A few days ago I met a friend for lunch. I looked forward to it all week and had a great time because she totally rocks, but I left wondering, "Why on earth does she choose to spend time with me???" I mean, I'm shy and somewhat awkward with people and not exactly super fun most of the time, and she has plenty of other better options. Why me?
Then yesterday I started reading through my list of blogs to catch up and found a new post on her blog... all about HER insecurities. I almost started laughing because so much of what she said could have come right out of my mouth, but I was also totally shocked because in my mind she has absolutely no reason to feel weird or want to be different. She's fabulous just the way God made her, and I often wish I had her faith and diligence, not to mention her awesome sense of humor. But she feels insecure just like me.
The obvious lesson is that I should probably listen to all the people telling me I'm being ridiculous to think that being my friend is a waste of time, so perhaps I'll try a little harder to trust what they say. The deeper realization has been that I'm a lot more insecure at times than I realized. If you'd asked me if I liked myself I would have said that most of the time I do, but when I started thinking about it I noticed that while I do like a lot of things about who I am now, there are definitely traits I wish I didn't have. I've learned to be ok with being quiet because it gives me a chance to be a really good listener, but there are times that I wish I was better at talking to people (like this morning at church during the awkward silence after greeting the woman next to me). I'm glad that I feed on deep conversations with my close friends, but some days I wish I could be ok with just having fun and staying on the surface. It would certainly make life simpler! And there are TONS of other little things about how I interact with people, things that make me who I am, that I'm not so sure about. It turns out I may not be as content with how God made me as I thought.
Anyhow, it's nice to know I'm not alone, and I'm going to have to do some serious rethinking of my perception of myself. I should probably infuse a little more God and a weed out a lot of me. Amazing how that tends to fix things...
Happy 4th of July! And just for fun, a link to the other blog I read yesterday. I guess it's the topic of the week. :)
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Thursday, August 27, 2009
one week down (almost)
Today was the 4th day of school, and all in all, this week hasn't been that bad. In fact, it's been the easiest first week of school ever. As it turns out, teaching kindergarten made my job far more exhausting than I realized. Compared to that, 4th grade is a breeze.
So since I'm settling in, I read the book Scaredy Squirrel to three of my classes today. I wish I had a copy at home because it's one of my absolute favorite books. The main character is a neurotic squirrel who's afraid of all sorts of absurd things. Green martians for instance. He's so terrified that he never leaves his tree. Retelling the story doesn't do it justice though... it's hilarious.
I love reading this book because I am SO like Scaredy Squirrel. He stays in his tree with his same nuts and same view because when he's there, life is predictable. If he ventured into "The Unknown" (a.k.a. the forest), he might run into green martians, after all. Totally rational. Yet, this is how I often do life. I convince myself that the unknown is so incredibly frightening that I end up missing out on things that would have been really cool. The sad part is that this is the brave version of me... I used to be completely paralyzed by my fear. Now it's just a pretty major annoyance.
This week's adventure into the unknown has turned out a lot better than I expected. To be fair, there have been hard parts. My teammates are nice, but getting to know them has still been difficult for me (and will continue to be I'm sure). It's also been really hard watching my old friends still working together while I'm no longer a part. I still worry that I won't be good at this, although I worry much less than I did before Monday. Most of what I feared has actually happened, but nothing has happened to the extreme extent that I imagined. Hard, yes. Impossible, no.
I don't know how the rest of the year will go. While I am enjoying the maturity of nine year olds, I know I will end up missing things about my babies. It's a trade off. Big kids are far less emotionally draining because they don't need me every minute of every day, but they also don't curl up in my lap while I read. They can reason and understand my sarcastic humor, but they don't tackle me in the hall because they miss me SO MUCH that they just cannot function (yes, that happens pretty regularly). I watch the first graders walking in the hall and wonder what it will feel like next year when I don't know them, but that will have to wait for later.
For now, I'm trying to appreciate the fact that nothing horrible is happening in The Unknown today... those green martians are pretty dangerous, after all.
