Turning 30 August 12, 2009

I truly believe that I was more depressed on my 29th birthday than I’ve ever been on any other birthday. It was my last “20’s” birthday. I’ve spent the last year trying to deal with the fact that I was inevitably going to get slammed into my 30’s whether I liked it or not. The best plan that I could come up with was to just celebrate my 29th birthday for the rest of my life. Not a very novel idea and I knew at some point, I’d have to deal with the fact that I’m old. While I know that there’s absolutely no way to stop the aging process, I’ve been trying to find ways to change my attitude about it.

I think the worst part of turning 30 for me is that as I looked back at my 20’s, I have nothing to show for it. Sure I graduated from college. Sure I had become a teacher…a good teacher. But still, the majority of my 20’s were spent away from everyone I loved and trapped in an unhappy marriage. I didn’t really figure out who I am nor did I have any confidence in that person until I was 28 and by then, I felt like I had wasted my “young” years. I finally realized what a beautiful, special, cool girl I am and I had completely run out of time to enjoy it. Soon, I’d have wrinkles and start sagging and it would all be over.

But then something amazing happened. Just before my 29th birthday, I met the man of my dreams. We’ve almost been together a year. I’m daily amazed at our relationship. We’re so similar. He builds me up and gives me confidence and strength just by being who he is. I guess that’s the way things are supposed to be, huh? But being with him has helped me to do the things and be the person that I’ve always wanted to be. But I was still holding myself back in so many ways. And that in itself has been bothering me more than anything lately.

In the past 5 years, I’ve come so far personally. I’m not angry and high strung like I used to be. I’m not as self-conscious and socially awkward as I used to be. I realize now that, “yes, I’m weird. Get over it or go away!” But there are still so many things about myself that I want to change. I guess the difference is that now, that list isn’t as overwhelming as it once was. The things that I want to change now are do-able. For example, I’ve been overweight since middle school. It’s always been something that I’ve HATED. Through the years, I’ve been able to lose weight here and there but nothing permanent. Last summer, I reached my heaviest. This was just before I met Stephen (which makes our relationship even cooler, I think). When I met Stephen, he was doing all the things that I’ve always wanted to do like hiking and kayaking and biking. So I started doing those things with him. I lost a little weight but I still felt like I was an athletic person trapped in a severely overweight body. I think the best thing that I’ve done for myself this year is also helping me deal with the fact that I’m getting older is commit to losing weight. Now 50 lbs lighter but still not at my goal, I know that I’m headed toward meeting that goal and that gives me hope for myself.

So I came to this conclusion: Your 20’s are about finding yourself. Your 30’s about refining yourself. And look at me: I got a jumpstart!! This morning, as I was jogging around my neighborhood as I’ve done several times this week (consistently for the first time), I was thinking to myself, “You’re turning 30 in a few weeks. At what point in your 20’s could you say that you were THIS physically active?” You see 20-somethings jogging all the time but 30-somethings are usually too busy chasing their kids around to jog. You’d think that I’d be depressed by the fact that I’m 30, unwed, and have no children. But I’m somehow oddly comforted by this. I guess if I had stayed in my marriage, stayed in South Carolina, that would be me: married, a mom, but still unhappy and overweight. But I’m not. I love where I am in my life. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I’m back in Virginia, back near my family, working at a job I love, living in my own house, driving a car that’s totally paid for, and in a healthy, loving relationship with an amazing man. If I can say that I’ve accomplished this in under 30 years, I’m not doing so bad, huh? So what does 30 mean to me? That’s how many years it took me to get here and I feel good about that.

As a side note, my grandmother called me yesterday and said, “I was talking to my pastor (who I’ve met a few times) about you and he can’t believe that you’re turning 30.” It made me smile. I guess that’s what got me thinking about all of this. I started reading some articles about famous people turning 30 and how they dealt with it (again, yes, I’m weird. Get over it or go away.) From my reading, I compiled the list below. It made me chuckle. Enjoy and grow old with confidence!!

Top Ten Things I’m looking Forward to When I Turn 30

10. I get to look at all of my OLDER cousins and say, “So how does it feel that your YOUNGEST cousin is 30?”

9. According to Desperate Housewives and Sex in the City, 30 is the new 20!

8. Is it a coincidence that the Roman numerals for 30 are XXX? I think not!

7. I get to smile and revel in people saying that they can’t believe I’m 30.

6. Major birthday: Major PARTY

5. Getting carded will be WAY more exciting.

4. I can finally start planning my run for President.

3. 20’s are awkward. 30’s are dignified.

