Sun Out, Shades On

Recently I told a coworker that I have a blog.

I don’t normally do this, as the thought of colleagues finding out about the wild, messy storm in my brain scares me. However, a few days ago I shared the news because the topic came up and because, as you know, I’m working on meshing professional and personal Kara into one – which, it turns out, requires a lot of this “jumping in with both feet” vulnerability. So … you know?

Splash.

She looked at me shockingly and leaned back as if my bloggy brain and I might lunge forward and bite her at any moment.

“Oh, really?” she said slowly, skeptically.

I swallowed. Smiled.

Being transparent is awkward.

“You know,” she continued, her eyes landing on everything but my face, “I’ve thought about starting a blog before, but as a teacher, I don’t think there’s anything I can blog about safely.”

My ego is always the first to respond to comments like these. What the hell is that supposed mean? I wanted to say. Are you implying that I risk losing my job by publishing my writing?

Because the ego operates on insecurity, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered that very thing from time to time. Teachers are role models; they’re expected to think and behave in a way that merits replication. I get it, guys. I really do.

But.

“I have to do it,” I replied resolutely. “It’s my outlet. Writing connects me and if I don’t connect, I implode.”

I went several years without writing and I, as well as my friends and family, cannot afford to go back to that place – to those heavy, depressing days where I forgot what it meant to untangle and create. That, plus I have this little thing called perspective now that allows me to see my job for what it is. A job. One that I love and enjoy and appreciate but am not afraid to lose if it means staying true to who I am.

Would I be upset if I lost teaching? Absolutely. I’d miss everything about this job – the teachers, the students, the crazy busy days that come and go before I have a chance to accomplish anything. (Although somehow it all gets done.) Watching kids learn how to navigate life’s chaos fulfills me more than I’ll ever be able to put into words.

But I’d be more upset if I lost myself, and that’s what happens when I don’t write.

“See, I think that’s the problem,” I said to my coworker, treading water to keep warm. “We think we have to choose between being ourselves or keeping our jobs when, in reality, we can have both.”

Her eyes narrowed in consideration.

“Hmph,” she said, turning back towards her computer.

My heart winked at my brain and I leaned back for a moment to float on their cool, easy confidence. Sun out, shades on.

Splash

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *