I have this narrative in the back of my head kind of constantly, when I think about the life choices that have brought me to this point. I worked in a Montessori school for a year, teaching, before I chose to switch to teaching a small homeschool group, and then shifted to homeschooling my own kids for the next 9 years. I’m technically still homeschooling one of them, and also have a baby (turning one tomorrow!) at home, but since I have three kids in various school institutions, I feel like I’m winding down on the homeschooling.
Its been a defining part of my identity for most of my adult life. I love the jaw drops, the stunned stares, the incredulous people basically communicating, you are a fucking GODDESS, I could NEVER do what you do. And also, looking at my awesome, creative, free kids, living life on their own terms, connecting to all sorts of diverse people, and just reveling in a sort of smug feeling of them having escaped the jaws of the soul crushing system that is school. No peer pressure, no bullying, no grades…seriously, I felt like I was doing something amazing, mostly by not-doing, by not-sending.
Of course I understood that most people couldn't or wouldn't want to make that choice, and I honestly respected them and lived in a sort of awe of the grown-up-ness of people that were actually a part of the productive adult world and work force. Deep down (or maybe not even so deep) I believed that I was not capable of functioning in the grown up world of bosses, accountability, and paychecks.
So, this whole situation, even when it was supremely challenging juggling kids from newborn through teenager and all of their needs, fit into my psyche perfectly. It let me keep my self-talk intact and consistent. And now, I look around and wonder what next. I’m 39. My life is moving along, the weeks flying by faster than I can even believe, and I am struck with a sort of deep and abiding terror. What am I doing? What can I be if I stop letting fear of the adult world be the driver? To add to the issues, I moved into a country where my lack of fluency with the language will also be a factor holding me back, making me feel less-than, if I choose to allow that into my narrative.
I’m just emerging from the postpartum haze, and this final baby of mine’s one year old birthday feels huge and significant. I feel like I can lift my head up, open my eyes for a few brief glimpses around me, take a breath, survey the landscape.
Its been a defining part of my identity for most of my adult life. I love the jaw drops, the stunned stares, the incredulous people basically communicating, you are a fucking GODDESS, I could NEVER do what you do. And also, looking at my awesome, creative, free kids, living life on their own terms, connecting to all sorts of diverse people, and just reveling in a sort of smug feeling of them having escaped the jaws of the soul crushing system that is school. No peer pressure, no bullying, no grades…seriously, I felt like I was doing something amazing, mostly by not-doing, by not-sending.
Of course I understood that most people couldn't or wouldn't want to make that choice, and I honestly respected them and lived in a sort of awe of the grown-up-ness of people that were actually a part of the productive adult world and work force. Deep down (or maybe not even so deep) I believed that I was not capable of functioning in the grown up world of bosses, accountability, and paychecks.
So, this whole situation, even when it was supremely challenging juggling kids from newborn through teenager and all of their needs, fit into my psyche perfectly. It let me keep my self-talk intact and consistent. And now, I look around and wonder what next. I’m 39. My life is moving along, the weeks flying by faster than I can even believe, and I am struck with a sort of deep and abiding terror. What am I doing? What can I be if I stop letting fear of the adult world be the driver? To add to the issues, I moved into a country where my lack of fluency with the language will also be a factor holding me back, making me feel less-than, if I choose to allow that into my narrative.
I’m just emerging from the postpartum haze, and this final baby of mine’s one year old birthday feels huge and significant. I feel like I can lift my head up, open my eyes for a few brief glimpses around me, take a breath, survey the landscape.
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