getting smarter with age, or hopefully, wiser. I am slightly better at making decisions than I used to be. I am a little more responsible than I used to be. Some things have become easier over the years. Teaching has become lots easier because I do it almost every day. Unfortunately, when something becomes easier, it doesn’t mean more fulfilling. Dang it. It turns out I am one of those people who needs challenges to feel like my life has meaning, and to feel that I am still growing.

Stuck Between a Challenge and a Hard Thing

I want to be clear here, I don’t like it when things are hard. Hard and challenging are two very separate things in my book. When I think of hard, I think cement, stony, unbreakable. It makes me tired just thinking about it. There are lots of things in life I consider hard: changing other people, changing the education system, following politics in a coherent way, and lots of other things out of my control. I don’t even like the word-hard. Its not creative. If you look up its word origins, it hasn’t changed at all over time. It just means hard. Like a rock. Now the word challenging, here’s a word I can get behind. Its complex, has multiple meanings, is beautiful, and has a story. It has evolved from the ugly definition of “false accusation” to the now much more recognizable “call to fight.” It is a call to action. This word has a hero’s journey. I envision myself a warrior when I have tackled a challenge. When something is hard, I bang my head up against it until I learn a lesson and walk away.

Sometimes a hard thing looks like a challenge from a far. The closer you get, the more you realize it is probably not worth your time and effort. I know there are many who would disagree, and this could be my avoidance skill coming in to play. Its all about perspective. It all lies in what I choose to view as a challenge, and what I understand to be impossible. Ideally, there should be more challenges than hard things.

Consistently Committed

Remember when I said I was probably the most consistent person I know? Turns out, I am mostly consistent. Just because I exercise every day, brush my teeth everyday, and generally try to do the things to keep myself functioning everyday, does not mean I am consistently moving myself toward success. I have fallen into the procrastination trap too many times when it comes to doing the more challenging things every day. Its time to level up my game, and commit to my goals every single day.I

What are you going to be more consistently committed to? Do you have any tattoos to remind you of those things? I’d love to hear about it in the comments!

Why I don’t really want my kids to be happy.

Hold on, I wrote that title to get you to read this. (Hee hee, marketing trick.) Yes, I do want them to be happy, but what I really want for them is to be emotionally, physically, and financially successful.

When my kids were little, I picked up a book called The Parenting Breakthrough by Merrilee Browne Boyack.

At the time, It never occurred to me that my 4 and 7 year old would one day become grown ups. Of course, I knew they would get older, I just never truly thought about how these cute little pieces of me would one day live in their own homes, with their own families, and their own responsibilities. I just wanted to see their smiles, hear that laughter, and protect them from anything that could hurt their feelings or bodies.

Happiness
Boyack shares a highly relatable story about how she caught her son watching TV one day, when he was supposed to be doing other tasks. She writes “he looked up at me with those big, puppy-dog eyes and said ‘Don’t you want me to be happy?'” You can imagine how surprised he must have been when she responded with a prompt “NO!” She followed that with the best bit of parenting advice I have ever heard, “I want you to be righteous, productive, skilled, smart, helpful, wise, intelligent, and hard working. If you feel happy occasionally, that’s cool.”

I am totally guilty of putting the happiness of my kids before the expectations of having them do their chores. I have put away their laundry, cleaned their bathroom, or done the dishes nightly so they wouldn’t have to. They are so busy! But, so am I. I constantly fall into the trap of believing I am helping them, or caring for them, when the message I could be sending is: “I trust you to take care of yourself and clean up after yourself.” I have always known and believed that no matter how hard I try, I cannot make anyone else happy. They must choose it for themselves.