2. I spent my 20th birthday cursing men with my girlfriends. I get to spend my 30th birthday with the man of my dreams. How cool is that?

1. I spent my 20’s trying to figure out who I am. Now I get enjoy being that person!

Home February 17, 2009

As I sit in my living room, I am admiring the view from my window.  It’s one of those rare winter days when the sun is shining and it’s snowing at the same time.  That usually means that the snow won’t amount to much but none the less, it’s beautiful.   Beyond the rows of houses in front of mine, I can see Fletcher’s Mountain, Angel’s Rest, and Centennial Point.  I hope to explore them once the weather gets a little warmer—not hot, just warmer.  Living in Georgia and South Carolina for 11 years ruined my tolerance for the cold.  From the back of my house, beyond the cliffs and the New River, I can see Stock Pen Mountain, Powell Mountain, and Peter’s Ridge.  I’m amazed at how tall all of the surrounding peaks are!  Even though they’re the Appalachians and not the almighty Rockies, they’re my mountains and I love them.  I love how small they make me feel.  It reminds me how big God is.  Last week, about 30 acres of Stock Pen Mountain was on fire.  I could see it perfectly from my porch.  Despite how scary forest fires are, I must say, the fire was very pretty.  Fire is so devastating but so refining at the same time.  Imagine how rich that soil must be now.  How beautiful and thick that forest will grow back.  Maybe I’m just a cock-eyed optimist but that’s how I see things. 

So as I’m sitting here watching the snowflakes play in the rays of sun with the mountains as their backdrop, I am thinking of how blessed I am.  Few people are allowed the opportunity to start over in life but that’s exactly what I’ve been given.  Kind of like Stock Pen Mountain, I went through my own fire.  And like Stock Pen Mountain, I’ve come out richer on the other side.  (Unfortunately I have also come out thicker and fuller as well but I’m working of taking care of that problem.) 

Shortly before my 18^th birthday, I moved away to go to college.  My mom said that when I left, she knew that I’d never be back.  I had the pleasure of proving her wrong this summer.  I finally came home.  In December, I bought my own house.  Even though my mom says it’s still not close enough, I take comfort in knowing that if I need my mom or dad or grandmother or sister, they’re only 15 minutes away and I love it!  Who said you can’t go home?  Whoever it was, I’ve made them a fool. 

As I made my way home from work today, winding through Cloyd’s Mountain, past Angel’s Rest and into the narrow part of the valley (as a Spartan, part of me still gets hung up on saying that I live in Narrows), I was remembering that I once looked at these mountains as if they were the walls of my prison cell.  Containing me in my own little world and not letting whatever was out there in.  Now, I’ve seen what’s out there—beyond this little valley.  I’ve come to realize that these mountains weren’t keeping me from my dreams, they were holding them gently in their ridges—cradling them until I returned.  What I once thought sheltered me, I now realize protected me.  What I once thought held me back, I now realize gave me my wings.  I can imagine myself soaring from the mountain tops that once towered over me, choking the life out of me.  I can see that the river I once thought carried my hopes and dreams away, now feed them and help them grow. 

I used to run from who I am.  I remember sitting on my parents’ roof one night where I used to go to sunbathe and think.  I was crying and telling my sister that all I wanted was to be anybody but me.  What a fool I was!  I guess in a way, I was just trying to figure out who I wanted to be.  My biggest mistake was that it’s not who I want to be…but who I AM that matters.  We all want things from ourselves that may not be bad…they just may not be “us.”  How many of us have said to ourselves, “I wish I had his perspective on things,” or, “I love her hair–I wish my hair would do that.”  Why did I try so hard to live other people’s lives?  Not that there is anything wrong with seeing, trying, and experiencing new things, but there comes a point when you just have to decide for yourself for what you want to be remembered.  What I have found now is that I knew who I was the whole time.  I’m just a simple mountain girl who happens to be a little quirky.  I am a child of God.  I am a granddaughter, a daughter, a sister, and a friend.  I am a musician.  I am a teacher but also a student.  I am a dog person.  I am a hiker.  I am a kayaker.  I am a procrastinator.  I am introspective.  I am pink striped knee-socks with  gray Capri yoga pants, a sweatshirt that totally doesn’t match, and pearls that I forgot to take off when I got home (which happens to be what I’m wearing at this very minute).  And I can honestly say that I love who I am.  I love who I was.  I love who I’m becoming.  I love my life.  I love my family.  I love that I’m in love.  I love my job.  I love my students.  I love my new house.  I love my dogs.  I love my past because it has made me who I am.  I love my future—whatever it may bring. 

