Double Dog Dare #1: Resignation

Oh, my. What have I gone and done now? I just resigned from my very safe, comfortable teaching position. Did I mention I had tenure? Doesn’t get safer than that.

Ugh. This is my very first “Double Dog Dare”, the one that puts this entire blog into motion. (Normally, I’d bring you along for the process in a Double Dog Dare, but this one’s sort of just the “after” shot.) If I want to live a better life story, then there has got to be a good conflict or goal to overcome, right?

So I thought I’d try this on for size—on a whim. Ha! As if. As if I haven’t deliberated over this one for a long, long time. The decision to resign hasn’t been an easy one. I teach—oops! —I mean I taught English. I liked it. I was even good at it. Have I mentioned the incredibly good health insurance? The tenure? In this economy? (Gulp).

The thing is it never actually felt like a fit for me. Not really. It was as if there was supposed to be something else, eventually. I was beginning to get really worn out, and burnt out. It didn’t feel like I was being fair to my students; they deserve someone who believes they should be there for them, teaching them. Me? I think I’d lost my spark.

I also had a couple of these last year:

That’s Ro and O. They sort of turned everything upside down and right side up all at once. Whatever seemed to be in black and white is now in Technicolor. That’s how I can best describe how it feels to (finally) be a mother.

 Whew! It’s easy to get off subject when talking about Ro and O. O and Ro…See what I mean?

 Anywho, O and Ro changed everything. They made me think about what kind of mother I wanted to be. Did I want them to see me living a “safe” life, not truly fulfilled in my work? Burnt out and bitter? Definitely not. I wanted the baby ladies to see their mother happy, in love with her work. That meant I needed to get to doing something that made me feel like the guy in Chariots of Fire—love that movie.

But I digress. Again…

There are other reasons, too, as nothing is ever simple and tidy when making life-changing decisions. It always feels like metaphoric blood and guts imagery. Like I’m losing one life to gain a better one.

Sure does feel good to know I’m not alone, that you’re all here with me.

(Crickets). 

Anyone?

Stay tuned for the mayhem.