So since I'm settling in, I read the book Scaredy Squirrel to three of my classes today. I wish I had a copy at home because it's one of my absolute favorite books. The main character is a neurotic squirrel who's afraid of all sorts of absurd things. Green martians for instance. He's so terrified that he never leaves his tree. Retelling the story doesn't do it justice though... it's hilarious.
I love reading this book because I am SO like Scaredy Squirrel. He stays in his tree with his same nuts and same view because when he's there, life is predictable. If he ventured into "The Unknown" (a.k.a. the forest), he might run into green martians, after all. Totally rational. Yet, this is how I often do life. I convince myself that the unknown is so incredibly frightening that I end up missing out on things that would have been really cool. The sad part is that this is the brave version of me... I used to be completely paralyzed by my fear. Now it's just a pretty major annoyance.
This week's adventure into the unknown has turned out a lot better than I expected. To be fair, there have been hard parts. My teammates are nice, but getting to know them has still been difficult for me (and will continue to be I'm sure). It's also been really hard watching my old friends still working together while I'm no longer a part. I still worry that I won't be good at this, although I worry much less than I did before Monday. Most of what I feared has actually happened, but nothing has happened to the extreme extent that I imagined. Hard, yes. Impossible, no.
I don't know how the rest of the year will go. While I am enjoying the maturity of nine year olds, I know I will end up missing things about my babies. It's a trade off. Big kids are far less emotionally draining because they don't need me every minute of every day, but they also don't curl up in my lap while I read. They can reason and understand my sarcastic humor, but they don't tackle me in the hall because they miss me SO MUCH that they just cannot function (yes, that happens pretty regularly). I watch the first graders walking in the hall and wonder what it will feel like next year when I don't know them, but that will have to wait for later.
For now, I'm trying to appreciate the fact that nothing horrible is happening in The Unknown today... those green martians are pretty dangerous, after all.
Friday, April 17, 2009
an unexpected change
I feel like I should be in Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse because all I can say is "Wow."
Yesterday afternoon I got a somewhat frantic call from my principal wanting to know if I could come meet with her. Now. Right now. Please? And it's nothing bad. Don't worry. RIGHT. Because when your boss calls you 15 minutes before it's time to leave and suddenly needs to meet with you RIGHT NOW that's usually great.
So, I finished tutoring somewhat absentmindedly while I tried to figure out what she could possibly want to talk to me about. When the bell rang, I walked my kids to their cars and headed apprehensively into the office. Then my organized, well-planned, inflexible world fell completely apart.
She asked me to move to 4th grade as the one and only writing teacher. On so many levels this will be a great move. I love writing. It's by far my greatest academic strength (when it comes to teaching anyway), and while I love my babies, their writing can only go so far. I was getting a little bored in kindergarten because my part had become so familiar, and now I'll have a whole new realm of skills to learn and teach. With bigger kids, I'll be able to DO all the things I've learned in theory. I'll really be able to write. It sounds like my dream job, and in many ways it is... except it's not kindergarten.
The downside to principals beginning to plan for the next school year in February is that everyone starts planning for the next school year in February. I had next year completely laid out in my mind, and it didn't involve 4th grade. I've been thinking and talking about it for 3 months. I was finally feeling comfortable in my new school and loving working with my teammates. Next year was going to be amazing. There was no place in my plan for this sort of change.
And on a deeper level, I had never seriously considered leaving kindergarten. I'd thought about teaching 4th grade in the way I might think about picking up and moving to Australia... it was an interesting idea but not something that I would ever actually do. I love being their first teacher. I like that they fight over who gets to hold my hand. I get to see their writing progress from nothing to pages, and I watch them begin to read. This afternoon one of my little girls snuggled up in my lap with a book and started reading to me, and my heart ached. I'm not quite ready to let that go.
But I have to. I have six more weeks of kindergarten, and then I have to grow up... and even though I can list off a million reasons 4th grade should be a perfect place for me, I do NOT like this plan. It happened so fast I'm still in shock. Every single person I've told has said that 4th grade writing is THE perfect job for me, but I'm not so sure. It's a HUGE change, and even though everyone else seems so confident I can do it, I'm not. I'm terrified.
