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.

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My right quad says, “Fuck you, man.”

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