Life's a piece of shit, when you look at it
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true
You'll see its all a show, keep 'em laughin as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you
Monty Python - Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life Lyrics
I've always approached my life with certainty - I knew where I was headed, and why.
I've had to learn, repeatedly - because the lesson comes hard for me, that I can't control everything and that I must make many adjustments. (Read Turbulence.)
I'm told that the summer before kindergarten, I planned what courses I would take by writing it all out on paper with a crayon. My older sisters were in high school and planning their course work, so I thought I should do the same.
I would take reading, art, and music.
I would not take math or PE.
Mom told me it wasn't up to me. There was no choice in kindergarten.
Rats.
As an adult, my plan has included my family and a career I'm passionate about. It's included community service and a variety of pursuits - theatre, travel, aviation.
I didn't grow up wanting to be a teacher. During my high school and early college years, I envisioned life as a family attorney or in politics, but I had an epiphany when my "fall back" plan of a degree in elementary education on my way to law school turned out to be what I was meant to do. When I started the courses that took my into classrooms with kids, I felt I was "home." I knew that was where I belonged. I wanted to make a difference.
Even as a young mom, devoted to my family, I didn't want to leave teaching. Aside from obvious financial reasons, I worked for a purpose. Leaving my own family was bearable because I was making a difference in the lives of others. I liked the personal challenge, the creativity, the autonomy. Teaching is hard and rewarding work.
John has likewise been devoted to his work. He is a born problem solver, and the favorite part of his job is finding solutions to problems. He doesn't like being away from home, but he loves start ups. He has many stories of hours and days in a mill starting up new machines - times where he would rotate through 24 hours of shift changes and not have left the mill himself. He has long standing relationships with his business partners and the people he works with. Although John is a part owner of his business, and has been for almost 25 years (I really don't remember exactly how long), he will never, ever say a colleague works "for" me. It is always works "with" me and the fact that he is an owner will only come up if it is truly relevant to the conversation.
For the first time in my life, I am struggling to find the meaning and the purpose.
Maybe it's just a stereotypical mid-life crisis.
Maybe I should have been trying to "find myself" decades ago and I'm just behind.
I don't know.
Teaching is hard work, and it's really a hard time to be a teacher right now. I know that many of you think teachers are whiny, and I'm sorry that you feel that way. I don't need to be adored, but it's really hard to be vilified. There's been lots of action on the political front, blaming all sorts of things on teachers. That's hurtful, but not as hurtful as the friends, acquaintances, and even some family members who have piled on. I don't mention this to start a political debate about teachers - that's a conversation for another time and place - but to say that, as a teacher, that message is hard to take. It is painful.
Even through Alex's illness and transplant, I was driven by purpose - taking care of Alex, taking care of my students, taking care of our family.
Today, Alex is day +128 post transplant, in remission, but early on. I am learning (or trying to learn) how to live with the specter of relapse hanging over our heads. I am trying to appreciate that today is a good day.
But I find myself with a whole lot of "YOLO" going on. That's all great in Facebook memes and pop culture that tells you to live for today, but it isn't that simple. I have an established career that I love, I have responsibilities, and bills to pay and a retirement to save and plan for. I'm only 53. I'm not ready to retire, but I find myself wondering, what next, what now?
I've lost the fire, the certainty of purpose that I knew what I was doing.
A year and a half ago, I understood my life. Then cancer came calling. And I had a new purpose - save Alex. Save Alex, and try to keep the rest of my life going at the same time.
And now Alex is doing well. He's recovering. He's in remission.
But my old life doesn't feel the same. I'm not the same. And I can't tell you yet what that means.
I do know that cancer makes you re-evaluate everything. I know that's not a news flash to anyone else who has gone through this, and I also know that I'm not the cancer survivor, but I am a survivor of sorts. Alex's fight was our fight because he couldn't do it alone.
I feel like I don't have time to waste, and I'm afraid to put my life off until later.
In the past year and a half, I've also lost several people who I care about. People who are gone too soon. Lives that were not yet finished. It makes you wonder and it makes you re-evaluate.
I don't have the answers; just the questions.
Spending time with my kids makes me happy. Spending time with my husband makes me happy. Flying airplanes, friends, my dog - those things bring me joy and contentment. I'll keep doing those things as much as I can while I try and figure the rest of things out.
I'll take a cue from "The Meaning of Life" from Spamalot.
Always Look on the Bright Side of Life
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