Those of you that work with me will laugh at the title. For the rest of you, I'm known as the "clarification" person at our faculty meetings. Anyway...
I need to clarify something. Based on my blogs someone might get the idea that I am this horribly depressed, dissatisfied person. That my life is going oh so horribly right now. That is not the case.
This blog is an outlet for the melo-drama. Come on...you all know me. There is a Drama Queen inside and sometimes she needs to come out. I'm Sydney; I feel intensly...always have. I am full of passion and vigor and intensity. That's who I am. I feel anger intensely; I feel excitement enthusiastically; I feel saddness desperately; I feel love extravagantly...you get the picture. I'm me. As I've grown into an adult I've learned how to control the Drama Queen. I guess it's called maturity. That is why this blog is great. It is a safe and appropriate place to be melo-dramatic.
It is true that I have been going through some kind of transition in life, but I've kind of come to terms with it. In fact, this blog has been a big part in helping me come to terms with it. I mean, that's pretty much what transition is...denial, loss, mourning, and acceptance. But transition isn't bad and transition isn't depression. Transition is a wake-up call to the things that no longer satisfy me and therefore it's an impetus to change for the better.
So, I'm ok. Even my job is not ruining my life...no, I don't love it, but I accept it and can deal. Sometimes I just need to vent.
See how much I worry what people think, what their perception is of me? Anyway, I don't really even know who reads this blog. There are a few people I know that read it. A few that I know have read at least one entry, but that doesn't mean they always read it. I think I assumed no one else did read it. But recently I've found out that others are reading it though they don't comment. So, that's when the paranoia of people misinterpreting me kicked in.
So, again, just clarifying. I'm not going to promise that I'm going to try to write about happy things more. Because frankly, the happy thoughts aren't really the ones I need to express most of the time. It's the thoughts that I'm struggling with, that are confusing, that I need to work out through writing about them...so please, don't ever think that I am not the positive, happy person that you all know I am. We all must have a dark and a light.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
My New Job
I don't like it. It is that plain and simple. I do not like my new job.
Stuck in a small dark office with no window. Much less interaction with people. Sure, I observe some classes and meet with people sometimes, but I would still say that more than 50% of the time I am in my office. One of the main reasons I became a teacher is because I DIDN'T want an office job.
And the kids. Oh how I miss the kids. Yes, I see them in the halls. Yes, I see kids in other's classes. Something funny or brilliant a kid says in a class I am observing may make me smile, but it is not the same. It is not the same as having MY kids. Building relationships with them all year.
The spring is gone from my step. The radiating sunshine is missing from my face. My job used to make me happy. Now I just trudge around, getting things done for other people. Talking to other people about what THEY are doing in THEIR classrooms. This is not what I want to do.
Can't "they" see how the light has burnt out behind my eyes? I know they had an idea what they wanted, how this would play out with me. But they were wrong. And they should have listened to my wishes. They should have considered what I said, that I DIDN'T WANT TO DO THIS. Why oh why would you take someone out of the classroom who loved being there, whose students seemed to love being there?
Not to mention the mixed messages. From one angle I am supposed to be a touchy-feely coach. Only meant to ask probing questions but not give any advice or ideas. From another angle I am supposed to be part of holding teacher's accountable for using Reading Apprentice. And most the teachers want specific ideas and advice about very specific aspects of their class. I don't always have the answers. This isn't fun and I'm not really any good at it.
I'm sure there were other good Reading teachers who would have been more inclined to do this. Teachers that want to be on the path to administration. This just shows me that is not what I want. I don't want politics and over the top data analysis. I just want to help kids become better readers.
I did try to have a positive attitude when I started. And I am trying to do my best. That isn't going to change the fact that I'm not enjoying it. Hopefully, it won't last too long and I will get to go back to the classroom sooner than later.
We'll see.
Stuck in a small dark office with no window. Much less interaction with people. Sure, I observe some classes and meet with people sometimes, but I would still say that more than 50% of the time I am in my office. One of the main reasons I became a teacher is because I DIDN'T want an office job.
And the kids. Oh how I miss the kids. Yes, I see them in the halls. Yes, I see kids in other's classes. Something funny or brilliant a kid says in a class I am observing may make me smile, but it is not the same. It is not the same as having MY kids. Building relationships with them all year.
The spring is gone from my step. The radiating sunshine is missing from my face. My job used to make me happy. Now I just trudge around, getting things done for other people. Talking to other people about what THEY are doing in THEIR classrooms. This is not what I want to do.
Can't "they" see how the light has burnt out behind my eyes? I know they had an idea what they wanted, how this would play out with me. But they were wrong. And they should have listened to my wishes. They should have considered what I said, that I DIDN'T WANT TO DO THIS. Why oh why would you take someone out of the classroom who loved being there, whose students seemed to love being there?
Not to mention the mixed messages. From one angle I am supposed to be a touchy-feely coach. Only meant to ask probing questions but not give any advice or ideas. From another angle I am supposed to be part of holding teacher's accountable for using Reading Apprentice. And most the teachers want specific ideas and advice about very specific aspects of their class. I don't always have the answers. This isn't fun and I'm not really any good at it.
I'm sure there were other good Reading teachers who would have been more inclined to do this. Teachers that want to be on the path to administration. This just shows me that is not what I want. I don't want politics and over the top data analysis. I just want to help kids become better readers.
I did try to have a positive attitude when I started. And I am trying to do my best. That isn't going to change the fact that I'm not enjoying it. Hopefully, it won't last too long and I will get to go back to the classroom sooner than later.
We'll see.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Twilight, Fiction, and Baby Steps
The other day Graham and I went on a very long walk all around the Woodstock neighborhood. When we set out it was daytime and the sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. The walk ended at the park and while Graham ran around climbing on things like a wild monkey, I was listening to harp music on my ipod and watching the transformation that is twilight.
The sky starts to get darker and darker until it is almost navy blue. But the sun is still shining in low from the other direction. The sunlight shines on the trees and plants and against that dark sky background they just POP! Every natural color seems more vivid, brighter. It's amazing. Twilight has always been one of my favorite times of day.
At that moment I was so content. Everything just felt...good. I am not in a completly content place in my life right now. But even in times of discontent, there are still moments of perfect peace. This was one of them.
