Packet of Wildflower Seeds

The following is a journal entry from my junior year English class: When people ask me what I want to do with my life, I usually have a response that seems certain, yet in actuality, I have no idea where I'm going. Sometimes I think that I know what career I want, but then I end up changing my mind. In the past six months I have changed my mind about these possibilities at least ten times. How am I supposed to know what I want to do when there are so many choices? First there is the desire for a creative field. I cannot imagine life confined to limitations. I often dream of becoming an interior decorator or a fashion designer because of the freedom of those areas. I actually draw some of my own fashions, but I do not have the artistic skill required for either of those careers. Then I move into considering jobs that involve writing. I love to write, even though I don't think I'm very good at it. Words give me a chance to express myself or to create a fictitious world

I have only been rock climbing since January, but it is already my favorite fitness activity. I think that has a lot to do with the fact that I don't see it as a fitness activity. Climbing is more like my happy place. I love the challenge of each new route I try. Since I'm still not very good and most gyms change their routes frequently, climbing will continue to be challenging for a very long time. It is almost impossible to be bored while climbing. Part of the reason you can't be bored is because you are very focused on solving the problem. Climbing provides mental as well as physical stimulation. That also means you aren't preoccupied thinking about how much you hate the activity and how you've only done two minutes, which clearly doesn't count as a workout. Those thoughts creep into my head every time I try running, for example. With climbing, I have to stop when I am physically exhausted, even though I usually have so much more I want to try. There

A few years ago, I accompanied my husband to a work function that was being given for a coworker who was moving back to France. I had never met this particular coworker, but the party meant free food and drinks, so I agreed to go. We didn't talk to the coworker until just before we left, and we didn't talk to him very long. In that short amount of time, I found the man unexpectedly charming. He winked when we said goodbye, and I was surprised when I blushed in response. In the car on the way home, I confessed to my husband that I found his coworker very attractive. He laughed and said, "I guess it's a good thing he's returning to France!" Wait a minute , you may be thinking. You told your husband you found another man attractive?  Yep. Well, what if the tables were turned? How would you feel if your husband said another woman was attractive? That's a fair question. My husband has been taking some Master's classes. One time when he was at school he

I don't want to. I don't want to be. I don't want to be a teacher anymore. I mean, I work really hard. I research current best practices and try to implement what science says works best. I try to make it fun as well as educational. I try to maintain high standards while supporting the students as they get there. Maybe some of them would miss me. A change in the middle of the year is never easy. But maybe they would get someone better. More successful at everything I try to do. And I wouldn't have to stress anymore. I wouldn't have to research, and plan, and grade. I wouldn't have to be so tired. I don't want to be. I don't want to be a mom anymore. Okay, okay. Obviously things would be more difficult. Who would get them to sports practice or the ninja gym? Without a second Girl Scout leader, the troop would have to disband. There would be a lot of therapy involved, but they probably need therapy thanks to me already anyway. No matter how muc

As a teenager, a common theme was that many kids expressed a desire to "get out of town." Teaching high school now, it is a trend I see has continued. Honestly, you can't fault teenagers for wanting to leave their homes, explore new cities, and experience more independence. What does concern me is the number of adults who are negative about this city. The pessimism is so rampant, it's almost a part of the city's culture - a troubling notion. How will we get others to believe in us if we don't even believe in ourselves? I believe in the city. My family moved back to my hometown for several reasons. Perhaps the most obvious and maybe the most important one is the proximity to other family members. Someone will inevitably accuse me of being here solely for that reason, but the truth is, there are many things I love about this city. Despite the teenagers' assertions that there "is nothing to do around here," every weekend we are choosing betwee

Recently my husband and I celebrated our ten year anniversary. When my husband mentioned it at work, his colleagues were surprised we have already been married that long. I guess that's what happens when you get married young (at least by today's standards)! Given that we've hit the ten-year mark, you might expect me to gush about my husband or reminisce about how wonderful the last decade has been with my best friend.  Don't get me wrong, my husband is my best friend, and he's an amazing person, but marriage is not always wonderful. It's hard work, and there are many moments I've wanted to walk away. Any of my friends who are close enough to share details about their relationships have indicated similar struggles; communication and respect can be difficult when you spend so much time with the same person. I once read a post by a friend that said something along the lines of "I need my husband, but he needs me, too." I know what she was

