I've read plenty of books about birth order - and most of them resonate with me. You see, I'm a first born and, what's more, there's a sizeable gap (3.5 years) between me and my brother. I was an only child for a good long while (what with onlies and eldests being so similar). I am like a walking textbook - sort of - of an eldest child.
You know what I mean?
I am the good girl.
I am the kid that was the good example, that did things in the right order - finished high school, college, grad school, good job, marriage, kid.
My siblings took divergent paths. And I don't begrudge them for that. In fact, in a way, I'm a bit jealous that they dared to take the road less traveled, so to speak.
Don't get me wrong - I have had my share of intrigue, mystery, lapses, and downright missteps in taking the "right" path. I'm not so sure following that straight road was the right decision for me all the time. In fact, I know it wasn't.
But here I am. I'm rapidly approaching my 38th birthday. I have a great - albeit challenging - kid and a marriage that is, well, not exactly stellar, but now 12+ years old somehow. Pick a big life event - I've done it.
So as the oldest - I've done it. This means that I have somehow set the bar, and somehow - YEAH RIGHT - become the expert, the go-to girl.
I love that my siblings look up to me. I love that they regard me as someone who knows what she's doing - although clearly, I don't. I am in awe that they look at me in that light.
But it is OVERWHELMING to me. I've had one marriage that I'm not exactly great at. I have one kid who I have clearly fucked up in a mild sense over the last 9+ years. I'm still fucking him up and now that he's taken the big leap into the 'tween years, I have a whole new set of challenges - body parts changing, weird smells, strange relationship challenges with girls - the list goes on and on and the fact is, I don't have a hope for a clue how to navigate it. Luckily, I have friends with like-aged children, so we mutually vent, compare notes, and giggle over our general level of cluelessness.
The fact is, I'm not expert. I have my own child and husband-related oddities and confusions to deal with. I don't really have someone to go to, to ask what to do because my over-achieving, verbally gifted 9 year old was crushed when he "only" got a 91 on his first language arts test of 4th grade. I was equally crushed by such things as a kid and I don't know how to help him. I didn't know how to breastfeed him when he wouldn't latch due to my uber-flat nipples, and I didn't know why 1-2-3 Magic didn't seem to work for him.
I can make suggestions and I can try to be helpful, but I feel grossly inadequate and, what's worse, it just adds to my sense of overwhelmedness. And makes me feel like a suck-ass "good example".
SIGH. Perfectionism sucks. Curses, you crazy personality traits that come with being the first-born!
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
the long climb up back into the saddle
I'm back. My hope is that I'm back for a while, on a more regular basis, but life tends to hand me all kinds of weird crap that derails me from my time where I can be me - like here.
It's been a hell of a summer. I got a no-money, no-title "promotion" (so that's not actually a promotion, really, is it now? just the blessing of a job when my boss no longer has one, and the opportunity to manage a group of 7 people with no real management title). It's been an interesting road since that officially took effect a month ago. I feel like I have an ally in my new boss and in the peer of mine who has the same role managing the other half of our dysfunctional team. I"m doing my best, but when they tapped us on the shoulders to take on these new roles, they didn't take away 1 slice of our jobs - and we were both already over-allocated. Oh well, it's a chance to try to prove to the people who don't know me, or don't know what more I can do, that I'm not just a kick-ass BA, but I can be a great leader, mentor, and peer to other managers.
I became an auntie (again) to my sister's son who barged into our lives a bit late in the middle of Hurricane Irene. He was born with major amounts of disinterest in joining us (my sister's OB described him as "cozy inside"), in the midst of a storm that would knock Connecticut on its ass for several days...
I somehow worked with 2 other crazy individuals from my itty bitty high school to pull off one of the more disorganized events I've ever worked on - my 20th high school reunion. It was a success and probably the first time in a very long time that I've gotten sufficiently drunk so as to be concerned that I would be rather ill and to drive me to spending numerous hours on the couch drinking water the following day. It was fun to reconnect with some people that have only been names attached to Facebook profiles, though - even if for just that one evening for now. It was also an ugly reminder of the fact that I am rapidly approaching my 38th birthday, and high school was, in fact, more than half my life ago now.
It's funny. I see the kids lingering outside the upperclass housing at Wesleyan when driving through Middletown and think "damn kids, they look like babies". Yet I realize that part of the problem is that, while I intellectually know I was that same baby-faced kid in the fall of 1991, I don't actually *feel* that much older than then - at least not unless I make an ill-fated attempt at running for several days in a row. Oh I know how old I am, and I know that as the parent of a 9 year old, it's unlikely that I'm actually a 17 year old college freshman. But I don't feel that much older. Or that much more mature. Or wiser.
Strange how life works because if I do stop and take a breath, I know I'm older. But I don't feel all that different - I'm equally as clueless about the stage of my life I'm in now as I was when I wandered through Hanover to Hanover High to have my work permit signed way back in September 1991. My cluelessness has changed from not being sure how the hell I could manage to graduate, let alone excel, at my Ivy League college of choice when so many of my classmates were light years ahead of me, to now wondering what I'm going to do about parenting a 'tween, who announced at dinner (in a restaurant) tonight that if he crosses his legs too tight, it hurts his balls more than it used to...
I'm waxing philosophical and thinking back to my college years because I find myself a bit uncomfortable in my skin lately. It's odd in a way. When I was 17, I didn't know who I was at all. I was awkward and geeky and gawky and a downright nerd. I was shy and quiet and felt like a loser most of the time.
At 37, I know I'm a nerd and I'm comfortable with that - proud of it, really. I wish my body were a bit more toned (who doesn't?) but I love it anyway, especially my great legs and ass. ;-) I know that I am great at my job, well-respected, and I don't really feel socially awkward anymore. I found a niche of people who like me for who I am. And I know who I am.
