I remember Kindergarten.
Correction. I remember exactly one lunch recess where I was playing tag and pushed a boy off some wooden play structure. He ended up breaking his arm… my bad. But I distinctly remember when my red curly-haired teacher who was on supervision carried him from the playground to the office and it was in that moment I thought she was the strongest person I knew and I decided I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up. I was in awe that someone carried a kid my age, because I obviously didn’t get held much at home anymore, but also that a relative stranger would o easily embrace someone else’s child. I never thought it was possible, yet I thought it was so beautiful.
Things have changed by now. Oh I went straight after high school and started University to get my teaching degree. But I sucked at it. Actually I just no longer cared. I skipped 60% of my classes and didn’t turn in a single assignment. I was put on academic probation my first year (which I told my mom was due to my seizures, actually she pretty much thought that up all on her own). Part of that was maybe true, but more honestly, I just wasn’t feeling it. I was only doing it because I felt it was “the right thing” Not the right thing as in it felt right, but the right thing as in I’d been telling everyone I wanted to be a teacher ever since I was like 5 so I’d only be lying to myself if I changed it after so long.
But is it fair to decide what you want to do for the rest of your life when you’re a child? And then to be held to that standard because “Oh you’d be such a good teacher” and “well you’ve always wanted to be a teacher” were phrases you’d been hearing for the better part of a dozen years? Only to realize 3/4 of the way through my degree, that I would be a terrible teacher.
I would be fine if it actually came down to it, I mean I could do anything, let’s be honest. But I just really, really, really didn’t want to do it anymore. So here I was 3 years out of a 4 year degree, that had taken me about 6 years to get this far, between saving for school and marriage and travel etc, and I decided I was done.
Probably for the best.
All those little kids are better off with all those kind, caring, thoughtful teachers anyways.
So I quit. It may have seemed like marriage was the issue. Or becoming a mom was the reason. And it was a major reason. A major excuse in the very least. Once I had my own kids I became more honest with myself in that I really didn’t want to teach other kids all day and then come home and still have more left of me to give to my own kids. I think I was looking for a reason to quit and my kids and my life situation in leaving E gave me that. It gave me a reason to start fresh.
It gave me a chance to start school again. And find a career that makes good money yeah, but I’m still not feeling fulfilled.
It’s hard to take risks when I have two little kids depending on me. Not that I know what risk I would take if I could, but I’m just saying I kinda feel like I’m in the same rut I was in after high school. I’m just doing what I’m doing because it was what was “best” for me. It seemed “smartest”. It seemed like the “right” move. But I don’t know if I’m being authentically C.
I don’t feel happy.
I feel like this life was chosen for me when I was a child and I’m just going along with the flow. But I don’t want to anymore.
If I was more honest. More true to me, I would say I want to travel. I want to write. Books. Music for others. I want to remain nameless. I never want to be famous. I want to be happy. I don’t want to work under anyone, but I want to have freedom in my expression.
But I’m scared. Because those steps don’t seem easy. The steps to be that person haven’t been planned out since I was a kid so I don’t know how to start it now.
So I’m nervous and scared.
Lazy and very unsure of what to do to become the person I think is the true C.
Because I’ve never been her before. So what if I fail?
What if the steps I take are wrong and instead of becoming a more successful version of me, I fail and therefore I’m further back than I am now?
I’m not that person. I don’t take those risks. I’m the type of person who follows plans I made when I was 5…. just because plans are plans, and I don’t know how to deviate from that.
What if I make new plans and become even more unlovable than I am now?
That’s my greatest fear.
To make new plans that fuck up my life even more than it already is. Because I’m barely holding on as is.