Purpose

I’m a Rebel

“I’m going to wait until I’m at least 26 to get married.”

“Really? I might be surprised.” My dad was driving me to one of my friend’s houses for a sleep over or something. I was (maybe) thirteen and we were having one of our famous car ride heart-to-hearts.

“It’s true, Dad. I’ll graduate law school and then I’ll get married and I’ll have 2(.2) children.”

“That’d be good,” he agreed. “If you really think you like law we should set you up to shadow one of the local attorneys.

I nodded enthusiastically. Then one of the most iconic Ken Schroeder songs came on and we both sang along to the chorus. 

Jungle love, it’s drivin’ me mad It’s makin’ me crazy
Jungle love, it’s drivin’ me mad
It’s makin’ me crazy

Almost as soon as the song kicked in, my dad rolled down his window, as he did whenever any Steve Miller Band, AC/DC, or Led Zeppelin came on the radio. He has a decent singing voice and he looked so free with his left arm hanging out the window. Seeing him like this felt a little thrilling! Maybe it was because my mom would never let us listen to that “head-banging” kind of music when she was in the car with us. Maybe it was because it was just him and me. Whatever it was, 1970’s rock ’n roll and car rides with my dad caused me to open up to him.

We talked about everything in the car. Boys, hopes, dreams, grades, and everything I’d probably never admit to my mom. I entrusted my dad with so many of my early teenage secrets. Now that I am a parent, I know there was no way he kept all of it in confidence. But a part of me thinks maybe he remembers these moments as special times just between us, too. 

I’ve heard over-and-over again throughout my life, “That’s a lot of wishful thinking”. Looking back on those moments with my dad and conversations like the one where I told him I’d never marry before I was 26, I can see how I may be perceived as a girl with her head stuck in the clouds.  And truthfully, I’ve always been a dreamer! I love to plan out the future and the first thing I do before I grab my pen and paper is put on my rose colored glasses.

Over the years, my anything-is-possible mindset has been offset by a new mantra: “Don’t get your hopes up”. I often choose to protect myself from the hurt of disappoint by not allowing my imagination to take-it-away. Though, I have so many ideas… They wiggle their way in. When I allow them to, they set me free. And, they’re often so well thought out and so real I can taste them.

Sometimes, I feel like I am living the lyrics of Steve Miller Band’s “The Joker”.

I’m a joker I’m a smoker
I’m a midnight toker
I sure don’t want to hurt no one I’m a picker
I’m a grinner
I’m a lover, and I’m a sinner
I play my music in the sun

I’ve been so many things; whatever the situation called for … Jack of all Trades, you might say… but who am I, really? What am I really good at?

The thirteen year old in that car knew exactly what I’d become, and at the root of it was being something that pleased someone else. Is that really any way to live? 

2020 has already started out pretty rough. For someone who finds solace in the ordinary and the routine, I am not so sure now is a great time to shake-things-up. Or is it the perfect time?

I married (my high school sweetheart) Zach the summer I turned 23. We waited 5 years to start our family while I helped support us financially so that he could finish law school. We have three (amazingly beautiful) boys. 

Maybe I should add rebel to my list of personas?