Let Me Be Me

 “Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.”  ~George Bernard Shaw

            “Go to your desk, put your head down, and think about why I sent you there,” barked Mrs. Goartz, my kindergarten teacher. I was a timid child and had just refused to count my classmates so everyone could hear me. I was afraid and didn’t believe that my teacher’s demands were worth the embarrassment I would feel.

            “Jessica is never going to make it anywhere in life if she doesn’t come out of her shell,” grumbled Mrs. Goartz in a meeting she arranged with my mother.

            “She’s only 5. How far out of her shell can we possibly expect her to be?” my mother questioned before she spewed a few choice words in frustration and hastily stormed out of the classroom. From then on, I began to succumb fully to authority, as I let my identity fade into the depths of my existence.

            As a child, I knew precisely what dreams I wanted to pursue, and that I did not quite fit in with the “norm” of society. I desired a life as an archaeologist and astronomer, unaware of how tedious and trying the journey would be. I have always strongly believed that all of life’s mysteries can be solved by digging in the earth, observing the heavens, learning of foreign cultures, and discovering the connections between all these extraordinary sciences.  To most of the people around me, I was just a dreamer who would eventually awaken to the reality of the cruel world we dwell in as puppets and slaves.

            Entering into adolescence, my priority was to be admired by my peers. I buried my dreams in the darkest corridors of my mind. My grades began to plummet from straight A’s to C’s and D’s. I did not even enjoy science anymore. Though I avoided leaping onto the bandwagon of drugs and skipping school, my nonchalant attitude was creating a disaster of distrust from my parents and teachers. I began to realize the stress I was causing, and decided to become more obedient. Consequently, I failed to create my own ideas and instead submitted to others.

            At age 14, I attended a play performed by a local community church titled “Heaven’s Gates, Hell’s Flames.” It repeated the idea that if I did not invite Jesus into my heart, I would suffer eternal hell-fire, which frightened me. From that evening forward, the church consumed every detail of me. My mother would punish me if I did not attend worship or read my Bible daily. I devoured every word spoken by elders of the church like ambrosia from the gods. Thankfully, I snapped back into reality before permanent damage was done.

            For over two decades, I have fought tirelessly with society and with my inner self to find my true identity. My mind has changed thousands of times about every decision I have made, mostly as a result of considering others’ opinions. The company I surround myself with daily are incessantly discouraging my ideas as folly, as I prefer to live a simple, yet rewarding life. According to them, I should focus on financial security, not my ridiculous pipe-dreams of becoming an artist, musician, scientist, veterinarian, forensics expert, or whatever would become my next “calling.”

It wasn’t until this past year that I began focusing on my own personal thoughts, rather than the advice spouted by those who “only want the best” for me. I recently learned that in order to discover my identity, I must first stop blindly following in others’ shadows. This decision has been liberating, and I am now chasing my passions with open arms, not allowing a soul to block my path.