The Transition
When I made the decision to transition to a private studio, I knew the beginning of the school year would be interesting. I started wondering: What will it be like to shed the identity of a school teacher? Would I feel like I was losing a part of myself? Or would I become more myself?
I’ll be honest, I have felt like I had lost a part of myself these past few years. I didn’t know whether I should chalk it up to the drastic changes motherhood brings, or if it was the cultural shifts that have happened over the same past decade. The only thing I knew is that I knew who I used to be, and that I didn’t always feel like myself any more.
I think part of those pieces clicking this realization into place was when I was working on “She Used to Be Mine”, a song Sara Bareilles wrote for her hit musical, Waitress.
“It’s not simple to say that most days I don’t recognize me…”
I’ve always been a fan of Sara Bareilles, but if you have never listened to this heart-breaking love song–about one’s self you need to. Obviously there are bits that pertain very specifically to the character in the musical who sings it, Jenna (originated by Sara on Broadway), but it’s just this beautiful, bittersweet, melancholic song about a woman remembering who she used to be.
So the more I listened to this song, the more I reflected about who I used to be.
As any good, young, American girl I grew up watching the Olympics–specifically gymnastics and figure skating–in awe. I spent hours pretending to be Kristi Yamaguchi attaching blocks to my feet with pony tails and pretending to skate around the living room. So naturally, I still have a strong desire to watch these Olympic events, because, well, nostalgia.
As with so many others, I have been particularly interested in Simone Biles, and really loved seeing her comeback this year–Netflix documentary and all! I related so hard to something she said in an interview, “I used to be so fearless” and I was instantly like “ME TOO,” and “When did I start holding back and living in fear?”
Simone said she wondered if it was because she has so much more to lose now. Maybe that’s it for me?
But also, what if it’s not?
Before my prefrontal cortex was fully developed (around age 25 for those of you who maybe aren’t well versed in brain development), is the time I would classify as “fearless” me. And I know I wasn’t fearless. I think I was just less likely to think things through and never second guessed my gut. Now, I want to feel fearless again, but also enjoy having a fully matured brain that is capable of also thinking things through. So where is the happy medium?
I did trust my gut when I made the leap to leave school and traditional teaching–blazing my own path. However, I’d be a fool if I didn’t recognize the part of me that was nervous about that. I would be a fraud if I didn’t admit that there is a part of me that still struggles with fear and desperation, that was so used to living deep in anxiety it’s impossible to shake. Those feelings are deeply embedded in my body now, even though I don’t know when or where they came from to roost. These feelings took such control of my body that at the beginning of August the stress and anxiety I would normally feel going back to school literally made me sick. I got strep throat in August–what?! With no idea where it came from. And I wasn’t even going back to school!
I have recently been reading or “working through” (which is what I tell myself is ok to do with nonfiction) Brené Brown’s “The Gifts of Imperfection” which has pierced by heart on several occasions. The focus in the book is on fear and shame, which I know was all placed upon me while I was in the traditional teaching profession. I am not sure how, or when, or if there even would be an inciting moment, but it was built up, and then pressed down upon me last fall. Which was subsequently unlike anything I have ever lived through. While it wasn’t the trauma some experience, it was highly traumatic to me. And thinking about all of this made me realize that I still need to fully process that and the next step may be sharing that. As hard as it is. I’m not there yet, but I am one step closer.
So for now, while I continue thinking, reading, and writing about that and figuring out how to best share my story, I’m completely enjoying this transition into self-employment. After my first week of lessons I felt completely refreshed and rejuvenated. I LOVED every lesson I taught, and felt excited to do it again. I feel excited about what I’ve got on my list to learn about. I’m excited about taking voice lessons again. I’m thrilled with the work we are doing in Salus (the adult choir in The Northwest Iowa Singers organization). I am finding myself and my joy again in practicing and making music. I have time to exercise. Planning meals is no longer stressful. Neither is taking my children to appointments. I didn’t know I could feel this way again, but I do. While I miss my co-workers and students, I am so happy and fulfilled right now. Taking care of myself leaves me with so much more to give others: my students, my friends, my family, and most importantly my children.
“‘Til it finally reminds her to fight just a little, to bring back the fire in her eyes, that’s been gone, but used to be mine…”
One of my adult students said to me, “I can see the fire in your eyes” at our first lesson. It used to be mine, but I’m reclaiming it and have received the greatest blessing: to finally feel like myself again.
