A Back Burner for the Book

It’s been a while since I've had that whole “What am I doing with my life? Will my time on this earth have meant anything at all?” meltdown. I found myself in that miserable mental state a great deal during the last year or two in my previous job. I felt unsatisfied and unfulfilled and spent a lot of time wondering what I was supposed to do with whatever gifts I’d been given. Of course, being me, I also spent a good amount of time whining and feeling sorry for myself, which was considerably easier than actually putting on my big girl panties and dealing with it.

Miraculously, despite breaking every rule of job searching, two years ago I found myself in a new position at Villanova University and I haven’t had that empty feeling since. Until now.  It’s not the job, which I truly love, it’s more about the rest of my life, which somehow feels increasingly hollow.

Rob wants to know why I go to bed so damn early? It's so I can avoid the void. A woman can only watch so many episodes of The Gilmore Girls in one sitting before she realizes she’s pathetic. You know it’s time to make a change when you beg your daughter to put down her homework so you can watch television together.

I have some sense of what has caused this rather sudden mental and emotional nosedive: 

1. The season. I tend to retreat into my head as the days grow shorter and darker. Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll drown given how much swimming is going on in my brain.
2. My three-year sentence commitment as a church elder has come to an end, and I resigned from my committee work at the same time. What I failed to realize is that, while I bitched about it ad nauseam, serving actually gave me a sense of purpose.
3. I lost my 10-hour a week consulting job. It wasn't much, but it was just enough to keep me busy in the evenings.
4. My kids need me less and less, which I always thought would be heavenly, but now I’m discovering is actually kinda sad. The only things they want from me are dinner and rides to friends’ houses, neither which I’m particularly excited to offer.

I have determined that the main cause of my current funk, however, is book related. Nothing I've read, but rather the book I haven’t written. I've been down this road before, but at this very moment I know three friends/acquaintances who are enjoying publishing success. One has published his second children’s book and recently had a signing at a local store. A second is looking forward to the release of her first book in December. And a third is publishing her third book!

It goes without saying that my childishly competitive nature demands that I figuratively put pen to paper and write my own damn book. Not because I have a book burning inside of me, but rather because I hate when others succeed at something I always hoped I would do. Well, let me be the first to tell you that this is not the best approach to becoming a writer. Envy does not lead to success. Truth is, years ago I wrote the first paragraph of my novel. Trouble is, that’s all I've got. I have no idea where to go with it or how it would end. And I don’t want to write a mediocre book. I want to write a critically acclaimed book. 

I know what you're thinking: "Here comes the whining and excuses. All the reasons why Kim doesn't have the energy or the self-discipline to make it happen." But you're wrong! In fact, I have a solution for what ails me. Ready? 

Instead of writing a book, I'm going to become an actress!

Stay tuned...

Has Anyone Seen My Mind? It Seems to Be Missing.

Have you ever wondered if you're losing your mind? I certainly have, and on more than one occasion. Last night being one of them. As I seriously consider the possibilities that this is happening to me, I find myself wondering if people who lose their minds actually realize it, or, does the fact that I'm asking mean that I'm not. And what does it mean to lose ones mind anyway?

On one hand I have real concerns that I'm headed for early onset dementia. Sure, everyone forgets what they walked into a certain room for, and forgotten names of folks you don't see that often is normal, but it's worse than that for me. I will completely blank on the names of people I'm close to. I  can't recall the title of that book, movie, or TV show to save my life (there goes my trivia game show dream). I remember dates and times wrong. My "brain farts" happen so frequently that I'm getting used to the smell.

Then there's the "crazy" side of losing ones mind. While I feel like my depression symptoms are, for the most part, under control, lately I'm wondering if I'm bipolar or just ridiculously moody. It's like my teenage and young adult years all over again. Come to think of it, I should call my college roommates to apologize. Anyway, last night I went from having a grand ole time with friends to walking a mile home at 11 p.m. because I was angry for no particularly good reason. (Though you'd think by now that husbands would know not to ask their wives, "What's your problem?" in that tone of voice. At least when the kids ask why I'm in a bad mood it's an innocent, albeit foolish, mistake.)

