No-Shame November

It's that time of year for me again! This was inspired for me two years ago by my friend Liz, who spent a whole month blogging about things that she was ashamed of. Then she wrote about those things (some were funny, some were serious) and shared her results. I don't have the humility nor the guts to do a whole month of posts that expose all of the things that make me feel guilty or ashamed, but I do like to devote one post in November to this cause. In a weird way, it's kind of fun. So it's not no-shave November for me (although for my boyfriend it is; his lumberjack beard has come along rather nicely) but no-shame November. And here we go with this year's post:

I'm ashamed that, going on two years into the process, this whole how-to-be-a-grown-up thing is still a mystery to me.

This post has come from many moments of hilarity, confusion, and even sometimes despair. Nobody told me what a crazy ride my life would be after graduating college. I think this is a problem unique to my generation. For my parents and their parents, you grew up because that's just what you did. You worked at the farm, foundry, or family business since you were 12 years old anyway, so working full time and making decisions weren't big steps for you. You were more worried about the life you were building instead of the image you were building. But we millennials are not like you guys.

But seriously though. 

We had the luxury of putting growing up on the back burner. We get to do things like summer mission trips, semesters abroad, and freshman years spent "finding ourselves." We date more people, get married later in life, buy more clothes, and go out to eat. We've had it good, and now we are paying for it. Sometimes it's a really funny moment, like this week, when I made myself the spongebob-shaped-mac-and-cheese and marveled at how much joy this simple thing brought to me. Sometimes it's a really depressing moment, when you realize that you are a "well-adjusted" and fully competent 24-year-old who still doesn't understand her own insurance package from work, even after her own father has explained it to you 14 different times with diagrams and visual displays to help.

Not only does the real world expect you to adjust to the exhaustion of a 50+ hours per week job, it also expects you to find that job in the first place, it expects you to cook dinner, find an apartment, find a church, manage your budget (woof), finish grad school, attend 48 weddings, and keep your place relatively presentable. And on top of all that? You, as a twentysomething, need to also do all of this while looking really cute and having a lot of fun and meeting a lot of new friends because obviously you're enjoying your twenties! 

I do think I had a particularly hard time with the adjustment from college to real-world, simply because of my ridiculous job. It's a good job, and an important one, one that I'm thankful for, but it is also definitely ridiculous. There are many days on my drive home where I look back and just laugh. Balancing the rest of my life against all that goes on in my daily life of teaching in East Garfield Park is definitely a challenge. And here's my question to the world: how do you other grown-ups decide how long to stay in your job? Or what other jobs to do? And how do you really know what you want to be when you grow up?

All of this pressure, of course, is imagined and unnecessary. Sometimes I kind of wish I was in a generation that just did everything that was expected of us. But in the end, I absolutely love this hot mess of a life that I lead. So here we go on the confessions:

I'm ashamed to admit that I have my mom on-call for my trips to the grocery store while I ask her to give me on-demand recipe ideas and pick up the ingredients as she lists them for me. After she explains how to make a simple meal twice over the phone, I go back and email her asking for written directions, only to call her again in the midst of cooking the meal to ask if I'm doing it wrong. This is a bimonthly occurrence. (When you see Kathy next, give her a high-five for her mad culinary skills. Then give her a hug for dealing with a daughter like me who did not inherit her natural knack in this area.)

I'm ashamed that one trip to Target can derail any best intentions at that week's budget.

I'm ashamed that instead of becoming moved to action, the needs of looking for jobs, finishing grad programs, paying insurance, registering my teaching license, making dinner, finishing laundry, and finding apartments actually just moves me to want to take a nap on the couch.

One day I will get it together.  But, at least for now, I have no shame in spongebob-shaped-mac-and-cheese. 

No-Shame November

Some people do No-Shave November. I'd rather not be disgusting and I'm not a hippie girl, so I do No-Shame November instead. Inspired by my friend Liz, I did a post to start my little tradition last year and it was really refreshing to do. It helped change my mindset in some ways. Basically, I want to identify one thing that is true about myself that I am ashamed to admit and get it out there. Then I want to work on it. 

So here we go. Ready? I'm ashamed that...

Sometimes I want to quit Teach For America. Sometimes I want to give up. 

Is that terrible to say? Somewhere, Wendy Kopp just furrowed her brow and pursed her lips in judgement. There are times when people ask me what I'm up to these days, and I tell them. I say I'm doing Teach For America in Chicago in a second-grade classroom. That's usually very well received and accompanied by some sort of vague encouragement that I'm some sort of really good person for doing this. (Hint: I'm no better than anyone!) I believe my motivations for joining TFA were and are still pure, and I  want to continue to do this shindig for the good of my kids who are totally worth it and who deserve better than what the system is giving them. But I have to be truthful. It's really hard. I know that's obvious and lame to say, and I knew it would be hard all along, but I just want to be honest about what's going on.

