34

February 19, 2012

When I was 14, if you had asked me where I would be and what I would be doing when I was 34, I probably would have told you that I would be a veterinarian living in rural Maine. I would have told you I would be married and have three kids.

When I was 24, if you had asked me where I would be and what I would be doing when I was 34, I probably would have told you that I would be a writer, living in a cottage on the coast of Maine. I would have told you that I would be divorced* and have two kids.

Now I am 34, I live in the mountains of Arizona, and I work in marketing and public relations. I am married, and I do not plan on having children … ever (sorry, mom); I take care of a number of small furry creatures, and I write in my spare time.

Life does not go according to plan.

Life is also pretty great.

My 30’s have really been a time where I’ve gotten comfortable with who I am, what I’m doing, and where I am. I’m not in any huge hurry to get anywhere anymore, because I’ve discovered that things have had a way of falling into place when I’ve just focused on doing the right thing. My priorities have shifted over the years, as who I am has shifted. I am really comfortable with what I want now, and recognizing that it’s probably not what everyone else wants.

What I don’t want?

    1. To climb the corporate ladder, especially at the expense of my personal happiness and well-being. It took me a long time to realize that it’s okay to work to live and not to live to work. I spent over a decade of my life working for a company where that wasn’t something that was okay to think, let alone say out loud. While I love my job and I take pride in work well done, when all is said and done, when I look back at my life, I don’t want my office and coworkers to be the greatest memories I have.**
    2. To be someone’s mother. I have little to no desire to have a human child. I am at an age where most of my friends have or are having babies and that’s great for them, because it’s what they want. I have no desire to be pregnant, I have less desire to be woken up repeatedly for feedings, I don’t want to share my husband’s time, or have a house covered in sticky hand prints.***
    3. To be a size 4, or even a 6 really. I just want to feel fit and comfortable in my body… and you know what? I’m there 90% of the time. As long as I’m working out, and trying to eat right, I’m okay with how I look and who I am. Even if those voices from middle and high school creep back in once in a while, telling me that I’m fat, calling me names… I know that they’re not my voice and that they have zero power over me, my body, and who I am now.

What do I want? I want to do work, both professionally and personally that I can be proud of. I want to be a good person, and to give more than I take. I want to be healthy, which means making good choices (most of the time) and making time for myself physically and mentally. And last, but not least I want to be a good friend, and a good partner. I don’t want for much, honestly, and the things I want are totally within my power to keep up or foster in my life.

Of course I have material goals, too, things like travelling, buying a house, actually finishing writing my novel, but all of those are things that will come if I keep making good choices in other areas of my life.

34. It’s looking pretty good.

34 2
This is what 34 looks like in natural light, with no make up, and having run 8.5 miles.
It has freckles and looks slightly suspicious of the camera.

*My boyfriend at the time was kind of a dick.
**At the end of the day you need to understand that a job is just a job. I don’t care if you are an actor, a landscaper, or a captain of industry, your job cannot love you back. (Notable exceptions: you run an orphanage, an animal rescue league, or are a nun who works in a leper colony.) When all is said and done, there will be a day where you walk away from your career, and all that will be left are your personal relationships and accomplishments. The first thing I did when I left my last company was throw away every award they had given me. Why would I do that? Because no one outside of that company cares about those awards: those trophies and plaques weren’t for me, they were for my next hiring manager, they were there to earn me promotions. You know what I still have? A box of thank you notes that were given to my in my college service fraternity for helping other pledges and brothers. Those are the kinds of trophies I want to keep around forever. ^
***And let me tell you, there’s nothing I love more than a man telling me that I’ll change my mind. That my “biological clock” will kick in and I’ll just have to have a baby. It doesn’t belittle me or my decision making abilities at all.
^Funnily enough, I now have a job where I regularly receive thank you notes, I keep those, too, and not in my office—at home in a drawer where I can reread them.

Aside: To “celebrate” my birthday this morning I made my sick husband trial run a 10k race route that I had been planning to do in May. We survived, much to my surprise, given that

    1. I made us walk almost a mile to the start of the route.
    2. It was almost entirely up hill. Fuck hills, man.

I’m glad I trialed it because I think that unless we can run the route in the opposite direction I’m going to take a pass on it in May and do the 5k instead. A mile long, 300ft climb isn’t something I need to prove to anyone, even myself. However, I had an omlette and hashbrown for breakfast, I’m having ice cream later, and I’m eating pizza for my birthday dinner and I don’t feel the slightest bit guilty.

from top

My right quad says, “Fuck you, man.”

{ 1 comment… read it below or add one }

Kirstin February 19, 2012 at 5:44 pm

i loved reading this. 1. because i feel it is so open and honest, that it makes it both wonderful to hear and reassuring to me, since my moments of self acceptance are fleeting.
2. because i’m so happy for you.
also – i love hearing someone else know that they won’t suddenly change their mind about children- as if our biles may become imbalanced, or we suddenly succumb to ‘the vapours’ and require our respective uteri become swollen with seed.

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