Be Kind

Someday I am going to write a book about all the lessons I have learned through my children and how they can be applied to “grownup” problems. Until then, you will have to continue reading my blogs.

About 6 weeks ago, Adeline was riding with LJ in their battery-powered John Deere tractor. For almost every day during quarantine, they have tooled around in it together with LJ always driving and Adeline putting her feet up and enjoying the ride. They have utilized it so much that the plastic tires are bare. On this particular day, LJ stopped in the middle of our cul-de-sac and Adeline went spilling out the side. I heard LJ proclaim “Zsa Zsa!”, his nickname for her, and then Adeline got up and came running to me with blood streaming from her mouth. She hardly ever cries but she cried for almost an hour straight after the incident. She would not close her mouth and I was worried that one of her front teeth knocked loose. Thank goodness, her mouth healed quickly and there was no damage to her teeth.

 

For the next week or so I found myself following her around the house saying “be careful!” or “slow down!” or “don’t jump” or “don’t run!” or some other phrase because I was anxious she was going to bump her mouth again and either aggravate her wounds or knock her tooth loose for real. The night OF the incident, she and LJ were running around the house doing a gymnastics routine which consisted of flipping on a bar, running a lap, and then doing a forward roll. My anxiety was through the roof. “Adeline, slow down!” “Adeline, be careful!”

About a week after that, Grandma and Grandpa announced that they had gotten Adeline her own battery-powered Jeep for Christmas. She has talked about having a jeep for over a year, points out every Jeep on our drives and runs, and yet I seriously considered telling them not to give it to her because of her run-in with the pavement weeks before.

At some point, I realized how ridiculous I was being. I cannot run around trying to keep my kids from injuring themselves. Sure, I could have eliminated all battery-powered toys from our outside toy arsenal and put a ban on all gymnastics routines inside of our house but then what message would I be sending? To tell a toddler not to run or jump is like telling them not to be a kid. They NEED this for physical development and for body/spatial awareness.

I thought back to some of the best advice I had received as a parent. It is less helpful to tell your child “Be careful!” which may be well intentioned but sends a vague message to your child that everything around them could be dangerous and is just generally uninspiring. For example, if a child is navigating over uneven terrain while on a walk in the woods, simply telling her to “be careful” may send the message that everything on this walk in the woods is scary and dangerous. On the other hand, if you say something more specific like, “Do you see those rocks right there? They could be slippery,” or “Do you see how some tree roots are sticking out? Keep your eye on them.” This is more inspiring because it conveys the message that you are confident in your child to know risks and to take them AND it lets them know that they do have some control over what could be dangerous.

So, how does this relate to my idea of writing a book about how lessons learned through my children can be applied to grownup problems? Well, a phrase has snuck into our vocabulary during this pandemic that really bothers me. People depart in person saying it, they sign their emails with it, and they end meetings with it. The phrase is, “BE SAFE” and I cannot stand it. This is the adult version of shouting to our children, “Be careful!” It is a well-intentioned phrase with potentially negative effects. This is not a post to debate the pandemic. I do believe and follow guidance that we should be wearing masks, distancing, and taking other measures to mitigate the effects of COVID-19. However, we already live in a society where anxiety is the most commonly diagnosed mental health disorder. Telling people to “Be safe.” sends the message the world is nothing but a scary place. What does “be safe” even mean? If everyone took the phrase “be safe” to heart, we would never do anything. Life is full of risks. Falling in love is a risk, having a child is a risk, starting a business is a risk, speaking up in a meeting is a risk, investing in the stock market is a risk, etc etc etc. Yes, I do believe in the intention of the phrase “be safe” but I would suggest we start using something else that sends less of a vague and uninspiring message. 

What if we said, “Be kind.” instead? What if we said, “Becompassionate.” instead? Be kind/compassionate to others and their decisions around the pandemic, be kind/compassionate to others who may have fared differently in their physical and mental health over the last 10 months, be kind/compassionate as we head into more unknowns for the next six months. Be kind to the old man who has decided to go back to the YMCA to exercise in order to improve his failing mental health. Be compassionate to the woman who has an autoimmune disease and has requested to work from home until there is a vaccine. Yes, you could argue the phrase “be kind” or “be compassionate” is vague as well, but in general, it sends a positive message and if we have people being “generally kind or compassionate”, that is still probably a good thing!