No. I'm not going to quit. I'll stick it out. But what makes me ashamed is that I find myself wanting to quit sometimes. There are those days when I'm inspired and motivated and fired up about the world's problems and am ready to roll up my sleeves and GET TO WORK to start solving this whole thing. But that's not how I feel all the time. And that sucks. I hate that I feel that way sometimes.

I'm ashamed to admit the jealousy I feel towards those who aren't doing this crazy teaching thing. I'm jealous of those with cushy office jobs, part-time filler jobs, more semesters of school or grad school, and living arrangements with their parents. Who get to enjoy their Sunday afternoons. Who get to use the bathroom whenever they need to use the bathroom.

I'm ashamed to admit that I still feel like a weak sauce teacher sometimes. Like I am still trying to get the hang of it and it's been almost four months.

I'm ashamed that I don't always feel like the confident, courageous, compassionate person that signed up to do this. I know I still am that person and always will be, but when one student is flailing in circles on the floor, another is yelling a cuss word at 392 decibels, another is crying because someone kicked her on purpose under the table, and another just threw up, I tend to forget that person.

Honestly, I think it's good to fail a little bit. It's shown me what a huge problem our country (and our city in particular) has on its hands with this batty school system. It's shown me the intense work, talent, and passion that has to be invested in the problem to start making some changes. It's shown me that I have to work at things and that most great great things come at the end of difficult roads. This experience is already making the point plain as day that I can't rely on myself to solve everything. I alone am not going to be the answer to any problems. But what can I do?

I can show up. I can do my part. I can be one person who makes that choice, whether I'm feeling like it or not, to care. I can choose to be patient. I can choose to work hard. I can choose to celebrate the small good things instead of vent about the bad things. I can choose to keep at it. And with God's help I can maybe start to chip away at some things.

I'm resolving to fight off those thoughts of quitting, because at this point it's not an option for me or my kids. I have it on my mind to love my kids more, pray for my kids more, and listen to my kids more. I have it on my mind to never never never give up. As we go into Thanksgiving break, this is what's on my mind. There's no shame in that. 

No-Shame November

A friend of mine, Liz Brice, has been blogging throughout this month about things that she is ashamed of in a challenge called No-Shame November. She is putting it all out there, saying what makes her ashamed, and hopefully through this process she will face her fears head on, learn something about herself, and allow others to laugh/learn along with her. I didn't take this month-long challenge myself, but I thought it'd be a good activity to devote a post to the cause. This is painfully scary for me, because I am not quite as brave as Liz in the "let it all out" department.

Well, here we are. Ready for mine?

I have a complex about my appearance. Classic stupid girl issue, I know. But it's unfortunately true.

Okay chill, before you freak out about the impending emotional vomit, have no fear. I'm not going to gently sob on your shoulder and listen to the Carpenters as you tell me that everything is going to be okay. I'm a tougher cookie than that. (But if you want to listen to The Carpenters on your own time, go for it. They're pure gold. I love when Chris Farley and David Spade sing that song in Tommy Boy.) It's just that I happen to think other girls are great in all shapes and sizes, yet when I apply the standards to myself, the restrictions somehow become an unrealistic ideal that Britney Spears put in my head in '99.

There are some days when I am happy with the girl looking back in the mirror and the world is a-okay.

But, more often than I'd like to admit, the girl looking back at me in the mirror has a laundry list of problems: she's too tall, she's not nearly thin enough, her butt is too big, and she could use some styling tips.

Why? It's ridiculous. And unacceptable. Because all of that stuff does not matter. It just doesn't. And while I'm not a size 0 like I used to be in the old high school days, I'm not sure that's what I even want to be anymore. I'm a size 6 and know I can pull it off if I just get out of my own head.

Here we go on the  list:

I'm ashamed that I consider myself a confident, dynamic, and intelligent person in most areas of life, and that such a trivial category as appearance is one that trips me up.

I'm ashamed that I spend WAY too much time looking in the mirror evaluating how I look in my outfits (ask my roommates...oops.) I'm ashamed that I sometimes gauge my good-looking-ness in comparison to other girls, as if there is some sort of contest going on out there in the universe. (Here's a hint: There isn't! We can ALL be awesome and nobody wins or loses. How nice.) I'm ashamed that I claim to know a God who made me to be wonderfully great, yet I don't usually act like I value the body he gave me in which to live a fabulous life.

So. What to do from here? What's my job here? I can tell you that my job is NOT to make myself into some weird sort of ridiculous stereotype. My job is to be a healthy Anna Gesch, who is as cool with herself as she is with others. My job is to love life and not get caught up in a stupid, meaningless rat race for perfection. And when I get dressed in the morning, my job is to do so because it makes me happy, shows my personality, and displays my point of view. I resolve to start doing my job in this department.

And this little resolution is not intended as a deep-sea fishing expedition for compliments. It's meant as inspiration for all of you people, guys or girls, to value who you are and have confidence in your positive attributes. It's hopefully to serve as a reminder to cut the comparison routine (for both ourselves and others) and to start living life above all that junk.

Deal? Deal. Let's do it.