Minimum Viable Product (MVP)

As someone who loves clear, actionable steps to solve a problem, I also loved the practical advice in Boyack’s book. She broke down responsibilities I could give my kids, and trust they could do, by age. A sign of success for a four year old includes the ability to build themselves a sandwich. Knowing the ingredients, where to get them, how to put them together, and enjoying the final product, sounds like the basis for any self-help book or program I have ever read. Never-mind that the sandwich was built on the dirty kitchen floor, or that a glob of peanut butter is now mixed into the jelly. Don’t even get me started on the fact that a four year old is trusted with a knife! It’s not about perfection, its about completion. In the marketing world they call this the minimum viable product. Does it fill a need or serve the purpose? If yes, put it out and perfect it later.

I’d love to tell you that my now 17 and 14 year old are the most capable pre-adults due to the lessons I learned, and put in place, from that book. I wish could tell you that they can balance a checkbook, understand credit, make their own dentist appointments, and have started college and career planning. What is cool is they can build a sandwich. My son actually has a lot of talent in culinary arts and has crafted some very beautiful meals for us. When I think of all the skills they will need the first year, even the first month, they are away from us, I start to panic. Have we done enough? My kids are definitely more than a MVP. (It can’t be a coincidence that this also stands for Most Valuable Player). They have a lot of tools already, and I think they could probably survive. If you think about it, we are putting out our best everyday and perfecting it later. We are probably all MVPs.

Self Reliance

Honestly, I don’t know how I made it through those early years after leaving home. I wasn’t even eighteen when I wrote my mom a note saying I was moving out. I had no money, no place to live, and no job. (I just read that sentence.) Wait, should I rewrite that? What the heck? What I did have was some friends with awesome ideas about all the fun we were going to have and a strong need for independence. I just knew it would all work out, and that it was all up to me. It has taken me a good 15 years to get an idea of what that really means.

Raising kids is so hard. It takes so much courage to parent without fear of what might happen, and stick to the plan. This world is complex and confusing, and I would never want to trade the ease of my sheltered childhood for the one our kids are growing up in. Gosh, I’m scared for them every day. I am also so excited for them. Independence is not something that lands in our lap when we turn eighteen. We have to earn it. To be self reliant is to be safe, confident, and ready. Ready for all the beautiful, terrible, and heart-wrenching stuff that I hope happens for them. Life doesn’t just happen to us, it happens for us.

What ways do you raise self reliant and happy kids? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.

Mentally overweight? How writing is helping me lose the pounds.

I used to love fitness infomercials. Those marketing geniuses. They know what we want. The fitness infomercial industry rakes in hundreds of billions of dollars every year (I totally just looked that up.) Statistically, that means I’m not the only fitness infomercial watcher. Or was. As good as those commercials were, I rarely bought anything. I just loved the success stories. It made me believe I could achieve that dream. I wonder why we humans are so fascinated with perfect bodies. I no longer feel so driven to have that, mainly because I understand the level of discipline and sadness that would mean for me. I have come to accept that I am an expert at not gaining, or losing body weight. I am officially a grown up, in that I eat lots of veggies and truly love to exercise.

Confession… I am mentally overweight. Ok, to be realistic, obese. I don’t even know how much mental junk food I consume on a daily basis. Honestly, I barely even know what is considered healthy thinking. Alas, awareness is the first step toward making a change. Just like those fitness infomercials, I have found other inspiring stories of people who are getting mentally healthy, and making big changes through writing. I am more surprised than anyone at how much better I feel after starting this blog. Can you imagine jumping on the scale after just one workout to find you have dropped a couple pounds? This is truly how it feels when I finish a blog post, or carved out 10 minutes to write in a notebook. I even have developed a cute little list of C-words to describe the specific ways I have seen some of the weight come off so far.

