Thought | A Pioneer's Journey

Lately my priorities have involved self reflection and goal setting. And just in time for Halloween, I discovered that the path to my good mental health meant allowing my inner bitch to have some breathing room. She is part of me after all!

Are you sure my spirit animal is a witch?

Are you absolutely sure my spirit animal is a witch?

I’m just a Wicked Witch trying to get by as a Dorothy in this Land of Oz. Of course I want to be nice, and people are always telling me that I’m too nice — ugh, typical Dorothy behavior. But it’s not healthy to suppress my inner bitch when she’s trying to look out for my best interests. The truth is, I have a terrible time saying no. It isn’t that I can’t ever say no; after I do manage to say no once in a while, I make a concerted effort to feel guilty for as long as possible. I have also spent much of my adult life making important decisions based on the input of others who feel compelled to tell me what I should do (like they know anything). I tell you, that makes it quite difficult for a gal’s agenda to progress, whether it’s raising a family or training an army of vicious flying monkeys (practically the same thing, by the way).

I have lost the ability over time to listen to my own voice and make decisions with a clear conscience. Guilty feelings about saying no to people who have certain expectations only feeds anxiety and self doubt. In order to get true respect from the world, I must first respect and love myself, delightful flaws and all. This is where being a bit of a witch really pays off! I decided that the best way to amend my problems is to reconnect with my inner bitch and allow her some breathing room. Since she is part of who I am, perhaps she could teach me how to reclaim my true identity and learn to listen to that identity with a clear mind. I did have to be careful when unleashing this powerful force. Honestly identifying my feelings and personal goals rather than fixating on distractions made me feel courageous and motivated. There is a difference between expressing oneself with emotion and just fighting dirty. For me, progress isn’t about executing a vengeful agenda to get a higher foothold on the ladder of life. The inner bitch is simply there to remind me of who I am and who I can be, if I focus on what is really important.

It wasn’t long before my confidence was put to the test. While attending a harvest festival at the local dairy farm, I ran into a friend from the school where I used to work. She asked if I would be coming back. “No,” I said simply, and smiled. “But we really miss you there!” The guilt started to creep in, and part of me wanted to make promises to appease her expectations, but I stood my ground. “I don’t know what to say, other than I’m not planning to come back.” No longer a Dorothy, I was free of the guilt and broke the cycle of letting other people make my decisions for me – finally. I would run into more friends and former co-workers from the school throughout the month of October. It was very nice to see them again, but they did not change my decisions.

For Halloween I followed my daughters’ advice and dressed as a witch. After my adventure of self discovery, why not? I was originally going to be Dr. Who (the Matt Smith version) but the girls convinced me to throw on a black dress with some witch-y looking black boots, and my husband helped me find an amazing red hat with feathers and black veil. I painted my lips ruby red, practiced my witch cackle, then sat on the front steps in the freezing cold for two hours welcoming a steady parade of children dressed in an array of colorful costumes. The highlight of the evening was a visit from an eight year old Dr. Who (Matt Smith version), and his costume was much better than mine would have been.

I am glad that I finally identified with my inner bitch and understood how she fits into my personality. I can pretend I am a Dorothy all day, but I AM a Wicked. Instead of skipping down the yellow brick road with random maniacs who pop out of the hedges, I would rather shutter the windows, light some candles, shove gingerbread men into the oven, and watch extra dark episodes of ‘The X Files’. And I will continue to consult my inner bitch for purposes of self empowerment, if not for evil (although that can be tempting!). Without her, I wouldn’t be me.

At the school where I work as a paraprofessional, I was recently transferred from the third grade classroom I’d grown to love into an unfamiliar second grade classroom. While sad to leave my favorite third graders, I’m looking forward to getting to know a new group of students. On my last day in the third grade classroom, one of the students thrust a composition notebook into my hands.

“Do you want to read my thoughts on growing up?” he asked.

“Of course!” I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to read what this young man had written in his classroom journal.

He had divided it into five chapters, with room to add more. Each was a section devoted to advice about a specific aspect of growing up, such as paying bills, jobs (spelled gobs — adorable), love, and having kids of your own. I have to paraphrase his words, but the introduction went something like this:

…You might think that there is nothing better than growing up and being an adult. You might tell yourself that having a car, a house, piles of money, a ‘gob’ and a family of your own is the best thing in the world. But it’s not, because then you have all kinds of responsibility. You have to pay for things like food and electricity and you have to go to work every day. And then you don’t get to have as much fun as when you were a kid…

I read each chapter full of astute observations about the realities of being full grown. His thoughts on adulthood had me smiling and nodding. But the last chapter had me practically rolling on the floor. It was titled ‘Love’. He wrote something like this:

…When I am an adult I want to get married and have kids. But have you ever thought about actually being married? I mean, you have to get into bed with the same person every night for the rest of your life! There are going to be times when you don’t want to do that, but you still have to. And you don’t want to know about what happens to have a baby…

After wiping the laughter tears off my cheeks I handed the book back to the student and told him that I loved the book and that he is wise well beyond his years. I am going to miss my third graders.

— G