I find I am doing what most humans do with they are having a hard time in thier lives, trying to escape reality. People do it in different ways. Some throw themselves into their work to avoid the rest of reality. Some people throw themselves into a romance and pretend nothing else exists. Most commonly, I think, people use drugs and alcohol to escape. That was for sure my means of escape when I was younger.
I'm a grown-up now and I have kids and a job as a teacher, so that kind of escapism would inflict permanent damage on my life. Plus I'm just too old to even handle that anymore. I mean, sure, I still like my beer and wine sometimes. But certainly not with the indulgent zest I used to.
So, I find that my escapism of choice has become fiction.
I LOVE stories. I always have. I love books and movies and plays and even some tv. The most important aspect of any story, for me, is the characters. A story has to have full, interesting, well-developed characters that I actually care about. The problem is that I actually get attached to these kinds of characters. I mean, in a kind of psycho way. In my mind they ARE my friends. I miss them when the story is over. I want to re-read/re-watch the story over and over to be with my friends again. I think of them as real people. I live vicariously through them and their adventures. Because, you see, when my head is consumed with a story setting and fictional characters and I'm moving through the much more exciting and interesting events of a made-up plot...I don't have to deal with my own reality. I can pretend that life is some amazing build up and climax and that I'm still seeing the world through the eyes of a 20 year old or that magic is at my fingertips or that I'm stronger than I am and can survive great hardships which I've never come close to experiencing in my own life. In other words, I escape reality. I leave this world for awhile and immerse myself in completely different people and places.
And you're all probably thinking that there is nothing wrong with that. Reading is good. Much better than doing drugs or drinking. But, I'm obsessed. I get completely obsessed with stories and characters and...as much as I've been willing to reveal in this blog, I won't explain what I mean. Because I would have to give examples and I'm not willing to make myself THAT vulnerable.
My husband knows. You can't be married and live so intimately together and keep things from one another. I know he thinks I'm bat-shit bonkers and that it is ridiculous the way I fall in love with characters and obsess. You could ask him, but I don't think he would tell you. He accepts me and he won't betray me. That's why he's my husband.
Regardless, it has spiraled a little out of control. And, that is a sign to me that something needs to be done. It is like when the alcoholic gets the DUI and realizes it's time to face reality and deal with their issues so they won't have to turn to alcohol anymore. This is my wake up call. There is nothing wrong with taking little vacations from reality here and there. But when you spend more time in fictional worlds than reality, that's a problem. It's time to fix my life again. It's time to make some changes so I do enjoy my reality and can travel through life with gusto. And so it comes to one of the most famous and simplest pieces of advise: each journey begins with one step. I know that isn't Lao Tzu's exact quote. Although I don't think anyone can claim that any English translation is an exact quote but, you get the point. One step at a time. Baby steps. I always try to do too much, change too much in one big motion. It never lasts. One thing at a time. That is my new motto. I have a grand plan but I've broken it down into baby steps and only after I master one step will I move on to the next. I'm hoping this will create a more permanent change in my life. Through these baby steps I will eventually get back to an existence of happiness and peace. And though I know life will always have to cycle around to discontent to keep me on my toes, maybe getting to my next phase of happiness through baby steps will enable it to last longer when I get there.
The sky starts to get darker and darker until it is almost navy blue. But the sun is still shining in low from the other direction. The sunlight shines on the trees and plants and against that dark sky background they just POP! Every natural color seems more vivid, brighter. It's amazing. Twilight has always been one of my favorite times of day.
At that moment I was so content. Everything just felt...good. I am not in a completly content place in my life right now. But even in times of discontent, there are still moments of perfect peace. This was one of them.
I find I am doing what most humans do with they are having a hard time in thier lives, trying to escape reality. People do it in different ways. Some throw themselves into their work to avoid the rest of reality. Some people throw themselves into a romance and pretend nothing else exists. Most commonly, I think, people use drugs and alcohol to escape. That was for sure my means of escape when I was younger.
I'm a grown-up now and I have kids and a job as a teacher, so that kind of escapism would inflict permanent damage on my life. Plus I'm just too old to even handle that anymore. I mean, sure, I still like my beer and wine sometimes. But certainly not with the indulgent zest I used to.
So, I find that my escapism of choice has become fiction.
I LOVE stories. I always have. I love books and movies and plays and even some tv. The most important aspect of any story, for me, is the characters. A story has to have full, interesting, well-developed characters that I actually care about. The problem is that I actually get attached to these kinds of characters. I mean, in a kind of psycho way. In my mind they ARE my friends. I miss them when the story is over. I want to re-read/re-watch the story over and over to be with my friends again. I think of them as real people. I live vicariously through them and their adventures. Because, you see, when my head is consumed with a story setting and fictional characters and I'm moving through the much more exciting and interesting events of a made-up plot...I don't have to deal with my own reality. I can pretend that life is some amazing build up and climax and that I'm still seeing the world through the eyes of a 20 year old or that magic is at my fingertips or that I'm stronger than I am and can survive great hardships which I've never come close to experiencing in my own life. In other words, I escape reality. I leave this world for awhile and immerse myself in completely different people and places.
And you're all probably thinking that there is nothing wrong with that. Reading is good. Much better than doing drugs or drinking. But, I'm obsessed. I get completely obsessed with stories and characters and...as much as I've been willing to reveal in this blog, I won't explain what I mean. Because I would have to give examples and I'm not willing to make myself THAT vulnerable.
My husband knows. You can't be married and live so intimately together and keep things from one another. I know he thinks I'm bat-shit bonkers and that it is ridiculous the way I fall in love with characters and obsess. You could ask him, but I don't think he would tell you. He accepts me and he won't betray me. That's why he's my husband.
