A Hard and Heavy Shell

As long as I can remember, I have loved turtles.  I find them to be soothing. For years, friends and family often pick up little turtle figurines for me to collect.

Years ago, at a souvenir shop in the desert, I was eying a piece of turtle jewelry.  Attached was a tag detailing a Native American tale of how the great turtle is thought to carry the weight of the world on its back.  The turtle is carrier of all things in the world.  I have no idea if that tag accurately described the legend, or if it was some fabricated bullshit to entice tourists.  But it stuck with me and it is something I have always remembered.

When we were kids, Mom was kind of a piece of shit.  Being the older sibling, I put myself in charge of Sister's safety and well being.  When Mom took off on a bender in Reno and left the two of us girls alone (at ages 7 and 4), I was responsible for getting us to school every day.  Thankfully, a concerned neighbor notified our elementary school and Dad was awarded custody of us.  I still feel I failed in protecting Sister.  She had some serious shit happen to her and I couldn't stop it.  As we got older and Sister went through hard times, I had no choice but to not fuck up.  The burden was on me to be "the good one" and make Dad's life a little easier.

When it came to saving our relationship, it was not up to The Wrecking Ball to curb his cocaine habit.  Instead, it was my burden to learn to accept and live with his cocaine habit.  His vice resulted in mood swings.  He loved me in the morning and loathed me at night. He once showed up to meet my relatives an hour late, wearing sunglasses indoors, at night.  Of course, I would tell myself over and over "If I try really hard to be a better girlfriend, he will love me so much that he will want to stop."  We all know addiction doesn't work that way. Yet, the fall and demise of us, was somehow my doing. My begging and pleading and ultimately standing up for myself, even if it meant fighting for us, was responsible for the end. 

These are only a couple of ways that I take on the responsibility for the failings of others.  I surely inherited this trait from my father. I see how this has affected him and I know that I cannot continue to take on the world this way.  The burden has been too great.  My back will not hold the weight for long.  As my body ages, I feel the impact of the stress.  The chronic headaches, the anxiety, the bouts of depression. For once, I want someone to be my rock.  I want someone to face the burdens with me, not let me carry them alone.  I want someone I can count on to be there.  To have my back when the shit hits the fan.  I long for camaraderie.  Fucking hell, it is my turn.  Well meaning loved ones often say to me "Patience Grasshopper.  It happens when you are not looking for it." 

While I wait, I will continue to admire the beauty of these strong and patient creatures.  I will reflect on the weight I have carried and recognize that it is a testament to my loyalty and devotion to the world I live in, and the people in it.  It is proof of my nature, what I am capable of, and the type of person I am.

A Painful Pride

Last Friday was a very difficult day for me.  I had to say goodbye to one of the only constant companions of my Twenties.  Or, as I figured it, I was having to Kevorkian my dog.  The way I felt that day was absolutely tragic.  I felt fragile and lost.  After the days I'd had in preparation, I didn't think I had any tears left by the time we arrived to the vet.  But I lost it.  I mean broke down and sobbed like I've never cried before.  Her enormous heart stopped before they'd even finished injecting the medication.  The moment they confirmed she was gone, the only emotion I could feel was lonely.

Back when I was a young and optimistic twenty year old adpopting my first pup, I guess I just always assumed that by the time she died, I would be married, or have a live in boyfriend, or own a house with a big yard and perhaps already have another dog.  I never thought, even in recent years as her health declined, that I'd be left all alone.  I don't have a spouse, or roommates, or kids.  For nearly a solid decade, that dog is who I came home to every day.  She was the one who greeted me at the door, wanting to hear about my day.  The one who laid with me as my tears fell onto her fur while consoling my heartaches.  The reason I had to get out of bed everyday, if only just to feed her and let her out.  When she died, my aunt and Sister were by my side and cried a few tears so I could cry a few less.  The incredible outpouring from family, friends I hadn't seen in years, and even a handful of demons, was something to be grateful for.  All weekend, friends and family made sure I didn't have to be alone.  I didn't even stay at home for two nights.  Still, without my baby, I felt incredibly alone.