The sun has set now but the snow is still coming down and despite the fact that my heat is almost turned off because I can’t afford my gas bill, I am warm because I am blessed.  There’s just no other way to put it.

Sheri’s Wedding August 16, 2008

I went to a wedding today.  My childhood friend, Sheri, married her sweetheart of 10 years, Alex.  I was honored enough to get to take part in the ceremony.  The bride was radiant.  The groom had me cracking up the whole time…his facial expressions were priceless.  The wedding director was a bundle of nerves.  The bridesmaids were lovely in their maroon and orange…go Hokies!  The groomsmen were groomsmen…you can’t take boys anywhere.  The mothers were tearful.  The fathers were stoic.  The music was beautiful…oh wait, I sang!  It’s not polite to brag.  Totally kidding, of course (or am I?).  Alex is from Kenya and his African family came here for the wedding.  Those Kenyans know how to party!  It was so much fun dancing with them and listening to them sing in Swahili.  It made me miss Africa.

                                                                                                                                                                   

Watching these two pledge their lives to one another touched me in an indescribable way.  It was the first wedding that I’ve been to since Robert and I split up.  I was expecting to be very depressed tonight but instead, I’m broken and oddly encouraged by my state.  During the ceremony and into the reception, I felt so many emotions:  sadness, bitterness, cynicism, disillusionment, envy, joy, gladness, thankfulness, loneliness, contentment, gratitude, happiness, hope; this list could go on.  Alex and Sheri were so comfortable with each other.  Loving each other: faults and all.  Loving who the other is completely; just the way they are.  It was beautiful…so beautiful.

 

Sometimes I miss being married (just sometimes)…knowing that there was someone there with me, not having to go to sleep alone or wake up alone, sharing life with someone (although I wouldn’t exactly call what Robert and I did “sharing life” since we hardly ever communicated on a deep level…both our faults).  Just FYI, this is not a “Robert bashing” blog.  I’m past that.  I’m not angry with him anymore.  Robert is a good man; someone that I respect very much and prayerfully hope that he finds what he’s looking for.  We just weren’t “the one” for each other.  He wasn’t my Mr. Right.  He was my Mr. Good Enough.  I settled for him all those years ago.  That’s not to say that he isn’t someone’s Mr. Right…just not mine.  And subsequently, I’m not his Mrs. Right…I was his Mrs. Good Enough, too.  I realize that and I’m ok with that now.  That hasn’t always been the case.

 

I’ve only recently come to terms with being someone’s “Ex”.  Before, I kept asking myself, “What did I do wrong?  Why couldn’t he just love me?  Was I really that objectionable?”  A natural reaction to rejection.  Everyone asks themselves these questions at one point or another.  The difference this time is how I answered those questions.  Charles Swindoll says that, “Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.”  The man’s onto something.  In the past, I have let rejection destroy me—being unlovable as the reason for the rejection, of course.  I wallowed and allowed myself to believe that if only I was this or if only I wasn’t that, I may have been able to retain the affection of whatever gentleman had worked their way into my heart.   I tried to alter who I was and fix what I believed to be my flaws in order to either win back their affections or to catch the eye of another to replace them only to wear out very quickly.  Disingenuousness will do that to you.   Time after time, I’ve had my heart shattered and pointed my finger at the one who held the hammer.  All the time, I should’ve been pointing my finger at the one held the heart:  me.  I should’ve guarded myself more.  Maybe then my heart wouldn’t have gotten broken to begin with…and I would not have broken hearts.  And maybe I should’ve just been ok with who I was and not tried to change and conform to what the other person wanted–maybe then I could remember who I’m supposed to be.  Robert described it best, I think.  It’s like trying to force a square peg in a round hole—either it will never fit, or one of the two is going to have to change him or herself so much that they aren’t even themselves anymore.  And is that really what I want?  To lose myself to please another?  Not anymore. 