Regardless, it has spiraled a little out of control. And, that is a sign to me that something needs to be done. It is like when the alcoholic gets the DUI and realizes it's time to face reality and deal with their issues so they won't have to turn to alcohol anymore. This is my wake up call. There is nothing wrong with taking little vacations from reality here and there. But when you spend more time in fictional worlds than reality, that's a problem. It's time to fix my life again. It's time to make some changes so I do enjoy my reality and can travel through life with gusto. And so it comes to one of the most famous and simplest pieces of advise: each journey begins with one step. I know that isn't Lao Tzu's exact quote. Although I don't think anyone can claim that any English translation is an exact quote but, you get the point. One step at a time. Baby steps. I always try to do too much, change too much in one big motion. It never lasts. One thing at a time. That is my new motto. I have a grand plan but I've broken it down into baby steps and only after I master one step will I move on to the next. I'm hoping this will create a more permanent change in my life. Through these baby steps I will eventually get back to an existence of happiness and peace. And though I know life will always have to cycle around to discontent to keep me on my toes, maybe getting to my next phase of happiness through baby steps will enable it to last longer when I get there.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Music
I just listened to the final movement of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, "Ode to Joy" for the first time in a long time. I remember when applying to colleges that the Ninth was the topic of one of my application essays. The writing prompt was something cliche' like: Pick a specific piece of art that is meaningful to you and explain why. I may have used that essay for more than one application; you know how you can find a way to make the same essay fit slightly different prompts so you don't have to write a separate essay for each application? Anyway, I remember as part of the essay I referenced Peter Weir, the director of the movie "Dead Poet's Society" who used the piece in the movie. I also referenced Robert Fulgham, the author of All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. He wrote a chapter on the Ninth and its amazing impact on his spirit.
I didn't realize at the time how cliche' it was to pick the Ninth as my topic. I mean, I was a smart girl, but I guess a bit "out of it" when it came to what was going on in the world in general. My own essay was evidence of this. I mean, I referenced two other people who had picked the Ninth to communicate their spirits; obviously it wasn't an original choice.
But, is it cliche'? Or, do so many people continue to acknoweldge the Ninth because it is just that fucking good? At what point does a fantastic piece of art lose its impact based on over use or over exposure? Are certain Led Zeppelin songs no better than bubble gum rock now that you hear them on various car commercials? Or, do certain pieces of art stand the test of time no matter who abuses them?
It is an interesting question.
I don't care how trite I sound, Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, particularly the final movement, "Ode to Joy" is EPIC! It is that fucking good.
And, music in general is amazing. This is what I think: I don't beleive in magic, but if there is one thing on this earth that comes close to being described as magic, it's music.
Random sound waves put together to make random notes put together through different mediums that incite saddness, anger, elation, memories, nostalgia, romance...I don't know, maybe it IS magic.
Music is not a luxury to me, it is a necessity. Ok, maybe that is not LITERALLY true, but life isn't all literal.
I always feel like I don't have the right to be such a music lover. Everyone else I know that "gets" the music thing like me, creates music in some way or another. They sing or play instruments or make electronic music and they can read musical notes. I create nothing musical. I can't even read notes. It's pathetic.
I always wanted to sing. Desperately...still do. But enough years of friends teasing me about my horrible voice and being tone deaf has beat the bravery to try it out of me. Even though other friends, who have some know about vocals, say my issue is merely breath. If a vocal teacher taught me to breath correctly, they say, I could sing. Some even say they imagine I would have a fantastic singing voice due to my raspy talking voice. Who knows. Regardless, at this point I have no control of my singing voice. Though I do sing, in the privacy of my car and home, a lot.
Both my husband and I are music lovers and I believe we have already started to instill that love of music into both of our kids. Graham actually has a very good singing voice. He is really into musical theater and I'm hoping to convince him to join Choir next year. Who knows, maybe I can satiate my desire to sing by living vicariously through him:)
I didn't realize at the time how cliche' it was to pick the Ninth as my topic. I mean, I was a smart girl, but I guess a bit "out of it" when it came to what was going on in the world in general. My own essay was evidence of this. I mean, I referenced two other people who had picked the Ninth to communicate their spirits; obviously it wasn't an original choice.
But, is it cliche'? Or, do so many people continue to acknoweldge the Ninth because it is just that fucking good? At what point does a fantastic piece of art lose its impact based on over use or over exposure? Are certain Led Zeppelin songs no better than bubble gum rock now that you hear them on various car commercials? Or, do certain pieces of art stand the test of time no matter who abuses them?
It is an interesting question.
I don't care how trite I sound, Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, particularly the final movement, "Ode to Joy" is EPIC! It is that fucking good.
And, music in general is amazing. This is what I think: I don't beleive in magic, but if there is one thing on this earth that comes close to being described as magic, it's music.
Random sound waves put together to make random notes put together through different mediums that incite saddness, anger, elation, memories, nostalgia, romance...I don't know, maybe it IS magic.
Music is not a luxury to me, it is a necessity. Ok, maybe that is not LITERALLY true, but life isn't all literal.
I always feel like I don't have the right to be such a music lover. Everyone else I know that "gets" the music thing like me, creates music in some way or another. They sing or play instruments or make electronic music and they can read musical notes. I create nothing musical. I can't even read notes. It's pathetic.
I always wanted to sing. Desperately...still do. But enough years of friends teasing me about my horrible voice and being tone deaf has beat the bravery to try it out of me. Even though other friends, who have some know about vocals, say my issue is merely breath. If a vocal teacher taught me to breath correctly, they say, I could sing. Some even say they imagine I would have a fantastic singing voice due to my raspy talking voice. Who knows. Regardless, at this point I have no control of my singing voice. Though I do sing, in the privacy of my car and home, a lot.
Both my husband and I are music lovers and I believe we have already started to instill that love of music into both of our kids. Graham actually has a very good singing voice. He is really into musical theater and I'm hoping to convince him to join Choir next year. Who knows, maybe I can satiate my desire to sing by living vicariously through him:)
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Toddlers, Adolescence, and the so-called Mid-life Crisis Part 2
Ok, I think I pretty well described what I'm going through, what my mid-life crisis is. Maybe not all the details, but I think you get the gist. So today I am going to try to tackle the "Toddler/Adolescence" piece. This also answers the question of why I don't think "mid-life crisis" is an apt name for what people go through.