Clarity

Stephen King said, “To write is human.” I have never thought of myself as a writer. Trying to organize my thoughts in a way that makes sense to others is about as frustrating as untangling one of those delicate little necklace chains. Ug, throw it away already. My maiden name actually means “tangled ball of yarn.” Still, I have been keeping a journal off and on throughout my life. Usually as a way to hold on to ideas and concepts I learn through reading. Writing makes your thinking visible and permanent. It reveals what you think is important, and how you view the world. Its a place to put things. The thousands of thoughts that float around in your head can be safely stored on a piece of paper, or in the “cloud.” Instant weight loss. (Kinda sounds like an infomercial :))

Creativity

I don’t play any instruments. I don’t draw, paint, design, craft, cook, or create anything really well. My son plays about 15 instruments, my daughter sings and draws. What happened? I used to sing, draw, play instruments, cook, etc. Before I had kids. I like to think I “gave” them all my creativity during pregnancy. I am such a good mom. (In my darkest moments I believe they stole them, but that’s not productive.) Then I happened to pick up the book Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert. She explains that creative living is “..living a life that is driven more strongly by curiosity than by fear.” Writing allows me to be curious and to feel creative. I don’t even worry if the writing is good. I just write. How do I know if it’s good? It feels good, that’s enough. Feeling creative feels similar to the endorphin release that comes after a good workout. I could add another C word here: Confidence. You know what I mean, right? It’s totally acceptable at the gym to be all high-fiving everyone after a hard workout. When I finish a blog post, which can be a bit of a workout, I totally do a mental fist-bump.

Courage

When I started this blog, it was just supposed to be a digital journal. I set a goal to write 500 words a day. It made total sense that this would help me get mentally healthy. Its the same as training for a race. Just run, a lot. To get mentally healthy, just write. A lot. All was well until my husband wanted to know what I was up to. He asked to read my stuff. Panic. It felt just like having someone sit on the couch and watch you while you work out. Yuck. I don’t know, its just weird. Why would I write so someone else could read it? Especially not someone who knows me. What if they don’t like it? I would have to give it all up. Downward spiral, mental obesity inevitable. Yes, I was highly dramatic. I paced the kitchen floor, and made several explanatory comments while he read a post. When he finished, I think I actually said, “I don’t want to know what you think.” I am awful sometimes. This is what is known as FEAR. Thankfully, my husband loves me anyway. He is also honest (most of the time.) I knew he would tell me the truth. When I finally let him, the feedback he gave was like being told yes, when all you seem to hear is no. I am my worst critic, as we all are. Sometimes, we need others to tell us yes, when we know it’s our fear telling us no. The love of my life liked my work. Now, I don’t really worry if anyone else likes it. It’s like eating brownies and not gaining a pound. Yes, it is.

Clarity, creativity, and courage are just a

fashion woman notebook pen — Photo by Negative Space on Pexels.com

few mental weight loss benefits I have claimed since deciding to get healthy. Overcoming the fear of sharing my writing has led to even more unexpected results. I decided to put a blog post in my Facebook community to see what would happen. People are awesome. So many friends took time to read and leave a comment, gosh that feels good. I might be a bit disillusioned, but it makes me want to keep going. I am so grateful to be on this mental weight loss journey. If I keep this up, I might be just like those tan, fit, smiling people on those infomercials with the mind of my dreams!

Want to lose some mental weight? Tell me about it in the comments below! Thanks for reading.

How to be a beginner: A girl’s guide to snowmobiling and other scary stuff.

My forearms are aching a little as I write this, and my right thumb is pretty sore. I finally got that floating feeling I think you’re supposed to get when your sled is gliding along the surface of mad powder. You couldn’t have asked for a better day. Blue skies, layer shedding heat, and stuck city. Being stuck on a snowmobile is great, as long as it’s not you. If no one is getting stuck, either the snow isn’t great, or everyone is playing it too safe (no one is playing it too safe, except maybe me.) Although my sled somehow found itself submerged a handful of times throughout the day, I still walked away from the day with a deep pleasure and satisfaction that I skillfully and gracefully (I only mumbled a few inappropriate words) made it through another fear-crushing day.

Snowmobiling scares me. In a “what if I die today” kind of way. I’m sure I don’t have to explain the many, many things you can think of that could turn a beautiful day in the back-country into a serious nightmare. Still, there seems to be a big part of me that craves this adventure. People who know me would most likely not describe me as one who “lives on the edge.” According to the Aerosmith version, I’m not. I have realized however the importance of taking risks, and confronting your fears. So, here, in no particular order, are a few things that are critical to success when beginning snowmobiling, or anything else that scares you to death.