Sharing my experience with mental illness has been, at times, quite scary. Sometimes I'm afraid of losing friends. I think people don't want to hear negativity, or I worry that they don't understand and won't want me around. This is perhaps ironic because I work even harder to show my friends how much I care about them. I've also worried that being honest about my condition could somehow lead to losing my job even though I know I work very hard. In some cases, I may work harder to prove myself because I'm always worried I'm not good enough. In any case, my fears have led me to withhold some information or stories in an effort to avoid judgment. I think I'm ready to share one of my biggest stories, however - one that only a few people know. More than ten years ago, I was in a pretty bad place. I was lonely and anxious and felt like I didn't have anyone I could consistently reach out to. In the midst of this, someone did something that hurt me trem

The beginning of summer can be a difficult time for me. I look forward to warm weather, festivals, extra time with my kids, and a more relaxed atmosphere. It also comes with graduations and the discussion of students' choices of colleges and majors. Given my insecurities, it's hard not to look at what others are doing and wonder if I made the best decisions for myself. In my AP class this week, students were discussing which medical specialty they may want to pursue. There were only seven individuals in the room, but five of them were chatting about their plans for medical school. In my experience, when people find out about my education history, they can't understand why I would have abandoned physical therapy or optometry for a teaching career. Just the other day, though, an interesting memory returned to me. Within the first couple months of optometry school, I was restless. Unlike other students, I wasn't excited by the clinic rotations; I didn't care w

When I was younger, I was jealous that my sister had a "fancy" rosary. It had belonged to my mother, and my mom gave it to my sister for her first holy communion. It was white and had its own special pouch. I thought it was beautiful. Of course, once my mom gave that rosary to my sister, she didn't have another to give me for my first holy communion. Instead, I collected the plastic rosaries distributed annually in religion class; I tried to select or trade for my favorite colors, but they still didn't seem as nice as the one my sister had. Fast-forward several years later, when my aunt and uncle returned from a trip to Europe. They brought my grandma a blue rosary from Italy; I believe it was blessed by the Pope. Around that time, I was planning a wedding, and I wanted a rosary to wrap around my bouquet. My plastic rosaries weren't exactly what I had in mind, and I don't know if my sister could locate her white rosary. Therefore, I asked my grandma if she

Aside from preschool, I attended Catholic schools for all of my education - kindergarten through college. My father was raised Protestant but converted to Catholicism before marrying my mother, and his family rarely discussed specifics of religion at family gatherings. My hometown is heavily Catholic, though I don't know the exact figures. Add those all up, and I was exposed to very little diversity in matters of faith during my younger years. In high school, I knew a few individuals who were not Catholic (including a friend who seemed exasperated by the cycle of kneeling and standing during mass), but most people who said they weren't Catholic at that age had simply "lost" their faith. Even in college, students who discussed their decidedly less-than-Christian activities over the weekend also discussed which Ash Wednesday service their friends wanted to attend. Then, on Ash Wednesday, people left their ashes on their foreheads all day and no one batted an eye. Wh

Recently there was some controversy concerning an ad released by a certain shaving company. The commercial showed various offensive behaviors while asking men to act better. Predictably, the Internet was divided over whether the ad was a positive message for humanity or a vicious attack on men. While the commercial claimed to focus on "toxic masculinity," some saw it as demeaning toward all males and lamented the classification of masculinity as a negative thing. Some commentators asked, "why can't boys be boys?" I had many thoughts during and after watching the ad, but one question in particular lingers. It is a question I have actually wrestled with before. When people say that men should be masculine and women should be feminine, what exactly do they mean? Growing up, I never felt especially girly. In fact, for a brief period of time, I purchased and wore boys' clothing. I wasn't trying to reject my biological makeup; I just found boys' cl

While I got to spend time with many friends and family members over Christmas break, I did not get a chance to see one particular friend from high school. We met freshmen year and have remained close in spite of the distance our various moves have put between us. Sometimes when I talk about this individual to other high school acquaintances, they mention that she once considered becoming a nun. They used to make fun of her for that fact. Sometimes, it seems like they are still laughing at the memory of it. Because of their response, I never tell them that I, too, once contemplated the religious life. Celibacy and poverty aren't popular at an age when much of your social standing is determined by your relationship status and perceived wealth. It's understandable that I would have kept my ideas to myself when I was a fragile teenager, but it's a shame for me to continue to pretend they never existed. In truth, I believe the world could use more people acting like nuns do.