If I'm Being Honest

if only a coin flip were enough

Warning: The following feelings are most definitely influenced by the fact that my period is due to start sometime next week (at least that’s what I’m telling myself).

I really wanted to avoid writing about work for this week’s newsletter, but yesterday was the final day of my summer contract (big yay!) and in just over a week I’ll be attending the program orientation for my next degree; and judging by my internal lack of “yay” in response to the text exchange between my Dad and I this morning, this feels like a topic worth exploring here.

First off, let’s acknowledge how cute it is that my dad had to ask me the significance of my chosen emoji response. Second, yeah, the mind blown emoji was the best response I could come up with.

He then asked me if that (mind blown emoji) was a good thing. I mean, well, sometimes? Under these circumstances, not really. I wasn’t thinking “Wow! Yes! You’re right! How cool is that!,” I was more caught in a state of disbelief, shock, indifference, and dread — more “Holy shit is this really what I’ve committed myself to for the next chunk of my life?” vibes.

At some point along the way of working my way to the end of my undergrad (that I finally finished this past April yay!) I commissioned a pair of big apple earrings from a friend of a friend here in town. I thought to myself, “these will be motivation for me to push through to the end and actually become a teacher” because that was the path I had chosen.

I worked my ass off to get the best grades I could in my Hispanic Studies BA with an English minor in order to be accepted into the teaching program at my university and to be able to teach those two subjects to high school students one day. The day I received my acceptance letter I remember feeling relieved. Not elated, or excited, but relieved that all my effort ended up equating to my previously desired result: I got into the program. Yay?

As my convocation came and went, people asked me if it felt good to finally cross the finish line — to finally have my degree in my hands after working so hard and overcoming multiple barriers to getting there. I replied honestly: It would have felt a lot better if I wasn’t planning to immediately begin another program in order to get the “career.” It would have felt a lot better if the piece of paper I now possess was enough to qualify for a lucrative and fulfilling gig that supported the simple life I wanted to live (in the stunning, yet incredibly expensive city in which I reside).

part of a list from Mari Andrew’s newsletter a while back that stuck with me

If I keep being honest, I know that if I were to flip a coin and ask myself if I should go through with the teaching program my secret answer I would be hoping for would be no — so I don’t flip a coin. I don’t flip a coin because I don’t have any other option. I don’t have another pathway to income earning. I don’t know any people willing (or able) to pull some strings for me. I don’t have a diverse enough resume to try something new to see if I like it. I don’t have enough savings to sit on it, to ponder what it might look like to live a creative life that supports my livelihood. My loan has already been approved for the program. I need to become a teacher, or a something, real soon so that I am able to pay it all back one day.

I received a scholarship cheque in the mail yesterday and I don’t want to deposit it. There is a part of me that is still waiting for this newsletter to take off, for a “We’re Hiring!” sign in a local shop that pays a high enough wage to afford me a life that is more than just scraping by, for a falling star of wisdom to shoot across my night sky and tell me how I can drastically pivot without feeling like I’m risking it all.

I wish it were as simple as a coin flip, but it simply is not; so in the meantime, I’ll hang onto the future summers off that await me. I’ll hang onto the teacher wardrobe that I’ll slowly curate that feels just right, to the spring breaks and weekend dates, and a real excuse to buy more books and actually read them.

I hold out hope for classroom conversations that challenge status quos — even though I know, deep down, how draining the day to day will be. I’ll remember the toolbox of a life we’ve built to support us through the stress of it all; the nutritious meals, the stretching routine, the movement, meditation, and time by the sea.

I know my grandma would be proud, just like my Dad is and will be of me.

I’ll try my best to silence that voice that worries and wonders: but — how proud of me will I be?

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I’m grateful for adorable greeting cards to write thank you notes in.

I’m grateful for virtual check-ins with friends from the comfort of my bed.

I’m grateful for an afternoon of back-to-school thrift shopping with my mom.

I’m grateful for a week off to soak up the end of summer with my love.