Through my studies of brain development, particularly child and adolescent brain development, I have learned that toddlers and adolescents are very similar. Particularly, how their brains are working in that stage of life. Both ages are points of major transition. Toddlers are transitioning from babys to kids. Adolescents are transitioning from kids to adults. With major shifts like that the brain is doing some serious overtime work of creating new neural pathways. Or, in some cases breaking old ones before creating new ones. I know my science lingo might be off, but I know my ideas are correct. Toddlers and adolescence are my two favorite ages. I LOVE them! The are so vibrant, entertaining, curious, and just plain fascinating. Everything is new again. Suddenly they have completely new eyes with which they are seeing everything from new perspectives. Both ages are so important in that guided in the right or wrong direction the age can be a serious turning point for bad or good. And, of course, both ages are very difficult, for themselves and others. Of course it is hard and crazy when your brain is going through so much at once. It's confusing to say the least. And, of course, adolescents have to deal with those pesky horomones as well. Maybe toddlers do to, I'm not sure.
At those transition ages we need to question authority, test boundaries, and assert independence as part of our new learning and growing. Our emotions are very raw and come to the surface more easily (toddler temper tantrums/adolescent "dragons"). But those ages are also very rich. Some of our most meaningful and deep experiences happen at these ages. Though we may remember the adolescent experiences better than the toddler ones, they both have lasting effects on our lives.
So, what I'm wondering is...is the so called "mid-life crisis" the third tier in this transition hierarchy? Maybe there are four tiers. Baby to Kid, Kid to Early Adult, Novice Adult to Adult, and Adult to Elderly? As I have talked about what is going on with me with some of my older friends, many of them have said they had this experience multiple times, not just once. And, they didn't necessarily call any of them a mid-life crisis. It's not a crisis, it's just another transition in life.
I see what I am going through as another adolescence. All of a sudden I feel emotion in this extreme, ridiculous way that teens do. I'm going back to fundamental identity and spiritual and meaning of life questions that I thought I left behind after adolescence. I have a strange, nagging desire to rebel. And, my hormones are out of wack again. I'm seeing the world in a new way and mourning the loss of my old perspective and way of living. Isn't that almost identical to what we go through in our teens?
Anyway, just some thoughts. There is more to say about this novice adult transition. I think that is what I am going to call it now instead of mid-life crisis. It doesn't have to be a crisis. But, that's all for now.
Through my studies of brain development, particularly child and adolescent brain development, I have learned that toddlers and adolescents are very similar. Particularly, how their brains are working in that stage of life. Both ages are points of major transition. Toddlers are transitioning from babys to kids. Adolescents are transitioning from kids to adults. With major shifts like that the brain is doing some serious overtime work of creating new neural pathways. Or, in some cases breaking old ones before creating new ones. I know my science lingo might be off, but I know my ideas are correct. Toddlers and adolescence are my two favorite ages. I LOVE them! The are so vibrant, entertaining, curious, and just plain fascinating. Everything is new again. Suddenly they have completely new eyes with which they are seeing everything from new perspectives. Both ages are so important in that guided in the right or wrong direction the age can be a serious turning point for bad or good. And, of course, both ages are very difficult, for themselves and others. Of course it is hard and crazy when your brain is going through so much at once. It's confusing to say the least. And, of course, adolescents have to deal with those pesky horomones as well. Maybe toddlers do to, I'm not sure.
At those transition ages we need to question authority, test boundaries, and assert independence as part of our new learning and growing. Our emotions are very raw and come to the surface more easily (toddler temper tantrums/adolescent "dragons"). But those ages are also very rich. Some of our most meaningful and deep experiences happen at these ages. Though we may remember the adolescent experiences better than the toddler ones, they both have lasting effects on our lives.
So, what I'm wondering is...is the so called "mid-life crisis" the third tier in this transition hierarchy? Maybe there are four tiers. Baby to Kid, Kid to Early Adult, Novice Adult to Adult, and Adult to Elderly? As I have talked about what is going on with me with some of my older friends, many of them have said they had this experience multiple times, not just once. And, they didn't necessarily call any of them a mid-life crisis. It's not a crisis, it's just another transition in life.
I see what I am going through as another adolescence. All of a sudden I feel emotion in this extreme, ridiculous way that teens do. I'm going back to fundamental identity and spiritual and meaning of life questions that I thought I left behind after adolescence. I have a strange, nagging desire to rebel. And, my hormones are out of wack again. I'm seeing the world in a new way and mourning the loss of my old perspective and way of living. Isn't that almost identical to what we go through in our teens?
Anyway, just some thoughts. There is more to say about this novice adult transition. I think that is what I am going to call it now instead of mid-life crisis. It doesn't have to be a crisis. But, that's all for now.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Toddlers, Adolescence, and the so-called Mid-life Crisis
Alright, this is the big one, the one that has been haunting me, locked up inside me for a few months now. And though it is what I most need and want to write about, it is also a pretty big issue to tackle.
I don't remember exactly when this started, when I decided I was having an early mid-life crisis. Maybe early November? But ever since I have been calling whatever it is I am going through my mid-life crisis. Actually though, I'm not sure that name is apt. I say it is not apt because I think the term "mid-life crisis" in general is not apt to what it describes. But more on that later.
I've always had a young personality, even as I grew up. I guess I've always been energetic, vivacious, and had a baby face. I've also always been kind of wild and rebellious. At least to an extent. I mean, in high school in many ways I was a very good girl. I got good grades, played sports and participated in a wide variety of other extra-curricular activities. Adults and teachers loved me. So I wasn't a rebel in a "bad girl" kind of way. But I always had a wild streak and tended to question authority, challenge my teachers, etc.
Once I got out of high school, people always thought I was younger than I was. I think a lot of that was physical, that I looked young. But I think my personality fit my look as well. And over the years, through grad school, becoming a teacher, getting married, having kids, I still always felt young. 18? 32? What's the difference? To an extent, that was how I felt. I mean I knew there was a difference. My life changed a lot and I was more responsible. But my core personality and feelings and tastes seemed to stay pretty much the same. I felt young. Until about 3 or 4 months ago.
I don't know what happened. It was such a drastic switch in how I felt. I mean, sure, there were subtle changes previous to this and I joked about my skin not being what it used to or how my body changed after pregnancy. But for all intensive purposes I still felt very young at heart. Then one day, BOOM, I felt...old. All of a sudden I realized my body couldn't do what it used to. I couldn't drink until two in the morning with my friends anymore. I realized that I don't really even enjoy some of those things any more, even though I still really want to enjoy them. People don't mistake me for being 21 anymore. I almost never get ID'd and I used to ALWAYS get ID'd, even if I was buying cigarettes. I wish I could give more examples, because there are more examples but, the point is, I realized that I am getting old; it finally caught up to me.