I am not sure if we should choose this phrase over the phrase “Be safe.” I am open to suggestions!  Maybe I need to just accept that the phrase annoys me and move on. If you think I am a whacko and think using “Be safe” is the way to go, I’d love to hear that opinion, too! 

Until I hear from you, be kind and compassionate, friends. And let your children have battery-powered toys and do gymnastics routines. LOVE!

 

Holy Interruptions

This isn’t the blog post I intended to write this weekend. I had planned on writing a reflective piece about grief and 2020 as it is a topic that has been weighing heavily on my mind the last couple of days.

I will still write that post (potentially the next time I write), but it will not be the post that I’m writing this weekend. You see, it’s 9:21 on Sunday evening, and I am just now starting my blog post. I had wanted to start composing it earlier this weekend, but this weekend has been a straight up clusterf*ck.

Essentially, it’s been one interruption and chaotic event after another this weekend for the majority of my family. It started on Thursday evening when my car was stolen. I won’t go into the entire story here, but suffice to say, that event was a huge interruption on both my- and other people’s- lives. Because my car was stolen, I was not able to accomplish the work that I needed to do that evening, and I lost several of my intimate possessions. It was, clearly, an interruption on my finances and career. Additionally, I had to call my father to come get me, and then he waited with me while we talked to the police. His life was interrupted trying to help me. Then, because of security reasons, I stayed at my older sister’s house this weekend, and she had to give me food and rides. Her life was interrupted. Moreover, because my phone was in my car, I didn’t have any sort of way to communicate with everyone I needed to collaborate with. So, I had to borrow my nephew’s phone for a day. His life was interrupted. And then, if enough people weren’t involved already, my mom came down on Friday, and she spent a significant amount of time taking me to get a new driver’s license and a rental car. Her life was interrupted.

And then today, just when the consequences of my car fiasco started to abate, I received a frantic call from my nephew (the same one whose phone I had borrowed until I got a new one running). He was frantic and in tears, and he hysterically explained that he cut himself on a knife. He was bleeding everywhere and he was deathly afraid. I was in the middle of working and had to pull over so I could talk with him. I did my best to calm him and talk with him, but when he showed me the blood and the gash on his finger, I knew he needed medical care. However, I was in Ankeny, and it would take me too long to get to his house. So, I called my father, and he went to take him to the hospital until dissident daughter Jill, his mother, could meet them there. More interruptions for all of us this evening to care for my nephew and his accident.

Ay yi yi. It was a tough weekend in many ways. And yet- while I don’t particularly love the idea of interruptions- I AM learning to embrace the holiness that comes with them. Despite the fear and exhaustion from these various layers of interruption, there is so much grace and connection in these moments. I mean, the cart theft alone was one hell of a story that I was able to share with others and laugh about. I appreciate the extra time I was able to have talking over coffee with my mom, sister, niece, and nephew because I spent the night with them. Those casual, intimate moments are the substance of life and relationships. I also enjoyed the extra hours of lounging I gave myself this weekend after dealing with the stress of having so much stolen from me.  And, finally, I absolutely love that my nephew trusted me enough to call me tonight to ask for help when he didn’t know what to do.

There is so much holiness and grace to be found in these interrupted moments that do not go according to plan. These moments give us connection, insight, humor, and appreciation that we may not have experienced otherwise. Moreover, they highlight the incredible interconnectedness and mutuality that need to define our social communities. These concepts sound so simple and obvious, and yet, we humans often fail at reciprocity. I love that my 12 year old nephew let me borrow his phone, and only 2 days later, I was able to embody the bi-directional relationship exchange by supporting him in return.  

Interruptions are holy, and we can experience that transcendence if we look for it and allow it.

Of course, I also don’t want to wax poetic about these experiences as though they are completely positive and without challenges. Let me be clear- to be “holy,” does not mean that something is “pure” and “without fault.” A definition of holy that assumes it means “unsullied” is one that is- quite frankly- naïve. For an experience to be holy, rather, is simply to notice how the presence of God is able to proliferate and be felt despite the unfortunate aspects of the context.