Ride with the Big Boys…and Girls

For several obvious reasons, it’s best to do things like this with a group of people. Not just any people, but the ones who know what they are doing. My husband has been riding snowmobiles, and other motorized fun machines, since he could stand up. He speaks the language, diagnoses the problems, and inspires the competition. Most importantly, he loves it. It is a part of who he is. Words can hardly express the reverence and respect he has for the untouched parts of the world he gets to experience on a machine. These are the people to learn from. They live for and love what they do, and they do it on a regular basis. They also welcome those who are willing to try. But, you’ve got to be out for the right reasons. Be ready to fail, ask for help, and be humble enough to follow direction. Don’t let your ego get in the way.

D.B.A.I.

Don’t Be An Idiot. I know this may seem harsh, but it’s been a running joke in my family over the last few months. It’s kind of like Jeff Foxworthy’s old line “Here’s your sign.” Last week, a foot of heavy, wet, -perfect for playing in- snow had dropped overnight and I had to go to work. I was also running late, and knew it would be a long, slow drive on icy roads. When I went out to start my car, the door handles wouldn’t budge. My car was covered in ice and snow. I stomped back into the house and asked for a “little help.” My husband kindly came out and tried pulling all the door handles. I looked at him with raised eyebrows, thinking “How am I supposed to get to work with my doors frozen shut?” Finally, my 17 year old son asked if it was possible the doors were locked. What? Much to his delight, my doors magically and effortlessly opened after pushing the unlock button on the remote. D.B.A.I.

It is pretty funny when we do stupid things like my “frozen door” incident. All laughing aside, when you are in the back-country, or trying out new things, it’s best to do a little research first. Years ago, I found an article in a snowmobile magazine explaining, in detail, the steps for getting your machine unstuck. Going to battle with a 500 pound machine, waist deep in snow, can be defeating and debilitating. Aside from the right tools, and more hands, it helps if you have a little background knowledge. Because I had spent a little time reading up on a skill I would inevitably need, I am able to get myself out of some difficult situations. As I mentioned before, your going to need the help, but no one wants to do all the heavy lifting for you all the time. Don’t be an idiot.

Get New Goggles!

There’s nothing worse than fogged up goggles. On my last ride, I had to stop several times to wipe the fog out of my goggles. I tried riding without them, but it was snowing so hard I still couldn’t see the trail. “Just breathe less,” I kept telling myself. Really, breathe less? Anyway, my wonderful husband bought me a sparkly new pair of goggles, and I tried them out yesterday. I rode for about 10 minutes and was pretty happy to find that I could breathe and not fog up. To top it off, I also realized I could remove the protective film from the inside of the goggles and see clearly! I could see and breathe! Let’s not over complicate things. Remove the obstacles to joy. It could be some really simple things that are keeping you from amazing experiences and finding your talent.

I previously wrote a blog post where I discovered my need to make meaning out of every experience. Snowmobiling is something I never thought I would get good at or even enjoy. I still cry almost every time I go, but I also laugh, scream, and shout things inside my helmet I would never in my regular life. We all carry fears, rational or otherwise, that could be keeping us from our greatest potential. I will probably never be the best rider on the mountain but that isn’t my goal. I go because I know I need the adventure and the challenge. If I can do this, I can do other things, and I can inspire others to follow that path.

Would you share your fear-crushing story in the comments? Thanks for reading!

Lessons Learned from a 30 Year Veteran Teacher.

What if mothers are truly the best teachers?

My mom just got a new job. She has been teaching for the last 25+ years in a low-income, rural, marginalized elementary school. It sometimes takes her up to two hours to drive there over a rocky, four-wheel drive road. She finally bought a newer truck a couple of years ago, when her 1980 something Subaru couldn’t take the beatings anymore. She has taught every grade level and subject matter. The school has such a hard time retaining teachers and administrators that she sometimes bounces from art to 2nd grade to 5th grade in a single week trying to fill vacated positions.

