A tree
Lately I've been giving life a lot of thought and only come to one conclusion. The only conclusion that makes sense to me in every aspect. The conclusion where if I'm having self doubts or questions, I return to this idea; I'm not a tree.
Let me unpack this idea.
When contemplating the idea of quitting my job mid March of this year I had anxiety and fear. "What will I do this fall?" "Will I get another teaching job if I quit?" "Is this job fulfilling enough for me to stay here for another year?" Then it came to me. If I'm unhappy, having self doubt, and questioning my life at such a young age this is not where I'm meant to be. I'm not a tree. I was planted here yes, but unlike a tree, I can move. My roots may stay, but my trunk will go.
This summer, when I found out all of my friends were leaving me to move to Denver. My heart ached and my stomach churned. "How will I find new friends?" "Will I ever leave my house now that I know nobody my age in my hometown?" Putting my new tree theory to the test, I knew that even though we had carved our BFF letters into my trunk, there was lots more room for other friends. New friends that would probably get along great with my other friends too. You see, most teachers are very similar so my teacher friends and I usually get along in any setting. So it was settled, I would keep the carvings and add to my trunk. I would pursue new friendships and all would be okay. Maybe I actually am a tree.
The start of the school year came and I was surprised to learn my roommate and cousin would be moving out at the end of August. Throughout the last year our trees had blossomed and grown together. We had lived together and branched out of our comfort zones together. I would be greeted with the unthinkable, living alone. But, once again, I relied on my tree metaphor. Yes being at home on the couch with my beautiful dog is easy, but I'm not a tree. I can move and meet new people around the neighborhood. So that's precisely what I did. Each day I met someone new. Most of the people in my neighborhood are elderly so I would stop and swing with them while taking Maggie on a walk. Once more proving the tree method. God gave me legs to move, a brain to use, and a heart to spread love. That is my job in my not a tree life.
I should probably say that 2 weeks after quitting my job and uprooting my life, I received the bountiful gift of a job close to home in third grade. I packed myself up and moved my stump and branches. Here I found many new friends. I still have old friends that held me when my branches hung low, but I have new friends too that have helped me rebuild my branches. They've watered and fed me lots of information to help me succeed.
You see, some people want to pull on all the branches your tree has without watering and feeding your roots. And other people want to give you all they have to build you into a strong, sensible tree. Either way, when life brings you down: you're not a tree. You have the power to move yourself and make yourself better. And when life pulls you up: you have the ability to help someone else pull their tree roots and find a better place as well.
As for now, I'm not a stuck, rotten tree anymore. I no longer put myself through the aches and pains of dehydration and starvation. I am now a thriving healthy tree.
Let me unpack this idea.
When contemplating the idea of quitting my job mid March of this year I had anxiety and fear. "What will I do this fall?" "Will I get another teaching job if I quit?" "Is this job fulfilling enough for me to stay here for another year?" Then it came to me. If I'm unhappy, having self doubt, and questioning my life at such a young age this is not where I'm meant to be. I'm not a tree. I was planted here yes, but unlike a tree, I can move. My roots may stay, but my trunk will go.
This summer, when I found out all of my friends were leaving me to move to Denver. My heart ached and my stomach churned. "How will I find new friends?" "Will I ever leave my house now that I know nobody my age in my hometown?" Putting my new tree theory to the test, I knew that even though we had carved our BFF letters into my trunk, there was lots more room for other friends. New friends that would probably get along great with my other friends too. You see, most teachers are very similar so my teacher friends and I usually get along in any setting. So it was settled, I would keep the carvings and add to my trunk. I would pursue new friendships and all would be okay. Maybe I actually am a tree.
The start of the school year came and I was surprised to learn my roommate and cousin would be moving out at the end of August. Throughout the last year our trees had blossomed and grown together. We had lived together and branched out of our comfort zones together. I would be greeted with the unthinkable, living alone. But, once again, I relied on my tree metaphor. Yes being at home on the couch with my beautiful dog is easy, but I'm not a tree. I can move and meet new people around the neighborhood. So that's precisely what I did. Each day I met someone new. Most of the people in my neighborhood are elderly so I would stop and swing with them while taking Maggie on a walk. Once more proving the tree method. God gave me legs to move, a brain to use, and a heart to spread love. That is my job in my not a tree life.
I should probably say that 2 weeks after quitting my job and uprooting my life, I received the bountiful gift of a job close to home in third grade. I packed myself up and moved my stump and branches. Here I found many new friends. I still have old friends that held me when my branches hung low, but I have new friends too that have helped me rebuild my branches. They've watered and fed me lots of information to help me succeed.
You see, some people want to pull on all the branches your tree has without watering and feeding your roots. And other people want to give you all they have to build you into a strong, sensible tree. Either way, when life brings you down: you're not a tree. You have the power to move yourself and make yourself better. And when life pulls you up: you have the ability to help someone else pull their tree roots and find a better place as well.
As for now, I'm not a stuck, rotten tree anymore. I no longer put myself through the aches and pains of dehydration and starvation. I am now a thriving healthy tree.
Comments
Post a Comment