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A little self-psychoanalysis: the past meets the present

Currently Reading Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic By Alison Bechdel

Going back home this past week, I came to discover that a lot of the "things" that really used to greatly matter to me just...don't so much anymore.  In other words, the life-embellishments which I thought were going to hold more significant meaning for my future really haven't been quite so necessary to my identity as I expected (at least in non-academic regards--don't worry, I'll expand on this in a little bit).  Don't get me wrong, they might (and hopefully will) be helpful for acquiring more of "the same" down the road and it's not that I did all of those things in vain by any means (I loved all the things I did in high school, as well as most to all of the activities in which I participated during college)...but, really, those things--those activities, accomplishments, etc.--don't make me me.  And to most of the world, they don't make me either.

In considering my upcoming (and voluntarily delayed) graduation this May, and trying to get on track with all of my silly honor cords for various organizations, I kinda just reached a point where I realized I was "past all of this."  And it hit me sitting at my Joetown desk a few days back, having experienced a number of recent life events and dreams of a similar tune.  I stared at my childhood walls the other day and saw awards from the D.A.R., photos from the Cotillion, certificates from HOBY and Girls State, academic medals, varsity tennis letter on the silly letterman jacket pinned on the wall, Future Problem Solving plaques (and recalled the silly half-life-sized poster of me that used to hang in my high school for Drug-Free Super S.T.A.R. which now rests above our baby grand piano).  It really doesn't matter that I got into a medical school at age 18 (in fact, it has little to do with my current graduate classes), but the experience of interviews taught me more about myself than I could have imagined.  And sure, it's fantastic that I learned how to express myself so heavily through piano and writing, but it's of little consequence that I succeeded in music competitions and wrote against Australians in Connecticut.  I laugh even to think about my years as a ballet/tap/jazz dancer or conducting my (admittedly hard-core) three-year high school environmental research project on watershed pollution--which was also a fantastic experience and taught me such an appreciation for scientific thought and experimentation.  Rightfully, all of the club officer memories (learning how to be a stronger leader and facilitate teamwork at school and church) plus enjoying my time with the show choir and in the musicals meant the world...but I'm just ready to give back already.  Perhaps that's the one thing that hasn't changed:  the service aspect of my past always left me seeking those blasted "applications" of my theoretical lessons...and it's high time already.

Thankfully, I no longer define myself by the aforementioned things, but I'll admit that it took quite a while for me to realize that I wasn't actually "nothing" without those stars and bars.  (I didn't necessarily have a low self-esteem, but it was natural to think that academics/etc. really were my "life" when they were what took up most of my time.)  Like I said, I wasn't Miss Overachiever for the usual reasons one might expect, and those of you whom know me well would understand that.  I truly sought to derive purpose, delve into, and appreciate with full zeal each and every opportunity that was placed at my fingertips...almost too much, really.  I don't know where the energy came from; I don't know how I ever kept my cool.  I surely haven't done as good of a job with the time and stress management in my undergraduate years, but I still maintained the same attitude.  However, I have reached the point of burn-out multiple times--usually right about when terms were finished, and now I think that "burnout" isn't really such...it's my sign that it truly is "time" to get out there (though it'll be delayed a while more by graduate school, obviously).

Part of me worries a little bit as to how I will act when I'm back in that high school classroom (though not immensely).  Could I get sucked back into the world of impeccable resume formation or will I strive to connect with them and challenge them to see the bigger reasons why such experiences and opportunities can help one grow into an adult?  I'd like to think I'll find a happy medium, or at least (with the students to whom I am closer) challenge them to find their passion amidst it all.  But knowing me, and knowing even my mere smaller or semester-long experiences in the classroom, I know I'll be one that wants to connect with my students in some way.  I'll be one of the teachers (or professors?) whom don't mind shedding a little relatable life-light into the classroom...as I recall the teachers that kept themselves so strictly divided most mystified me growing up.  Of course, there's a happy medium:  can't give too much information by any means, but have to toss in just enough to keep things interesting.  I know it'll be a challenge, but I really do look forward to my future classrooms.  (That part of the realization came out of talking to one of my gifted ed. mentors this past Saturday.  She's pretty amazing like that.  It was a good Spring Break for growing up and coming to terms with past meets the present, that's for sure.)

Setting aside my nerdy teaching ways, I'd now like to shift back to my reference made in the first paragraph--addressing this concept that the "accomplishments" don't necessarily make the "woman."  Granted, I'd like to think that I did all the things I used to do for a reason, and that they shaped me into the person I am today, but what more so matters is what I see in the person whom I catch in the mirror today.  If I were to take a biopsy of myself at this very moment, would I truly be happy with what I'd see?  (There are definitely things I need to work on:  not taking on so much to the point that it adversely affects my once-100% dependability rate, working on being more consistent in all walks of my life, etc.)  But all of those things on the wall back home--even ones having to do with my college career--really aren't "me."  Even if I'd like them to be.  They only make up an empty shell of recognitions that distract from the real person that once occupied them.

What reminded me of all of this all of the sudden?  Love, I'd have to say.  It's not that I've always been loved just for what I do instead of who I am...but sometimes, I think people have be taken with something that isn't necessarily "me" (perhaps it was some sense of confidence they saw in the insane "doer" side of me that held offices and played music, or perhaps, for those who knew me for much longer, it was just that I was "the nice Catholic girl who made good grades and had the judge for a daddy").  But, I can't help but deny that it's a lot easier to more genuinely believe in something when I know for certain that none of those were the reasons someone grew to care for me--but just that I was me.  And to actually hear phrases like, "Well, that's all nice, but it's not you..." when it really counts.  Or truly realizing that, despite the fact I've collected this long-winded story of my life over the years, that the only thing which really matters is now and what I can do with tomorrow (while it's great to have yesterday to look to for inspiration and such).  I was so worried for the longest time that I'd have to justify my past in the present (which may be the case in academia, when I have to show that I try to prove that I'm not going to up and switch to a career in basket-weaving all of the sudden), but when it comes to love, I've found that it's all really just quite irrelevant (I think no one is perfect but that people can definitely be perfect for one another).  All that matters is now and the possibilities ahead, and it's such a beautiful thing.

I've come to such an interesting crossroads in my life--passed it really, but I'm actually starting to feel like I'm "ready" to be an "adult."  Granted, real adulthood and all of the big choices and declarations that come with it are still a couple or so years off, but I definitely feel confident that I'm on the right path.  It's kinda strange for me to actually be "sure" about something, but I guess that's only supposed to happen once anyway, right?  It's not a secret or anything, and there are definitely still miles to go, but it's a beautiful feeling to actually feel like I have my match and that it's all the more of a challenge from God to continue growing into the person I'm meant to be.  I'm really, quite truly, no longer scared of the future anymore.  I feel like I've "said" that a lot as of late...but now I actually feel like I believe it, and it's an amazing feeling.  I just feel more paced and ready to just get real with myself and world and to take on whatever that means...slowly but surely.

That's enough rambling for one night (a cookie to anyone actually reading all of that--it was more for me anyway, I suppose), as I should get back to the studies.  'Twas definitely a necessary Spring Break though, that's for sure.  Little did I actually accomplish, but a great deal did I truly realize.  Just in time for Easter, eh?