A fish out of water
I was in college when it was shared with me that an adult in my ‘hometown’ had warned another parent about me, “Look out for that one, she has a mind of her own.”
I’m so grateful I was unaware of those words when I was a fragile teenager. You see, I grew up differently than most. I moved every couple of years from the age of 6 months old- a modern day nomad, aka the military child. Relocating as a “Navy Brat” was incredibly challenging and frequently heartbreaking. I’d even say it bordered on traumatizing, and I don’t use that word lightly.
My whole world, every relationship built, every sense of control and normalcy I had was pulled out from under me only to start over from scratch again, and again, and again. I had no voice, there was no negotiating. There was no choice but to accept this lifestyle, but I didn’t go down without a fight. (Just ask my parents who endured weeks of me blaring Sara McLachlan’s, “I will remember you,” from my boombox). I suppose the silver lining is that it gave me an excellent sense of direction and awareness of my surroundings, along with the gift of fearlessness in any new environment. Military life required resilience, or what’s the word- grit? It certainly gave me grit. It also contributed to hyper independence, but that’s another post. I’ve always joked, you can drop me off anywhere, and I’ll be “fine”. I learned to be adaptable, patient, and have an uncanny ability to “chameleon” my way through life- I can “blend in” anywhere, yet still….never quite feel like I belong.
“Grit [definition]: In psychology, grit is a positive, non-cognitive trait based on a person’s perseverance of effort combined with their passion for a particular long-term goal or end state (a powerful motivation to achieve an objective). This perseverance of effort helps people overcome obstacles or challenges to accomplishment and drives people to achieve.”
The truth is, I do have a mind of my own and I’m a LOT. I’ve felt like a “fish out of water” most of my teenage + adult life. It’s hard to articulate, but I’ll try. You see, I was having earthquake drills while you were having tornado drills. I had two seasons (rainy & dry), while you had four. You built snowmen when I built sand castles. I ran around Navy aircraft hangars while you ran around the farm. You packed snow pants, boots, and gloves in your backpack, while I wore my swimsuit under my clothes to school. You jumped into piles of leaves, I jumped into oceans and my dad’s arms when he returned from 6 or 9 month deployments. You climbed hay bales, while I climbed palm trees to collect coconuts. My entire world STOPPED three times a day at Reveille, Retreat, and Taps (7am, 5pm, and 9pm) while yours kept going. I can’t quote most movies or shows like my friends can because we didn’t have English television in my early years so I probably haven’t seen it, but I learned to nearly speak three languages by 5th grade. I barely know how sports work, but I read every single Nancy Drew book ever written (or at least held at the Camp Zama Library), survived the longest and largest earthquake ever recorded in Guam (8.1 magnitude for 60 seconds), looked out my bedroom to Mt. Fuji every morning, developed a love for Japanese food, and competed in the national Japanese Soroban Association Soroban contest.
When I turned double digits, I hadn’t dreamt of my wedding day, or how many kids I would someday have. Not once. But I had fallen in love with the world, and I KNEW with every fiber in my being I was going to travel forever; So much so that when Trent proposed to me September 23rd, 2008, my answer was a conditional, “If you promise you’ll take me out of this country at least once a year, then yes.” I meant it. I knew I’d never be happy if I couldn’t see it all. Or at least die trying.
He promised he would. [And he’s kept that promise.]
Still, no matter how hard I try, the dry midwest still doesn’t feel like “home” to me, even after living here for 20+ years. I mean, I don’t hate it here (well except February, fuck February in Iowa), but the moment I step off the plane into some coastal airport where it’s 95 degrees with 100% humidity- where I can smell the salt in the air, and run my tongue across its graininess between my teeth, I’m home. I come alive again. I feel weightless, I’m free.
I tried explaining it to Trent like this: You know when you’ve been traveling and you finally get back to your house? You walk in the door, drop your bags, slip your shoes off, maybe take a hot shower, and sink into your bed. That sense of relief when your head hits your own pillow and it all just feels so “right”?
THAT is what saltwater is to me. The ocean is my home. My heart. And here I am on a farm in Iowa; A fish out of water.
Don’t get me wrong, this is a wonderful place to live and raise a family- I can appreciate the perks of safety and “Iowa Nice” in my adulthood. However, when you’ve snorkeled in the Pacific Ocean, collected seashells, wild hermit crabs, and geckos for pets, climbed inside The Great Buddha of Kamakura on class field trips, seen the Blue Angels fly over at least annually, it’s not hard to imagine why my 15-year-old self had difficulty getting amped up for cornfields and something-fried-on-a-stick when we moved to small town Iowa (just kidding- that shit is awesome, and the Iowa State Fair is sacred, keep their name outta your mouth!).
