I Dare You

When I was younger, I learned that I could self-motivate by daring myself to do hard things. Extra credit assignment that I did not need to do and did not have time for? I dare you to do it anyways. Scared to send a risky text to a boy who was not worth my time? I dare you to send it. At the time, I was proud of myself for finding a way to get myself to do hard things. How entrepreneurial-girl-boss of me to suffer through anything I set my mind to! (This was, in fact, a major indicator of a mental disorder- but that’s a topic for another day.)

A lot of things change when you grow up. That’s sort of how the whole process works. You grow up, you realize things, and you change. One thing about me did not change from the minute I graduated second grade to the day I received my college diploma: I was going to be a teacher. 

I did all of the right things in high school and college. I was in organizations within my field, I won awards and scholarships, I created lengthy lesson plans to turn into professors. I did all of the hard things. And I loved it. I loved that I had dared myself to become a teacher as a second grader and was finally getting it done. I loved that I was good at it. I loved that I loved it. 

Then, I got my dream job. I completed the dare. Still such an entrepreneurial girl boss! At first, it was amazing. It felt so good to be living my dream. I was finally a proud owner of multiple pairs of teacher pants and bright cardigans. I was getting to build relationships with students who were changing my life as much as I was changing theirs.

It was amazing, until it wasn’t. I could write pages about why teaching is so much less amazing these days, but that’s not really the point of this. The point is that one day I woke up, looked around, and realized that I was miserable. I was not living the type of life I had imagined for myself in second grade. I was wearing the right clothes, working with the right kids, saying the right things, but I was so unhappy that I did not recognize myself anymore. And yet, the dares kept coming. 

I dare you to keep teaching.

I blindly followed the dare for another year. I took pride in how much I was suffering. I’m suffering because I’m doing another hard thing! Look at me! I followed the voice in my head until I realized that voice was not me. In fact, it had never been me. It was the voice of my pride. 

I dare you to suffer through something not because you want to, but because stopping now would make you a quitter. 

Once I identified the root of this voice, my entire life came into question. How many times had I pursued something for the sake of my pride? Did I even know what my own desires and goals looked like? I wasn’t sure- but I was determined to shut that voice down and start writing my own future. 

And that, dear reader, is how I quit my job.