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. 

Merry Christmas, Baby

The holidays can prove to be so painful for so many people.  The guilt of having more when some have so much less.  Memories of better times, worse times, lonely times.  Regretful times.  I am in this group of people who find it excruciatingly difficult to get into the spirit most years.

Upon the end of my first real relationship, my devastation drove me to make some of the most dumb-fuck decisions of my life.  I ran to the arms, and eventually the bed, of my closest male friend, Patriot.  I paid for it.  Dearly.  If the whole situation wasn't irresponsible enough, we made it even more so during our "therapeutic sack sessions".  After a long night of tequila shots with my best girl, Trinity, I hungover-ly mentioned that I was late on my period.  So as normal girls do, we stumble our asses to the grocery store for some breakfast fixings and a piss stick.  As Trinity lovingly makes me biscuits, I holler from the bathroom "Hey, what does 2 lines mean?"

So there I was.  A heart broken, drunken mess.  Young, impregnated by my fuck-buddy.  Scared shitless. Of course, I immediately called Patriot.  Well before breakfast was even finished.  He was my one of my closest friends after all.  He would figure this out with me right?  Well, he actually did NOT completely freak out over the phone like I expected.  Instead, he was totally calm and said "You know, when the phone rang, I had a feeling it was you calling for this reason." 

I told my parents the day I found out I was pregnant.  Being the rock stars they are they simply said "We love you and whatever you want to do, we will support you".  Patriot on the other hand, came from a guilt ridden, strict, Catholic family and kept mum. We went back and forth over what to do.  We both have pro-choice views so we had options.  We also felt as adults we should just put on our big kid pants and become parents.  After a couple of weeks of this back and forth, we decided that we were just too unprepared, would likely make miserable parents and each of us had big plans for our lives.  We made an appointment to have a medical abortion.  We would go into a clinic, undergo a few minutes of "are you sure" questioning, I would swallow a pill there, go home to take the rest of the pills and wait out the bloody results.

The evening before the appointment, I called Patriot in hysterics and he immediately rushed over.  I was having doubts.  So was he.  We changed our game-plan entirely.  He called his Catholic parents to tell them they would be Grandparents. Fast forward to 9 weeks gestation and only a few days before Christmas, I miscarried their grandchild alone in my apartment. 

To this day, I think of the result as a blessing.  A bullet dodged.  Patriot and I are civil but no longer close and I am thankful I am not tied to him for the rest of my days.  At present, I am not sure if I even WANT to have children.  Ever.  I am content with only having a dog to depend on me. I have had a lot of fun and many experiences that would have not been possible with a little one in tow.  I am thankful with every ounce of my being that I don't have a 4 year old looking up to me, aspiring to one day make a mess of themselves just as mommy did. 

There is still though, a feeling of inadequacy.  Feeling less than a woman.  If I am unable to accomplish the one and only task I was biologically put on this Earth to do, then why am I here?  And of course, there is the sadness and a sense of loss from the trauma.  Postpartum Depression is widely known and accepted as a real medical emergency.  These women could be of danger to themselves and their children.  Studies show the bonding of mother and child during breast feeding can help alleviate the symptoms.  What about the women suffering with Postpartum Depression who have no baby to bond with?  The body goes through the same hormone spikes and drops (maybe more so) during a miscarriage.  I can say for certainty that even at 9 weeks, I felt mild contractions.  My cervix hurt for weeks afterward.  I technically, gave birth to an albeit tiny, baby.  PPD was indeed VERY real in my case.  I did not change out of my stinky bathrobe for nearly 2 months. 

The world is sympathetic to women who lose their intended and welcomed pregnancies.  But when it is a miscarriage of an unintended pregnancy, the woman is left feeling less deserving of the same sympathy and support.  There is a fear of hearing "Well you didn't really want it anyway".  And asking for support?  Saying "I got drunk and knocked up during a slut phase."  Forget about it.

The shame.

Patriot is now married with a healthy baby girl.  I am happy for him.  But seeing the random photo of the beautiful little girl on my Facebook news feed every so often, strikes a pang in my heart that only few people could imagine.