In addition to a slight crisis of career confidence, there is currently a flurry of un-nesting up in here, which is not a word, but which is totally a thing that is happening that involves me side-eyeing my vast collection of cookie sheets and fancy baking items and thinking, “Huh. I could really use this space over my cabinets to store shoes”. It turns out that a lot of things I’ve held on to no longer seem to fit into my life. This is not particularly deep; I’m thinking of the $250 All-Clad roasting pan that I never use. Guys, who has stuff like this?
Amber circa 2007 does. Amber these days orders take out a whole lot.
This recent identity shift from life partner to single lady is one in a long series that spans from the past seven years or so (and all chronicled, for better or worse, on this blog.) I’ve gone from a struggling barista living in a friend’s unfinished basement to married lady and home owner, from home-owning suburbanite to renting New Yorker, from a chubby lady to a thoughtful woman that watches what she eats and works out, from passive believer to staunch atheist, and housewife to artist and business owner. I made the difficult but ultimately healthy decision to stop speaking to my parents in there, too, and even my name has changed a few times. (More on that soon, by the way.)
It’s jarring, and difficult to deal with because I wasn’t raised like this. You grow up, you get married, you have babies. That’s it for your major life changes. You live in the same place for a long time, you go to the same church, you have the same job and friends. Do you know that my grandmother lives in the house she moved into when she was 23? She’s rounding the bend to 60 years in the same space. I’ve moved eight times in 10 years. There’s no precedent for me to look at, and maybe that’s the case for everyone, but it feels even more in this case.
It’s not been all bad, but I’m tired, and struggling with how to think about it, how to really process it, as the business of being a “real adult” in my 30′s is now at hand (“OMG Amber, go to therapy.” you are saying, and I know.)
I know there’s been a whole lot of fear in my blog “voice” as of late, but I have faith still that it will all shake out ok, I’m just… tired and venting.
You deal with this shit too?