Privilege vs. Accomplishment: Fun Birthday Thoughts

Yesterday was my birthday. My birthday is always one of my favorite days of the year. Who doesn't love a day devoted to self-celebration, excess, cake and favorite foods, presents, and messages from friends new and old? I also really love getting older. I have felt out of my depth for most of my life, and every year that passes I feel more confident, less worried about others' opinions of me, and more comfortable in my own skin. (I am shooting, at this point, for an early grandmotherly look. I want long grey hair, a big, soft body that I will drape with cool skirts and scarves, and tons of funky jewelry. I will call everyone "dear" and talk a lot about crystals and spells and push coffee on everyone. This goal is SUPER attainable- I am at least halfway there.)

I was thinking a lot about how lucky I am and how much love there is in my little life and I was separating out what has been given to me versus what I have earned, because that's a fun way to celebrate getting older. But it's important.  I took a picture of my sons and I was thinking about posting it and captioning it something like "My two biggest accomplishments of the past 31 years" or something similarly clever. And then I paused, because my sons are not accomplishments. Sitting with that felt weird. 

My body made my sons, not because I worked hard or because I had to go through a lot, but in the lottery of the world I got a body that easily makes babies, and then they fairly easily slid out of me, and I truly had little to nothing to do with that. Now, yes, I am raising them, and trying very hard to give them the things they need while also giving myself the things I need, but I screw up EVERY day and I have a MASTERS DEGREE in working with little kids, so I can't really say that surviving my parenting battles is any real accomplishment. Also, they are people, and calling other people a personal accomplishment seems kind of gross. So my sons, the two biggest sources of frustration and joy in my life, are not really an accomplishment I can claim.

Maybe my house? Well, no. Moving into this new house is not that big of an accomplishment. I didn't build this damn thing. There was a lot of stress with the move and my family made it through the summer with the help of the people around us who held us in their loving arms and soothed me every step of the way. There is work to be done turning this house into OUR HOME, and we're partway there, but I've even had endless help there: friends and family turning up to paint and peel and clean and love, money from my grandfather's legacy to pay for repairs that might have had to wait, a detail-oriented husband who stayed on top of bills and paperwork when I was too emotionally burnt out from leaving our old home to deal. So this house is a blessing and I'm so happy I'm here, but I can't call it a personal accomplishment.

I was starting to get nervous. My writing? I've always been able to put words together. My job? Given to me when I was young, secured by a contract rule that says that after three years, you're pretty much guaranteed a position. My relationship? Ben's patience is not my accomplishment.

Well, I'm thirty-one and I've done nothing.

EXCEPT. Well. I'm a lot different than I was even five years ago.  The biggest change I can recognize is my temper at home- a combination of medicine and therapy and long talks with my husband have helped me realize how I effect my home when I unleash the emotions that I keep pent up in public and as a result, our home life is happier. I am happier. It's a work in progress. It's an accomplishment.

I speak up more now. My voice still shakes and I still turn bright red, but I no longer assume that anyone older than me is smarter than me. I no longer live in constant fear of offending someone I work with, or someone I interact with, or the teller at the bank who might overhear me.  It's a work in progress. It's an accomplishment.

I love more now. I went through a period in my twenties where I was very closed off. I liked being home and alone and I never wanted to visit or have people over. Getting out to meet someone was a huge inconvenience. I resented people who wanted my time. I don't know if I was depressed or just selfish, but I had a really hard time holding up my end of relationships. I still get overwhelmed sometimes, but I have come to realize the joy of having a group of people who are your people. I appreciate the push and pull of the time we give each other, and realize that it's not a zero sum game. My female friendships are a freaking treasure. It's an accomplishment that I got out of my own damn way to embrace them.

I am a better teacher and writer because I've stuck with both. I've taken criticism and made adjustments. I've studied craft and applied new techniques. I've looked inside myself, thought about what I specifically can offer, and used that to improve my practice. When I remember my first years teaching, or think about some of my first drafts and stories, I cringe so hard I almost turn inside out. But over the years, I've improved, and I truly believe that will continue. Becoming better through hard work is an accomplishment.

So I guess it's not a throwaway life. I have been given SO much. I will never for one second stop recognizing my unbelievable privilege. But maybe even knowing that is an accomplishment in itself. I do not take this life for granted. I can't wait to see what this next year will bring. 

In My Next 30 Years

I remember listening to this Tim McGraw song when I was younger. I thought it was pretty clever, all about the things he was going to do in his NEXT 30 years...watch his weight, hang out with his family, drink less beer. I think he might have alluded to finding God again. It made 30 seem old. Ancient. Hang up your hats, guys, your fun is over, time to settle down.

I've been thinking a lot about ten years ago. I spent the last night of my teens crying. I was living in a little apartment on Highland Avenue with an older guy and I loved the novelty of being his teenage girlfriend. I liked being younger than all the people I went to college with. I wanted to do everything quickly, so I could do it YOUNG- get married, have kids, start my career.  Last night, in the last night of my twenties, I made my grandmother's banana bread, kissed my kids goodnight, and pretended to work out while I read a book on the treadmill. I thought about my full, full life and how glad I am that it's impossible to get your 19-year-old wish of staying "young" forever.