When I turned 32, 33, 34 and still felt like 21 was just back a block, I was sure that I would always feel that way. That is just my personality, I thought. I am young at heart and so will always look young and feel young. So, when this feeling of age hit me, it messed me up. And all sorts of other things accompanied this realization of my age. I started having SERIOUS emotional swings. I noticed I was thinking about the past, high school and my college years more and more. And, not just thinking about them, but really longing for those days and missing those days. Spending every moment when my brain was free painstakingly re-living every moment of certain experiences in my mind. Questioning my adult choices that brought me to this particular life I have now. Questioning my happiness and focusing on what I am missing out on. And the littlest things made me cry. Not just tear up, but serious sobbing fits over a song or commercial or something cute a student said. And so I figured that *something* had to be going on, more than just my normal mood swings or a rough patch in life. And eventually I defined it as a mid-life crisis.
I actually researched the mid-life crisis and particulary the female mid-life crisis. The research indicated that 40 years of age was the average time for the female mid-life crisis. I just figured I was four years early. I can also tell that there are some serious hormonal changes going on in me. Again, I've heard that is pretty normal as you get older and especially after you have had multiple children. I figure those hormone changes may have a lot to do with the female mid-life crisis. And possibly for males as well, I didn't research that. Anyway...
After that initial bout of crazy emotion and nostalgia and discontent things seemed to stabilize. I felt somewhat relieved and figured it was just a weird, one time, hormonal thing. I went on with life. But, since then, it keeps coming back, in waves. I go through periods of serious emotional purging, like I described above, and then it subsides for awhile again. None of these periods have upset me or bothered me as much as the first time. In fact, in some weird, self-indulgent way, I have almost come to like them. It has become an excuse to be self-indulgent, to recluse, to sit within my own mind and not really be present to those around me except when necessary. To indulge in memory, daydream and fantasy. And, at times during these emotional bouts it does hurt, the emotion is painful. And during those times I think to myself, "Oh, when is this bout going to end? I'm sick of this; it's too much." But then, when it does end, I feel empty. Bored. What now? I don't have excessive emotion and day dreams and fantasies and memories to immerse myself in. What do I do now?
I know it is ridiculous on so many levels. I mean, duh, what do I do now. Live my life. Not just live it, but suck the marrow out of it. Instead of sitting around mourning over my youth and escaping into memories and fantasies, live life to the fullest knowing that you are getting older and this life doesn't last forever. Do things! Find hobbies, exercise, spend time with your kids and family. Right? But the motivation just isn't there right now.
I realize that what I have said above makes it sound like I am merely depressed, or those of you who know a little more about me might be thinking, "Isn't that just your bi-polar disorder?" But I promise you, this is not the same. And I'm not moping around depressed like the last paragraph makes it sound. There are lots of things I do that are fun and I enjoy and am exuberant about. I still spend time with my kids and my friends. And even the recluse moments tend to be me reading (as my biggest escape from reality these days seems to be fiction) or listening to music while just thinking. When I am doing these things I am not sad. And when I am not doing them I am not sad. I feel more, like I said, bored.
Well, it is obvious to me that this subject is going to need to come in chapters. There is so much and it is hard to explain and not always linear. So, I am going to stop for now and continue on with it later. I mean, hell, I haven't even got to the "Toddler" and "Adolescence" part yet. More to come...
I don't remember exactly when this started, when I decided I was having an early mid-life crisis. Maybe early November? But ever since I have been calling whatever it is I am going through my mid-life crisis. Actually though, I'm not sure that name is apt. I say it is not apt because I think the term "mid-life crisis" in general is not apt to what it describes. But more on that later.
I've always had a young personality, even as I grew up. I guess I've always been energetic, vivacious, and had a baby face. I've also always been kind of wild and rebellious. At least to an extent. I mean, in high school in many ways I was a very good girl. I got good grades, played sports and participated in a wide variety of other extra-curricular activities. Adults and teachers loved me. So I wasn't a rebel in a "bad girl" kind of way. But I always had a wild streak and tended to question authority, challenge my teachers, etc.
Once I got out of high school, people always thought I was younger than I was. I think a lot of that was physical, that I looked young. But I think my personality fit my look as well. And over the years, through grad school, becoming a teacher, getting married, having kids, I still always felt young. 18? 32? What's the difference? To an extent, that was how I felt. I mean I knew there was a difference. My life changed a lot and I was more responsible. But my core personality and feelings and tastes seemed to stay pretty much the same. I felt young. Until about 3 or 4 months ago.
I don't know what happened. It was such a drastic switch in how I felt. I mean, sure, there were subtle changes previous to this and I joked about my skin not being what it used to or how my body changed after pregnancy. But for all intensive purposes I still felt very young at heart. Then one day, BOOM, I felt...old. All of a sudden I realized my body couldn't do what it used to. I couldn't drink until two in the morning with my friends anymore. I realized that I don't really even enjoy some of those things any more, even though I still really want to enjoy them. People don't mistake me for being 21 anymore. I almost never get ID'd and I used to ALWAYS get ID'd, even if I was buying cigarettes. I wish I could give more examples, because there are more examples but, the point is, I realized that I am getting old; it finally caught up to me.
When I turned 32, 33, 34 and still felt like 21 was just back a block, I was sure that I would always feel that way. That is just my personality, I thought. I am young at heart and so will always look young and feel young. So, when this feeling of age hit me, it messed me up. And all sorts of other things accompanied this realization of my age. I started having SERIOUS emotional swings. I noticed I was thinking about the past, high school and my college years more and more. And, not just thinking about them, but really longing for those days and missing those days. Spending every moment when my brain was free painstakingly re-living every moment of certain experiences in my mind. Questioning my adult choices that brought me to this particular life I have now. Questioning my happiness and focusing on what I am missing out on. And the littlest things made me cry. Not just tear up, but serious sobbing fits over a song or commercial or something cute a student said. And so I figured that *something* had to be going on, more than just my normal mood swings or a rough patch in life. And eventually I defined it as a mid-life crisis.
