Our Past

Life changes and what was once your constant suddenly becomes your past.  After this shift- whether occurring quickly or slowly-  we’re often left standing by ourselves with the sudden realization that the little things from that aspect of our life no longer require daily upkeeping.  Rather they demand to be put away and thought of again only every once-in-a-while...to be a memory of “what was” and no longer a part of “what is.”

With these shifts into ‘what was,’ the past often becomes categorized.  We take from the  fond category to plaster a smile onto our faces; the nostalgic category to warm a cold heart any time; the happy category to push a hidden laugh from our soul. I am always amazed at the powerful influence of a memory- of our past.  

For the past few months, I’ve been stuck in the betrayal memory category.  There’s not much good about the betrayal category- often the smallest of memories located there are the heaviest we carry.  This weight often greatly affects us and obviously tacks on so many other price tags. We are left feeling alone, with no where to go, waiting around for change.  Its grips are tight and rob us of not only our present, but also our future.  What a terrible trade-off: one bad memory in exchange for the many presently being made and those to be acquired later.  

We wait for change to occur in the betrayal category because we feel like the victim. We feel helpless- whether betrayed by someone else or by ourselves.  When you’re there, you are tricked into believing that time alone will clear up this memory.  “Just wait.  It will pass.  Things will change.  You won’t feel betrayed anymore.”  Hours slip into days, days into weeks, weeks into months..and yet you’re still sitting down with betrayal right by your side...waiting...counting on time, for betrayal needs time as much as you do.  The longer you believe in it, the longer betrayal has you for company.

The great thing about time, though?  It really does work.  You gain knowledge.  You gain perspective.  You gain the desire to place that memory into a new category- the broadest category- the category of “just the past.” It may be remembered, it may be forgotten, but one thing is for certain- it is no longer a memory that you choose to hold close to your heart.  When it’s no longer close to your heart, you have the ability to take a few wobbly steps away from it, towards the present.  The steps turn in a walk and eventually a run until you can look back and realize that it wasn’t the devil on your back that entire time, it was just your past holding your back.  It wasn’t all of the heavy things you thought it was- it just was. 

I can’t tell you the memory I decided to re-categorize; it wouldn’t be classy.  But I can tell you this- the day I picked it up and said, “You are no longer welcome here” was the day life became living again. The removal of betrayal and the return of hope allows so much to occur.  Hope is the lightest thing we will ever carry.  It doesn’t make us delusional or ignorant.  It doesn’t make us blindly optimistic.  It makes us trust the unknown that is life.  It makes us believe that because of where we are today, we can handle what will come tomorrow.  It makes us human.

Becoming a Student Again

Sometimes, as contrary as it may sound, you have to let go of what you love.   Sometimes it’s the only way to grow.  Sometimes it’s the only way to know.  Sometimes it’s the only way.  Sometimes, it just is.  

My first love is teaching.  I will never be able to articulate how important my students are to me.  One of my favorite aspects after graduating college has been my students.  I’ve been surrounded by outstanding friends, experiences, travels, and family, and my students have always made me laugh, think, appreciate, reflect, stay young, look back, look ahead, and live life.  You can easily look at any child and know that the entire world lies ahead of him or her. It reminds you that the entire world lies ahead of you as well, regardless of age.

With the world ahead of me, I started chasing my second love, public health.  As many of you know, I went to Kenya and had the experience of a lifetime. I ended up teaching Women’s Health and it led me down a path that did not have the option of turning back.  Last summer, I took the GRE and got into the number fifteen school in the nation for public health, the University of Illinois at Chicago.  The acceptance letter was bittersweet.  In the blink of an eye, the hours of studying, the nerve-wracking testing, and the tedious amount of time spent on the application had all joyously paid off.  The electric shock of happiness cooled quickly as I realized acceptance of this lifestyle meant leaving behind my current one.  The decision ping-ponged in my mind for months.  Could I leave something I loved so much?  What if I was making a mistake?  Would I regret leaving?  Would I regret staying?  Which did I love more?  Could I love both equally?  I was plagued by questions with no answers, and those are the worst questions that exist.  But, alas, I came to a realization.