Pic for tax of The Great Buddha of Kamakura circa 1996 on our 5th grade field trip.
Repeatedly, relentlessly, I’m reminded that my upbringing has me feeling like no one quite “gets me” here in rural Iowa. I had a hard time relating to the dreams and goals of my peers. There’s SO MUCH to see and so little time, why waste it here? I AM the definition of wanderlust: the strong, innate desire to rove or travel about. I feared being stuck here, while so many others dreamt of it. And so the story goes- my crazy ambitions, dreams, experiences were so strange and so off the beaten path, that I had made some middle-aged mom fear that my 15 year old “mind of my own” would corrupt her own child’s.
Fast forward: The irony of marrying an Iowa farmer is not lost on me.
Trent and I can often laugh at our opposing views and obvious differences in thinking.
It’s like this:
I feel like we see family a LOT. Like so much. I mean, I went YEARS in between visits with my grandparents while living internationally. I met many of my cousins for the first time in my teen years. But like sharing every birthday party? Every holiday? Just for funsies? That’s wild to me. That’s a lot of family-ing. Trent thinks I’m crazy. I think he’s nuts. I mean seeing him everyday is a lot for me. ;) My own dad was deployed 6+ months at a time, what’s the big deal?
But sometimes it’s more like this:
C signed up to attend a dance clinic after school yesterday which involved performing a short dance routine at the halftime of the Varsity basketball game later the same evening. After the clinic, she walked in the door teary eyed, exhausted, lashing out telling us she didn’t want to go back for the performance part because she didn’t feel good and wanted to rest at home. She has been fighting a cold for a few days, and we talked about her physical self not feeling good (fatigued, weak, runny nose, etc.) and her emotional self (anxious about the performance, worried about making mistakes). Trent started in on the “We’re not quitters, when we commit to something we follow through, you signed up to do this, so you’re going to do it no matter what,- think about your team” speech.
I rolled my eyes and said, “If she doesn’t want to do it, she doesn’t have to.”
-Ah, yes, the old “committing vs quitting” argument we repeat every so often-
Trent: It’s about teaching her worth ethic. It’s about learning that commitment means you show up even if you don’t feel like it. Even when you’re tired and….
Me: Burnt out?
Trent- Yes!
Me: Why?
Trent: Why what?
Me: Why should we make ourselves follow-through with things that we don’t feel like doing to the point of burn out?
Trent: Because … that’s what we do. I don’t know- that’s not what I mean. But if you say you’re going to do something, then you do it.
Me: Ok, and she did, she showed up for the dance clinic, she tried it, and she decided it wasn’t for her.
Trent: But she needs to learn the importance of keeping her word and not letting her team down.
Me: And what about honoring herself? Her own feelings and needs? Is it more important that she self-sacrifice for the greater good of the group?
Trent: [glaring] Kate.
Me: Trent…..
Trent: [stares]
Me: [stares back] Is it important that she keeps her word, yes. Is it also important that she listens to her body and stands up for herself? Also yes. Which is the bigger lesson she needs tonight? Has she ever quit anything else Trent? Nope. Will her decision let anyone else down? Nope. Are there any life-changing negative consequences for her 8 year old self not performing a 2 minute dance routine at halftime tonight? If she changes her mind and decides one day she’s passionate about dance is this going to blacklist her from ever dancing with the Joffrey ballet? [gasp] You’re right, maybe we should just tell her to breathe through her mouth and suck it up if she ever wants to become a Prima Ballerina.
Trent: Kate.
Me: Will she remember that her parents backed her choice and listened when she said this wasn’t for her? Yes. Will she learn to listen to her own body? Maybe. Will she learn that sacrifice is NOT the most important thing? God, I hope so.
You see, my C is unique. She beats to her own drum. She is stubborn. She’s always moving. Cartwheels, dancing, doing handstands, singing. She’s smart, but she can’t sit still in class like her peers. She is so creative, artistic, and funny. She wears shorts in January, and her outfit is always mismatched. She talks. A LOT. She’s just a LOT. And a LOT like her mother. She’s my wildflower. Untamed. She often looks different than her peers. She drives me absolutely BONKERS sometimes, BUT instead of crushing her spirit, forcing her to conform, obey, people please and self-sacrifice, I just wonder who she could become if we let her grow into that mind of her own.