I actually researched the mid-life crisis and particulary the female mid-life crisis. The research indicated that 40 years of age was the average time for the female mid-life crisis. I just figured I was four years early. I can also tell that there are some serious hormonal changes going on in me. Again, I've heard that is pretty normal as you get older and especially after you have had multiple children. I figure those hormone changes may have a lot to do with the female mid-life crisis. And possibly for males as well, I didn't research that. Anyway...
After that initial bout of crazy emotion and nostalgia and discontent things seemed to stabilize. I felt somewhat relieved and figured it was just a weird, one time, hormonal thing. I went on with life. But, since then, it keeps coming back, in waves. I go through periods of serious emotional purging, like I described above, and then it subsides for awhile again. None of these periods have upset me or bothered me as much as the first time. In fact, in some weird, self-indulgent way, I have almost come to like them. It has become an excuse to be self-indulgent, to recluse, to sit within my own mind and not really be present to those around me except when necessary. To indulge in memory, daydream and fantasy. And, at times during these emotional bouts it does hurt, the emotion is painful. And during those times I think to myself, "Oh, when is this bout going to end? I'm sick of this; it's too much." But then, when it does end, I feel empty. Bored. What now? I don't have excessive emotion and day dreams and fantasies and memories to immerse myself in. What do I do now?
I know it is ridiculous on so many levels. I mean, duh, what do I do now. Live my life. Not just live it, but suck the marrow out of it. Instead of sitting around mourning over my youth and escaping into memories and fantasies, live life to the fullest knowing that you are getting older and this life doesn't last forever. Do things! Find hobbies, exercise, spend time with your kids and family. Right? But the motivation just isn't there right now.
I realize that what I have said above makes it sound like I am merely depressed, or those of you who know a little more about me might be thinking, "Isn't that just your bi-polar disorder?" But I promise you, this is not the same. And I'm not moping around depressed like the last paragraph makes it sound. There are lots of things I do that are fun and I enjoy and am exuberant about. I still spend time with my kids and my friends. And even the recluse moments tend to be me reading (as my biggest escape from reality these days seems to be fiction) or listening to music while just thinking. When I am doing these things I am not sad. And when I am not doing them I am not sad. I feel more, like I said, bored.
Well, it is obvious to me that this subject is going to need to come in chapters. There is so much and it is hard to explain and not always linear. So, I am going to stop for now and continue on with it later. I mean, hell, I haven't even got to the "Toddler" and "Adolescence" part yet. More to come...
Old Friends
I quoted the song "Old Friends" by Simon and Garfunkel on my last blog. It was probably more fitting for this one...regardless. My three closest and dearest friends I have known for 20+ years. I am still in contact with all three and feel we are close, even though I live apart from all of them and don't get to actually see them much. More recently I feel like I have, as stated in my previous blog, been able to re-connect on a deeper level with some of them. It has been very important to me at this time in my life that these deeper re-connections have happened. And honestly, I genuinely hope I am still close to these three when I am old and gray. I will do everything in my power to make that happen.
I have other very dear and close friends that I haven't known quite as long. I also have friends that I have known as long, but we aren't that close any more. These three are special because there is a bond there that cannot be duplicated. The reason for this is that they have seen me at my worst, and my worst was seedy, horrible, and disgusting. That is not the same as knowing about my seedy past as my husband does. They were actually there; they actually experienced it with me. They have seen me grow and change (as I have them) and they still love me. That creates a a bond that is hard to penetrate. The fact that recently, after all these years, when we see each other only once or twice a year, they still trusted me enough to share incredibly private and serious experiences is a testament to that bond. I would feel safe sharing the same kinds of things with them.
I miss them so much. But I am so thankful that they are still in my life. And at this point, in the midst of my mini-mid-life crisis, the deeper bonds we have re-established are very important to me. More so, I need those bonds again as I flounder through this new life as an adult. A life that, honestly, I'm not completely comfortable with or satisfied with. We will never be able to go back to the experiences we once had together. I long to re-live them, not the bad ones, but the many, many good and important ones. But I can't. I can only wax nostalgic about them. How lucky I am to have had those experiences. Now, I can create new memories. We can continue to share and grow together as we all three navigate growing older. That calms me a little, makes me feel a little better and a little less fearful about this new stage in my life.
One other interesting point. Two of these three friends are male. For much of my life I had many male friends. Of course I need female friends as well and have had many. But, I've always gravitated towards males as good friends and found those friendships to be particularly meaningful. I think as you grow older, get married, etc....it is harder to create close platonic bonds with the opposite sex. I think you make "couple" friends and can be close to both people in the couple, but it is different than the one on one closeness I have had previously with male friends. I could go into more detail about why I think I have gravitated to platonic male friendships and why I feel I need them, but not right now. My point is, for awhile I wasn't in as constant contact with these two and I really, really missed having close male friends. So, this is another reason I am so happy to feel closer to them again and will do whatever it takes to continue our close relationships.
I will also work hard at this, with all three, because I was seriously estranged with two of them for a long period of time. The estrangement with both of them was completely my fault. But, that's another blog for another day, if I'm ever even brave enough to write about it. So anyway, I need to make up for that estrangement by doing the work to stay close to them from now on.
Anyway, that's all. I think I just needed to say all that.
I have other very dear and close friends that I haven't known quite as long. I also have friends that I have known as long, but we aren't that close any more. These three are special because there is a bond there that cannot be duplicated. The reason for this is that they have seen me at my worst, and my worst was seedy, horrible, and disgusting. That is not the same as knowing about my seedy past as my husband does. They were actually there; they actually experienced it with me. They have seen me grow and change (as I have them) and they still love me. That creates a a bond that is hard to penetrate. The fact that recently, after all these years, when we see each other only once or twice a year, they still trusted me enough to share incredibly private and serious experiences is a testament to that bond. I would feel safe sharing the same kinds of things with them.
