Mid-Life

Oh I know it's been awhile.

I haven't had much to say.  About anything.

Well that's not true.  I have lots to say about everything.  They're just not very important thoughts. They're more like rants and vents and there are plenty of crazy rants on the internet.  You don't need to come here to read that.

There it is.  In a nutshell.  I haven't been feeling very...important...

...and I have been feeling very insignificant.

2017 has not been a very good year for me.

I mean, no one has died.  We all still have 10 fingers and 10 toes each.  We have both eye balls.

Here's the issue.  Actually, there are two issues.  I've known they were coming, yet they still seem to have snuck up on me me and I don't know where to go from here.  So here it is...

I turn 40 next month.  And I have a teenager.

F - O - R - T - Y

How did this even happen?  What have I done with the past forty years?  Where did they go?  I still feel like I'm 30.  Or 25 even.  Now I know what all those 60 year old men meant when they say on their dating profiles that they don't feel their age and identify with women 20-25 years younger than they are.  I feel like that.  I feel like it was just yesterday that I was graduating from high school with my whole life in front of me.  Now I wonder if my best years are behind me.  Did I squander it?  My life?  All those years?  Is it too late?  I should have accomplished something really, really huge by now.  I should have written a book or changed a life or created something really amazing.  I feel like that's what 20 year old me would have expected of me.  But now I don't even know what success looks like.

I should have my shit together by now.  I should be comfortable in my skin. 

Shouldn't I?

Q has turned 13.  He's in high school this year.

It was just yesterday I had a blonde, curly haired toddler running around the house with a hot wheels car in one hand, calling me 'mama', and falling asleep with his hand on my face.  Now, he's got feet bigger than mine.  With hair on his toes.  HAIR ON HIS TOES, PEOPLE.  Do you know he shaved for the first time on Wednesday?  He shaved the peach fuzz on his top lip that was getting darker and darker, almost by the day. He has thoughts and feelings separate from my own.  In face, purposely separate from my own.  Because you cannot agree with your mother.  You just cannot.  It seems like I blinked and he grew in the second it took.  I miss my baby.  I miss smelling his hair and apparently it's 'weird' to do that now. 
 
All of this has made me realize that I am powerless to stop time.  I cannot just ask to stop the ride so I can catch my bearings and figure out my next steps.  Life is going to keep going whether I participate in it or not. 

I don't want to waste the rest of my life mourning the past.  I've spent most of the year doing so and it hasn't gotten me anywhere.  I want to feel like I still have something to give, even though I'm (almost) 40.  Okay, so I'm not 20.  And who knows, maybe it's a good thing.  I can't change it, so I better accept it. 

But here's the thing.  Party stores sell supplies for 40th parties that say, "Over the Hill".  What is that nonsense?  Over the hill?!?!  What hill?  Was it a really small hill? 

I'm not sure I am ready to embrace 40.  Or embrace that I have a teenager.  I mean, I'll embrace the teenager - if he'll let me... 

Grey Hairs Suck ~ and Other Revelations

I found another grey hair last night.

I think part of what is so shocking when I find a grey hair is that I'm not actually looking for it.  I'm usually doing my makeup and I'll see a glisten in the mirror out of the corner of my eye.  A wiry glisten and I'll just know.  "Oh no," I think.  Not again.

And of course I'll pull it out but that doesn't mean it wasn't there in the first place. 

Now I feel bad for all those times I told my mother I thought grey hair on a woman looked *distinguished*.  What a load of BS.  It looks old.  That's what it looks like.  Old.  Dye those mo-fos...that's my new motto.  Or the times I thought, "Wrinkles are just memories of laughter."  Again, BULL.  Wrinkles are signs that you squinted too much in the sun, or frowned.  Your skin is not so forgiving because it is old and so now your skin remembers every little thing. I will most definitely consider Botox (when I can afford it).

It's another reminder that 35 is waiting for me right around the corner.  It's another mid-life sign.

Despite that whole rant, I've had a little change of heart when it comes to my most recent *blah* phase.  Yes I am older than I've ever been. But that's not going to change.  Because now, I'm older than I was when I wrote that first sentence (geez, now I'm just freaking myself out).

