I was talking to someone recently about how post-grad life feels, and I tried to articulate how weird it is to know I won't be returning to school again in the fall. Something that has been so routine and dependable for more than a decade of my life has changed. I'm aware that there are ways school can become a staple in my life again, such as attending grad school or teaching, but for now I'm attempting to make peace with the unknown and uncover the excitement that can come from no predetermined obligations. My schedule is really mine to do what I want with; that's crazy!
Something else I expressed to this person is that while I may not be immersed in a schooling environment, I still like to describe myself as a student. I truly do love learning in its many forms, and I think if you shut yourself off from it once you leave a formal education setting then you're going to miss out on a lot of growing opportunities. Life itself is probably the ultimate teacher, and it's up to us how we interpret its many lessons. There are the big ones that seem somewhat universal: How can my skills be of service to the world? What gives me self-esteem? Which human am I going to choose to love for the rest of my life?, etc. I tend to appreciate the little lessons I pick up along the way, because more often than not, I've already been introduced to said lesson before, but need to reevaluate how applicable it can be to my current state.
I spent a good chunk of my summer with children. For instance, I co-taught a gymnastics class consisting of 4-5 years olds. I took note of one kid in particular who came into class each week looking a bit hesitant and occasionally clinging to his mom's leg. Every time his mom parted from him at the start of class, she'd say "Be brave; try something new today. I love you." I was really touched by that. I think it's also worth pointing out that he was the only male in the class. I didn't perceive his mom telling him to be brave as a kind of order; there was no "or else" identifiable in the subtext of her words. We all know young boys often receive the message in one way or another that their physical strength will result in praise and pride, but it was clear to see that this boy's emotional spirit needed some encouragement, and that's exactly what his mom provided him. As his teacher, I could tell that tiny pep talk put him more at ease in the room. He tackled new exercises with enthusiasm, and hopefully an internal understanding that if they didn't come easy to him at first, he'd keep trying and eventually get better.
In all honesty, his mother comforted me too! My gymnastics experience is veeeeeery limited (flashback to little Libby doing full on front flips in my living room, shaking the entire house when landing on my back because I didn't know proper technique 😳), but that class needed an extra hand, so I obliged. I often showed up feeling nervous or unqualified, and that's not the vibe I wanted to give off when being in charge. I had to rely on my co-teacher who had more gymnastics experience than me, and my 'fake it till you make it' confidence persona that I've accessed in prior leadership roles. However, I've often discovered that in teaching scenarios, being fully prepared is somewhat of a myth. Unexpected words, behaviors, and questions are bound to come up and teaching can sometimes turn into a test of how well you can roll with the curve balls. Does that phrase work? Did I foolishly combine bowling and baseball, or are curve balls a thing in bowling? I Googled it, bowling curve balls are legit, so I don't have to apologize. Although maybe I should for moving away from my original point; sorry readers! 😅
If I tallied all the times throughout the week that I tell myself to be brave or simply breathe, it'd be a shockingly high number. Just like that young boy, my emotional spirit is often in need of reminders that it's capable of withstanding new and/or difficult tasks. Really experiencing life and testing your comfort zone requires courage. Along with that, it's super important to know you have those people in your corner, like this boy's mom, who will show you love and patience if your fear outweighs your bravery on any particular day. That's one lesson I witnessed and ruminated on recently: bravery is a necessary component in building our identities, but not losing sight of self-love and a genuine support system throughout the unpredictable trials is crucial.
I interacted with another child whilst helping my sister's co-worker out by taking said child from daycare to her swimming lesson. This young girl and I exchanged nonstop delightful conversation from the moment we met. During her lesson, she was working on retrieving the torpedo from the deep end of the pool. She brought her boundless energy into the water, but on this specific task, her reluctance was evident. She didn't like how the torpedo exercise made her breath hurt. Her teacher explained, "You need to focus on getting more air when you go under. You know why your breath hurts, right? It hurts because you're going deeper." Her teacher's last sentence caused somewhat of a hitch in my breath, because that's the essence of adulthood I'm wrestling so much with right now. Nothing seems simple or straightforward; all the big things worth having don't come easy and I am constantly afraid I don't have in me what it takes to get them. I spend too much time agonizing over how badly my breath could hurt that I'd rather keep my head above the water where it's safer. But then what happens? I just tread in the same place and never explore my full potential, which is painful in a whole different way.
This girl had been working on the torpedo exercise all summer and had never grabbed it. On this day that I was in attendance, she had four or five unsuccessful attempts, and then she freakin' got it! Both her and her teacher's excitement was so satisfying to watch, and of course me being an annoying believer in the Universe and its signs, I walked away with the lesson that we don't reach happiness without suffering first. Her swim teacher asked the child, since she'd been practicing this skill for a while now, if her breath hurt a little less with each dive, and the child replied, "yes." In life, we have to decide what's worth diving deeper for, and with anything that is—goals, relationships, self-awareness, etc., we must be willing to confront and endure the negative and uncomfortable emotions that inevitably accompany the positive ones. I have an immense distaste for failure and rejection and avoid them like the plague, but my god, those are absolutely the stepping stones to success, and I watched this play out on a small, yet still very real and beautiful scale with a five-year-old.