Now don’t come at me- we still have rules and routines, and high expectations for our kids. However, instead of training them to over sacrifice to the point of burn out, where resentment is planted, what if we let them try all the things and let them decide what’s meant for themselves? What if we allowed her the opportunity to experience and chase things that she loves instead of burning through her “emotional tolerance bank” doing things she hates because she’s “supposed to”? Might she still develop a work ethic and integrity doing the things she loves? Of course she would.
Would she have still become an Audiologist or photographer? Er- wait, we’re talking about C, NOT me.
[insert nervous laugh]
Ok, fine, we’re talking about me too. I listened to adults tell me that I was too smart to NOT go for higher education. When I objected that I liked photography and enjoyed getting behind the camera and being creative, I was told it was a hobby, not a career. I heard, “It would be a ‘waste’ of my brainpower to ‘just’ do photography,” and I could always have that for fun, but I needed a REAL education. So I caved, got the bachelor’s degree, then the doctorate, worked my way into the healthcare field and burned myself out in less than 7 years. And you know what I did next? I picked up my camera again. Because I love it. Because everything in my body and soul loves it.
I can give you a lengthy list of things that I’ve quit and decided weren’t for me. Soccer. Piano lessons. Cross Country. Cheerleading. Youth group. The school play. None of those things had a lasting negative effect on my character or my health. If anything, those moments I stood up for myself and said “no” even when my voice was shaking- those were far more important than staying in something that wasn’t meant for me. But abandoning myself? Ignoring that “mind of my own”? Thinking that someone else knew what was best for me more than I did? Those moments had detrimental consequences more often than not.
Maybe it’s the weight I still feel of my voiceless childhood, or this wild mind of my own- but if C tells me something’s not for her- I’m listening.
Despite having spent the latter half of my life attempting to fit in other peoples’ boxes, I was left feeling deeply unsatisfied and a bit of a fraud; Like I was doing it wrong, because why else would I still feel so unhappy with all that I had accomplished? In hindsight, here’s what I now know from my 37-year-old lens: The more I tried to follow the crowd and the more I ignored my own beating drum, the more blatantly obvious it was that I wasn’t meant to. I just simply wasn’t listening to myself well enough; I stopped hearing, trusting, and believing that mind of my own.
I’ve spent the last year getting to know myself deeply, listening to my heart again. Re-learning what I love and what I can leave behind. Deciding what boundaries to uphold, and what’s worth fighting for. Two minute dance performances? Not so much. Relationships with those who don’t reciprocate the same effort? Nah. Doing something because it’s expected of me, or you think I should/can or “I’m supposed to”? Nope, I don’t do that anymore.
Instead, I do more of what brings me joy. I lean into the things and humans I love even if they don’t make sense to you or anyone else. I don’t need to be for you. I need to be for me.
If you haven’t found Glennon Doyle yet, I need you to go borrow her books, and follow her podcast NOW. I just love her words. I love her vulnerability and insight. In her most recent book, “Untamed,” she writes,
Something told me to start this writing journey for years. I didn’t listen at first to that something- Instead I heard others, “Who would read it? You can’t write about that- people you know will read it. What would everyone think? You didn’t go to school for that. What would you write about anyway?”
I don’t have a plan, but it feels like me. It feels like I am meant to be writing so I’m writing. I love photography so I’m doing photography. It is beautiful enough for me.
What’s incredible is the overwhelming feedback I’ve received in messages, texts, phone calls, and conversations to, “keep going”. (Thank you for those messages). I keep hearing so many people can relate and many of you are fighting or have fought the same battles. Which is mindblowing because this whole time I’ve felt so…. different most of my life.
So in case no one told you: It’s ok to quit. It’s ok to walk away from who and what is not meant for you. It’s more than ok to leave those things so you can lean into what is for you, even if it makes zero sense to anyone else. It just needs to be true and beautiful enough for you. One thing I know for sure:
This life is not meant to be a competition of who is more selfless.
“When women lose themselves, the world loses its way. We do not need more selfless women. What we need right now is more women who have detoxed themselves so completely from the world’s expectations that they are full of nothing but themselves. What we need are women who are full of themselves. A woman who is full of herself knows and trusts herself enough to say and do what must be done. She lets the rest burn.” -Glennon Doyle