Last year I turned 30. While some people seem traumatized over turning 30, I didn’t have a problem with it and embraced it with open arms. I can’t say the same this year. Tomorrow I turn 31. It is depressing the crap out of me and I want to just skip the entire day altogether.
There are a few different reasons for my new attitude. First, I am not where I wanted to be by the time I turned 31. As a result, I’m throwing myself a great big pity party.
The differences between last year and this year:
Last year -After dealing with infertility for almost 6 years, I was starting injection treatments in hopes of finally conceiving. This year- Not only do I not have a newborn, but Hubby is no longer “on the baby train.” This means no more treatments, so no more synthetic hormones making me feel sane and human.
Last year- I was up to my eyeballs in Graduate school and loving every moment of it. I was studying something I love and am passionate about, while humoring fantasies of graduation and being an instructor of some kind to share my knowledge and passion with others. This year- I graduated, with Distinction, and while I am proud of the accomplishment, I am feeling rather lost and confused now. There are no deadlines, no homework, no research, no enriching discussions over various texts or criticisms… and no fulfilling job, even though I’ve applied EVERWHERE… see next on the list.
Last year- While in school I was doing daycare and I loved it. It allowed me the time to focus on school, keep up with demands of household tasks, yet still have an income to contribute to the finances. Plus, if I’m being honest, it filled the part of me in mourning over not having a baby of my own. This year- I’ve applied for every online English adjunct position on the internet. I’ve submitted to both nearby community college adjunct pools. I’ve applied for various administrative positions I’ve come across, even though it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with what I want to do, but it’s a paycheck.
I’m lost right now. The same week, I graduated from school and lost my daycare baby. The two things that gave me a distraction- something to entertain my brain- are now gone. While I used to be able to shift between the Mom/Wife/Homekeeper part of me and the Student me and the Daycare me….. Now I’m left with just the Mom/Wife/Homekeeper me and there are gaping holes where the rest of me was. I’ve deflated. The emotional bond I had with Baby K is jagged and raw with her gone, reopening wounds left by infertility. The part of me that I threw into school is now desperate for a teaching job where I can interact with people over literature and theory. The Wife part of me is freaking-the-f@#$ out over the hit to our finances by me losing my income, anxious over bills and house payments, and making myself physically ill as a result. The Mom part of me has totally shut down because of recent issues with my not so darling daughters that have left me questioning my parenting and feeling like shit. The Homekeeper part of me is thrilled with the time to clean relentlessly without distraction, and at first I did, but the rest of me is so miserable I just don’t care at the moment.
I really hope that something changes soon, because I’m treading water here, and my legs are getting very tired.
I’m very much copying LiLu, but it seemed like fun, and I have nothing better to do than sit around and talk about myself.
I don’t... blog often enough. But then again, since all of one or two people may read this, you probably knew that already.
I don’t… bite my tongue. Sometimes it gets me in trouble, and it often pisses people off, but I was born without the censor in my brain that says “Shut up!”
I don’t…. like to be touched on the face. The Hubby, the dogs, the kids, whatever- stay the hell away from my face. And if you pinch my nose you just might lose your hand.
I don’t…. like poetry. Mind you, I am half way through grad school for a degree in Literature, so this is huge. Since I’ve spent the better part of the last 7 years studying it, I can analyze it six ways from Sunday, but yeah, I don’t like it.
I don’t… like to try new things. New foods, places, rides- not for me. I am all kinds of bland, boring, vanilla. This is because I am a crazy picky eater and don’t like much, not a thrill seeker, and just generally not a fan of making an ass of myself- and since there is very little I’m actually good at, I’d probably just make an ass of myself. Oh yeah, and I’m a big wuss.
I don’t… handle emotions well. And I’m a very emotional person. I just cry if I’m happy, angry, confused, stressed, whatever. I just cry.
I don’t… prioritize well. I find this all kinds of funny. You know, since I’m a mom, wife, daycare provider, full time grad student, planning my parent’s wedding, going through some medical stuff… I procrastinate. A lot. If I just downloaded a new movie, but I have a paper to write, I will go do the dishes just to give myself time to try to convince myself I should watch the movie and write the paper later. Thankfully the stress and anxiety usually force me to do things in the right order.
Yeah, I know. I need a therapist.