I’m so proud of her motivation and drive to make the changes she has recently. While the position she has been in has been incredibly rewarding, all teaching takes a toll on people. The amount of energy, both physically and mentally, it takes to show up every day for a room full of wonderfully complicated little individuals is highly taxing. Obviously, teaching is her calling. A teacher produces lessons, manages people, models expectations, curates information, redirects unproductive behavior, builds relationships, and trusts herself and others.

Most importantly, my mother taught and still teaches me to the best and truest version of myself. As she is making this big change in her life, it has given me the opportunity to reflect on the things I am so grateful to have learned from her. These are ingrained in my identity and how I bring meaning to what I do and how the world works.

First, Get Outside

My mom has lived in a tiny house since before tiny houses were popular, but the house isn’t what matters, its the location. They live next to a beautiful little river in the country. The big windows are cluttered with several varieties of plants that have been alive longer than I have. If your there in the summer, you’ll sit on the deck, smell the sweet flowers, drink some lemonade, and dodge the hummingbirds as they fight to dominate the feeders. The deck is overflowing with my mothers flowers, so much so that if she is gone for a few days, the task of watering left to anyone else has them complaining about too many flowers (too many flowers?) I don’t know about you, but too much beauty is just annoying.

Create Something

I grew up in such a small town that if you look it up, it isn’t even listed as a town. It’s called an “unincorporated community.” I don’t know what that means. My mom divorced my dad when my older sister and I were very young. We moved away from California to this little place where apple and cherry trees were abundant, but people were not. Mom had to work several jobs to support us, and decided to go to college at 34. I really loved my childhood. She created a life for us by moving us to this magical little place. Looking back, I wonder how she also had time to work on her art. She loved to feel the sun on her skin as she carved little mosaics of glass in her outdoor workshop. It seems almost dreamy as my memories paint the picture of her leaning over her work in the warm fresh air, music playing, green trees swaying to the music she was playing in the background. It feels like freedom and peace to relive it now. Some of her work was installed in local businesses. I can’t wait to go back and see if they are still there.

Love Your Dog

When I was a kid, I was attacked by a neighbor’s dog on my walk home from the bus. I still remember begin tossed around while my leg was clenched in his teeth. I was taken to the hospital for stitches, and my injuries were actually pretty minor. When I got home, the neighbors asked me if I wanted them to have the dog put down. I think I was like 7 years old. I had been scared of that dog every day while walking home so I said yes. I later wished I hadn’t. We had a dog named Chomps that I loved very much. I actually remember having more feelings of loss when she died than I did when we left dad. Maybe that makes me a bad human. My mom has always had dogs, she has rescued homeless pups on her drive home from work. They are her partners and protectors when she is running alone on mountain roads. It’s hard to explain the connection humans have to their pets, it feels weird even saying pets. My step dad’s three-legged dog was practically the best man at my wedding and his ashes sit on their mantle. They love unconditionally. I have a dog, I love her. If you have a dog, you know what I mean.

Never Give Up

Never giving up is different than quitting. Leaving a position, or deciding to end a marriage may be viewed as quitting. Never giving up is being bound and determined for better. My mother knew we would have better lives if she left my dad. She is leaving the difficult teaching position she has given so much to, because she knows in her heart the new position is a healthier fit. Change is necessary, but horrifying. Every day can be a “get yourself together day,” as she would say, but its moving you toward better. Of course, there are hundreds more lessons I’ve learned from my mother, but the most important one is to never give up. The world is what it is. It is truly up to you to create the life you live and continue moving toward better. Thank you mom for being the best teacher I have ever had. I love you.

My beautiful mom!

Why Goals are Not about Finish Lines

What if there are no finish lines?

