One of the annoying bits of posting your personal life online is having to eat your words publicly.
I mean, at least when I'm putting my foot in my mouth, the shoes I'm choking on are admittedly pretty righteous, but . . .
It's that life running behind my meticulously Type A Minus planned schedule that's been getting to me lately - yes, that very subject I droned on about getting zen with not so long ago. Funny thing is, I hadn't even realized that was the problem - again - until reading an Invisible Internet Friend's eloquent thoughts about thirty.
Here I am on the precipice of . . . of . . . thirty-five and . . . well, not exactly where I'd thought I'd be. Again. Wondering again where the picket fenced dream house (complete with red door, two stories, and family-friendly suburban-but-not-dull neighborhood, please and thank you) and Ralph Lauren-ad family of four I've dreamed of is, exactly. Annoyed with myself that I haven't met certain financial goals yet (see shoe reference above). Watching loved ones struggle with their own health battles and demons. Wondering why things aren't quite falling into place for us.
Thirty-five just sounds like a big number. Halfway to 70 (!) and such. The beginning of what OBGYNs oh-so-alarmingly refer to as "advanced maternal age". It's just . . . I dunno, does this mean I no longer get the "youth" hall pass for not having my life in order yet?
On top of that, I'm frustrated by the fact that I'm frustrated - for starters, who said what Eighteen Year Old Me wanted was what should be happening? What did that immature and, frankly, materialistic (yes, even more so than now) young whippersnapper know about reality? Who said I am guaranteed what I imagine(d) to be The Life - is anyone? Why can't I just be grateful for the abundance I do have and stop whining about these first world problems?
Speaking of - I am attempting to be grateful, to recognize that I'm lucky beyond measure to have a perfectly good roof over my head, a husband I still want to hang out with, a delightful wee CEO, and friends who still tolerate me. I've had travel and adventures aplenty. Yada yada yada.
I am attempting to be patient, to live that verse that comes back to me time & again during episodes like this - be still. Easier said than done for us Type A Minuses, of course, but . . .
I am attempting to give the benefit of the doubt and smile when well-meaning, inevitably pregnant friends intone phrases like "It will happen for you!". To kick that beast, envy, right in the shins when I see others who appear to be living the life I want.
I am attempting to remember that life so far has worked out differently but better than my young self imagined. It doesn't look how I'd imagined it, but substantively - yes. There's a plan at work, and sometimes we need to sit back, be still and not frantically be doing.
My head knows all of this and is in negotiations with my (icy, dead) heart. Rinse, lather, repeat. I'll get there.
In the meantime, I may be a bit more quiet here on the interwebs. I'm trying to walk the "be still" talk and get patient with all of this. Please send help (shoes).