The Drive Home

Every day I learn something new. I learn something else I didn’t already know. I add to the list of things I had no idea about until that very second. Sometimes, if I have a bit of a drive home from where I learnt that new thing, I contemplate how I got through my life until that point. How could 1 person be responsible for so many people and things and not know much about anything? If the drive is long enough, I turn to positive self talk and tell myself that I’m on a learning curve and this is all good. Universe teaching me lessons about life, helping me grow.  And if you see me talking to myself in the car, I’m pretty sure you’ll just assume that I’m on the phone. Totally normal, happens all the time.

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I obviously go to bed way too tired to reflect on the fact that every day I get a little bit smarter. The easy or the hard way, better than I was yesterday.

Another 30’s reality, remembering I’m awesome. That fact keeps slipping my mind somehow. Adding that one to the 30’s fact book.

And for the record, I’m always in the car, and mostly the ride is long enough to give the more pleasant side of my personality a chance to prevail. I’ve worked it out that way, keeping my ego in check.

Cheers.

 

 

The 30’s, An Introduction

I can remember being a teenager, a twenty-something, feeling the glamour of what it meant to be those ages. Totally self-absorbed, little to average responsibility, fresh face, more than my share of energy, and the feeling that anything was possible.

I also think about what people say about getting older. “When a woman hits 40, she just fits into her skin”!  “50’s are when real life starts”.  “60’s, you enjoy the fruits of your labour”… It dawned on me as of late that no one ever speaks about the 30’s. And it occurred to me quite frightfully that maybe it was because they block it out as a form of self preservation. Or just, they were too tired and barely remember that decade at all. All very possible answers, and very likely realities.

I never questioned myself in my 20’s. Even if I didn’t know what I was doing, which must of been often. I wasn’t a teenager anymore so I suppose I had those years of training to ease me into what it meant to be a twenty-something.  Perhaps one decade trains for the next.

When I hit 30 a few years ago… it was fun. I at that point had 2 kids, one on the way. I lived comfortably, had a loving partner, all the luxuries of life. I was already ahead of the game. We never found the transition form 1 to 2 girls an issue. And sheer arrogance made us think that a third would be a breeze since well, we were so good at parenting obviously.

Fast forward 5 years (almost), and I’ve never been so tired in all my life. I ask Google things daily. I wonder how I’m allowed to be an adult. I wonder what prep course or introductory seminar I must of missed. I alternate between blaming my parents for not equipping me with the right life skills and between my endless nights at the ‘club’. I wonder if my kids will need therapy. I wonder if my husband thinks half the things I think about him (in my head), and that terrifies me and makes me laugh. Then I wonder if I’m going crazy. Cry, extreme happiness, despair, contentment, love, love, love, love, anger, love, exhaustion. Roller coaster of emotions. Then the sun shines through the window and all is well. I look in the mirror and notice some new lines that I don’t appreciate. The kids go to a playdate and I miss them and know without question that I would never have it any other way.

Stop, rewind, start again.

to be continued…