Fireproof and Free

"I spent the longest time putting out fires to protect my daughters from any pain or failure, but what I realized is that I needed to walk my daughters into the fire to show them that they are fireproof." -Glennon Doyle

Mic drop.

I, along with a few friends, recently ventured the short trip to Chicago to hear Glennon Doyle and company speak at the Together Live event. It was a night of empowerment and multiple calls to give power to our purpose rather than our fear. It was a night of unity in a radically divided world. There were countless nuggets of truth and inspiration, but nothing shook me quite like the line above.

I want this blog to be a honest and authentic snapshot of life in my 30s, and when Glennon said those words Tuesday night, it felt like the push I needed to breathe life into this quest to make my 30s what my 20s--and the years before--never could be: courageous adventures into the fire. I draw meaning and inspiration from those who share their trials and triumphs, and if I can do that for even one person, I'll gladly detail my story. Whether you know me or not does not matter; my story--like many others--is rooted in a desire to answer the call to courage. The experiences may be different, but the purpose is the same.

My life, up until recently, had been one that was dependent on spotting fires and avoiding them at all costs or relying on those around to lead me around the blaze. There was no chance that I would set foot near any situation that did not ensure my complete success or metaphorical safety. I wrapped my worthiness completely in my ability to always remain standing and smiling; therefore, the challenges I took on or the dreams I chased were not ones that tested me or ones I desperately ached to have. This way of functioning drastically cut down the terrain I was willing to explore.

Turning 30 this past March felt like a new chance to grab the pen and write my own story. I was too quick to let others write down what I need to do and think because it was easier for me to rely on them than myself. I think I secretly did not trust myself because I was constantly dismissing my inner call to courage. I did what made others happy. I said what others wanted to hear. I was everything everyone wanted me to be, but I rarely showed up in the same way for myself. I don't know if it's age or the copious Brene Brown, Oprah, Liz Gilbert, and Glennon Doyle books I've read, but there has been a massive shift in my life, and so when I heard the fireproof quote, the hair on my arms stood at attention.

I am fireproof, and you are, too. Fireproof doesn't mean perfect and pristine. There will be constant falls and time spent on the ground, and, if I am going along with the metaphor, some smoke inhalation, but the beauty of this is that we make it out in the end. I think that's the power of this switch from avoiding the fire to walking into it: We learn that our strength and resolve is far greater than anything that's thrown at us--no matter how terrifying. The fire is there to test us. That's the point. My trips into the fire have taught me not only that I am far stronger mentally than I thought but that it hurts far more to deny and quiet the inner voice inside of me. The pain I felt squelching my dreams and desires feels far worse. Even more, I have learned what my purpose is because it takes something that lights a fire in my soul for me to continually make the trek into the fire.

I want to be a stronger voice in education--pushing for more of a focus on social and emotional learning than only looking at standardizing testing and school grades. I also want to study and develop ways to improve school and classroom culture. These are what keep me up at night and make my heart beat faster and stronger than before. There can be no tiptoeing around fires. It will require me to walk straight into the fire, sharing my ideas and taking leaps of faith. Uncertainty used to be a paralyzing fear, but it now is a thrilling adventure.

This is 30. I am fireproof and free.