 

And I truly believe that that’s not what God wants either.  He created us specifically as ourselves and if anyone is going to change us for any reason, it’s going to be Him.  I’ve learned that these past five + years.  Everything that I thought was wrong with me—everything that I thought was pushing Robert away—I tried so hard to change only to fail or become some version of myself that even I couldn’t stand to be around.  But God, in His wisdom and sovereignty, knew what my “real” flaws were and without me trying or even knowing what was happening, He changed me.  Things that there’s no way I could take credit for even if I tried! 

 

For example:  I used to be angry.  I don’t mean I got angry…I mean I stayed angry.  Deep seated anger that never left.  At what, I don’t know and I may never know.  I had a violent temper and I was extremely hostile.  Right down mean, even.  And the tiniest things set me off!  And when I was provoked, watch out!  I screamed, I threw things, I cursed; I said things that I would give the world to be able to suck back in.  I knew this was a problem and tried to fix it on my own.  I went to counseling and delved into my past to try to find the root of the problem.  All I found was that I had a mildly screwed up but loving family.  I tried mood altering drugs (legal, of course).  Nothing worked.  I begged God to take away the anger.  I begged God to take my life.  Then one day, when I had given up and resigned myself to thinking, “This is just who I am,” it went away…just like that!  And it hasn’t come back!  Now days, it takes a lot to make me angry.  Before, any negative emotion (hurt, sadness, loneliness, etc.) became anger.  But now I can to pinpoint my emotions.  I know myself better.  Sure, I still get frustrated from time to time.  Heck, I even have been known to get angry.  But I don’t STAY angry.  And I’m NOTHING like the rabid, venomous monster I used to be.  And God continues to do things like this in my life.  It’s amazing!! 

 

The past year has been a year of surprises…to put it mildly.  Not all the surprises have been good (well, according to my feeble definition of what is good).  I’ve been angry with God, I ran from God, I yelled at God, then I was broken by God, and now I’m crawling back to God.  Through it all, I’ve done a lot of searching and what I have come to believe is this:  I’m a beautiful, talented, kind, sweet, diverse, well-rounded, smart, adventurous, ambitious woman who is worthy of love.  And the love I desire the most is that of my Creator…the only Perfect Love.  I hunger for it.  I thirst.  I can’t get enough of it.  He never rejects me and He has always pursued me…since my life began.  Exactly what I’ve always wanted:  someone to love me just as I am.  Someone who will make me want to be a better person.  Someone who pushes me to achieve my potential.   Someone who desires me and is willing to pursue me…even to the cross.  This fairy tale love that everyone searches for can’t be found on earth.  It doesn’t exsist apart from God.  He’s “the one.” 

 

So watching Alex and Sheri dance the customary “first dance” I felt cynicism and bitterness creeping up in my heart.  I even rolled my eyes and chuckled.  “This is ridiculous,” I thought to myself.  “No one can be THAT sappy.”  I immediately scolded myself.  “It’s not ridiculous to them.  Not to them.”  Not to them because this is their day.  And no matter how stupid and sappy it may look to everyone else, they love each other and little things, like dancing for the first time as husband and wife, are special.  One day, I could be dancing a first dance not caring whether people think it’s stupid and sappy…just staring in the eyes of the one with whom God felt worthy to entrust me.  Or perhaps not…now’s not the time to explore that.  People have asked me, “Will you remarry?”  (I find this a little insensitive, to be honest, being that the wounds from my broken marriage are still fresh.)  But I am polite.  They mean well.  My answer is always the same: “I would love that.”  And I would.  To know true love on earth…to connect with someone so deeply that I feel like they must be a part of my very soul…wow, what a blessing that would be!  But not at any cost.  I refuse to settle for Mr. Good Enough again.  I refuse to allow myself to become someone I am not to win the affection of another.

 

If I should love again, will I be hurt again?  Probably.  But no matter how much it hurts to be “rejected,” I am thankful and have the utmost respect for the man who is brave enough and honest enough with himself and with me to admit that I’m just not the one for him.  I think that rejection has nothing to do with the rejected despite what the rejecter may say or do.  If one insists on being hurtful in “rejecting” another, then they are lying to themselves.  Perhaps you find something they say or do irritating…so irritating that you just can’t be with them anymore.  Fine.  But I challenge you to search deeper.  Is it really that person that you’re rejecting or is it the idea of being with them forever?  Is it really that annoying thing they do that is making you turn them away?  If they changed that thing would you take them back?  Probably not, right?  So what is it? 

