Going Anyway

I'm Really Scared

Sunday, May 28

Four years ago today, I got bored, so I decided to make a YouTube video with a camera I had gotten for Christmas. It was about why grammar is so important. It was a horrible video and I put it on my personal Facebook and Twitter, and maybe five people watched it. After that, I started watching other teacher vlogs, and getting other ideas from them. After a few months, I started getting more and more views, and vlogging gave me something to do in the summer every night after Ava went to bed, so that's what I did.

Four weeks ago today, I started this blog thing. I didn't know if it would go anywhere, and more people have read it than I ever expected, so thank you.

I wouldn't have done a daily blog if I had known how hard this month was going to be. I can't believe how honest this blog has become. I feel like I'm posting my journal online.

Reflecting on your life everyday really makes you think about your actions.

But I've been thinking about this move, and I am so thankful to have been able to work in this district, even though it's been a roller coaster.

Today at church, Kari, my cousin and I were talking after the service while Ava was talking with some of her friends for the last time.

"How are you doing with everything?" she asked.

"I'm okay."

"How'd the speech go yesterday?"

"It didn't," I said. Then I explained why. (The commencement ceremony started late yesterday because of the weather, and they had to cut out my speech for timing purposes. I'm still pretty salty about it.)

"That sucks."

"Yeah."

"So, how are you coming along on the move?"

I shrugged. "We're not taking much, and I have to stain the floors and paint the walls before we can put furniture in. Then we get to stay with Mike and Jen. Yay." I glared.

She gave a weak smile. "Hey, at least they have a huge house."

I looked over at Ava who was consumed in her last moments with her friends, playing on the old playground outside. "She's going to like their place, and then she'll see where we're living..."

Kari put an arm on my back. "Hey. You can't think like that."

I swallowed, running a hand through my hair. I forced myself to look at Kari.

I lowered my voice even though Ava wouldn't have been able to hear anyway. "What if she wants to live with them?"

Kari looked concerned, but then I realized it was because she was concerned about me. "Steven, stop. Ava adores you. She doesn't want—"

"She's going to see what they have, and then she's going to want them more. She could resent me."

"You really believe that she doesn't want you?"

"If someone had given me the option to move out from my mom's I would've said yes in a heartbeat."

"You aren't your mom. You always put her first. I don't think you realize how much she adores you. You know, whenever I babysit her, she wants you to come home. She likes you." Kari took in a deep breath. "I'm concerned about you though."

"Why?"

She folded her arms. "Do you wanna know the truth?"

I smirked a little. "When you put it that way, probably not." I crossed my arms. "But yes."

She stared at nothing when she said quietly. "I think you're insecure about your past."

I didn't say anything for a moment. "Well, the truth is that you're right."

"And, my fear for you is you're going to get to Iowa, and you're going feel like so out of place because you will be. You're not moving to rural Iowa; you're moving to suburban Iowa. You know it's very—"

"They're a bunch of rich white people."

"Don't say that there," she warned.

"I know. I won't."

"Don't let Ava hear you say that."

"I know. I've tried to be pretty optimistic around Ava about the move."

"And how's that working out for you?"

"Kari, I want to leave this town." I paused. "But I'm really scared."

I changed my mind. I am scared. I know I've said in a previous post I wasn't scared, but I am.

"I would be, too, but remember Mike and Jen have your back."

I didn't know what to say anymore, so I gave her a hug. Kari is like my sister.

"I'm going to miss you so much," she said into my shoulder.

"Kari..." I couldn't finish my sentence.