The Glue

My mother. My mother is the glue that holds it all together.

I am convinced that my mother is the greatest woman who has walked this earth. She drives me insane. She is my best friend. If I was my mom, I would currently have a 4-year-old living in Crosby with my first husband that works too much. I also would work for an environmental lab. (What?) and be an Oilers Cheerleader. (Seriously?) I told you. Badass.

At 28, my mother divorced the largest narcissist on the planet and started her dance studio. Cool right? She met my step dad shortly thereafter. Thank god. Who knows where we’d be without him. He’s the rock. Mom is the glue. Maybe that’s why we get to explore all these other avenues of life. Dad will always be there to support, even if he knows it’s stupid. He’ll let you safely make the mistake and then so sweetly explain, ‘well that was fucking stupid. But I’m always here for you.’  Yup. Subtle. Thanks dad.

So clearly, this ‘well rounded’ thing didn’t start with me. But, Mom has always known her purpose in life is us. I just don’t feel that.

The questions still stand.

What is my purpose? Am I supposed to know?

Is anyone else waiting for some crazy miracle from the Bible to transplant itself into their life? At this point I feel like that’s the only way I’m going to actually know what my point is. God has a plan and a purpose for my life. Yes. I know. Read the Bible and pray. I DO! I could do it more. We all could. We all should. I definitely need to read it more and go to church. Maybe getting closer to God would allow me to know my purpose. But here’s where it doesn’t make sense to me: my purpose isn’t in the church… so why is that where I go to find it? Or maybe I’m just supposed to go to God in general, not the actual physical church. Yeah, that makes a lot more sense. I will. I’ll be there Sunday in the back row with no make up on, pen in hand, and a smile on my face as I eagerly listen to find my damn purpose here. Yes, this is what I do in church. Oh and I pretend to sing. Yeap, you do it too. I’ll be there on Sunday. Will you?

Turns out I didn’t go to church on Sunday. I got day drunk with my friends and had a complete blast instead. Drinking during the day is my favorite. I can still go to bed early and wake up the next day ready to take on the world. After I binge watch Orange is the New Black or Westworld of course.

I know God has a plan. And I trust it, I do. At the end of the day though, I have to make decisions. So how do those two things connect? I know they do, I just can’t figure out how. There is a plan, we make decisions and hope it’s the same as what God wants? How the hell do we know? I don’t. So, take your best leap of faith and if it sucks, odds are you’ll fall on your face, call your mom (or whoever your ‘glue’ is), cry, drink some wine, and move on to the next cool shit attempt. And then I’ll try again and again until I don’t fall.

Directionally Challenged.

What if I don’t know what I’m meant to do?

I began my college career thinking I wanted to be in advertising. Then, I decided I wanted to teach high school. So, I was told to major in a subject itself – here comes my math major. PS – I SUCK at math. Clearly, that was short-lived. Then I went to general studies for a while. I did some volunteer work in a school and decided that God gave me a sign and I was going to be a teacher. That little kid with dreads was so fucking cute.

I studied my ass off and threw myself completely into it. I tend to do that. And I loved it. All four of my years of teaching I loved. Then I quit. Will I ever go back? Probably. Now? Hell no. It wasn’t enough. I made up so many excuses because I didn’t want to admit the fact that I just needed out. Just for a little bit. I was a leader and a mentor – teaching people how to be better teachers and I wasn’t happy. I couldn’t go on. I felt like a complete fraud.

I will never forget the day one of my students was suspended for fighting the biggest bully in the school. But, another student that hit me the day before had zero consequences. How? It seemed so wrong. So immoral. I was told, ‘I’m sorry you feel that way.’

Thank god I worked and lived with my best friend that year the torture ensued. We drove home cursing that entire drive, promptly opened a bottle of wine, popped some popcorn, and solved all the problems of the world while watching Scandal, Grey’s Anatomy, and How to Get Away with Murder. Don’t pretend like you don’t know the greatest Thursday night show line up of all time.