But that outpouring has helped me to see a silver lining and something beautiful about it all. I had well wishes from countries she had never been to.  Friends from all over the US, who also spent nearly their entire Twenties with that dog, called and texted all the time.  That sweet and sometimes grumpy dog made an impact on this globe during her time here.  And I should be proud of that.  If I had never come along, she would have been euthanized years ago, never having the chance to experience a full and free life. Together, we traveled, attended keg parties, slept on random couches (and in my car), went rock climbing, snow-hiking, camping, swimming in rivers, danced at music festivals... The list goes on.  That dog lived an absolutely beautiful life and is known and loved the world over.  Thanks to me.  I take pride and comfort in knowing the two of us had a mutually loving bond, and side by side, we saved one another.  Her last few days were spent with me taking time off work to spoil her absolutely rotten and do all the things her old age had put on hold.  Just one last time.

May you always be so smug, My Girl.

Friday marked another monumental day in my life.  I should have been attending a baseball game and having beers and lunch bought for me.  It was my ten-year anniversary at my work.  Now come on, how many people reach ten freakin' years of employment at the same place before age Thirty?  Not too bad, in my eyes.  I love my career and what I do.  I may not be bringing home wads of cash just yet, and it hasn't been easy.  In fact, it's been downright painful sometimes.  But I am proud of myself and proud of what hand I have played in helping my company to become what it is.

Through all my self doubt and moments of feeling as I have wasted my Twenties, I can proudly say there are at least two things I managed to not completely fuck up.

Arriving

My last post was honestly quite down so I'd hoped to come back with something more upbeat to report.  Which is exactly what I am about to do.  So much in fact, I may be smug.  I may brag.  Deal with it.  Or not.

As I have stated before, (here, here, and most recently, here) I really fucking love my job.  This April will mark 10 years at my current profession.  I don't know many people who literally have ONE thing to put on their resume.  For that, I feel very fortunate.  In the last few days, something has clicked with me.  That I have arrived.  Cliche?  Definitely.  But I cannot think of any better way to describe how I feel in my professional life.

Last Thursday, I experienced the single most tiring and tedious, yet fulfilling day of my career.  For months, I have been working with other colleagues in my industry on a project that was unveiled at a the most posh and prestigious venue in my city.  Just being invited to work on the project is a tremendous honor in itself as the only vendors invited had to be considered only the best of the best.  The first half of the day was spent doing the "heavy lifting" and setting up our little masterpiece while the second half was standing in heels all dolled up and schmoozing with potential clients.  I already had a sense of pride that day as to what I was a part of.  But the cinch for me was late that night, when the head of the project, a veteran colleague who I respect very much in my industry, had a cocktail too many and proceeded to tell me how much she respected me and the level of professionalism I execute in my company.  It was magical and when I got to The Writer's apartment that night, I couldn't shut up about my very, very long day. 

Just as I started to step down from the very tall horse I'd been riding, I worked another meet and greet networking event last Saturday.  A pseudo-client, who I rarely work with as she patrons my company's competition, walked right up and introduced herself.  Although she has never made any attempt to hide the fact that my company is only her second (and sometimes third) choice, she went out of her way to tell me "You take amazing care of clients.  Everyone we have mutually worked with absolutely loves you and I want you to know how much I appreciate it."  Holyfuckingshit. Have I arrived? 

I am grateful my coworkers are like family and I have a great camaraderie among my colleagues and clients.  Truthfully, I don't even think much about going to work.  I am someone who actually enjoys getting up each morning to head to the office.  Because I am on a sort of auto-pilot with my career, it is easy for me to take my accomplishments fore granted.  It is all too easy to overlook the importance of what I do.  Now, I'm not rolling deep just yet.  Who knows if I ever will be.  But I take great pride and solace in knowing that the last 10 years of hard work have paid off at least in the sense of my professional reputation.  Sure, I'm not making the kind of money I would be if I'd finished that engineering degree.  At this point, I have realized I am okay with that. I have a decade of experience in a career I love.  More, I'm good at it.  Not many almost-30-somethings have reached the place I'm in.  And THAT, my dear friends makes my 20's seem just a little less wasted.