I miss them so much. But I am so thankful that they are still in my life. And at this point, in the midst of my mini-mid-life crisis, the deeper bonds we have re-established are very important to me. More so, I need those bonds again as I flounder through this new life as an adult. A life that, honestly, I'm not completely comfortable with or satisfied with. We will never be able to go back to the experiences we once had together. I long to re-live them, not the bad ones, but the many, many good and important ones. But I can't. I can only wax nostalgic about them. How lucky I am to have had those experiences. Now, I can create new memories. We can continue to share and grow together as we all three navigate growing older. That calms me a little, makes me feel a little better and a little less fearful about this new stage in my life.
One other interesting point. Two of these three friends are male. For much of my life I had many male friends. Of course I need female friends as well and have had many. But, I've always gravitated towards males as good friends and found those friendships to be particularly meaningful. I think as you grow older, get married, etc....it is harder to create close platonic bonds with the opposite sex. I think you make "couple" friends and can be close to both people in the couple, but it is different than the one on one closeness I have had previously with male friends. I could go into more detail about why I think I have gravitated to platonic male friendships and why I feel I need them, but not right now. My point is, for awhile I wasn't in as constant contact with these two and I really, really missed having close male friends. So, this is another reason I am so happy to feel closer to them again and will do whatever it takes to continue our close relationships.
I will also work hard at this, with all three, because I was seriously estranged with two of them for a long period of time. The estrangement with both of them was completely my fault. But, that's another blog for another day, if I'm ever even brave enough to write about it. So anyway, I need to make up for that estrangement by doing the work to stay close to them from now on.
Anyway, that's all. I think I just needed to say all that.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Old Friends/Mid-life Crisis
There is so much in my brain, so much "blog fodder" that I have been holding onto for awhile. It usually manifests in my brain when driving. But then I get out of the car and life is on again. Therefore, there is so much I want to write. And, mostly, it interconnects so it is easy to start on one topic and ramble in many different directions. So, I definitely have a whole "thing" I want to say about old friends. And I also have a whole "thing" I want to say about the idea of a mid-life crisis. But today I am going to talk about something that combines both. Maybe that seems out of order. Maybe I should start with the two separate introductions first. But alas, the spirit moves me to write about the combined issue.
Recently more than one of my oldest and dearest friends have confided in me about important and serious events in their pasts that have led to their experience today. Though I have stayed in contact with these friends, it has been a long while since I have had deep and introspective conversations with any of them. However, it is a really good thing that these conversations are happening, especially at this moment in my life.
Things really change when you grow up. I can only speak from the perspective of one whose path to becoming an adult consisted of getting married and having kids. For those adults that have not done one or both of those things, understand that I know one can grow up and be an adult without getting married and/or having kids. But again, I can only speak to my experience.
Anyway, when I was young, even in my 20's, friends, groups of friends, cliques, best friends were still very much a part of my life. In fact, they were often the focus. Even when I had a serious significant other, still, friends were in many ways my family. They were whom I would call at 3:00 in the morning when upset. They were whom I would tell my darkest issues to analyze and discuss. In many ways they were my therapists and I theirs. But, when I created my own nuclear family, that changed. My spouse became my best friend and that is a good thing. But, the context is different. People can't have only one person to rely on for their emotional stability. Plus, how intertwined spouses lives become make it difficult to discuss and analyze in the same way they used to with friends.
I've really missed having friends like that. I've really missed the long, analytical conversations I used to have with friends. Now it is all bottled up inside and I don't really have anyone to talk to it about. I mean, I do. I have some good friends who I can talk to. But I'm a mom. I can't go over to a friend's house and sit up all night drinking wine and talking. It's just different. I miss that outlet. I miss that connection. I think not having that is part of the reason I'm having this outpouring of random emotion at this point in my life, because it has been bottled up.
So, having some of my oldest and dearest friends open the door to that kind of conversation again is wonderful. Whether I am the one confiding or being confided in, it is freeing. I'm getting to release that emotion through discussing "big stuff" with dear, old friends who really know me, my seedy past, whom I trust, and who really like me and care about me. I need that. It also makes me feel needed in a different way. Not in a mom way or a wife way or a professional way. In a personal way that seems separate from all this "other" stuff in my life. It is private. It is mine, between me and my oldest, dearest friends. And I also need them, so it opens the door for me to seek out their advice as I used to.
Anyway, this wasn't the most articulate piece of writing. There is a lot of background that goes with this relating to old friends and my mid-life crisis that would probably make all this more meaningful. But those blogs will have to be for another time. Here's to old friends...
"Time it was and what a time it was
It was
A time of innocence
A time of confidences
Long ago it must be
I have a photograph
Preserve your memories
There all that's left you"
Recently more than one of my oldest and dearest friends have confided in me about important and serious events in their pasts that have led to their experience today. Though I have stayed in contact with these friends, it has been a long while since I have had deep and introspective conversations with any of them. However, it is a really good thing that these conversations are happening, especially at this moment in my life.
Things really change when you grow up. I can only speak from the perspective of one whose path to becoming an adult consisted of getting married and having kids. For those adults that have not done one or both of those things, understand that I know one can grow up and be an adult without getting married and/or having kids. But again, I can only speak to my experience.
Anyway, when I was young, even in my 20's, friends, groups of friends, cliques, best friends were still very much a part of my life. In fact, they were often the focus. Even when I had a serious significant other, still, friends were in many ways my family. They were whom I would call at 3:00 in the morning when upset. They were whom I would tell my darkest issues to analyze and discuss. In many ways they were my therapists and I theirs. But, when I created my own nuclear family, that changed. My spouse became my best friend and that is a good thing. But, the context is different. People can't have only one person to rely on for their emotional stability. Plus, how intertwined spouses lives become make it difficult to discuss and analyze in the same way they used to with friends.
I've really missed having friends like that. I've really missed the long, analytical conversations I used to have with friends. Now it is all bottled up inside and I don't really have anyone to talk to it about. I mean, I do. I have some good friends who I can talk to. But I'm a mom. I can't go over to a friend's house and sit up all night drinking wine and talking. It's just different. I miss that outlet. I miss that connection. I think not having that is part of the reason I'm having this outpouring of random emotion at this point in my life, because it has been bottled up.