The next day after I was fueled with a big ass coffee, I was offered a job to run a spin studio. And I took it. Timing is funny isn’t it? I went on to manage that spin studio with a twinkle in my eye of opportunity and a different lifestyle. The lifestyle was unbeatable. But, the question is, was I fulfilled?

Since then, I’ve moved to California to live with my fiancé. We are now going through another time of change and movement. After job hunting with zero bites for over a year, he was offered 4 jobs in one week. While I feel like I just arrived, we’re ready for it.

So I’m left to wonder, what am I supposed to do? I know two things.

  • I love fitness.
  • I love people.

That’s it. That’s all I am for sure of in terms of a job or career. All of the traditional self-help books you read suggest that you wake up some random morning and just KNOW. Know exactly what you are meant for in this life in one single moment. I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. If I do, then I have no meaning. I refuse to accept that. So, I am creating my own answer. I believe I’m not meant to do one thing. I believe I’m meant to go through the journey of life with a positive outlook and soak it all up. Someone told me once that if you run out of opportunity in life, you said no. I choose to say yes. I choose to be curious.

Normalcy is Overrated.

I’ve always known that I wasn’t normal. Whatever ‘normal’ is. It’s definitely not me.

It transitions, right? It begins with your loving mother encouraging you to be different. Be whatever you want to be Morgan! You can accomplish anything you want in life. (Note: my mother is a complete badass I will explain later.) Then middle school hits and you wear knee-high toe socks with flames down the side, and we are told, ‘What are you doing! Don’t you want to fit in?!’ …Um. That was just me, huh?

True story. Although, I have officially accepted that the flame toe socks were a strange choice. Shortly after the sock incident, I decided to internalize all differences. Yay teenage years. Then I thought all this stuff inside of me was wrong. For a long time. But here I finally am admitting that I don’t think it is wrong. All of my shit is okay. It’s what makes up who I am. The differentness is what makes each person in the world have a story.

But now what? What was the point of the toe sock mishap

I’m at a place in my life where I feel the ‘now what’ question constantly hitting my brain. And sometimes if I let it, my heart. Let’s take my day for example.

Thoughts:

  1. I need to find a job where I don’t have to wake up at 7 am on a Saturday. But I sleep until 10 am on Monday and Wednesday – that’s pretty cool.
  2. I feel like a slave. I hate my job.
  3. This is literally the greatest job I’ve ever had. I am so happy.
  4. I cannot wait to see him. Get me on the flight now.
  5. I really wish I was with my friends watching the game.
  6. I want that baby he is wonderful.
  7. What if I miss teaching? Hell no, you cried everyday Morgan. But, those kids are so cool.
  8. I should write all of this down.

Yup. All over the place. I’m aware – I have zero direction, but I’m so ready for the next thing. I forced myself to take a deep breath.

Mornings will always suck ass, jobs will come and go, my friends are awesome, one day my boyfriend and I will be able to progress, and someday I will have a child. Once put into perspective, all of my thoughts appear surface level. But, there is something deeper that I felt in the pit of my stomach when I wrote all of that down. There has to be a purpose to all of this. It has to lead to something bigger. Seeing my thoughts written down made me realize that I can choose to be happy in whatever point of my life I’m in. It’s way easier said than done, and I definitely struggle with it on a daily basis. But, I’m a work in progress. We all are.

For staff development that year we were required to read, The Energy Bus by Jon Gordon. Secretly, I am a nerd and had already read the book, but I was happy to reread it a second time as my new blank shiny copy was handed to me. I immediately gifted that copy and I pulled out my first copy with all the notes in it. When I taught fourth grade reading, a huge piece of the curriculum is teaching kids to think while you read. Now, I will forever take notes in the margins while I read books. It’s weird and annoying and I usually end up with ink all over my hand but, some habits are not meant to be broken.