There ARE undeniably negative consequences from some of the clusterf*ck this past week. I’m going to take a financial hit with everything I have to replace in my car, and it’s happening at a horrible time as I’m a month away from closing on my first house. My father was not able to accomplish everything he needed and wanted to this weekend because he was running all over helping us amidst the chaos. He is retired and lives close by, so we lean on his time often to help us out. Additionally, my nephew was in significant pain as he cut his finger, and he was scared by the amount of blood that the cut caused.

There are negative, challenging, and tough experiences when life is interrupted, and we do ourselves – and others- a disservice when we try to pretend that every event is sunshine and roses. However, what I DO want to encourage all of us to do is to look for the “holiness” that occurs within and despite the shittiness of life. I promise you- it is always there- and it will lift you up and keep you moving forward.

Thanks, everyone, for helping me with my interruptions. I felt loved, and the incident is already very manageable and comical with only 3 days hindsight. That’s what holiness does for us. 

Get What You Want

“You deserve to have what you want, not just what you need.” Recently my girlfriend told this to me,  as I refused to go back into Little Caesars to ask for ranch that would definitely enhance the taste of the $5 pizza. Yes, much like many of our conversations, something as insignificant as ranch sparked an authentic and meaningful conversation. I went to Little Caesars on Veteran’s Day to get the free lunch special. On the way there I was telling my girlfriend how this was the first Veteran’s Day I actually capitalized on the free food perk because normally I would feel bad, or think that obtaining free food on this day wasn’t truly necessary. I decided to indulge in the free food this year because I wanted to share the experience and free food with her.

When we got there I ordered the lunch special, but forgot to ask for ranch. I went back out to the car and my girlfriend reminded me that I usually ate ranch with my pizza and asked if I wanted to get some. I hesitantly responded no and she questioned why, as it’s rare I don’t eat pizza with ranch. I responded and said, “Well, I don’t really need the ranch.” She pondered why that actually mattered and continued to push me on my thinking with a series of questions. She also pointed out that it is very frequent that I don’t partake in something because I don’t “need” it or that I’m often placing other’s needs and wants in front of my own.

I reflected on her questions and pushes in relation to other experiences. I felt bad buying my jeep in 2017 because I didn’t “need” a new vehicle. I always proactively offer to ride in the back seat of family trips and sleep on the couch because I can “handle” being uncomfortable. I felt hesitant to move out of the shared 8 bedroom house into a nice two bedroom apartment in San Jose because the 8 bedroom house was still “livable.” I grew up in a household where you were always planning or saving for the next worst thing to happen. Why buy something nice when you may regret it later if your water pipes burst? Why spend the extra money on dessert when you can be full without it? Why get a treat at the theme park when you could easily pack a lunch to eat outside of the park beforehand?

Although I am talking about this in a financial context right now, this mindset has also been adaptable to other areas of my life. Stay at the job even though you’re miserable because you may not find a new one. Don’t embrace the vulnerability of a relationship because you may get hurt. Don’t hang out with educated and affluent circles because you come from Podunk, Iowa. My sisters and I have referenced this mindset a lot in our conversations, as this mindset is an indirect result of our upbringing. We call it the “scarcity mindset.” The scarcity mindset is the mindset that tells you there will never be enough. There will never be enough money, food, shelter, love, resources, life, etc. This mindset is a nagging fear that prohibits you from obtaining what you truly want because it’s not truly what you need. You are surviving and that’s all that’s important. Heaven forbid you splurge, or treat yourself, and then regret it later when the next anticipated and terrible thing happens to you.

When my girlfriend told me, “You deserve to have what you want, not just what you need,” I got teary eyed because that was the first time in 27 years has anyone ever told me that. She asked me if I believed that, and the reality of it is, I do believe that, but I was never quite sure anyone else did. 

Music to My Ears

There’s just something about hearing that song on the radio. You know the one…and there’s always more than one. You could play it on your smart phone, or computer any time…but when it comes on the radio, unsolicited, it feels like this moment was made just for you. Personally, music has gotten me through many a challenging time and sparked or heightened many a good time. It is in that vein of thought that I am posting about music…because I think we all are facing challenging times right now and maybe a musical interlude in our lives can provide some joy, spark some memories, offer solidarity, or even make us dance.