Wow. I'm going to teach 4th grade. I wonder how many times I'll have to say that for it to finally sink in...
Yesterday afternoon I got a somewhat frantic call from my principal wanting to know if I could come meet with her. Now. Right now. Please? And it's nothing bad. Don't worry. RIGHT. Because when your boss calls you 15 minutes before it's time to leave and suddenly needs to meet with you RIGHT NOW that's usually great.
So, I finished tutoring somewhat absentmindedly while I tried to figure out what she could possibly want to talk to me about. When the bell rang, I walked my kids to their cars and headed apprehensively into the office. Then my organized, well-planned, inflexible world fell completely apart.
She asked me to move to 4th grade as the one and only writing teacher. On so many levels this will be a great move. I love writing. It's by far my greatest academic strength (when it comes to teaching anyway), and while I love my babies, their writing can only go so far. I was getting a little bored in kindergarten because my part had become so familiar, and now I'll have a whole new realm of skills to learn and teach. With bigger kids, I'll be able to DO all the things I've learned in theory. I'll really be able to write. It sounds like my dream job, and in many ways it is... except it's not kindergarten.
The downside to principals beginning to plan for the next school year in February is that everyone starts planning for the next school year in February. I had next year completely laid out in my mind, and it didn't involve 4th grade. I've been thinking and talking about it for 3 months. I was finally feeling comfortable in my new school and loving working with my teammates. Next year was going to be amazing. There was no place in my plan for this sort of change.
And on a deeper level, I had never seriously considered leaving kindergarten. I'd thought about teaching 4th grade in the way I might think about picking up and moving to Australia... it was an interesting idea but not something that I would ever actually do. I love being their first teacher. I like that they fight over who gets to hold my hand. I get to see their writing progress from nothing to pages, and I watch them begin to read. This afternoon one of my little girls snuggled up in my lap with a book and started reading to me, and my heart ached. I'm not quite ready to let that go.
But I have to. I have six more weeks of kindergarten, and then I have to grow up... and even though I can list off a million reasons 4th grade should be a perfect place for me, I do NOT like this plan. It happened so fast I'm still in shock. Every single person I've told has said that 4th grade writing is THE perfect job for me, but I'm not so sure. It's a HUGE change, and even though everyone else seems so confident I can do it, I'm not. I'm terrified.
Wow. I'm going to teach 4th grade. I wonder how many times I'll have to say that for it to finally sink in...
Monday, December 22, 2008
avoidance
I have an assignment I've been avoiding for, oh, about two months now that sounds relatively easy on the surface: journal about what I believe God is teaching me through the current events of my life.
At the moment I've given up on completing the actual assignment, and I've taken to looking at what about this assignment has driven me to avoid it for so long. I think it's pretty simple: I'm afraid to admit what I fear God may be trying to teach me. If I keep avoiding, it might not happen, right?
If I had to pick a theme for my life since August, the obvious choice would be loneliness. The significant community I'd created over the past year and a half has shrunken to only a small core... the safety net I'd come to rely on was pulled out from under me, and I still don't like it. Looking back, I was maybe a bit too reliant on the opinion and advice of others at the expense of listening to and searching for what God had to say, and over the past few months I've definitely been given the opportunity to get myself out of that habit: when I had nowhere else to turn, I became more willing to turn to the Bible for support for my feelings and beliefs.
The topic this week of the small group I lead was purity... more specifically the idea that if we desire purity we have to listen to, obey, and TRUST God... and, as always, I'm pretty sure I learned more than the girls. I'm struggling with the trust piece right now. I don't like the lesson I'm learning or the road it might be leading me down, and I want life to go my way. I want the good without the struggles, the growth without the pain. The resistance is most obvious when faced with the statement that when it comes to relationship, God alone has to be enough. I immediately pull back. I can accept that idea cognitively, but my heart still begs for something tangible. A person to hold me when I'm crying. Someone to speak words I hear with my ears. A place to physically run when life feels unbearable.