So what is my problem exactly? Well, that's the thing. Looking at the big picture, I have no problems. I have a job, a home, my health, my parents' health, my kids' health, a good great husband, and food for the table (when I actually go grocery shopping). But close up, everything is a problem. I have moments (they last no more than an hour, tops) where I try to be adult and not complain about life to my friends (whom I will be lucky to still call "friends" after my increasingly bad behavior), but ultimately I succumb to all the sh*t that's dragging me down:

Missed deadlines
Divorce news
Diagnoses
Family obligations
To do lists
Job searches
Aging
Cancer treatments
Parenting

Some of that has nothing to do with me personally. But it's affecting people I care about and that affects me. I'm well aware that this is the same sh*t that's dragging down nearly everyone I know, but it's just that I feel everything so much more acutely. I recently asked Rob if he thinks everyone experiences the world like I do (albeit without talking/blogging about it), and his immediate answer was "No." No thoughtful consideration required before responding. Isn't he the lucky one to have married me!

You're probably (hopefully) thinking that I'm normal and that this is life. You might say that every mom of a teenager goes through this crap, but I think it'd be so much easier if I didn't jump on the roller coaster with them. I can literally go from happy to bitch in 3.5 seconds. One minute I'll be dreaming of the day when the kids are out of the house and Rob and I can downsize and move somewhere warm and live happily ever after. The next minute I'm seriously doubting that I can stand even one more day together, listening to him pass gas breathe. The poor guy never knows who he's coming home to and a spouse can only be patient for so long. Hence, my walk home last night.

I realize that this post is probably better suited for my personal journal (yes, can you believe there are things I actually keep personal!), but these worries kept me tossing and turning last night and I guess I'm hoping someone will say that they get it, that they've been there, too.

That I'm not losing my mind.

Just a Cliche and a Decade Away from Being the It Girl

I am officially too old to ever again be an "It Girl." This painful realization hit me a couple of weeks ago when I learned of a much younger colleague's designation as the cat's meow, the cream of the crop, and the best thing since sliced bread. Okay, no one used those exact words, but the sentiment was communicated clearly enough.

While I will agree that this colleague is a terrific person and a hard working, competent and mature professional, I am not happy about all the chatter. My reasons for being envious concerned are completely rational:

1. If this individual were to learn that she is so highly regarded, the ego boost could make her very difficult to work with.
2. Those who think this individual is all that and a bag of chips may become blind to her weaknesses and willing to overlook her flaws.
3. For leadership to heap the majority of praise on one employee can have disastrous affects on the self-esteem of others who may feel the need to retaliate.

While, none of this applies to me personally because I don't compete work that closely with this individual, I have become aware that older women like myself are clearly being discriminated against when it comes to being the bees knees. Simply put, It Girl status can only be bestowed upon those under the age of 30. This is evidenced by the fact that business journals publish lists of the "Top Professionals Under Age 30," or "40 to Watch Under Age 40," but you never see anything for "Fantastic in their Fifties" or "Successful in their Sixties." The reality is that, once you turn 41, you're expected to be a performer. There's no special recognition. No talk in the break room about the new superstar. No grumbling about the girl who thinks she's "all that."

This is a hard reality for me to face because in my 20s and 30s, I was an It Girl. I worked hard to make sure I was bringing the very best to whatever position I held so that the bar would forever be set at "Kim level" and my replacements would always have very big shoes to fill. Gave everything 110%, never content with the merely the old college try. Raised my hand for every new job responsibility. Kissed butt ad nauseum. And for what? The same Wawa gift card everyone else received. And more responsibility at the same salary. It Girl status doesn't really pay off in the non-profit sector. Ah, hindsight. The point is that I enjoyed the heady feeling of knowing I was appreciated and recognized, and now I'm being forced to rely on my self-confidence to get me through the day. This is why middle-aged people turn to drinking and prescription drugs. They're much more accessible than self-esteem. 