Research demonstrates that listening to music can reduce anxiety, blood pressure, and pain, as well as improve sleep quality, mood, mental alertness, and memory (I knew there was a justification for all of the money I’ve spent on concerts!). Music also creates feelings of cohesion and social connectedness. Music bonds us. We all probably remember our high school or college school songs, have shared "our" song with a romantic partner, been sung to and sang to children at bedtime (I know I still remember my dad’s eclectic bed time collection that included Country Roads by John Denver and It’s Too Late by Carol King…and that, for better or worse, has now been sung to another generation), and have those summers, events, and seasons of life where a specific song was the soundtrack for that period of time (I'm looking at you, Shut Up and Dance and Somebody Told Me).

I am on the Wellness Committee at work. I chose music for our November Wellness newsletter for just the reasons I listed above. I came across a 30 day music playlist challenge that made me excited and happy and I wanted to share it with all of you. I want to see what playlist my sisters put together and I would love to see what you, our readers, put together, too, if you're willing to share. I'm looking forward to putting mine together and listening the shit out of it on my walks - both help me put "the real world" outside of my head for a while, help me remember good times and special people throughout my life. Even the songs that evoke tears remind me of all I am grateful for, the beautiful souls I have and have had in my life, and can remind me that yes, this, too, shall pass.

One of my favorite music memories is my sisters and I, my dad, and my niece and nephew road tripping down to Idaho to see my dad's old fire station for his 70th birthday. We all took turns picking a song, playing them on my blue tooth speaker, and singing along. We kept track of what we picked and in what order so we could make a playlist of that trip. As you can imagine, with the ages ranging from five to 70 and everywhere in between, we had quite the mix! I still think of that time whenever I hear The Lion Sleeps Tonight or Spirits by the Strumbellas.

I hope you enjoy this - even if reading it makes you just think of the songs you might pick - it's guaranteed to spark a memory, inspire a smile or laugh, make you dance, and maybe provide some sweet relief from the current shit show we are all living in and enduring (doesn't look like it's going anywhere soon so keep your playlists handy!).

Your go-to karaoke song.	Song you like with a color in the title.	Song off the first album you ever purchased.	Song you like with a number in the title.	Song that reminds you of someone special.
Song that reminds you of summertime.	Song you can’t help but dance to.	Song that needs to be played loudly.	Song by a band you wish were still together.	Song to drive to.
Favorite song from the 80’s.	Song that makes you happy.	Song from a movie.	Song that makes you sad.	Favorite cover song by another artist.
Song you never get tired of.	Song you know every word to.	Song that reminds you of your teen years.	Favorite power ballad.	Song you like from the 70’s.
Song from the year you were born.	Song that makes you feel motivated.	Song that makes you think about life.	Favorite song from a musical.	Song you like with a person’s name in the title.
Your newest favorite song.	Song that moves you forward.	The ultimate road trip song.	Song you think everyone should listen to.	Song that reminds you of a school dance.

In case you want a longer play list, add these songs, too!

Song you like by an artist no longer living.

Favorite song from the 90's.

Song that breaks your heart.

Song your parents always played.

Song by an artist whose voice you love.

Song that makes you feel relaxed.

Song that reminds you of yourself.

Favorite duet/remix.

Your most played song this year.

Song you never get bored of.

Your guilty pleasure song.

A tale of two hamsters, five fish and two cats...

Hey all! So I am not in the mood to reflect on anything really all that deep right now.  In fact, I don’t want to think about much these days.  So this post is going to be slightly corny and light hearted, not like my usual ramblings.  For those of you that know me, I was never much of a pet person. I love animals and care very deeply about preservation of wild animals and treating all animals humanely. Some of you may recall that I am the adopted mother of a fine manatee who lives in Florida named Georgia.  However, when it comes to domesticated pets, I have never really owned any pets and never really expected to either.  I guess I always felt like my lifestyle was not very conducive to additional responsibility because I tend to be gone for long periods of time either because of work or travel or who knows what.  I really do live life by the seat of my pants most of the time.  So I ALWAYS told my two kids we were NEVER going to have a pet.  You would think that by now whenever I say I am never going to do something I usually end up doing it at some point but I still haven’t learned my lesson apparently.  Anyway, around December, one of my friends somehow managed to convince me that Brookie needed a hamster for Christmas.  I was against it initially because I didn’t even understand the point of having a hamster. I relented because my friend did make a few good points about how it would teach responsibility and foster a love of animals.  That is how I came to find myself inside of a PetSmart – a store I had actually never been in before – looking at Hamsters.  I know its corny but I felt really happy signing the hamster adoption papers and taking that little thing home in a cardboard box.  It was the first pet I had ever purchased.  But I still wasn’t entirely sure about the whole concept.  I thought hamsters honestly just slept in their cages 90% of the time.  That thought to be continued…. But for now, back to Christmas of 2019, if Brooklyn was getting a pet, that meant Trevor had to get something as well.  I didn’t want to two hamsters (not yet – some foreshadowing for you there) so next thing I knew, I was buying a fish tank.  I went from zero pets to six pets if you count all the fish in a day.  

