In light of sharing this blog, folks have been pretty supportive about our upcoming shift. In fact, many people can relate to the idea of needing to create something new, of feeling stuck at some point in life.
Got me thinking: what does stuck look like?
What does stuck sound like?
Stuck started whispering to me while I was working as a 1st grade teacher in Colombia. By the time I signed a new contract and headed for Tunisia, it was seriously yelling.
Stuck: (clears throat) What do you think you’re doing?
Me: I am teaching 2nd grade now….changing things up, you see?
Stuck: Right. Didn’t you say that teaching may not be your thing?
Me: Yeah, but it’s a noble profession…and kids can be cute.
Stuck: (raised voice) Listen, missy, you’ve been saying that for some time now. Take a moment to figure out your passions, your skills and then get a move on.
Me: (whining) More education? Learning? Ugh, I can’t. I don’t know what I wanna doooooo.
Stuck: (shouting) Fine! Settle! Take the safe route! Just stop moping about it then!
Me: (softly) Ok…. (whispering) jerk-face.
So, I changed grades again and then again and found myself in Korea. I was still teaching and that dialogue was still happening.
Then, I acted.
It dawned on me that in the transitions from country to country, I was doing something I really did love. I was creating “home” over and over. I painted walls, stripped wallpaper, put up shelves, changed light pendants, covered pillows, hung pictures, laid out rugs. And when folks came over they’d compliment the layout, the style, the homeyness. I felt satisfaction and happy. I felt creative and fulfilled.
So, I started a certification program for Interior Architecture & Design. It took me nearly three years to complete since it was added to my full-time job. The funny thing is, it made a difference in my outlook toward teaching. I felt freer and lighter. Perhaps it was the fact that I was pursuing and learning something I enjoyed; perhaps it made me feel as if I were moving forward; I had come out of inertia.
Whatever it was, the action became my door, my shovel, my (whatever gets your head out of a dollhouse).
I was unstuck.