Sunday, November 12, 2006

I Don't Have to be a Passenger in My Own Life

I've never been a passenger in my own life. The day I graduated from high school, the Superintendent of the schools in my town was on the stage to shake the hand of every graduate. I breezed on past him, not on purpose, but walking headlong into my future with a plan in mind. I'd been that way my whole life.

At the age of 17, I moved to Los Angeles to go to UCLA. Four years later, at the age of 21, I moved more than halfway across the country, to Nashville, Tennessee, where I didn't know a single soul, to attend graduate school. Five years after that, I took a teaching job in rural Nebraska, another place where I didn't know anyone. I was 26 years old. At the age of 34, I moved again, this time to New Jersey and with my partner and son. But yet again, it was a jump into the unknown. All of these changes and many more were orchestrated by me. I've always been the driving force of my life. And I have always been proud of that fact.

It's only been in the past 6 months, since the sudden departure of my partner, that I've doubted myself. A huge part of it is a consequence of feeling like I was not in control of my destiny when she left. And I realize that now the destiny that I manage is not just my own, but also the future of my child's life. And the last few months have convinced me that I am strong enough to handle the future for us both. In a way, I've learned again just how important it is to remember that I don't have to be a passenger in my own life.


Rena said...

You sound like an adventurer! I'm sure you'll always land on your feet. I enjoyed looking at your posts.

shelleyq said...

This has got my mental dj spinning... now playing the Beatles... "Baby, you can drive my car..."


And hey, did you upgrade to the new version? Check you out with labels and s#*%!

ren.kat said...

What an inspiring post! I can relate to the caution-to-the-wind adventurism- and also the sudden realization that I'm driving for some other people, too. Wearing a bicycle helmet to be a role model extends pretty far as a metaphor for parenting, doesn't it? Thanks- I'll be back to read more of your blog.