For reasons that I’d rather not discuss in this blog, after Christmas, the next few months were a little rough for me and the fam.  Eventually, it became obvious we needed to find a house to live in as a family.  Fortunately, before all of the COVID shit hit the fan, I was able to find a decent house in the kids’ school district.  We moved literally the week before COVID started to dominate everything and everyone.  Again, without getting into the specifics, it was sort of a rough transition for all of us.  During the tumultuous transition period, at one point, my daughter, Brooklyn – who also goes by Brookie – told me that it would be great if we could get a cat when we moved.  Not thinking too hard about it because I was distracted AF, I said something to the effect of, “I will think about it.”  However, what I said and what Brookie heard were two different things.  Brookie apparently heard that I had definitively committed to getting a cat.  She literally started telling everyone that we were getting a cat when we moved into the new house.  She really out smarted me there as I totally felt obligated once she had told pretty much all of her friends and extended family the news.  So once again, in March, I found myself shopping for yet another pet.  I took the kids to the Animal Rescue Leagueand Trevor, my son, immediately found the cat he wanted.  As I examined the card, however, it turned out this particular cat, named Cherish, had a “bonded buddy,” which meant you had to adopt the cats a pair.  Well, you can guess what happened.  Yep, that day I took two cats home – Cherish and her buddy, January.  So now I was up to one hamster, five fish and two cats in a matter of months.  Initially, January was a real asshole cat.  I had to sign a behavior waiver to even take her home because of her constant need to hiss at people when they got too close to her.  But by God, those were the cats my kids wanted and so of course, I signed the waiver without a second thought.  The cats hid for months and January, who earned the nickname Crabby or Crabs, never stopped hissing during those two months as well. I began to seriously question why I had ever agreed to become a cat owner.  But seeing my children try so hard to get the cats to like them and to come out, warmed my heart.  My son would spend hours in the basement trying to get the cats to come play.  My daughter would read facts about cats on the Internet to try to understand their body language.  How could I possibly regret getting cats if my kids were already so happy and excited?  There was no way.  So now that I had violated my rule of no pets this far, it made perfect sense when I found myself picking out another hamster for Trevor’s birthday.  By this time, I had fallen in love with June – the original hamster I purchased for my daughter.  I came to learn June had a personality, she liked pumpkin seeds and sunflower seeds and would run and run in her wheel for hours.  Brooklyn actually took June out quite often and we held her and played with her for hours.  I don’t know exactly when, but at some point, it became not weird at all to give June a kiss.  Nope, wasn’t weird at all after everything else I had done.  So on Trevor’s birthday, we picked out yet another hamster. This time, we chose a winter white hamster who is now named Winnie.  So in April, we became a two cat, two hamster and five fish household.  Winnie has a completely different personality from June.  Winnie is a little lazy, a little timid, a little shy.  June is ballsy and bold.  And I love them both.  They are out of their cages a lot and love getting treats. They run around my kitchen table and explore pretty much whatever is around. At some point we came to realize that most cages you buy at a pet store are too small for hamsters who require space to burrow, nest and tunnel.  So it made complete sense when I, the person who would never own pets, decided to hand build two hamster cages that would essentially be the Hilton of hamster cages.  Let’s just say the entire endeavor involved me buying a Dremel, chicken wire and zip ties.  I still don’t really know how to use the Dremel but this asshole figured it out long enough to get those cages built.  So now the hamsters have larger cages, a million toys and two kids and one adult who loves them.  I also love the cats and hell, I might even love the damn fish at this point.  