The hardest choices aren’t the ones where you don’t know if the move you’re making is the ‘right’ one.  The hardest choices are the ones where you are leaving one love for another, so both choices are the ‘right’ one.  Just as some of us have left a lover to chase a possibility, put miles between friends to capture a wish, and have parted from family to tackle a dream, I am leaving teaching to chase, capture, and tackle a possibility... a wish... a dream.  So, with a heavy heart, I bid farewell to my first love, teaching, to pursue my other first love, public health.  Cheers, District 204.  It’s been a beautiful ride and an even more beautiful journey.

I've Given Up On Trying

As I was reflecting today on the most valuable life lessons, two struck me in particular, but I will only explore one today.  One of the best lessons I’ve learned in my thirty years here on Earth is “there is no such thing as trying.”  Did I just stop you dead in your tracks?  Does this sound counterintuitive?  How could these words come out of a teacher’s mouth?  It’s tough love, but let me explain...

Often times, I’ve noticed, that when people say they are “trying” they are not committed to “doing.” “Trying” tends to be the half-assed way of making others believe you are making progress.  It’s the victim’s cry and excuse that although things aren’t changing, it cannot be his/her fault because...well, he or she is “trying.”

Let me lay out a few scenarios:

1.  I am “trying” to lose weight. 

          No.  Either you ARE losing weight or you are NOT losing weight.

2.  I am “trying” to eat healthier.

No.  Either you ARE eating healthier or you are NOT eating healthier.

3.  I am “trying” to be a better person.

No.  Either you ARE being a better person or you are NOT being a better person.

4.  I am “trying” to save money.

No.  Either you ARE saving money or your are NOT saving money.

Get my gist?  I could name a million scenarios where people are “trying” and I am sure you could as well.  It is the middle-ground path between doing and not doing.  It’s a pseudo drug that convinces us that we’re doing something, when in fact, we are doing nothing.  Typically, I have noticed that what a person is trying to do is often a difficult task.  It requires commitment, hard work, and dedication.  It is hard to lose weight.  It is difficult to eat healthier, be a better person, and save money.  It requires a lot of effort to achieve any of these goals!  I can almost guarantee that those who are thinking, “No, there is such a thing as trying!” are the ones who try an awful lot.  Take a minute to reflect on things you’ve “tried.”  They are often things we didn’t achieve, because if we achieved them, the sentence wouldn’t be, “I tried to learn guitar,” it would be, “I learned how to play guitar.”  Don’t let “trying” be your crutch for acceptance of failure.  Let “doing” be your opportunity for success.

 As I look down at goals that I have been “trying” to achieve, I’ve decided that I am going to stop trying.  I am going to start doing.  I wish you the same.  Take a minute to look at what you are “trying” to do, and instead, do it.   

What Was, What Is, What Will Be

Lately, I’ve been reminded of how truly near and dear my friends and family are to my heart.  For a while, although I was in the room, at the same table, standing right next to a friend or family member, I wasn’t really there.  My physical self was present, my movements played out, but my heart- my emotions- they were absent.  Life, although I was living, had vanished.  I was on the sidelines, not invested, but watching, observing, gathering.  

As my metaphorical self sat, watching (probably eating popcorn with hot sauce for those of you that know me especially well), the definition of life teased my mind.  I was amused with the idea that I knew people’s past, yet I also knew their present.  I could look at someone and bemuse myself with whom I remembered them as and who they were now.  For many, who they were in earlier years was far from whom they were as a mother, father, career-driven worker...geez, just as an adult.  This comparison made me laugh, but it also made me think.  Your past is not the sole definition of who you are.  One of the blessings we have is that as we grow older, every moment suddenly isn’t current, or true, or fully representative of whom we are and who we are becoming.  That’s one of the greatest things about life.  Every moment turns into the past, and it doesn’t define our future.  We can forget it, remember it, revere it, hold it close, push it away, and do with it whatever we please.  To be able to look at life and see this two-tone color blend of past and present, to see the past suddenly start blending with the present- rather than overwhelming it- and to know that there is a girth of years between what you did and what is tomorrow is a very cool concept to unravel.  To know that what was, what is, and what will be all function together yet independently is to know that despite whatever happens, it’s always worth it.

And without the truly inspiring people with which I surround myself, I would have not realized this.  For that, I am forever grateful.