My Journey

I think I remember the moment my current life really kicked into high gear. It was one night in the 4th grade. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I just celebrated by 40th birthday, I’m sitting on the deck of a beautiful cabin, in the background I hear my oldest two children playing in a brook below. They are laughing, smiling, throwing rocks down the tiny river.

My boys are 9 & 12 years old. They are healthy, smart, and I’d even say handsome. My 4-year-old girl, my mini me, is watching Minnie Mouse inside the recently renovated cabin. The light is shining through the trees, it’s 82 degrees with a light breeze. I am blessed. I am blessed beyond what the child version of myself ever dreamed possible. And yet I know more blessings are to come. I live the life of abundance. Abundance in the financial sense yes, but so much more valuable, abundance in the spiritual sense.

Now back to that night in 4th grade, when it all began. It’s important to understand that I really didn’t learn to read until the 3rd grade. I was in special help groups at school for reading, writing, and math. Socially, I didn’t feel worthy to be the outgoing self that my natural born “Leo” was dying to explore. I was quiet at school. I lacked confidence. In fact, I was embarrassed to be me. I felt that if I spoke to others, they’d discover me. Learn what our house looked like, see the tireless vehicles abandoned randomly in the yard. Worst of all they’d know how my dad was with us, that I was someone to feel sorry for, that I was “white trash”.

I had a few close friends, those that I felt close enough to have them over to my house but mostly I dreamed in silence. I don’t remember that 4th grade teacher’s name but I don’t remember many things from those years. And really, she didn’t do anything special that evening at Fall parent/ teacher conferences. She reviewed my average/ to below average scores. My parent said mostly nothing. I saw no pride in their faces, but I didn’t really see disappointment either. Frankly I think they were there in physical form only. My mother was consistently exhausted during those years. She worked 3rd shift as a nurse at the local hospital and took every overtime hour she could get. She needed to make every dollar she could because my dad would waste what she made on ill planned and unsuccessful business adventures. When I say business adventures think pyramid schemes, water softener sales, flea markets, booths at the county fair, you get the idea. He lost most of what she made. We paid basic bills on credit cards.

But that parent/ teacher conference changed my life. At the end of pointing out my scores she turned to me and said. “I think you have potential to be a strong student.” I did not hear positive feedback from my father, in fact, hearing I was “a worthless female” was at least a bi-daily event in those elementary school years. I almost teared up from embarrassment. Happy embarrassment, the kind you get when you suck at taking compliments and even worse at processing them internally. My mother would tell me kind things, loving things, but it’s hard to know if what dad says is the truth or perhaps mom had a point. But this was teacher. Perhaps she really did see something in me.

That night I brought my handwriting book home from school. It was back when students learned cursive writing and must pass neatness tests. I’m not sure why I picked that book to put in my backpack that night, perhaps I thought it was a place I could see quick progress. I really don’t know. What I do know is I stayed up for hours, writing my letters over and over until they looked just like the models. I stayed up most the night and only took a break when my wrist hurt. Then I reviewed my progress in the book and kept on going. I finished the year’s work of writing that night. Sometime during that night, I made a conscience decision.

I remember everything about that moment, the gross smell of my room (our way too many inbreed cats pooped under my bed), the dirty blanket I was sitting on and the near perfect letters in the book before me. I was done being stupid. I was going to be smart. I was going to focus each day like I did those past five hours. And I did. I moved from special needs groups to the ‘gifted’ group. It took from the rest of 4th grade to beginning of 6th grade to do it. But I did it. I learned that if I studied hard enough, I could ace every exam, be it geography, English, science, social studies, it didn’t matter. I reviewed the chapters over and over again until there wasn’t a question I couldn’t answer. On assignments I did the max allowed and always (and I mean always) was the first student to turn it in. I went to school when I was sick, happy, sad, it didn’t matter. School was now where felt self-worth. I defined myself as hard working. I was not the smartest, and I sure as hell wasn’t the prettiest or had the nicest clothes but no one would work harder than me.

You may think this prevented me from being a child but there was not carefree childhood in my home anyway. I may as well pave my way for success. Merge my stress in a productive channel. This hyper focus allowed me to live a life on a level I didn’t know existed in those days. Now other teachers were telling my parents I had potential. It felt good. Really good, I lived for it. Those few passing words, twice a year. Math was a different story. I gave the same effort, but I struggled regardless of what I did. I’d be able to figure enough out to pass the tests and sometimes even get a “B” but man it was not easy. That struggle with numbers remains today. In college, I attended every open optional work session the professor had. I gave my best effort, but college level math was like taking a test in a foreign language. I’ve learned that math is a foreign language.

I’ve married a man gifted in math. They truly think in a different language. My boys, both tested gifted can easily process numbers in their heads that I’d have to struggle with pen and paper. If I was being honest with myself I’m not sure I’d get the answer even then. They group numbers in patterns and formats in their heads to make the complex “simple”. Whatever, Math is a language I’m not ever going to be good at. Screw it. I’ve long decided to focus on the areas that comes easily. The areas God’s blessed me with.

I’ve applied that logic to my management style as well. Give responsibilities to employees that highlight their natural abilities and you’ll be impressed every time. Force them into areas they struggle in and they’ll disappoint you and themselves. No one wins. I often reflect on how much of what I did is possible for others to do. Some are strictly bound by mental limitations that was prevent the transformation I went through. However most, with focused effort really can transform themselves. It can be tiring and lonely road sometimes but the results are worth it.

I’m a mid level manager at a corporate office for a fortune 200 company. I’m a mom of three, a wife, a sister. My parents have passed on but always a daughter as well. I’m a survivor of some challenges, but I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m grateful for blessings in the everyday as well as the monumental.

This is my story one snap shot at a time. Aspects are sad and rough around the edges. Other memories express gratitude for a blessed life. Don’t we all have a mixture?

Why am I doing a blog vs keeping a journal?

• I type faster than I hand write.
• I have crappy joints so my wrists hurt when I hand write. More on my journey with Ankylosising Sponsylitis later.
• I don’t remember much of my childhood so what I recall I want to document. The negative and positive are all aspects that built me.
• I am strengthened by other’s life stories- the failures and successes. Perhaps my story can help someone.
• Multiple times the idea of writing a book has crossed my mind. I want to get short stories out as a starting point. The Good lord knows I need the practice.