Finding My Place
A month or so ago, one of my favorite podcasts raised the question of which of your ages you would like to remain forever, changing nothing about how things played out. There was much debate on the show, and I have spent a lot of time thinking about it since. Having just celebrated my 40th birthday, there seems to be a lot of reflection going on in my mind. Being the milestone that it is, it seems to be a good age for looking back. I cannot decide if, being 40 now, I am supposed to be older and wiser or still be young and dumb. Maybe I should be a combination of all of the above. Do we ever feel like we really have it all together?
I suppose that a lot of people would probably choose their childhoods as a good place to remain, but I am not that person. There were parts of being a kid that I really loved for sure. My favorite thing about being young was when my older brother and I would trek into the woods behind our house and stay for hours. We would hike along the trails that our neighbors used for four-wheeling and make up stories about our adventures. We would climb down the banks of the freezing cold creek while our dogs splashed in the water and talk about the things that we thought were so deep and important to us at the time. Some days, I would go out there alone with a book and park myself on a giant rock and read for hours. It was one of the most peaceful places that I can dig out of my memories. My childhood was not my favorite time, though. At the time, I had a stepfather who was terrifying. He was full of anger and hatred, and even thinking about him today brings feelings of anxiety and fear. I think that I used the woods as a place to escape his rage. To this day, I wonder if I have never been willing to remarry because I didn’t want to risk my girls ending up with a stepfather like him.
My teenage years were pretty terrible, which I think a lot of people can relate to. I don’t think anyone realizes until they are much older that no one has it easy in high school. I was terribly shy and awkward, paired with this overwhelming sadness for which I could not pinpoint a meaning until I was much older. I would cry over the smallest slight, and I desperately wanted people to like me. There could not have been an easier target for teasing, and I hated school. I switched high schools in tenth grade only to switch back my senior year. Looking back, I know that I sabotaged myself in so many ways because even though I was smart, I was so focused on trying to fit in that I could not really concentrate on school. When graduation rolled around, I didn’t even want to go, although I finally did because the school threatened to not give out diplomas to anyone who did not show. I don’t know if there was any truth to that, but now I’m glad that I participated at least. With my own child scheduled to graduate in a couple of months, I would be devastated if she chose not to walk with her class.
After graduation, I could not wait to get out on my own. One of my biggest regrets is that I didn’t go away to college. This was in part due to the intense social anxiety that I felt. The thought of being away from home, living in a small dorm with a roommate was too much to imagine. The concept of a large campus was vast and overwhelming to me, and I was afraid of getting lost both figuratively and literally. I also worried about the cost of a four-year school. Instead, I chose to rent a tiny apartment in a city that was only thirty minutes from my hometown. I worked part-time and went to a small community college. In a lot of ways, it was one my favorite times; having freedom had so many perks. But I was very lonely during this time, too. I felt like I was was supposed to be doing something bigger, and like a lot of people at the tender age of 18 or 19, I thought that I was supposed to have it all together by then. How laughable this seems now, but it was anything but at the time. I briefly moved back home before setting out to a much larger city, where shortly after, I met the man that I would marry.
My twenties and thirties were a hot mess. I spent the majority of these years looking around and thinking that everyone else had their lives together while I flailed about in a complete tailspin of chaos. I dropped out of school, got married and divorced, became a single mom. I accidentally ended up in a career that I equally loved and hated. I was the definition of not being comfortable in my own skin. I was embarrassed about the way I was adulting. I chased guys who were all wrong for me and chased away the ones who were probably right for me. I moved around and changed jobs at an alarming speed. I always felt like I was only one big change away from getting it right. I can still hear my dad’s loud sigh every time I would announce to him that I was moving again. I never stayed in the same place for more than three or four years, leaving my footprints all over the state that I live in. My address history takes up a full page on my credit report.
When I was only a couple of years into my thirties, I made another of those big moves and landed where I am now. Something needed to be different this time though. Kylie was starting sixth grade and needed stability. I had flashbacks to my own middle school years, and I knew that I did not want to have to make her start over yet again. She was a pretty resilient kid, but I owed her this. I was still stuck in the retail management tornado, and I changed companies a few times, but I still felt like we picked the right place to settle down. Even when I had the itch to switch jobs, I didn’t want to pack my bags and go elsewhere. I still dated the wrong guys; I had twins with one who bolted from the state so fast shortly after they were born that he left skid marks in the dust . And still we stayed. I came to a realization a couple of years ago that it was time for me to stop looking for someone else to make me happy. I had put my entire life on hold because I was afraid to do things alone. I desperately wanted to buy a house, but I was not confident that I could manage it alone. There were so many decisions to make, and they were all daunting and I did not trust myself. But one day in early 2020, I made up my mind that it was time. I had waited long enough; I needed to jump in feet first if I wanted this. And you know what? Everything worked out fine. It turns out that I am capable of adulting after all.
Listening to that podcast really made me think about my life, about all of the things that I have accomplished, blundered, lived through, and survived. Moments when things seemed impossible have given me the battle scars that I wear proudly. I am no longer ashamed of where I have been or who I am. If I had to choose, I would pick this ripe old age of 40 as my best year yet. I still make decisions that are questionable at times, but for the most part I make them from my head instead of my heart. I finally made my way out of the retail career that made me question my sanity on a regular basis. I have good kids who are well adjusted, even with having such a (sometimes) rotten mom as their only parent. I have finally found my place, and it’s a really good place to be.