I'm 30 today. I kind of hoped I'd wake up with some blast of maturity and knowledge, but I fell asleep on the couch watching The Fly when I snapped to at 3:50 am, curled into a weird position with drool drying on my chin, I thought, "HOLY SHIT, I'm 30!" and went to bed without washing my face. I guess it's going to take the legwork to keep getting awesomer, but I'm definitely finding it easier with each passing year.  Here are a few things I figured out so far.

GIRLFRIENDS ARE KEY

I've sucked at this for most of the first third of my life. I could blame it on losing my dad (I've tried to justify it in this way) but in all honesty, I know that my personality craves attention, and male attention most of all. Especially in high school and my early college months, I would often go after relationships with guys, romantic or platonic, at the expense of my female friendships. I never claimed to be one of those "girls who gets along better with guys" [I heavily side-eye this statement from anyone], but I was a crappy friend to lots of people who deserved better treatment. I'm sorry.

At this point in my life, I'm finally in relationships with several women who are EVERYTHING to me: therapist, confidante, mentor, hilarious entertainment. Home. These are the people who diagnose my symptoms when I can't tell if I should call the doctor, indulge me with hours of talking about young adult literature, tell me when I need to get over myself and apologize to my husband, suggest gymnastics camps for my toddlers, leave love notes on my desk at work, text me articles about my favorite fandoms, or show up with Thai food on the night before my birthday. Some of these women I see every day, and some of them are only a text or a call from me, but all of them make my life SO much richer. I wish I had realized how much better I could be if I invested in the female friendships that I was so lucky to have in high school and college. WHATEVER AGE YOU ARE, GIRLFRIENDS ARE KEY.

SLOW DOWN

To a sloth's pace. I'm not going to reference two country songs in one post, but there's an Alan Jackson song called You're Gonna Miss This, and now I've done it. STOP RUSHING. There is time, and if you allow yourself to have it, you might come to a better decision. Lots of what I did in my twenties is because I thought it was what was NEXT. I'm dating someone. Next is getting married! I'm in an apartment. Must be time for a house! I've graduated college. QUICK, get a job with a ridiculously high level of responsibility that directly affects LIVES! 

I want to be clear that I love my husband and I'm fond of my house and I'm proud to be in my 9th year of teaching. But I did things without thinking. I was lucky that Ben turned out to be such an incredible husband and father, because I married him after knowing him for two years, one of which was while I was a teen and legally brain dead [I actually think teens are legally brain dead, at least all the ones like me who AREN'T inventing things and solving major social problems]. I got into teaching because someone said I was good at with kids, and I never thought much about my own personal goals at any point during college or afterwards. Right now, I'm fairly certain that I would like to explore a career working with books and writing. Maybe teaching at a higher level, or the ultimate goal- LIBRARIAN? But I am going slllloooowwww. Gathering information. Feeling myself out. There's no need to rush.

TAKE CARE

of your butt. I have reached (at a somewhat early date) the point where I am literally exercising for no other reason than to stay alive. Actually, I just want to be able to go on amusement park rides and not have to replace my beloved brown autumn jacket. As much as I want to love myself and my skin and I firmly believe that my worth is not equated to my size, I know that I have a family history of health problems and I want to stick around. I wish I had spent a little more time on fitness FOR THE RIGHT REASONS. It would have been less depressing and easier to stick to. 

I spent lots of time in twenties waiting to become someone else. I pictured her- she was gorgeous, ultimate, ideal, skinny, funny, quirky with no uncomfortable weirdness. She had a perfect wardrobe of boyfriend tshirts, converse sneaks, and bright dresses. She kept a clean house, an organized desk at work, read all the most literary titles, and was never afraid of the obscure horror movies her husband watched. The saddest part of this is that I really thought all I had to do to unlock her was lose weight. I had to remind myself that THIS BITCH WAS NOT REAL. And I wouldn't even like her if she was.  Now I READ WHAT I WANT (fantasy princesses and love triangles?) and WEAR WHAT I WANT (mostly what she would have worn, in plus sizes) and I MOVE WHEN I WANT (so I can stay alive). I want to take good care of myself because I deserve to feel healthy and my family deserves to get me for as long as I can torture them by hanging on. That's what fitness is going to be in my next 30 years.

FOURTH AND MOST IMPORTANT: PLEASE RECOGNIZE THAT YOU KNOW LESS THAN NOTHING. I spent most of my early twenties thinking I knew a lot. I was wrong.

In my next 30 years I'm going to finish my book and maybe the trilogy. I'm going to decide on my next career- or maybe retire from teaching first before starting round 2. I'm going to go on trips with my sisters. I'm going to make taking care of myself a cornerstone of my life. I'm going to cement some family traditions. I'm going to get more tattoos. I'm going to make a million more mistakes. I'm probably not going to stop writing about them.  Any advice for this new decade? I'm all ears!

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