So what do I fear? I fear that learning to accept that God can comfort and love me without any help may mean this is only the beginning of my season of loneliness. I fear that THIS is the reason my community has been stripped away and my attempts to rebuild it have been met with frustration and failure.
Well, I guess I'm finished with my assignment now...
At the moment I've given up on completing the actual assignment, and I've taken to looking at what about this assignment has driven me to avoid it for so long. I think it's pretty simple: I'm afraid to admit what I fear God may be trying to teach me. If I keep avoiding, it might not happen, right?
If I had to pick a theme for my life since August, the obvious choice would be loneliness. The significant community I'd created over the past year and a half has shrunken to only a small core... the safety net I'd come to rely on was pulled out from under me, and I still don't like it. Looking back, I was maybe a bit too reliant on the opinion and advice of others at the expense of listening to and searching for what God had to say, and over the past few months I've definitely been given the opportunity to get myself out of that habit: when I had nowhere else to turn, I became more willing to turn to the Bible for support for my feelings and beliefs.
The topic this week of the small group I lead was purity... more specifically the idea that if we desire purity we have to listen to, obey, and TRUST God... and, as always, I'm pretty sure I learned more than the girls. I'm struggling with the trust piece right now. I don't like the lesson I'm learning or the road it might be leading me down, and I want life to go my way. I want the good without the struggles, the growth without the pain. The resistance is most obvious when faced with the statement that when it comes to relationship, God alone has to be enough. I immediately pull back. I can accept that idea cognitively, but my heart still begs for something tangible. A person to hold me when I'm crying. Someone to speak words I hear with my ears. A place to physically run when life feels unbearable.
So what do I fear? I fear that learning to accept that God can comfort and love me without any help may mean this is only the beginning of my season of loneliness. I fear that THIS is the reason my community has been stripped away and my attempts to rebuild it have been met with frustration and failure.
Well, I guess I'm finished with my assignment now...
Thursday, September 18, 2008
a compliment... and my frustration
This week my classroom has been a revolving door for the various behavior experts in the district. As always, I have some... challenging behaviors. For some reason I just seem to attract those kids. I can't really complain though... I love those darlings quite deeply.
Yesterday my babies got one of the best compliments I've ever received. A behavior specialist came in to observe and at the end of her visit she commented that my class was very supportive and well bonded for the beginning of the year... that they took care of and watched out for each other in a special way.
To me, this is nothing out of the ordinary. I've always had a gift for building those relationships with children. My class is bonded. They do love each other well, even the ones who are at times hard to love. It's an attitude that was introduced the first day we met, and by the time June comes around we'll all be crying on our way out the door. They are becoming a family.
Though I'm glad that I can build those relationships with my students, I find it incredibly frustrating that I just cannot form those same tight relationships with my peers. I know how to make it work better than anyone else I know in a classroom. Why can't I do it with my own life?
I know some of the answers. My fear holds me back, and taking risks with adults is much more intimidating than risking with children. I recognize that I play games with people... set them up to fail me because I'm so sure that they will. And my naturally introverted personality doesn't make relationship any easier either.
I've been burned so many times that I imagine trusting other adults is one of those things that will always be difficult for me, but I wish that it wasn't. I long for safe, consistent relationships... not the isolation that comes with my fear.
I assume that as with most fear, the longer I challenge it, the smaller it will become. For now I will just have to wait and hope...
Yesterday my babies got one of the best compliments I've ever received. A behavior specialist came in to observe and at the end of her visit she commented that my class was very supportive and well bonded for the beginning of the year... that they took care of and watched out for each other in a special way.
To me, this is nothing out of the ordinary. I've always had a gift for building those relationships with children. My class is bonded. They do love each other well, even the ones who are at times hard to love. It's an attitude that was introduced the first day we met, and by the time June comes around we'll all be crying on our way out the door. They are becoming a family.
Though I'm glad that I can build those relationships with my students, I find it incredibly frustrating that I just cannot form those same tight relationships with my peers. I know how to make it work better than anyone else I know in a classroom. Why can't I do it with my own life?