So, having some of my oldest and dearest friends open the door to that kind of conversation again is wonderful. Whether I am the one confiding or being confided in, it is freeing. I'm getting to release that emotion through discussing "big stuff" with dear, old friends who really know me, my seedy past, whom I trust, and who really like me and care about me. I need that. It also makes me feel needed in a different way. Not in a mom way or a wife way or a professional way. In a personal way that seems separate from all this "other" stuff in my life. It is private. It is mine, between me and my oldest, dearest friends. And I also need them, so it opens the door for me to seek out their advice as I used to.
Anyway, this wasn't the most articulate piece of writing. There is a lot of background that goes with this relating to old friends and my mid-life crisis that would probably make all this more meaningful. But those blogs will have to be for another time. Here's to old friends...
"Time it was and what a time it was
It was
A time of innocence
A time of confidences
Long ago it must be
I have a photograph
Preserve your memories
There all that's left you"
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Just something
Sorry to post two things on one day...this is something I wrote earlier today to myself. What the hell....
The plan was to come home and get some chores done.
The plan was to do the dishes, fold the laundry, and clean up.
The plan was not to indulge in my emotions.
The plan was not to poke and prod and write about my insides.
Looks like the plan fell through.
Sometimes I think about an alternative path, an alternative life that I could have seen unfolding for me. A life of serial monogamy in which I end up the crazy, wild, single old lady. In that life I would teach and get my "kid" fix through my students. I would travel in the summer and have an exciting life. I would continue to surround myself mostly with adolescents and teens, even as an old woman. I would inspire them and live vicariously through them. I would be happy and sad and lonely and excited and grateful just like I am in this life. It would just be different.
I guess the new plan is to get used to cycles of longing and to live my life as well as I can. The new plan is to find the moments that make this life special and to continue to indulge in the fantasy of fiction to appease the longing, as much as it can. Or maybe, to exacerbate the longing, which is just another form of indulgence.
The plan was to come home and get some chores done.
The plan was to do the dishes, fold the laundry, and clean up.
The plan was not to indulge in my emotions.
The plan was not to poke and prod and write about my insides.
Looks like the plan fell through.
Sometimes I think about an alternative path, an alternative life that I could have seen unfolding for me. A life of serial monogamy in which I end up the crazy, wild, single old lady. In that life I would teach and get my "kid" fix through my students. I would travel in the summer and have an exciting life. I would continue to surround myself mostly with adolescents and teens, even as an old woman. I would inspire them and live vicariously through them. I would be happy and sad and lonely and excited and grateful just like I am in this life. It would just be different.
I guess the new plan is to get used to cycles of longing and to live my life as well as I can. The new plan is to find the moments that make this life special and to continue to indulge in the fantasy of fiction to appease the longing, as much as it can. Or maybe, to exacerbate the longing, which is just another form of indulgence.
Why
I've been wanting to start a blog for awhile now. In the past I've used "notes" on facebook a few times to blog. But, I don't really want everyone on facebook to see everything I write. I also don't want to go through the trouble of picking some friends and not others who can "see" it. And, I don't want to be so presumptious as to assume who would even give a shit about reading my bullshit. However, of the people that might be interested, there are some I want to read it. Why? Do I want responses or validation? No, not really. In the past I have written "blogs" that only I can see. Why isn't that enough if the writing is just to get it out, to express it? I don't know, there is a greater sense of purging if I know there is an audience, that someone else just saw it. In fact, in some ways I don't really want a lot of response. I don't want sympathy or problem solvers. That's not what it is about. It's just knowing that someone else out there knows. That maybe they do relate or it validates something they feel and they can privately, I don't know, feel that gift without us having to actually communicate about it.
I guess I also want *some* people to know who I am. I mean, the people I would feel comfortable reading this, for the most part, are people who do know who I am. But I guess I just want them to have greater, more private insight in a way that doesn't feel uncomfortable because we don't actually have to talk about it.
Anyway, I still haven't figured out how I'm going to let the people that I would actually be ok with reading this know about. My fear is looking self-absorbed. I'm a little insecure in that part of me thinks that no one really gives a shit to hear my internal musings and to even put the blog out there might seem like I expect these people to focus on me when everyone has their own lives and their own shit to focus on. But I do know that I have enjoyed reading other people's blogs. I have one, I guess acquaintance is the more fitting word, who writes a blog that I love to read. She is so honest and raw and makes herself vulnerable by really saying what she feels. And I feel I've been given the gift from her that I expressed wanting to give others above. So, I don't know. Maybe people are curious.
So, that's it for now. I don't know why I have become so worried or embarrassed about sentimentality, emotions, and vulnerability in my old age. I used to wear my heart on my sleeve and I didn't give a shit about people who would put me down for it. I think it may be that growing up curse. We lose truth. We lose imaginiation. We stop playing. We squelch pure, raw emotion. I guess that is why I DON'T WANT TO GROW UP! And I guess that is why I enjoy haning out with kids and teens so much more than most adults.
Oh yeah, I said that was it, so I guess I should stop writing.
I guess I also want *some* people to know who I am. I mean, the people I would feel comfortable reading this, for the most part, are people who do know who I am. But I guess I just want them to have greater, more private insight in a way that doesn't feel uncomfortable because we don't actually have to talk about it.
Anyway, I still haven't figured out how I'm going to let the people that I would actually be ok with reading this know about. My fear is looking self-absorbed. I'm a little insecure in that part of me thinks that no one really gives a shit to hear my internal musings and to even put the blog out there might seem like I expect these people to focus on me when everyone has their own lives and their own shit to focus on. But I do know that I have enjoyed reading other people's blogs. I have one, I guess acquaintance is the more fitting word, who writes a blog that I love to read. She is so honest and raw and makes herself vulnerable by really saying what she feels. And I feel I've been given the gift from her that I expressed wanting to give others above. So, I don't know. Maybe people are curious.
So, that's it for now. I don't know why I have become so worried or embarrassed about sentimentality, emotions, and vulnerability in my old age. I used to wear my heart on my sleeve and I didn't give a shit about people who would put me down for it. I think it may be that growing up curse. We lose truth. We lose imaginiation. We stop playing. We squelch pure, raw emotion. I guess that is why I DON'T WANT TO GROW UP! And I guess that is why I enjoy haning out with kids and teens so much more than most adults.
Oh yeah, I said that was it, so I guess I should stop writing.
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