When I Grow Up...
When I was very young (four or five) I wanted to grow up and get married; except I wanted to be the man and I wanted to marry a beautiful woman. I grew up expecting to have several children with my wife, live in your average suburb, and be the model of the American family. Because I attended a Christian preschool I was quickly corrected and informed that I couldn’t marry a woman and it was my job to stay home and be the mommy. I spent the next eleven years of my life fighting with myself over what would become of me socially and emotionally. I eventually learned that love is love, regardless. As for my suburban life I realized that there are more options than just Middle America. I have no set goals for my personal life, only to be happy in the end. When considering careers I knew with conviction what I wanted to do with my life when I was quite young. Of course I changed my mind but adopted each new career choice with the same fervor and conviction.
“I’m always sick, and I have to see my doctor all the time so I want to be a doctor. I want kids to have a doctor who knows what it’s like to be sick and not be able to play or have fun.” I succinctly explained to my 2nd grade class. How typical that I wanted to be a pediatrician when I was a little one. I decided early on that I would grow up to treat kids who were like me because I was so frequently sick I wanted the kids to have someone with whom they could identify. During preschool I habitually played doctor and had a habit of diagnosing my patients as having suffered severe head trauma; I blame “General Hospital.” I held on to the idea of becoming a doctor for at least six years.
Another phase of career option I went through was engineering. As my motto proclaims: it sounded like a good idea at the time. I joined the Math Engineering and Science Achievement team at my middle school and began actively participating in math and science classes. I had no real concept of what engineers did, or what the various branches focused on, but I was hell bent on having a high paying engineering job. Eventually I realized I didn’t like math or science and thus engineering might be a poor choice of career.
After my brief affair with engineering I never settled on anything. In high school I began to realize that I have no idea what I want from life. It was only by accident that I discovered what drives me. Without realizing it I have spent a majority of my time creating, over the course of 6 years I have amassed easily over 300 pieces. Throughout my entire life one thing has sustained me: writing.
When I was in fifth grade I had a teacher that changed my life forever. Having dyslexia often meant my writing was, excuse the pun, written off as low quality. My self-esteem suffered severe blows from verbal and psychological abuse at the hands of my first and second grade teacher; I held the firm belief that I would never amount to much. In fifth grade I had the luck to be taught by Kathy Porter: a woman of kindness, compassion, and encouragement. She was the first person to validate me as a human being and recognize my abilities, specifically in the field of writing. We were assigned weekly stories and other various assignments. I gladly took to the task of creative writing allowing myself to start getting a feel for who I was creatively. Student teachers, substitute teachers, aides and Mrs. Porter herself were continually impressed with my writing and encouraged me to pursue it with passion. It was then that without realizing it, a large part of my future was decided.
Today I am slowly beginning to realize that the world is far larger than what I have seen or known. I have passion but have not chosen a direction in which to focus it. I continue to write. I continue to exercise compassion. I continue to search for my purpose. As for what will happen in the future, “I neither know nor think that I know.”
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