Expectations

Can we all agree to give up on the idea of living up to your potential? 

I am talking to me, too. It's a hard thing to get past. My kids are far from a disappointment. They aren't doing what I thought they would at this point in their lives, but I'm ridiculously proud of them and they are good humans. 

The expectation of "living up to your potential" is mildly abusive. I am an intelligent human. My husband is as well. Our kids are all really smart. I mean that in a measured and determined scientifically way, not just a mom bragging about how awesome her kids are way. Not that there's anything wrong with that, kids need parents to believe in them. I just mean that on paper my kids look(ed) great in school. Life happens and the grades didn't always reflect what they are capable of, but that doesn't make them any less intelligent, it just means that school wasn't always their priority. A high IQ doesn't always translate to straight A's. As a matter of fact, it rarely does. 

Anyway, I didn't mean to get on the subject of my kids. They are all doing awesome. I am really thinking of myself. As a 42 year old human with a pretty decent IQ and a bunch of skills, you'd think I'd be doing something earth shattering, but I'm a teacher about to start my 5th year. I spent quite a bit of my life raising my kids, but plenty of people out there juggle kids and a job, so there's really no excuse. I was in the top 5% of my high school graduating class, a good swimmer, water polo player, and successful at a bunch of other high school things that look good to colleges. I went to college and dropped out 6 weeks in and came home. I felt like the ultimate disappointment. 

It took me 15 years to get my bachelor's after all that. Sure, I had kids and they needed me, but I didn't "live up to my potential." For years when I thought about myself I saw a disappointment. At some point I figured that I'd only be "successful" while being a mom if my kids were exceptional. My potential could not be wasted, my kids had to be the best.

Then I woke up and realized I'd messed with my kid's heads imposing stupid expectations about success that I didn't even really believe in. 

Potential is a poor idea when describing people. It turns out, I'm a pretty intelligent person, but intelligence doesn't guarantee success. I'm pretty strong and I have some pretty decent skills, but that's not what will bring success. I work really hard at stuff. I'm also a great student. That's not what will determine whether or not a person is "successful" or "lives up to their potential." The thing is, all of those things are factors that can contribute to how life will turn out for people, but there are a lot more things completely outside of our control that can affect the outcome. Telling kids what is or isn't possible for them is terrible. It's like putting a measuring stick up next to them then flooding the room to a level above their head and telling them to stand and be measured. When it doesn't work they should just try harder because the kid in the dry room was able to stand there just fine. Life happens. It's okay to just float instead of trying to make the first task work. It's okay to go for a swim and bust through the walls if you need to.  

We need to stop sending the message to "live up to your potential" and allow humans to just do what they can while living their lives. I bet they some will reach farther than some would think was within their potential and blow our minds.

It's been a while...

It's been a while since I posted here. So much has happened in my family, and it's a bit crazy that I haven't written here since 2017. 

Today I decided to write because I'm feeling like I'm juggling a lot again and I'm overwhelmed. My coping mechanism is often oversharing, so the blog is perfect for that. I started to just tweet, but it took too many characters and I didn't feel like cutting anything, so here I am.

My tweet looked like this: I took on too many things at once. I can never not drop everything to help my kids, but picking everything back up after dropping them is the only time I think about how many things I have taken on. Why have I, after almost 42 years living in my brain still not figured out how to use it?

It's a valid question. Why am I still figuring out how to function in a healthy way? I'm frustrated with myself. 

I have given up oversharing about my kids (not my story to tell, consent, and all that stuff that's really important). Still, my issues are open for sharing, and there are so very many that a blog post works well. 

I probably should catch up a reader (not that there are many, and most know all this, but I'm telling the story, so I get to choose the stuff to write about). Since I last posted in 2017, I went back to school, became a special education teacher, got my master's in education, had a horrible, traumatic church experience, taught through a pandemic, and got a couple of my kids through high school graduation as well. I also bought a house with a pool, went on a road trip with my Becca, was undiagnosed with MS, and lost a bunch of weight. 

It's been an eventful few years. 

The things I have taken on lately are a new job (still a SPED teacher, just a completely different kind than the one I started with), joined a bunch of people starting a church plant, went back to school again to get a STEAM education certificate, started a club where I teach to promote inclusive practices, and I'm heading up a team of parents at my kid's school to start a booster club for the music program, and I just took a mentor position with a brand new teacher that starts tomorrow. 

I know, I'm crazy. 

I know that my self-worth isn't defined by all the stuff I accomplish, but I like accomplishing stuff. I've been paralyzed before, and I never want to feel that way again. I like doing stuff. Still, it all drops to the floor if one of my babies needs me. I was given the nickname of Mamabear at work because I passionately fight for the needs of kids. My own children get that tenfold. 

Without going into the who or why of the most recent reason I had to drop everything (not my story, but I was a being mom), I want to share the picking back up of the broken pieces when I dropped all the things.

I still haven't gotten it all together yet. I have this week to finish all of the assignments for my STEAM class that I didn't do in the midst of the issues, but it's happening, even if I just took on the mentor thing. I will make the time because I will not fail. I have late IEPs for the first time in my 4 years of teaching. That's horrible, but I'm fixing it. I'm getting help for the stuff for the band booster thing. I'm not alone in that, even if they voted me in charge. I learned that I have to have more than a few people backing me up on new projects or I will never make it, so I'm leaning on others with my new club and the new church plant until I get my feet back under me again. It's probably growth that I'm doing that because I know in the past I always liked to just take on challenges by myself, and I learned how toxic that can be. 

It's all still a bit crazy, but I'm still figuring out how to function well in my brain, which I have seen in scans, and is super weird. I'm good with being weird, though. 

Stuff

One of the things I have been trying to change in my life is my need to buy stuff. The reality is that I have too much stuff. I don't need more things. Going through my grandmother's things after she passed has made this more and more clear for me. It isn't even the first time we have gone through her things to get rid of stuff. She had a crazy collection of things that she kept "just in case." It was her objection to the "throw away" mentality that I liked. Why throw things away that could be used again? She was reusing things long before it was cool. Still, at a certain point not throwing it away overwhelms you and you live in the leftover space.
I know my grandmother would cringe at all the things we have thrown away during the process of reclaiming out garage, but I also know I don't want how I live to be defined by stuff.
The things we keep are her crafts that she lovingly took her time and talents and the items that have stories that go with them. That is what I want to preserve in her stuff. Precious memories and rich stories from our family.
In honor of my grandmother, my kids and I are focusing our Christmas on making memories instead of getting/giving stuff. I am not Black Friday shopping or even shopping Amazon lightning deals. We don't need more stuff in our lives.
I am not by any means a minimalist. I enjoy my large home and all kinds of excess. I don't want my life defined by how little I have any more than I want it defined by how much I have. It's still being defined by stuff. I want my life defined by who I am, most especially who I am in Jesus. How detached I am from my stuff should just be one characteristic in a person who loves God and people. When people go through my stuff when I am gone, I want memories attached to every single thing. Those memories, good or bad, should paint the picture of a person who loves God and people; Maybe a love of learning, travel, and fun as well.