I love Crossfit. I just completed a workout and feel exhausted and grateful that I didn’t throw up. I used to be a runner. I have run several races of all different kinds. The most challenging being the Imogene pass run which challenges crazies to traverse a mountain peak from Ouray, Colorado to Telluride climbing to 13,114 feet in elevation and totaling 17.1 miles. My best time (out of 4 attempts) hovered around 4 excruciating, exhilarating hours. The fourth time I participated in this feat, I remember laying on the grass at the finish, wondering where the nearest hospital was, and what they could do to save me from dying. Needless to say, the fourth was my last. I’ve also run the Ragnar series twice, several half marathons, a full marathon, some triathlons, and most recently, a Spartan sprint.

Saying I used to be a runner makes me a little sad. I guess I will always be a runner in my heart, but I think my days of competing in races are behind me, aside from the annual Silverton Fourth of July 10K. Racing was the metric I used to measure my training, and it gave meaning to all that time and effort. I loved feeling like a part of something bigger, a culture to ascribe to, although a bit isolating. Even while participating in all those events, I didn’t feel enough. I never won. I never lost. No one knew me, I ran alone. I was comfortable here, until I wasn’t. Running was filling a need for me, but not the ones I really wanted to fill. Crossfit fills those needs almost every time I step into the gym, and then some.

The workout today was deceiving in that it looked doable: 4 rounds for time: 27 Box Jumps, 20 burpees, and 11 squat cleans. This is “Klepto” named for U.S. Air force Major David “Klepto” Brodeur, who was killed in Afghanistan on 4-27-2011, hence the number of rounds and reps in the workout. After the first round, I knew I would once again need to find the power in my mental space to focus and finish. “Just don’t stop,” “Just do 5,” or “If they can do that, I can do this,” are my mantras when I get into these tough workouts. These dedicated workouts present a unique opportunity to participate in something bigger than self. How else would I feel a small connection to a fallen soldier? I have a deep respect, as most do, for people who are called to serve in the military. Once upon a time I thought I would serve but my heart couldn’t follow through. It wasn’t right for me.

My Crossfit community is a model for what communities should be. People remember my name, and I am truly trying to remember theirs. I am there for myself, but also for them. When someone is struggling through, we are cheering their name. The coaches see me, they know my ability, they know when I am hiding from my goals. They celebrate with me when I PR. We all want to be better today than we were yesterday. Maybe best of all, it works.

As much as I loved it, running never helped me do pull-ups. Pull-ups are the impossible task I have held in high esteem forever. Anyone who can do a pull up, let alone any number of consecutive pull ups are practically elite athletes in my book. I started Crossfit almost three years ago, and a pull up, without assistance eludes me. Still, I haven’t given up, and to my surprise and delight, this may just be the year for me. The pull-up year. I’m getting closer. Turns out there is actually a progression for these things. You set a goal, you make progress, don’t give up, and guess what? You achieve it. My goals used to involve finish lines, now they involve pull-up bars. I don’t think I even believe in finish lines anymore.

How Perspective leads to Alignment

What if everything isn’t as bad as I sometimes think it is, or is going to be? I just finished up reconciling our business accounts in Quickbooks. I dread it every month, so much so that I put it off for as long as possible. When I finally sit down to to do it, it’s usually not that bad. I’ve been doing the books for our businesses for over 15 years, so you would think I wouldn’t worry so much about it. Today, I threw on some music and went to work. Seth Godin says, “The best way to complain is to make it better.” So true.

I’m reading This is Marketing by Seth Godin. I love inspirational writers and had no idea this would be such a fantastic read. Marketing, he explains is about creating change. Finding the problems and solving them. I tell my students regularly that they must be problem solvers in order to be successful in life. We work on complex problems even I do not know how to solve. I’m a little apprehensive sometimes that I won’t know where to go with them, but the engagement and self confidence they show when they have a solution or a strategy that works sends chills down my spine more than anything else.

“Marketing is the generous act of helping others become who they seek to become.” I actually highlighted this sentence, along with several others in Godin’s book. I haven’t highlighted anything other than scriptures and articles I had to read for college courses. This book is going to be a life changing read for me. Turns out I must be a marketer. I sell every day to the students in my classroom. Godin talks about seeing what others see in order to solve problems, create change, stop complaining, and make things better.