I know some of the answers. My fear holds me back, and taking risks with adults is much more intimidating than risking with children. I recognize that I play games with people... set them up to fail me because I'm so sure that they will. And my naturally introverted personality doesn't make relationship any easier either.
I've been burned so many times that I imagine trusting other adults is one of those things that will always be difficult for me, but I wish that it wasn't. I long for safe, consistent relationships... not the isolation that comes with my fear.
I assume that as with most fear, the longer I challenge it, the smaller it will become. For now I will just have to wait and hope...
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
the abundance of summer
It's 1:30 am, and I'm wide awake. What better time to start a blog, right?
This summer has been a joy... quite a distinct difference from others in recent memory. I'm enjoying my house and my new dog. I'm reading voraciously. I go swimming and get sunburned and have fun just for the sake of having fun. I'm relaxed (for the most part) and happy. I think this is how regular people do summer.
When I think about seasons, I think of Parker Palmer and his use of seasons as a metaphor for our lives. These past calm months mark the longest and most bountiful "summer" of my life, a summer I never really believed would happen. Most of my life has been filled with alternating falls, winters, and springs. But when I think about the kind of summer Palmer describes... that abundance hasn't been there.
I've spent the vast majority of my life paralyzed by fear. I don't know when I first closed everyone out, but I remember even in preschool being petrified of letting anyone see my imperfection. I continued through adulthood to carefully erect giant barriers to keep people from getting too close with the result being my own impenetrable fortress. I didn't allow anyone to see the real me, not even myself. I thought that was the way to find the abundance I longed for... to earn the love I so desired by being outwardly perfect. How wrong I was.
Over the past year, as I've slowly let down my walls, I've found that abundance in authentic community. By the grace of God, I have a place where I've been able to lay my faults and wounds bare for all to see, and rather than being abandoned as I feared, I'm loved all the more. I'm free to be the joyful woman God created me to be, and in that freedom, to continue to grow and find who that woman is. That kind of love, that freedom, that joy... that's the abundance I was missing.
I'm glad to have experienced the bounty of summer, though I know fall will return all too soon.
I'll close with a quote from Palmer:
This summer has been a joy... quite a distinct difference from others in recent memory. I'm enjoying my house and my new dog. I'm reading voraciously. I go swimming and get sunburned and have fun just for the sake of having fun. I'm relaxed (for the most part) and happy. I think this is how regular people do summer.
When I think about seasons, I think of Parker Palmer and his use of seasons as a metaphor for our lives. These past calm months mark the longest and most bountiful "summer" of my life, a summer I never really believed would happen. Most of my life has been filled with alternating falls, winters, and springs. But when I think about the kind of summer Palmer describes... that abundance hasn't been there.
I've spent the vast majority of my life paralyzed by fear. I don't know when I first closed everyone out, but I remember even in preschool being petrified of letting anyone see my imperfection. I continued through adulthood to carefully erect giant barriers to keep people from getting too close with the result being my own impenetrable fortress. I didn't allow anyone to see the real me, not even myself. I thought that was the way to find the abundance I longed for... to earn the love I so desired by being outwardly perfect. How wrong I was.
Over the past year, as I've slowly let down my walls, I've found that abundance in authentic community. By the grace of God, I have a place where I've been able to lay my faults and wounds bare for all to see, and rather than being abandoned as I feared, I'm loved all the more. I'm free to be the joyful woman God created me to be, and in that freedom, to continue to grow and find who that woman is. That kind of love, that freedom, that joy... that's the abundance I was missing.
I'm glad to have experienced the bounty of summer, though I know fall will return all too soon.
I'll close with a quote from Palmer:
"In the human world, abundance does not happen automatically. It is created when we have the sense to choose community, to come together to celebrate and share our common store... Authentic abundance does not lie in secured stockpiles of food or cash or influence or affection, but in belonging to a community where we can give those goods to others who need them – and receive them from others when we are in need."Good night.
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