Who I Am

I spent ten years teaching in public schools. People often say how nice it must be to have summers off — and all those long breaks. But what most don’t see is the culture that quietly expects you to shape your entire life around the school calendar.

The unspoken contract was clear: when school was in session, I was too.

Everything else — rest, health, relationships — could wait until the next break.

Over time, that pace broke me. I became sick, anxious, and deeply exhausted. My body stayed in fight-or-flight for months at a time. A week off for Thanksgiving barely made a dent.

Eventually, I realized something both painful and freeing — who I am simply didn’t fit the mold required to stay well in that system.

So I left.

If you’ve ever felt displaced in your own body — caught between who you are and what the world expects — you’re not alone.

This work is for you.

A young man in sunglasses and a baseball cap sitting in the cockpit of a small airplane, smiling and giving a thumbs-up, with the pilot's controls and instrumentation visible.

A smiling man and woman sitting at a wooden table, hugging each other, with empty white plates and glasses of water in front of them, inside a restaurant or café with wooden walls and a large glass window.

A man with sunglasses on his head carrying a child in a backpack carrier on his back outdoors on a sunny day.

A happy family of three enjoying an outdoor moment, a man holding a young girl with curly hair and a woman with long dark hair smiling at her, in a natural setting with trees in the background.