These two little lessons that I got a renewed sense of, have plenty of similarities and speak to the challenges I'm struggling with currently. I'm in a new phase of life and it's scary, and gross, and has me contemplating way too many things at once. I have all these thoughts and feelings that are clouding my confidence and direction, and I know it's really a blessing to feel so much, and there are constructive ways to sort through it. I can also take some of the pressure off myself by realizing most everyone gets lost and intimidated by adulthood, and perhaps that's why I find it enlightening and valuable to look to children for inspiration 💛. Being a student of life right now bestows upon me a real responsibility to figure out the beneficial mindset and behaviors I should bring into this new season. I'm constantly working to remember that I am already enough, but if I allow myself to do, say, and be more of my authentic & vulnerable self (knowing that failure is part👏 of 👏the👏 damn 👏process), I'll open myself up to more light than darkness.
The person that I mentioned in the beginning of this post is the same person I recently recited my favorite piece of writing to, and I'll never waste an opportunity to share it:
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were all meant to shine as children do. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." -Marianne Williamson
Something else I expressed to this person is that while I may not be immersed in a schooling environment, I still like to describe myself as a student. I truly do love learning in its many forms, and I think if you shut yourself off from it once you leave a formal education setting then you're going to miss out on a lot of growing opportunities. Life itself is probably the ultimate teacher, and it's up to us how we interpret its many lessons. There are the big ones that seem somewhat universal: How can my skills be of service to the world? What gives me self-esteem? Which human am I going to choose to love for the rest of my life?, etc. I tend to appreciate the little lessons I pick up along the way, because more often than not, I've already been introduced to said lesson before, but need to reevaluate how applicable it can be to my current state.
In all honesty, his mother comforted me too! My gymnastics experience is veeeeeery limited (flashback to little Libby doing full on front flips in my living room, shaking the entire house when landing on my back because I didn't know proper technique 😳), but that class needed an extra hand, so I obliged. I often showed up feeling nervous or unqualified, and that's not the vibe I wanted to give off when being in charge. I had to rely on my co-teacher who had more gymnastics experience than me, and my 'fake it till you make it' confidence persona that I've accessed in prior leadership roles. However, I've often discovered that in teaching scenarios, being fully prepared is somewhat of a myth. Unexpected words, behaviors, and questions are bound to come up and teaching can sometimes turn into a test of how well you can roll with the curve balls. Does that phrase work? Did I foolishly combine bowling and baseball, or are curve balls a thing in bowling? I Googled it, bowling curve balls are legit, so I don't have to apologize. Although maybe I should for moving away from my original point; sorry readers! 😅
If I tallied all the times throughout the week that I tell myself to be brave or simply breathe, it'd be a shockingly high number. Just like that young boy, my emotional spirit is often in need of reminders that it's capable of withstanding new and/or difficult tasks. Really experiencing life and testing your comfort zone requires courage. Along with that, it's super important to know you have those people in your corner, like this boy's mom, who will show you love and patience if your fear outweighs your bravery on any particular day. That's one lesson I witnessed and ruminated on recently: bravery is a necessary component in building our identities, but not losing sight of self-love and a genuine support system throughout the unpredictable trials is crucial.
I interacted with another child whilst helping my sister's co-worker out by taking said child from daycare to her swimming lesson. This young girl and I exchanged nonstop delightful conversation from the moment we met. During her lesson, she was working on retrieving the torpedo from the deep end of the pool. She brought her boundless energy into the water, but on this specific task, her reluctance was evident. She didn't like how the torpedo exercise made her breath hurt. Her teacher explained, "You need to focus on getting more air when you go under. You know why your breath hurts, right? It hurts because you're going deeper." Her teacher's last sentence caused somewhat of a hitch in my breath, because that's the essence of adulthood I'm wrestling so much with right now. Nothing seems simple or straightforward; all the big things worth having don't come easy and I am constantly afraid I don't have in me what it takes to get them. I spend too much time agonizing over how badly my breath could hurt that I'd rather keep my head above the water where it's safer. But then what happens? I just tread in the same place and never explore my full potential, which is painful in a whole different way.
These two little lessons that I got a renewed sense of, have plenty of similarities and speak to the challenges I'm struggling with currently. I'm in a new phase of life and it's scary, and gross, and has me contemplating way too many things at once. I have all these thoughts and feelings that are clouding my confidence and direction, and I know it's really a blessing to feel so much, and there are constructive ways to sort through it. I can also take some of the pressure off myself by realizing most everyone gets lost and intimidated by adulthood, and perhaps that's why I find it enlightening and valuable to look to children for inspiration 💛. Being a student of life right now bestows upon me a real responsibility to figure out the beneficial mindset and behaviors I should bring into this new season. I'm constantly working to remember that I am already enough, but if I allow myself to do, say, and be more of my authentic & vulnerable self (knowing that failure is part👏 of 👏the👏 damn 👏process), I'll open myself up to more light than darkness.
The person that I mentioned in the beginning of this post is the same person I recently recited my favorite piece of writing to, and I'll never waste an opportunity to share it:
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were all meant to shine as children do. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." -Marianne Williamson
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