During the first four years of my teaching career, I went through this strange experience. I felt incredible satisfaction as a teacher, really felt like I got to the point where I was honed in on my kids, their passions, my ability to support them in those and feel like my marriage was the best it's ever been.
Yet, I was lost. Unsatisfied. Depressed.
Yes, part of it was my physical appearance, and there are still those pesky last ten pounds I would LIKE to lose, but if they are here to stay, I'm not dissatisfied.
Outside of a few online exceptions and work colleagues, I really didn't have friends. Part of it was my absolute and complete lack of desire at belonging to a Bunco group - so not what I wanted.
I took on an attitude, especially during completing my Master's, that was "I am woman, watch me conquer the whole freakin' world." My music reflected this, my mindset reflected this. And I think to have the success I did, this was necessary.
But each of these caused me to become lost, feel incredibly lonely and completely forget who Tasha was.
Then I started writing again. And I got invited to be part of a writing group.
And one night, a particularly low night, my husband with his very blunt manner but with very good intent, told me if I didn't like my life, I could either keep crying about it or figure out something to do to change it.
In the last two weeks, I have been to a writing conference at UVU, attended a particularly productive writer's group and spent eight hours yesterday with Mette Ivie Harrison and several Southern Utah writers, receiving good critiques but some pretty decent praise.
Enoch has been nothing but supportive. For me to travel north last week, he had to cover some things with the kids and take a short day of work. He puts the kids to bed when I go to my writer's group. He is affectionate when I'm leaving, excited to hear about things when I return.
I feel a great deal of satisfaction with my life, and a huge part of that is because of him.
Yup, I'm pretty lucky.