The Final Countdown

Here it is, folks.  The first day of the last year in my 20's.  That's right.  It's my birthday!  Last night, I lacquered my nails with a few layers of glitter nail polish.  This morning, I woke up at 5am craving a quesadilla.  Weird.

My birthday has indeed been quite the event so far. Bodhi's birthday was on Friday so we had a joint celebration at our favorite stomping ground over the weekend.  I also spent the weekend with The Writer, which was quite nice.  Although today is the actual day, I am sort of already birthday-ed out.  Likely, I will get a beer with friends after work and with any luck, later find myself in a snuggle sandwich between my dog and The Writer.

I recently experienced a surprisingly pleasant moment with regard to work.  Last week, a favorite client caught me off guard by begging me to volunteer on a committee (for the year) with a professional organization I am part of.  I don't know what came over me and why I couldn't say "no."  But I agreed to it.  Yesterday was the first meeting; a 5 hour long meeting.  I was absolutely dreading it.  After a weekend of intense debauchery, all my mind or body felt capable of doing was sitting at my desk in my office, doing busy work and surfing the net.  I even at one point whined to a coworker, "I don't wanna go.  I don't wanna go.  I don't wanna go.  What excuse can I come up with to not go?"  I was feeling the anxiety and nerves boil to the top of my head.  Both of which actually made me physically ill.

But I sucked it up.  I pulled up those big girl panties, headed into the fiery hell that is downtown and pulled my car into the valet.  As the attendant handed over my valet ticket, I said goodbye to my freedom for the afternoon.  I felt like I had just turned myself into jail.  As I entered the space, I spotted one familiar colleague and took my seat before the lunch and program began.  By the time lunch and "welcomes" were done, I felt at ease and glad to be out of the office and doing something new for the day.  We even had a team building exercise involving public speaking and I did not blush.  Not once.  *Public speaking is single handedly the most terrifying experience in the world.

The meeting was informative and productive.  I felt I had something to offer to my committee.  It then occurred to me I should feel flattered my client begged for my presence.  It occurred to me that I am respected as a professional in my field and among my peers. By the time we were set free, I felt a confidence and clarity about myself professionally that I have never felt before. It is a nice reminder that we allow ourselves to grow only when we take the risk to step outside our comfort zones, even for just an afternoon.

Mad World in a New Year

Happy 2012 everyone!

I am not big on the cheesy New Year's Resolutions thing.  I find that I will get on a kick of something then let it drop off the face of the Earth.  Of course, I then feel like shit about myself.  I find it safer to keep expectations low by not making any promises to begin with.  However, this blog project is all about getting my shit together before I turn 30.  In just a few days I will begin the last year of my 20's.  So hell, now is the best time to list my goals.  Call them New Years Resolutions, Birthday Resolutions or Life Resolutions.  In no particular order, here they are:

Be a better friend, sister, aunt, daughter, granddaughter, niece and coworker  
I firmly believe that all of us, even the Dalai Lama himself, can improve upon the way we treat those we love.  I live an incredibly lucky life due to the people that are in it and they all deserve the best of me.  With this comes:

• Keeping in touch via cards and handwritten notes, phone calls and face time (basically forms of communication other than Facebook.)
• Helping my coworkers without first giving the evil eye.  I am not actually a bitchy person, but I am sometimes certain I put fear into my coworkers.
• While I'm at it, I resolve to stop freaking out in general.  I can get very snappy when irritated.  Like a bomb.  Poor Sister probably gets the worst of it.  

Be a better Dog Mom
My sweet dog is getting up in years.  As of late, she has not been receiving the amount of attention she needs.  Sure, she is generally spoiled fucking rotten and her disposition of grumpiness and laziness part of her charm.  Still, she has been my best friend and the one to greet me every single day for the past 9 years.  Adopting and caring for her may be my proudest accomplishment of my 20's.  Sadly, she will not be with me forever.  It is my duty to return the favor and give her the best last years (or months) I can.

