The Other Side of “Almost”

I almost declared my degree in journalism when I started college at Saint Mary’s. I almost got to explore a craft that fascinated me throughout high school. I almost got to build on my skills that I learned as Batavia High School’s newspaper editor. I almost tried to apply for internships at local newspapers and television studios in South Bend. I almost took on a career in broadcast journalism. I almost fulfilled a dream I aspired for throughout my entire teen years. 

But I didn’t. 

You see, my goal was to be the next Erin Andrews. And that goal was intimidating. Actually, that goal was terrifying. 

So instead, I declared my degree in the art of education. I took advantage of my natural gift for communicating and interacting with children. I utilized the skillset that I had developed through babysitting, nannying, and coordinating summer camps for almost a decade. I became a teacher because I knew I could do it. 

Let’s read that again: I became a teacher because I knew I could do it. 

Because I was scared of failing to be the next renowned, successful, driving force that is Erin Andrews, I settled and became a very complacent Ashley Aranha. 

I spent the first few years of my teaching career exceling and enjoying my success. In three consecutive years, I progressed from an hourly preschool instructor, to a salaried part-time kindergarten teacher, to a salaried full-time kindergarten teacher with benefits and my very own classroom. 

  The climb felt good, but something was always off. Almost like the beginning of a toothache – that dull annoyance that you hope won’t grow to be more painful. The most confusing part of it all was that I was GOOD at teaching kindergarten. I was recognized by the school board, twice. I had parents requesting their children to be in my class. I earned the highest rating in my performance reviews, and my students continuously excelled on their state tests. You rarely hear someone say, “I’m so good at golf, but I really just hate playing.” We normally enjoy the things we’re good at. 

But every school year, that dull ache worsened. And worsened. And worsened. 

And there I was again, on the wrong side of almost. 

I almost quit teaching in 2016.

I almost quit teaching in 2017.

It wouldn’t be until the summer of 2018 that I finally shut my classroom door for good.

All so I could almost launch a website in the summer of 2018, the winter of 2018, the spring of 2019, and the fall of 2019. 

I spent ten years living in fear of crossing the line between almost did and almost didn’t. And I had had enough. 

I stopped allowing myself to find comfort in things that I know no longer serve me. I stopped allowing myself to numb the fear with assurance that where I am is just fine. I stopped allowing myself to settle for complacency. Then, I started allowing myself to want, to crave more. I started allowing myself to believe I was worthy of more. I started allowing fear to surround me, to sink inward. 

Suddenly, the fear of what would happen if I didn’t act had far exceeded the fear of what would happen if I did. 

And I jumped. 

I jumped without having any solid ground in sight, without having anything to count on. I jumped without knowing I could do it. 

I’m not quite sure where I’m going to land, as I’m still in the middle of the freefall. But I can tell you that the amount of pride I feel is worth it. 

Why, oh why, have I shared all of this with you, my fitness tribe and community?

Here’s why:  Now it’s your turn. 

Whether you look more deeply into your lifestyle, your career, your relationships, etc, I challenge you to identify the differences between complacency and fulfillment. I challenge you to question just how comfortable your comfort zones are. I challenge you to explore what you’re afraid of, and what might happen if you face that fear head on. To decide which side of almost you want to stay on. To determine which type of fear — the almost did or the almost didn’t — is going to be the one you hold close. 

In Grind+Wine,

Ashley