I think the problem is that, now that I know who I am, that person doesn't really feel to fit quite right inside my life. It's not as bad as a square peg in a round hole, but maybe more like a round peg in a slightly too small hole.
The thing about life is that depending on the road you follow, you make a lot of significant choices about where you're headed when you're young - 22, 23, 24 - and despite thinking otherwise, probably aren't yet fully formed. I think I was probably 30 or 31 before I really was in tune to who I was.
And now, 6 or 7 years later, I've gotten used to that person I am and I'm wondering exactly how I wound up where I'm at. Don't get me wrong - I don't regret where I am. I love my son and I have a great career. But something still doesn't feel quite right.
Hubby would argue that this is where my over-thinking gets the best of me, and maybe he's right. But maybe he isn't. The thing is, this isn't about what I THINK so much as what I feel.
I feel antsy.
So here I am, back in my blog, trying to figure out why and, more importantly, what to do about it.
In 9 short years, my now-4th grader will be waving goodbye to us from a dorm room somewhere. I'll start a new stage in my life again, this time as a parent from afar. Thinking that it's been 9 years since I brought that screaming, poor-feeding, jaundiced 7lb baby home, it suddenly doesn't feel too far away.
So I need to get my shit together.
It's been a hell of a summer. I got a no-money, no-title "promotion" (so that's not actually a promotion, really, is it now? just the blessing of a job when my boss no longer has one, and the opportunity to manage a group of 7 people with no real management title). It's been an interesting road since that officially took effect a month ago. I feel like I have an ally in my new boss and in the peer of mine who has the same role managing the other half of our dysfunctional team. I"m doing my best, but when they tapped us on the shoulders to take on these new roles, they didn't take away 1 slice of our jobs - and we were both already over-allocated. Oh well, it's a chance to try to prove to the people who don't know me, or don't know what more I can do, that I'm not just a kick-ass BA, but I can be a great leader, mentor, and peer to other managers.
I became an auntie (again) to my sister's son who barged into our lives a bit late in the middle of Hurricane Irene. He was born with major amounts of disinterest in joining us (my sister's OB described him as "cozy inside"), in the midst of a storm that would knock Connecticut on its ass for several days...
I somehow worked with 2 other crazy individuals from my itty bitty high school to pull off one of the more disorganized events I've ever worked on - my 20th high school reunion. It was a success and probably the first time in a very long time that I've gotten sufficiently drunk so as to be concerned that I would be rather ill and to drive me to spending numerous hours on the couch drinking water the following day. It was fun to reconnect with some people that have only been names attached to Facebook profiles, though - even if for just that one evening for now. It was also an ugly reminder of the fact that I am rapidly approaching my 38th birthday, and high school was, in fact, more than half my life ago now.
It's funny. I see the kids lingering outside the upperclass housing at Wesleyan when driving through Middletown and think "damn kids, they look like babies". Yet I realize that part of the problem is that, while I intellectually know I was that same baby-faced kid in the fall of 1991, I don't actually *feel* that much older than then - at least not unless I make an ill-fated attempt at running for several days in a row. Oh I know how old I am, and I know that as the parent of a 9 year old, it's unlikely that I'm actually a 17 year old college freshman. But I don't feel that much older. Or that much more mature. Or wiser.
Strange how life works because if I do stop and take a breath, I know I'm older. But I don't feel all that different - I'm equally as clueless about the stage of my life I'm in now as I was when I wandered through Hanover to Hanover High to have my work permit signed way back in September 1991. My cluelessness has changed from not being sure how the hell I could manage to graduate, let alone excel, at my Ivy League college of choice when so many of my classmates were light years ahead of me, to now wondering what I'm going to do about parenting a 'tween, who announced at dinner (in a restaurant) tonight that if he crosses his legs too tight, it hurts his balls more than it used to...
I'm waxing philosophical and thinking back to my college years because I find myself a bit uncomfortable in my skin lately. It's odd in a way. When I was 17, I didn't know who I was at all. I was awkward and geeky and gawky and a downright nerd. I was shy and quiet and felt like a loser most of the time.
At 37, I know I'm a nerd and I'm comfortable with that - proud of it, really. I wish my body were a bit more toned (who doesn't?) but I love it anyway, especially my great legs and ass. ;-) I know that I am great at my job, well-respected, and I don't really feel socially awkward anymore. I found a niche of people who like me for who I am. And I know who I am.
I think the problem is that, now that I know who I am, that person doesn't really feel to fit quite right inside my life. It's not as bad as a square peg in a round hole, but maybe more like a round peg in a slightly too small hole.
The thing about life is that depending on the road you follow, you make a lot of significant choices about where you're headed when you're young - 22, 23, 24 - and despite thinking otherwise, probably aren't yet fully formed. I think I was probably 30 or 31 before I really was in tune to who I was.
And now, 6 or 7 years later, I've gotten used to that person I am and I'm wondering exactly how I wound up where I'm at. Don't get me wrong - I don't regret where I am. I love my son and I have a great career. But something still doesn't feel quite right.
Hubby would argue that this is where my over-thinking gets the best of me, and maybe he's right. But maybe he isn't. The thing is, this isn't about what I THINK so much as what I feel.
I feel antsy.
So here I am, back in my blog, trying to figure out why and, more importantly, what to do about it.
In 9 short years, my now-4th grader will be waving goodbye to us from a dorm room somewhere. I'll start a new stage in my life again, this time as a parent from afar. Thinking that it's been 9 years since I brought that screaming, poor-feeding, jaundiced 7lb baby home, it suddenly doesn't feel too far away.
So I need to get my shit together.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)