Seeing what others see is the challenge. We all see what we choose to see. I’m not sure how I can make things better for others yet. I know I need to be more consistent about making things better for me first. It may seem selfish to say, but I can’t help anyone if I don’t have the time, resources, energy, or talent needed to give. When your glass is full, it should inevitably overflow to those around you.

I’m starting to understand this might be more about living in alignment. I have gotten to know and have compassion for myself over the last year. If I feel anxious, disillusioned, or depressed, it could be that my actions do not agree with my beliefs. There may be a problem I don’t know the answer to, I don’t have a strategy for, or am making bigger than it needs to be. In the new year, I hope to make several adjustments based on the essential things that will uncover my ability to contribute to others in ways that will be meaningful to them, and in-turn to me. Is this marketing? Is it connection? Mostly it is just better. I want to make things better.

laptop with marketing display — Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Your Strength is Your Gift

What if I have no gifts to bring? I am a terrible gift giver. The worst. I hate shopping for others because I don’t know what they need. I also hate giving stuff that will just sit around their house and clutter their lives. Does anyone really need more stuff?

I am currently reading Greg McKeown’s book Essentialism and seeing myself in it’s pages. Throughout my life, I have been more of an observer than a doer. Just admitting that gives me a twinge of disappointment. I know I cannot be successful or fulfilled in life by being passive. Still, there is tremendous value in watching and learning from others through their actions, choices, and beliefs. Often, I am accused of being emotionally unavailable because I choose not to engage in conversations, or don’t feel the need to participate in discussions. I usually feel I have nothing of value to bring to the table, or there isn’t anything valuable on the table already.

I love to listen to podcasts and read books. I truly feel I am engaging in conversations every time I find a great book or listen to a wonderful interview. McKeown’s book validates my philosophy that not everything matters. In fact, very little matters. McKeown writes about “learning to discern what is absolutely essential, and eliminating everything else, in order to make the highest possible contribution toward the things that really matter.” It is so comforting to know that what I can sometimes view as a weakness in myself, can be a great strength. Having a strength means having something to give.

Over the last couple of years, I have learned what anxiety is and what it feels like to have panic attacks. I was first in denial about these episodes, and thought I was somehow being dramatic, or overly emotional about my circumstances. I was overthinking my life, and therefore panicking about it. Now I realize that anxiety, depression, and panic are physical responses to emotional problems. In a way, yes I was overthinking my life, but in a good way. It forced me to recognize how important it is to listen and respond to your physical responses to stress, overwhelm, and fear. These have been “wake up” signals from my body. The signal was saying “Your actions are not aligned with your beliefs.”

Essentialism asks the question, “What does this mean, and why does this matter?” One thing that attracted me to the teaching profession was the potential to matter. I need my work, my time, and my effort to matter. Education may be one of the only things that truly matters to me, aside from love, connection, and freedom. I know what I do each day with my students matters to them. I am, however, a little disoriented in the meaning my position has for me and my family at this critical time in our lives. My son will be finishing his junior year of high school, and my daughter will be beginning high school. How have I served them? Am I a resource for them? Do they know their worth and potential? What have they learned from me? What will I continue to teach them in the years to come, while they are beginning their independent lives?

I want to make a meaningful contribution with the time I have, especially to those that matter most in my life. Anyone who knows me knows I am busy. With two businesses to run, a full time teaching position, two teenagers, a home, and several other aspects of the American dream to maintain, I have officially placed myself exactly where most of us believe is “The way to fulfillment.” Filling my life with busy is not meaningful, nor is it making a contribution in the way that I would like. I will continue to be a powerful observer, see what is not being seen, and listen to what isn’t being heard. I will be disciplined in my pursuit of participation in ways that are authentic and healthy in order to give what is only mine to give.

person s holds brown gift box — Photo by Kim Stiver on Pexels.com