Take Better Care of My Body
Approaching 30, I am not exactly a spring chicken myself.  My physical health requires a little more upkeep than it did at 21. 

• Keep up on running, hiking and yoga routines.  I absolutely love these activities but one pull of an IT Band is enough to bench on my bed in front of Netflix for 6 months.
• For the love of all that is holy, FUCKING SLEEP!  My sleep routine (or lack of, rather) is much the root cause of many of my issues.  In all my 20's I have never slept enough.  I am finally too physically fatigued to enjoy life beyond the minimum.

Fuel My Passions
Full of great ideas right here!  Yet, also full of unfinished projects.  I just always find great excuses to not make them a priority.

• This blog project.  I simply love to write.  Staying current on this blog is important to me.  Having the whole wide world see my failure to do so is not an option.
• Finally starting the process of a foodie blog or some form of food writing.  Along with writing, I love food.  More than every contestant of every season of The Biggest Loser combined.
• Picking up books again.  I enjoy reading. Yet I have not made it a priority in quite some time. I was gifted with a beautiful new novel and indulgent bedding for Christmas this year.  I'm taking it as a sign the library gods miss me.
• Staying current and organized on my crafts and hobbies.  I rented my current apartment for the sole purpose of the bonus craft room.  That I hardly use because I have yet to organize it to it's full efficiency.  

Build a Small Financial Cushion
I am sick of being a broke ass.  When concerts, small trips and even just dinners out come around, I usually cannot attend due to lack of funds.  While most of us can't have everything we want, it is nice to afford small indulgences now and again.  Not having to choose between attending a friend's wedding or paying my rent would help to give me that sense of accomplishment I have been lacking these last 10 years.  

That is it.  Not too bad.  Like I said, I am not one to make the standard resolutions so I perhaps I am going easy on myself.  But it is a start to the last year of my 20's.  If I can do at least one of these things every day, I will feel my foundation getting stronger with each day.  Already writing this post, I feel a new found optimism and peppiness about this new year.

Night Cap Re Cap

Whew!  Now that I have had a little cheese to go with my wine, I will let you in on a little recap of some happier occurrences. 

The last week of work before Christmas was a breeze and bountiful on the gluttonous holiday office eating.  Biggest news of all: I recieved a HUGE end-of-year bonus.  It is no exaggeration to say it was ten-fold what I have ever recieved before.  Though the money is gratefully accepted, this is huge for reasons beyond the cash.  My company means the world to me and this is testament that we are finally succeeding in our fourth official year.  Furthermore, I am finally feeling compensated for my work.  This certainly helps to partly ease the almost-thirty-freak-the-fuck-out.  Though I promise; I'm still bat shit crazy enough to keep you entertained.

That bonus?  It was given to me about an hour before I left for an eleven day vacation.  Yep, hate me now.  This is the most consecutive days off I have taken in almost three years, so much needed, and deserved if I do say so myself.  I am currently sitting on a couch in my family's beautiful mountain cabin.  Yes, I know, I was just bitching about them.  But damn, do I love these people.  The last few days have been all about playing cards with my cousins. Frolicing in the snow with our dogs.  Cooking and eating insanely delicious meals.  Sleeping in next to a cozy fireplace.  If there is an afterlife, I sure as hell hope it looks something like this.

Last but most certainly not least, there is The Writer.  Oh boy.  This man may have me in for a doozy.  Last I time I gushed, I shared with you the events of Date #3.  Since then, we were able to spend a little more time together before we each left town to celebrate Christmas with our families.  Our most recent "date" was really more of a movie night at his aparment.  Of course, neither of us wanted the night to end so I stayed way past my bedtime.  At one point, he looked me dead in the eye and said "I really like you" then proceeded to rattle off ten reasons why.  Really?  This kind of romantic shit does not happen to me.  It's like my own real life version of Love Actually. We have continued the tooth-rottingly-sweet converstaion cross country via text messages and phone calls.  Thank god for my unlimited everything plan.  He is also my confirmed date for New Year's Eve.  Christ on a fucking stick.  I think I might be falling for him.  And yes, I have kept my panties on.  Yay, willpower!