I've had to remind myself of something very important that I happened to forget while in the midst of all this *old* turmoil.

Happiness is a Choice.  

Just as whether I want to be a blonde or brunette is a choice, I have to choose my point of view.  There are so many things in this life that can get you down...debt woes, self image problems, global warming, poverty, death...the list goes on and on.  You (or I) can choose to focus on those things, or you (I) can choose to focus on the blessings.  So there's a nasty rumour going around work about me (I know it's not true), so I'm a little bored at work (I can find challenges).  I am right where I'm meant to be right now.

And so I choose to be happy.  I choose to turn my frown upside down.  I choose to be the change I wish to see in the world.  

It's true that I've never been on a mission to Africa (like this book I'm reading right now, Kisses from Katie...I have permanent goosebumps from reading this woman's story.  I highly, highly, highly recommend it.  Like if you only read one book this year, read Kisses from Katie).  It's true I've not pulled a drowning man from the ocean.  It's true I've even witnessed a car accident and then driven away instead of giving my name as a witness (eeps, I still feel guilty about that one...)  I can choose to be kind to everyone, giving to those who seem to deserve it the least, and willing to make a difference.

It's the small things that matter.  Small things done with great love. 

I don't want to justify doing NOTHING.  Doing nothing is poor form when we're given this awesome experience called life.  But I do want to remind myself, mostly, that not everyone can be a brain surgeon.  Not everyone can run into a burning building and save a mother pregnant with triplets.  Not everyone can thwart terrorist attacks or make decisions for a country. 

Everyone can be kind.  Everyone can be thoughtful.  Everyone can be a listening ear.

I was getting so depressed because here I am working in mail.  For as far as my eye can see, there are parcels.  Boxes and boxes and boxes.  None of the boxes are filled with hearts for transplant.  Most of them are filled with purchases people bought on-line.  Whatever.  The point was I couldn't imagine anyone feeling called to work in a post office.  How could I make a difference in the world in a post office?  I started to think that no one really feels called to work in a gas station, either.  No one feels the need to haul garbage for a living.  Someone working in Tim Horton's probably didn't dream of serving coffee to people since they were little.  There are jobs that need to be done in this world that don't necessarily seem important.  It's not the job that matters, it is the attitude and care with which we do said job.  

So I can do a mundane job.  I can do a mundane job with a crappy attitude.  Or I can do a so-so job with a crazy, out of this world happy attitude that immediately disarms people and tears down walls they've built up over the years.  

I think the real tragedy would be missing out on those experiences. 

And finding another grey hair. 

That would also be a tragedy.

Just a Job??

I keep having this dream that I am stuck at work and I cannot find my keys.  The employees are all ignoring me or laughing, but no one is helping me and I am stuck at work with no way out.  And it's snowing out.  There is seriously a lot of snow for the lower mainland.  But this dream, it plays over and over every night.  I'm pretty sure we don't need a book of dreams to decipher this what it means.  I feel trapped.  Trapped with no way out, and no one to help me.

 

Let me preface all this by saying that I feel incredibly fortunate for having this job that pays me so well for what I do, gives job stability like the airlines never did, and allows me to be home in the evening with my son.  It truly has been a blessing.

 

I'm just getting itchy.

 

No...not itchy...I'm getting *the* itch.

 

Again, I'm not going to go into specifics, because I can see that causing more harm than good.  I'm even questioning whether blogging about it is a smart idea.  Unfortunately (or fortunately) this is my outlet - my way to vent and air all my dirty laundry.  And seeing as how I've been such a good girl as of late, my laundry isn't all that dirty.  Maybe someone else is going thru a similar struggle and so sharing will not only make me feel a little bit better, but it will help someone else feel not so alone. 

 

What seems even more daunting is that I have been looking at job search sites and there is absolutely nothing out there.  I have a couple rules when *looking* for a job...if I don't know what it means, then I can't apply for it...

 

1. A "Senior Java Developer" for example- I used to work for "Second Cup" - but I'm pretty sure that's not the Java they're referring to, I'm just going to pass that one by. 