So to bring shit back to the present, I have to say, however, that while 2020 may be a complete shit show in a lot of ways, having those pets has really been a bright spot in the midst of the pandemic.  It has also made me rethink using the word “never.”  I was so adamant that pets would be an extra burden I could not take on and yet they have actually made our lives better.  I never knew it was possible to love a hamster but I swear to you, I love both of those little rodents.  The cats still dislike me and probably always will.  My sisters joke it is because we are in fight for the Alpha female title in the house – haha – but I think it is because I had to take them to the vet and I haven’t spent hours giving them treats like the kids have.  Whatever it is, I am amazed at how far the cats have come.  Cherish and January both let the kids snuggle with them, pet them, play with them and hug them.  Crabby aka January no longer hisses at me which I consider a win.  They no longer hide and have really made huge strides since March.  In reflecting on all of this, I am glad I have all the pets that I do and I never thought I would say that.  I think it is a good lesson to learn about speaking in absolutes and closing yourself off to potential possibilities based on preconceived notions or opinions that aren’t really supported by anything.  I think it also shows that sometimes good things don’t always come easily or can be found in unexpected places.  The other point this brings up is that sometimes we don’t always know what is best and we have to be open to change.  I could never have predicted I would love two hamsters or that two cats or five fish would make my children (and me) so happy. My hope for today and for the rest of my life, is that I can be open to what the universe puts in front of me – comfortable or not.  If we aren’t uncomfortable or reaching outside what we are accustomed to, are we really growing?  And if we aren’t really growing, then are we missing out on what the universe might be presenting to us?  I am not always happy, I can tend to be melancholy.  But lately, I am learning that just being open to possibilities presents doors I never knew existed, and when those doors are opened, the fact is that your life can be changed in an unpredictable yet beautiful way. I’m learning to take more risk, even when it means I can be hurt. I try to remember that most people are confined... “They limit themselves to fewer possibilities by the narrowness of their vision.” - V.S. Naipaul. My wish for myself and everyone is that today and every day, we can start opening ourselves to the unexpected, unplanned and unanticipated. The color of my life is so much brighter when I do. Love, Jill

Ladder

I believe life is all about cycles, seasons, and phases. Right now I’m hard core in the mom phase so a lot of the insights I have come from my children. It is pretty amazing even though exhausting as well. I am trying to focus on progress over perfection these days so this will be a short blog today. I’d rather share a short story now than a perfected piece way past when my sisters expected me to post. :)

LJ is four years old now and most days he can get through the day without a nap and not be a complete bear by bedtime. However, we still make him go in his room for “nap time” so that we can have some down time ourselves. Anyway, this past weekend he went into his room for nap time with a bit of a struggle. He wanted to play with some loud toy that I did not want him to play with so I took it away from him and put it on top of his bookshelf where he cannot reach. He stayed in his room about two hours like he usually does and I could hear him playing on the monitor the entire time. He usually flips through books, plays with some random toys, talks to himself, etc.

When it was time to get up, I went into his room to change him back into play clothes and he directed my attention to a stack of books by his bookshelf. “Mama, look what I did! I made a ladder so that I could reach my toy.” He was referring to the toy that I had put on top of the bookshelf before nap time so that he could not reach it. As I looked at the “ladder” that he had made (picture below), I thought it looked a little unsteady and was amazed that he was actually able to get his toy. However, when I looked closer, I could see that the top book was wedged just perfectly under one of the shelves to make it more stable – he had built it just tall enough and found the perfect final book to tuck under the shelf for stability. I couldn’t even be mad that he had gotten the toy that he was not supposed to be playing with! I was in awe of his creativity and ingenuity!

Almost a week later and I am still thinking of his book “ladder.” How can I apply this creativity and grit in my own life?! What would it look like for an adult who is told they cannot do something, to build a “book ladder” and reach it anyway?! What goals or ambitions do you have that someone has told you may be unachievable or unreachable? How can you say “F You, I’ll build a book ladder and reach it by myself?”!! Here’s to building our own book ladders, one step errrr book at a time…

Reflection on Age and 35

I’m turning 35 in a couple of weeks. While my various communities are usually very cognizant of my birthday, this year they have been even more attentive. Not only have they been more intentional with festivities, but they have also asked me a number of questions. For example, I’ve heard, “How do you feel about turning 35?” “Does it feel weird to turn 35?” And, “What do you hope to achieve in the coming years?”