Back to the point – The Energy Bus. There is a paragraph in this book that changed my daily life. Essentially, Jon Gordon suggests that studies have shown great positive outcome from making one daily change. Here’s the catch, your change has to take less than a minute, but should effect at least 30 minutes of your following day in a positive manner. So, every night I place my running shoes in my path I take to leave for the day. The moment I see those damn things, I always end up running. Running is my therapy. It alters my mindset daily to encourage me to be more than normal and to continue finding the point. Although I’m still in search for my point and what comes next, there is beauty within the process.

Find something other than wearing reputation-crushing toe socks you can do that makes you feel much more than normal. Being normal is overrated. Being interesting is a constant journey of curiosity.

Why.

 

Here I am.

On another flight to go see my amazing boyfriend in California. I packed several books to read on my day of travel, yet I just spent a large amount of this flight convincing myself that I actually wanted to read the self-help book about becoming a better me and somehow taking over the world with my girl power. When suddenly, I realized I needed to just write my own damn version of the truth – I couldn’t find a pen. So here I am, typing on my cell phone with the brightness down to zero because my phone is about to die (per usual) Note, I might also shed real blood tonight typing through the cracks in this damn screen. I am a mess.

Does this sound like anyone else’s life?

Saturday.

I almost accidentally ate a weed brownie from a client, taught a spin class, a random person decided to read my palm, read an article about the top advantages to being a teacher, (as I was then prompted to mull over my top reasons I was a teacher), read a juicy romance novel, feigned over the cutest father and son duo running through the airport, and was offered a free miniature bottle of wine from a very nice lady flight attendant who I’m quite sure was hitting on me.

Best part? I actually consider today as boring. What else could I possibly want in my life, right?

Now. Does this sound like anyone else’s life? Here’s the thing. I don’t think the answer is no. Weird shit happens to us every day. And if it doesn’t, we’re all thinking weird shit all day every day. If I’m wrong, so be it. Being right is overrated. and boring.

 

Self Helpless.

 

Good thing this isn’t a ‘Self-Help’ blog. I am in no way a guru or someone to talk to in terms of getting help for yourself. I am a mess. But, what I have discovered in ‘Self-Help’ books is that everyone telling the story comes from some place dark… and then blossoms into the beautiful. I just haven’t blossomed yet, that’s all. AKA: not a self-help blog. It’s an, ‘I’m a mess and I bet you are too because you somehow ended up on this blog’ blog.

When I began this (insert whatever this is) it was a complete vomit of words, then it was  a journal, inspiration for myself, etc. As it began to take shape, I thought of something a wise young fourth grader told me. ‘Ms. Bocca this is ridiculous. My hand hurts, I’ve written the same paragraph 6 times, and I changed maybe 3 things.’ Yes, Elliot, you were right, I should have let you use a computer. Your pre-writing strategy was much more efficient considering you could quickly delete, copy, paste, repeat.

The most brilliant 10 year old on the planet shared a quote with me once:

“Reading is what you do when you want to escape where you have to be.”

Seemed she didn’t want to be in my class. Regardless, she learned from me and I learned from her. We grew. We continue to grow. This brings me to the one question this blog circles around: Are these little things the actual big stuff?

Join me as I hash through my experiences, downfalls, confusions, highs, lows, and everything in between. My hope is that as I benefit from the therapy of writing this, someone out there, maybe you, will benefit too. Becoming better with every step is the goal, right?

Also, YES. I have made my username livinginthegrey69. I’d like to point out that I did not realize these numbers would be on display. This unfortunate grouping of numbers is a running joke with me and my boyfriend. Everytime there is a password or number we are required to give, naturally 69 is the most fun number to provide. It typically warrants laughs, awkward looks, an eyebrow raise, or judgment from a stranger. There is nothing wrong with a little childish dirty humor. So, I stand strong in my decision to not change the numbers, because every time I look at it, it will make me giggle.

 

I will leave you with this:

The picture of the leaning tower of rocks does hold importance and symbolism. The literature teacher in me seriously geeked out on this one. Can you guess the symbolism in the tower of rocks?