What’s my motivation?

It seems that every year’s beginning I have to ask myself this.

I don’t do well with back stabbing, loose talk, and deceit. Perhaps I don’t have it in me to engage in it, ’cause I am pretty clear about my feelings towards people. I’m never intentionally mean, never unkind, but there are people I just plain don’t vibe with. I don’t have a “poker face,” try as I might to call on my inner Lady Gaga. But in my career of current, I like to believe in the intrinsic good of all (despite what is outwardly presented). I have to, even when time and time again, my faith in people is challenged. I work with teenagers who are still seeking themselves – in every way. I know well that their present personas will evolve drastically in a matter of months, of years.

But imagine how it feels when I am so often the source of adults’ coded, clandestine conversation. You know the kind – when you happen upon a group sharing info they’ve garnished from somewhere and the conversation suddenly seems less animated the closer you draw near? I catch a sliver of conversation, but enough to surmise what wasn’t said (or not made audible).

“Let go. Do your best. Pray on it. Move on.” It’s my mantra for this year. I can’t please them. They don’t have to like me, and it’s not in me to try to make friends out of those I would never associate with even casually outside of work.

I’ve ordered myself reminders of what is important. Photos of those I work for, those I live for. I’ve positioned reminders of those I’ve impacted – those who’ve moved forward in their own lives and gifted me with a piece of themselves.

I will force myself to remember why I try.

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