And so, this blog post is a reflection on turning 35.

I always appreciate candid questions that lead to reflective conversation. However, there is a part of me that is mildly irritated by the extra attention I’m receiving on this particular birthday. Like, part of me gets it- 35 is exactly halfway between 30 and 40, so it’s a nice round number. It seems like a milestone; therefore, there should be increased attention directed toward it. I think part of my irritation, though, stems from the fact that women have the number “35” ingrained in their heads from practically the day that they are born. Because of the increased risk and decreased fertility associated with this number, we are told in a thousand different ways that 35 is “old.” In fact, women that have children from 35 on are referred to as “geriatric pregnancies.” I’m certainly not going to argue the scientific trends associated with pregnancy at this age. Moreover, I do not plan on having children, so it’s not even that the proverbial “biological clock” is triggering me. What I AM frustrated with is that the fact that these scientific facts have led to a connotation with 35 basically being when a woman turns “old.” And in so many implicit ways, we are valued less with an increase in age. So, I get irritated by the questions about this particular birthday, consequently, because the underlying message seems to be, “How are you coping with the fact that you are an old ass woman instead of a young woman now?”

Regardless of my irritation with some of the implicit narratives in people’s curiosities, I do love to reflect, and so I want to take this opportunity to explore some of my thoughts on turning 35. 

1)    As far as my body goes, I have to say- I don’t feel 35 (whatever that means.) I’m pretty anal retentive about taking care of myself, and so I feel really good physically. I do handstands on almost a daily basis, I can do the splits, I can climb 20 feet up in the air, and I run 5 miles 3x/week. This is one of those areas where I get a bit preachy: “If you don’t use it, you lose it.” People act like your body has to start falling apart in your 30’s, and this is not true. Yes, our bodies age, but goodness gracious- TAKE CARE OF IT AND IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE THAT WAY. This means that you have to exercise (strength, cardio, and flexibility), you have to eat healthy, you need to have regular appointments (I like the chiropractor and massage therapist), etc. Here’s what I find legitimately hilarious. I’m actually probably in even BETTER shape at 35 than I was at 25!!! I didn’t know as much about strength and flexibility at 25 as I do now; moreover, I wasn’t involved in aerial at that time. So at 25, I couldn’t do even half of the shit that I do now! So, physically, at 35, I feel pretty good.

2)    Okay, let’s talk about my psychological well-being at 35. Honestly, again, I feel better at 35 than I did at 25. Parts of my 20’s were certainly exciting- I went to graduate school in Nashville, TN for 3 years, for example. But my 20’s were difficult because I lacked so much confidence in myself, and I also had to spend so much time trying to figure out what I wanted from life. I have a much stronger sense of self at 35 than I did at 25. I have a career that is incredibly fulfilling, I engage in hobbies that give me great joy, and I have some amazing friend groups. Moreover, being established in a career gives me the resources to finally pursue some of the things that I love. I can afford to take aerial classes and go on a ridiculous number of vacations. I remember in grad school when it was a struggle just to have the money to visit home. Now I go on at least 2-3 trips every year. (Uh…yeah…I really like to travel.)

Additionally, I feel so much more confident at 35. I didn’t know how to stand up for myself in my 20’s; and now, I am much more competent with asserting my needs and rights. I also feel like I care increasingly less about what most people think of me. I mean, of course I care about the opinion of my good friends and family, but other people’s standards and observations are a blip on my radar. For example, last night my friends and I decided to have our own “Shameless” themed outing. I went out to eat wearing a plaid shirt, cutoff black shorts, and tall black socks with boots. No, it wasn’t the sexy version of the outfit- I looked ridiculous. But I gave zero effs about whether or not I looked cute and whether or not anyone thought it was strange that a middle-aged woman was dressed like that. And because I give increasingly zero effs and have confidence in what I want, I feel so much more joy in the world at 35 because I am doing what I desire and feeling secure in doing so.

