Moving Away? (GBE2 #116 Topic: First Steps)

I have a huge decision to make.

I want to make a gigantic change in my life.

I want to move.

 

 Not just around the corner or up the street.  Not to a nearby town or city.  Not even to a neighboring state.

I want to move ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY!!!

( Portland Baby!! My My dream wedding here I come!!!)

If you know me...or you've read this blog...then you may know that I've been having a love affair with the city of Portland for years.  Once I visited, the deal was sealed and I've wanted to be there ever since.

We've discussed it in the past.  We planned to move when all the kids were out of the house.  But recently, we've started feeling antsy...like a BIG change is just what we need.  

We've devised a plan.  We have a tentative date picked out.  Most importantly, we'll actually have the money to do it!  

Some of the kids are excited.  Some just flat out don't want to go.  I'm torn between making them happy and making one of my biggest dreams come true.  I'm torn between doing something terribly exciting and keeping things comfortable.

What if I can't find a job?  What if all the money runs out before we really get a handle on our new life?  

What if everyone hates it and they all resent me forever?

What if we all die from dysentery on the way?

What if?  What if?  What if?

I'm not taking this decision lightly.  I think about it every single day.  We talk about it constantly.  I keep telling people " I'm not comfortable with saying that we're actually going...but man, I sure want to..."

It is such a scary idea.

I'm so confused.

I guess for now we'll keep talking...researching and dreaming...working out the kinks in our plan.

Until...hopefully...we're ready to take the first step.

Strenth of Character (GBE2 #58--Topic: Strength)

In the original GBE, one of my first posts was about pet peeves.  One of those peeves was when people pronounce the word 'strength' (or length) without the 'G' sound.  The sound of a person saying "strenth" or "lenth" can make me cringe like nails on a chalkboard.

Now, I realize that the pronunciation of these words is a regional thing.  Whether we use that g-sound in those words mostly depends on where in this country we've spent the majority of our years--much like whether you call your sparkly carbonated beverage soda or pop...or even just a coke.  It might be a peeve of mine but I understand that it's not wrong and I've never meant any insult to those who feel that G is silent.

But there's a reason why it's nails on a chalkboard for me.  And it has nothing to do with the words themselves...but rather the first person that I'd ever encountered that pronounced those words in that manner.

Mrs. Angerame.  My ninth grade math teacher.

Math has never been my strong suit.  Even as big a nerd as I claim to be, getting a passing grade in math was always a struggle.  Despite this, I'd been accelerated a year ahead in math since the sixth grade.  In my freshman year of high school, I was taking tenth grade math, which in New York State in the early 90's, meant geometry.

I was lost.  Not just lost in math....lost in just about every aspect of my life.  All my friends had deserted me (there is a post about that somewhere...) and my father had just died.  I spent most of my free time eating, writing, listening to music and eating some more.  My studies were lost in a sea of procrastination.  Looking back, I can plainly see what a mess I was...but at the time...well it just felt normal

When grades came in, my mom was displeased.  I needed to get back on track.  I needed to get serious.  A 30 in math was not going to fly in our family.

I went to my teacher.  I asked her if there was a time before school started that we could meet so that I could get some extra help.  I asked her if I could meet with her on my lunch break.  There were reasons why I could not stay after school but I tried to take responsibility and get the help that I needed.

She told me if I couldn't come after school then there was no way she could help me.

Each day spent in that class, I felt like I was drowning.  I asked for help.  I told her I didn't understand.  She made me feel small and stupid almost daily.

Then one day, she said something that angers me to this day.

"Stephanie, it's a wonder that you've been properly toilet trained seeing as you can't even comprehend simple math."

So...because I struggled to understand GEOMETRY (not simple math by a long shot...), I must be mentally deficient and should feel fortunate that I could even wipe my own ass.

From a teacher, that is absurdly unacceptable.

She has no idea how much that abusive comment affected me.  As the other students chuckled at her words, I felt ever smaller and more stupid.  I already felt like I didn't belong and this just made things worse.  I knew she was out of line but a small part of me was afraid that it might be true.  Being smart was who I was....my whole identity...if I didn't have that...well, then I had absolutely nothing to hold onto.

Somehow, even without her "simple math", I managed to go to college, have a rewarding job, get married and make some pretty amazing (and smart) babies.  I even manage that ass-wiping thing on a daily basis.  I'd like her to know that I turned out pretty damn great...no thanks to her.

Mostly, I'd like her to know that she failed that day--both as a teacher and a human being.  She had the power and the strength (or strenth) to help guide a student who had lost her way. 

But instead of building me up, she chose to knock me down.

I hope she's proud.









 

Not what I expected (GBE 2 week #1)

I came home from work this morning excited to get working on this blog.

I'm on my second cup of coffee and....nothing.  I'm stuck and I'm not sure what exactly I want to write about.

I totally expected this to be easy.

But just like every other aspect of life--not much turns out exactly as you expect it to.

I expected that by age 35, I'd have my life figured out.  I'd have a career that brought in the big bucks.  Maybe have a sweet little house with a garden and two new-ish cars in the garage.  2.5 kids and a dog....maybe a chihuauha named Poquito Tito or a rottie named Ernest.  My son would play a sport and my daughter would be our little princess.

I never expected to have a job that I adore at a company I despise.

I never expected to go back to college in my 30's.  And once I did...I never expected to get a B- in Intro to Nursing (didn't you know...I'm straight A's all the way?  Or so I thought!)

Those 2.5 kids turned into 4.  One is a computer geek with a passion for anime and WWII.  Another is on the autism spectrum.  He's celebrates EVERY holiday and even makes up more...because really...we could all use more celebration in our lives--right?  He does an Arnold Schwarzenegger impression that almost brings tears to my eyes.  The littlest is so charming....he can almost get away with murder--he'll make a great politician someday :) And I got a daughter whose idea of fun is dressing up like a zombie (she's my goth princess!).  Oh yeah, and the dog turned out to be a five year old cat named Chaos that pees on everything we own.  Seriously.

But you know what?  I hate sports.  I am so not the soccer mom type!  I love makeup and holidays and cheesy celebrity impressions.  I love each of them the way they are and I wouldn't change them for anything.  Ok...maybe I'd make them a little neater--their rooms are a wreck!

I love school and I think that I appreciate the education that I'm getting more than I would have when I was younger.

And I know that it won't be much longer before I can ditch the job and say hello to my career.  Who knows, maybe that house isn't so far off in the future either.

Most things don't turn out like you expect them too...but that's OK because what you get usually turns out to be just fine--if not even better than you could have ever expected.

And if you just take a deep breath and go with the flow....things you thought were going to be difficult usually happen without you even realizing it.

Just like this blog.