 

Someone once sent me an email to let me know that they didn’t want to see me anymore.  My first reaction was, “You’re breaking up with me in an email?  Are you kidding me!?”  However, after about 3 hours of sulking, my attitude changed.  At least he let me know!  And I went back and read his email again.  It didn’t say, “I can’t stand the way you play with your hair when you get nervous” or even “I think that we’re at different places in life.”  It simply said, “I don’t think you’re the one.”  He was even kind enough to say, “It’s too bad because I think you’re a good person.”  (These aren’t actual quotes, of course, since I don’t have the original email anymore.  But this was the gist of it.)  What a gentleman!  I would feel good about being friends with this person…watching football, going to see a movie, going for dollar sushi night at Murisaki…and not have any expectations because I already know that, hey, I’m not the one!  Pressure’s off!!  (As a side note, have you ever noticed that when there are no expectations between you and members of the opposite sex, you feel freer to be yourself with them.  Or is that just me?)  Anyway, even though this guy chose to break things off with me by email, no one got hurt!! 

 

So that must be the secret to a great break up:  A good attitude and the proper outlook.  Don’t go into it swinging with every little thing that they do that gets on your nerves.  Or even that one big thing that you just don’t think you can get beyond.   Just cut to the chase: “You’re not the one.”  And if they are a mature and secure enough in whom they are (or if they’ve read this blog) they’ll be thankful that you let them know sooner rather than later.  It frees them to go find their “one” rather than pursuing something that’s not going to work to begin with.  Think about this:  even if you care deeply for the person breaking up with you, why would you want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with you?  Let them go.  As I typed the last sentence/phrase, my mind instantly went to the old proverb that we’ve all heard:  “If you love something, set it free.  If it comes back, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it never was.”  I don’t thing that this is a challenge to experiment!  If you’re crazy about someone and they’re crazy about you, better hold on to that!  No, I think this is more a statement about rejection.  I’ll paraphrase to prove my point:  “If you love someone and for one reason or another, they don’t want to see you anymore, don’t sweat it!  Just let them go.  Maybe one day, your paths will cross again but if not, they weren’t the one to begin with and there’s probably something bigger and better out there for you.” 

 

I realize how cliché this all must sound.  But when you’re realizing this stuff for the first time (like me), it’s big.  So you may be asking yourself:  “You’ve now typed four pages and how does any of this relate to Alex and Sheri’s wedding?”  Yeah…it probably doesn’t.  Welcome to my mind.  The random ramblings of a healing woman.  And what of all those emotions I was feeling at the wedding?  How do they fit in and why was I so encouraged by them?  Well, in addition to being mad at God, I’ve spent the past 9 months not allowing myself to feel for fear that I would hurt again.  But in the past several weeks, I’ve been slowly opening the wound to assess the damage.  It’s not as bad as I thought.  And the wedding proved to me that the nerve damage isn’t permanent. 

 

Am I ready to get back on the horse?  Nope…even if I feel like I’m ready, the emotions of the wedding not only proved that there’s still life on this planet but that there’s still stuff there that needs to be dealt with.  And as much as I would love to love again and be loved again, I’m just not sure if it’s safe yet.  My world was shattered last summer and the pieces are still a little scattered.  But my world is an ever evolving mosaic of what it once was and slowly, God is making something beautiful out of the tiny pieces that once made me whole.  And one day, I’ll be whole again:  more beautiful than and just as useful as I was before.  But right now is my time.  It’s my time to be rebuilt.  It’s my time to heal.

 

What I am ready for is life.  So bring on the friendships and the adventures and the volunteer opportunities and the ministries at church…I am ready to taste life.  And I will be honest:  I’ve lied to myself for so long about whom I am that it’s taking a little while to re-introduce myself to, well, myself.  But I am relearning slowly that it’s ok to be real.  I have good friends who are doing an excellent job of proving to me that not everyone will judge me for the many mistakes I’ve made.  And yeah, I continue to make mistakes.  I continue to screw things up.  I continue to hurt and disappoint people.  But I’m so thankful for a God who sees past all of that.  A God that loves me unconditionally.  The love that I’ve searched for my whole life.  My true love.