The Kids' Table

I know I have sucked at blogging this week.  My sincerest apologies as I have been just itching to write. I certainly hope everyone has enjoyed their holidays thus far.

The main reason for my lack of posting has been a lack of material.  My other excuse is I am currently on vacation in my family's mountain cabin where the bandwidth has been in short supply.  Which brings me to this current post for your reading pleasure.  Looking back at my very first post, this whole blogging experiment is to help me sort out exactly what I have done with the last decade of my life while preparing myself for the next.  And yes, I am in a bit of a freak out knowing my time in my 20's is running out.  My family certainly doesn't help with that anxiety.

Let me firstly say, I love my family.  I abnormally love my family.  We are all amazingly close to where even friends have commented it's a little freakish.  Just last night, some cousins and I were joking that we are perhaps more accurately considered a cult than a family.  The blessed life I have had would be impossible without them.  But here's the thing, I am almost 30 years old. (I know, I'm beating the dead horse with that one.)  Yet, although I am the oldest member of my generation in my family, I am still treated much the same as the other members of this generation.  My family is young.  I have an uncle less than 10 years older than me.  His wife is only 4 years older than me.  An aunt of mine is the same age as my last serious boyfriend.  However, they are in The Grown Up group.  And I am left somewhere at The Kids' Table.     

Yeah, it's unfair when I don't get offered a glass of wine because the host or hostess "forgets" I am 7 years over the legal drinking age in our state.  And yes, it's unfair that I don't get introduced or included in meetings and conversations with adult family friends and neighbors. I must admit though, if I were to tell my parents how I feel about this issue, they would hammer home the following:

•  You didn't finish college so you aren't a grown up.
•  Because you didn't finish college and get an engineering job, we still have to help support you so you aren't a grown up.
• You don't have a mortgage so you aren't a grown up.
• You aren't married so you aren't a grown up.
• You don't have children of your own so you aren't a grown up.
•  If you were a grown up, you would be paying for this cabin. So you aren't a grown up.

Fuck!  No wonder I have a complex and insanely major anxiety about turning 30!  What about 40?  Will I still be at the Kids' Table at 50?  Am I required to have a high paying job, husband, home owners insurance and children to finally be considered an adult member of this family? I feel stuck somewhere in limbo.  In a parallel universe.  Alone amongst my own people.  Truly, I feel like shit about myself.  This is just more proof at how much I suck at life and what a failure my 20's have been. 

What's Going On?

This shit's been going for almost a year. And just today I realized I have a little under 400 days left in my 20's. 393 to be exact.

Unfortunately for my mental well-being, society would have us believe what exactly twenty-somethings are supposed to be doing with their lives:
Graduating College
I stopped pursuing an Engineering degree to go full-time at a job I love but pays me barely enough to survive
Using College Degree to Obtain a Decent Paying Career
See above
Purchasing a Car
Thanks Dad!
Owning a Starter Home 
I rent a basement apartment I can barely afford
Falling in Love
The only long-term relationship I have managed to NOT completely fuck up would be the one I share with my dog
Starting Families (Or at least thinking about it)
Hah!

Honestly, I have perhaps always been a bit of a rebel.  Thus not exactly keen on what society or its authority expect of me. And I do enjoy my life.  I'm busier than hell, have a great group of friends, I love my job, my family members are close and amazing, and I have had the opportunity to love.   Yet at some point, I have begun to ask myself if I made the right choices?  Where did I go wrong?  Why am I here?  Does it get any easier?  WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?

So here I am.  In my basement apartment snuggled to my dog. For the next 400 days, I will be chronicling what I do with the last of my Twenties, all the while exorcising the demons and bullshit that got me in this mess. Who knows?  Perhaps this will help build a less rocky foundation for my third decade at life. Sure is cheaper than a therapist.