Honestly, I feel great at 35, and I am better physically, mentally, and emotionally now than I was 10 years ago. However, there are a few downsides:

1)    What I DO hate about being 35 is all of the implicit AND explicit expectations that people place on me about where I “should” be with my life. For example, I have had SO MANY people directly ask, “Anne, you are such a pretty and successful woman. Why are you not married yet? You’re almost 35!” I’d like to write a whole blog post some time about being single, but for now, let me just say that I am SO SICK of people assuming that everyone still has to follow the "traditional" path. It's ironic to me that as much as the liberal narrative promotes diversity that people still assume (both implicitly and sometimes explicitly) that people's lives should unfold with career, marriage, house, kids- in that order. Also, I would like to emphasize that some of the most self-proclaimed progressive people are the ones that are the guiltiest of insinuating and perpetuating this narrative.

     There are many aspects of these questions that bother me, but the primary reason it annoys me is because I'm one of the most joyful and fulfilled people I know. I have a full social calendar, meaningful career, special outings and trips with my family, and engaging hobbies and commitments. And yet, despite that resume, people still assume that I'm lacking or not enough because I'm not "traditional" at 35. 

Short answer to people's questions: Yes, I identify as heterosexual and find men attractive. Yes, I am open to the possibility of dating someone and being married as a way of finding connection in the world. No, I have not found anyone yet that would be a good match or that would be more fulfilling than my current single life. No, I do not plan to have children. Yes, I am trying to buy a house right now. Overall, we'll see where the universe calls me and what happens in my future. As I will enumerate upon in a bit, what I care about most is that I find love and connection in this world. 

2)    The other thing that is difficult about 35 is that I simply become more….emotional about time and memories with each passing year. I experience my emotions very intensely and live primarily inside my head. So, I feel very emotional when I think about all of the experiences, memories, and connections that I have had. And every year only adds to this collection, and it feels incredibly overwhelming to me. I don’t know how to articulate it very well- perhaps readers will understand. But all of it- even the challenging stuff- it all is so significant, so personal, and so imbued with meaning, and it just feels so intense to think about how many memories I’ve had, how many people I’ve met, how much I continue to grow and change. It’s just staggering with its portentousness. I want to hold onto all of it somehow because it is so precious, and yet, I know that this isn’t possible. Moreover, change is a part of being human, and brevity is part of what makes moments so important; their significance partially lies within the fact that they are so ephemeral. But all of it matters so much, and I want to somehow hold all of it in my grasp.

 As for what I want in the latter half of my 30’s? Here’s what I want:

I want love, meaning, connection, and joy. That’s what I want. I think it’s incredibly foolish when people try to prescribe what form that love, meaning, connection, and joy will take. Here’s the deal: we don’t know where life will take us. For example, look at this year. None of us could have imagined that we would have lived through a global pandemic that led to lockdowns, mass deaths, and a crippled economy. We.Don’t.Know.Where.Life.Will.Take.Us. Some of that is due to us just not always knowing what is good for us, and some of it is due to the fact that we live in a broken world.

I think we should have SOME idea of what we want, but we also have to be open to what the universe is telling us. And I think we get into trouble when we try to decide what and when something will happen. I have definitely been guilty of this. I thought FOR SURE that I wanted to pursue my PhD in theology and be a tenured college professor. I had it all planned out- where I would apply for my PhD, how long it would take, etc. etc. And then what? The universe led me elsewhere. I did a chaplaincy internship at the hospital after being rejected for a summer job in Washington DC…I had a mental breakdown pursuing my Master’s…one thing led to another, and my plan of pursuing my PhD was squashed. But…the culmination of all of those experiences eventually led to me applying for an amazing job as a bereavement counselor, and I’ve been happy with this career for over 6 years now. I’m glad that the universe said “fuck that” to my detailed plan of getting my PhD in theology.

I’m not going to try to impose my will on the universe. I’ve seen people do it with marriage, kids, career, housing, school, etc., and I’m not going to dictate where my life will lead in the coming years. I’ll work hard and be open to possible opportunities the universe is presenting to me. Maybe I’ll stay at my current job another 6 years. Maybe I’ll happen to see a posting for another job I never knew about that will be another great fit. Maybe I’ll get married. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll buy a house tomorrow. Maybe it will be another 2 years before I find one I want. Maybe I’ll die at 40. Maybe I’ll live another 70 years.

I don’t know. What I do know is that I want to find love, joy, meaning, and connection in some capacity in the coming years. I’ve had those elements my whole life, and it’s been exciting to see them take different forms throughout different phases. We’ll see what they look like in the latter half of my 30’s. Stay tuned. J