I’ve been living life one day at a time.
I hate living life one day at a time.
I applaud the sentiment, but the phrase “living life a day
at a time” has a different kind of meaning for me. It means that I’m so busy
and overloaded that I literally cannot imagine surviving the current day with
my sanity intact. Each day is a “mini-life” within itself, in which I’m born
and I die. I’m glad that sleep is a necessary physiological activity because I’d
feel guilty doing it otherwise. As someone who stresses out over big changes
and dislikes being unsure how to plan ahead and prepare for things, living life
a day at a time is the worst.
Ever since I started grad school and teaching, I’ve been
questioning my sanity. Why did I choose
this path? I ask myself. The very fact that I ask myself is indicative of
questionable sanity. I'm one step away from wriggling my pointer finger in the air and calling it "Tony."
Life is a walk (or a sprint, depending on your stamina and
level of motivation). We strive towards the bright horizon, but we rarely look
back. I think it’s because we like to believe we always change for the better,
never for the worse. I still believe I’m an improvement over my
15-year-old self and I doubt I’ll ever think otherwise. I’m proud of who I am.
I like myself. I’m pretty much the coolest person ever. Why would I bother looking
back? After all, the “me” behind me on the path was a complete idiot.
Rarely do we ask ourselves…how did I end up where I am today?
I don’t remember turning the corner that brought me here. How do I turn this
car around? Do I want to? Between moments
of complete insanity and subtle frustration, I’ve managed to find time to look
back on my path and wonder what happened. Why did I choose to walk down this
path (the path of grad school and teaching? The path of textbooks and lesson
plans?)
Because if someone had asked me a year ago where I would be
today, I would have replied, “Hopefully I have a job and an apartment
somewhere. Maybe a dog to keep me company. And I'll be happy.”
I have an apartment. I have a job. My parents adopted a dog that
I see sometimes and consider partly mine. I often feel an emotion called
happiness.
God’s funny that way. The big picture I predicted was right. The details
are all wrong.
Because I never would have said I’d be teaching. I never would
have said I’d be back in school. But I am.
After graduating with my bachelors last year, I moved to
Fargo in August and dove headfirst into graduate school and teachers training. The
last 30 days have been a whirlwind of new faces and new challenges. My catchphrase
for the last month has been “I have no idea what’s going on.”
When I learned which college graduate programs I’d been accepted into, I prayed about my decision every day. Life is made up
of small moments and big moments. They’re all important, but some can change
who you are and how people remember you. This was a turning point, a big
moment, and I knew it. After months of
inner debate and countless pros and cons lists, I felt I was being pointed towards
Fargo.
And here I am.
I’ve learned some things about myself. First, I’ve learned that I am not a complete
idiot. I have a right to be where I am. Second, I thrive on challenges. Third,
teaching college undergrads is actually kind of fun.
So when someone asks me where I’m going to be a year from today, I’m
going to say “I’ll have a place to sleep and I’ll
be happy.”
I’ll leave the details up to God. He’s good at filling in the blanks.