 

2. Any job that requires a degree, I also skip those ones...I mean, if they're going to be that picky...I could totally *do* the job.  I mean, how much do psychologists really learn in school?  I have life experience, isn't that kind of the same thing?  Oh, and I'm a really good listener...  

 

3. Any job that includes milking animals is completely out of the question.  True story: One job listing was for a Milker.  Yes, like as in milking animals.  And it only paid minimum wage.  I am going to expect a whole lot more money for milking animals all day long. 

 

4. Or "Assistant"...I don't even care to what...those of you who know me, know that I do not have the type of personality that *assists* very well.  I tend to supervise very well, but you want me to assist you?  No, I think it would be the other way around, thank you very much.  Or a *third key holder at Ardene*...so if they need someone to open or close the cheap jewellery store you would not be the first, nor the second, but the third person they would call.  Talk about bottom of the ladder, huh?

 

5. If I'm not good at it in real life, I can't do it for a job...ie: financial adviser..."Oh, girl.  It's Coach?  It's 10% off?  It's yours, use your credit card...seriously, who cares.  That is a great deal."

 

Exposure Prevention Specialist?  Dude, do not go in there - sounds easy to me.  Lumber Trader?  I'll take your branch for my stick?

 

Side note: I think that being an exterminator would really come in handy right about now, seeing as how a mouse just ran by me towards our fireplace.  I've been flirting with my Orkin man at work, Shawn...maybe he'll swing by and take care of this little problem for me.  One more ghetto story for my kid when he makes it big...

 

I guess this is just one more step into the *midlife* crisis.  Hope it gets better on the other side of the hill I'm about to cross over.  Maybe I just have to learn to be content where I am.

 

And seriously, anyone have any ideas how to get rid of mice???

Mid-Life

I think I'm going through a mid-life crisis. 

 

People laugh when I say that, but I'm almost 35...living til 70 isn't totally unrealistic - I'm half way there.  And maybe people are just laughing because it's awkward when someone announces that they're experiencing a mid-life crisis. They're all like, "Ma'am, I'm just here to pack your groceries..."

 

No....I don't tell complete strangers I'm going through a mid-life crisis.  That would just be crazy.

 

But seriously, I think I'm going through a mid-life crisis.

 

If I'm half way there, what the eff have I done with my life????? 

 

In December, it will be 6 years since I've been in a relationship.  Six years. 

 

Six years.  Every minute I'm alone, it gets easier to stay alone.  I have major control issues, in that I like to control everything.  No man is going to want to be with a control freak.  And there aren't even any prospects.  Nothing.  I got nothing.

 

In November, I'm 35.  I can feel my ovaries shrivelling up.  My dreams of having a family with lots and lots of babies is quickly shrivelling up right along with them.  Don't get me wrong, I love my baby boy.  I love him more than I ever thought was possible.  He's not my baby boy anymore though, he's 8.  Eight!!!  I embarrass him.  He rolls his eyes at me.  His hand in my hand is almost the same size as mine. He comes up to my shoulder.  His feet smell (although his feet have always been smelly, even as a newborn!)

 

My job, it pays the bills.  But it doesn't inspire me, it's not fulfilling.  I'm not making a difference in the world.  I'm not saving anyone.  But it pays the bills.  So, that's something, right?

 

I just feel so unfulfilled.  I feel like life is passing me by.  Time has swooped in, and it is taking prisoners - ME!!!! 

 

I had big plans.  I really did.  I was going to be the Prime Minister.  Which, okay, sounds a little unrealistic now, but I really believed it when I was 17.  I want to go back and go to University with some focus instead of spending ridiculous amounts of money on nothing.  I want to go back and save money so I could be a home owner instead of a Coach purse owner.  Because, dammit, I can't live in a Coach purse, even though it is really, really pretty...and fuchsia.

 

Do you think I should go buy a pink Corvette.  Maybe that will make me feel better.  Oh, or a motor cycle?  Okay, I don't have money for that.  And I'm not crazy.  I'm bored.  Not crazy.

 

Maybe I am crazy...

 

What am I going to do?  How do I make a difference???  How do I make my mark?  Geez, sometimes being a dog just seems so much easier.  I could pee in the corner and boom - fulfilled.