Finding Purpose...

Like most people, I am continuously undergoing a process of self-discovery.  I am at a critical juncture in my life and therefore making decisions that are the foundation for my triumph over bipolar disorder, my well-being, and my general happiness and success. 

One of the biggest questions I am contending with right now is, "What is my purpose?"  Everyone confronts this question at some point in his or her life, and sometimes the answers are apparent, while at other times we have to devote a little more time and reflection to divine the answers.  It is a question that deserves and necessitates thoughtful reflection.

At many points in my life, I believed I knew the answer to the purpose question.  For most of my life, I thought I would be a teacher.  How I admired my teachers over the years, and how I reaped great benefits from my relationships with them!  I put them on pedestals and worshiped the ground they walked on.  And still do!  I, too, wanted to teach so that I could be as amazing as them, and also because they had played an important role in my life and I wanted to provide that same gift to others.  I also loved the engagement in academics.  It filled an important void in my life and left me thirsty for more knowledge.  

Near the end of my undergraduate studies, depression, along with my many anxieties convinced me to abandon my teacher education program and complete my degree in Literature.  Bottom line, I was dreading student teaching.  My perfectionist mindset made the idea of student teaching under the thumb of an experienced teacher excruciating.  I was so afraid that I would not do a good job, and I was struggling to be around people and make it to classes.  It was not the right time to undertake such a stressful endeavor.  


I finished school, married, and moved back to Wyoming.  I quickly discovered that there is not a great deal to do with a literature degree here unless one has a teaching endorsement. So I found a program that would allow me to work in the public high schools while finishing the requirements for secondary certification.  Better financial stability, a sort of remission of many of my depression symptoms, and a bypass of student teaching that the program offered encouraged me to get back on track with the dream of teaching that I had always had.  Towards the end of my program I landed a teaching position for half a year, and I was so excited.  I seemed to be doing all right. 

Unfortunately, my vision of what it is to teach today was a little too much "Little House on the Prairie" and not enough "Dangerous Minds".  I had a quaint vision of standing in front of eager pupils raising their hands in anticipation of answering my questions.  My vision didn't entail arguments with students about homework, parents who didn't care, inept administration and absurd laws that regulated my every move in the classroom.  And it certainly didn't entail the level of intimidation that some students would demonstrate.  I had panic attacks in the morning before school, and I was awake late into the night, dreading facing that sea of faces the next day, dreading the conflict that was a constant part of teaching.  Sundays were my own hell.


While I have had many positive moments working in education over the past four years, I have quickly come to realize that the education system, at least the way it is here and now, is not the right fit for me.  My values don't align whatsoever with those of the schools I've been in and the administrators I've worked with or observed.  It took me a long time to realize that as the crux of my dismay over teaching, but I finally realized that it's impossible for me to work in a place that constantly strikes to dismantle the core of my beliefs and understanding of what education is and should be.  Every day was a battle; against myself, against administration, against parents, and against the students.  It was just too much. 



The journey of finding purpose requires me to delve deep inside and determine what sort of life will fulfill me.  What sort of life will allow me to sink into my pillow at the end of the day, content that I have made a little mark on the world and, hopefully, an important one.  Depression sometimes robs me of a sense of fulfillment, and I really struggle with that currently.  Nothing feels important, and nothing feels interesting.  Many days I have a sense of detachment and numbness.  It is very hard to try to "feel out" my life's purpose when I often feel passionless.  I was once very passionate about becoming a teacher, and for a long time that passion flowed in many aspects of my life.  I set high standards for myself and others, achieved many of my goals and overcame some tough obstacles.  But somewhere along the line, the flame burned out.  

I have to find a way to reignite the passion.  Without passion, purpose lies hidden.  Purpose remains dormant, waiting for me to excavate through the layers of my heart and soul, until I uncover the spark that will light a fuse.  Somehow I lost myself in the last ten years.  Somehow I went from being a young girl who was full of hope and expectations and energy to a young woman burned out, dismayed and disappointed. My current job is to find a way to inspire myself; to motivate and enlighten myself with hope and encouragement.  For without purpose, life is very bleak.