In retrospect, I should have seen this coming several years ago when I noticed that I was no longer the youngest employee in my department or organization. I remember being truly shocked to discover that not only was Susie Q not older than me, but in fact, she was a good decade younger. Clearly I was am in denial of my advancing age, and this new performance-based "reality" is adding insult to injury.

In trying to decide how to handle this delicate situation, I can think of only a few options:

• Sabotage my colleague's work so her performance is of concern versus congratulations.
• Find ways to highlight my own work in such a way that it overshadows hers.
• Encourage her to find employment elsewhere and then recommend a clearly inferior individual to take her place.
• Find a new job in which I likely am the youngest employee. Maybe the library or the school cafeteria?
• Put on my big girl panties and deal with it.

I welcome your advice, really. I especially look forward to hearing from you if you've personally managed to maintain It Girl status into your 40s or 50s. I probably won't talk to you again, but I'm still eager to know how you did it. 

Grumpy Old Woman

A foreshadowing of things to come?

I turned 44 last month. One year closer to my mid-40s and middle age. I'm not often bothered by getting older, except for the gray hair and the hearing loss and my complete inability to read a pill bottle without glasses. The one real concern I have, however, is my potential for becoming a mean, grumpy, crotchety old woman. I'm already seeing signs:

1. The "fun" I have being snarky, sassy and sarcastic in my blog is slipping over into "real life." For example, during his last visit to PA, I scolded my 4-year-old nephew for eating some of the rice from my Chinese food. I wasn't serious, of course (though I really don't like sharing my rice), but he gave me the death stare and then burst into tears. Damn kids and their tears. They'll do whatever it takes to get what they want. 
   Same thing happened when I saw some kids with their dad in a Dunkin' Donuts when I was on my way to Dutch Wonderland. I casually mentioned I was going there and how lucky I was and what a shame that their dad wasn't taking them somewhere cool like that. Again, the death stare (from the dad) and the tears (from the kids). Whatever.
2. As I'm getting older, my confidence/attitude is leaning more toward "I don't give a damn." I feel like Kathy Bates in "Fried Green Tomatoes" when she goes a little nuts and tells those bitches in the parking lot at Winn-Dixie "Face it girls, I'm older and I have more insurance" (see video below).
3. I'm more easily angered. Anger was never a prevalent emotion for me, but lately, perhaps because of the uptick in bullsh*t in my life, I definitely have a greater tendency for getting ticked off. Where I used to have a "stay out of it, keep your mouth shut, what's the point of starting something" attitude, I now feel like calling out people who are arrogant, talk out of both sides of their mouth, and don't stand up for what is right.
4. I'm becoming defensive and starting to think that "don't go down without a fight" is a way of life that I've overlooked for too long.
5. My skin is thickening. Someday I'll resemble a reptile. I'm learning, rather late in life, that it I have to toughen up if I'm going to survive in this world. Yes, there are people who don't like me. There are those who think I'm too outspoken. Some who don't think I'm "nice." Not being loved and adored used to bother me (just a few months ago), but my corporate bitch of a sister gave me a good talking to and set me straight.
6. Finally, I need increasing amounts of alone/down time. I don't want to answer the phone, respond to texts, send emails, go to meetings, visit friends, cook dinner, run errands or even write blog posts. After a full day at work, all I want is to curl up with my iPad, and sometimes my cat, and fall asleep nice and early.

As evidence of this "change" (not the change, I hope), I'm finding the greatest enjoyment in spending time with my family (at least when I can't be alone). I actually like my kids' company, and that's saying something given that they're teenagers. Even better is a day on the boat with my parents (and the kids, too, assuming they're not whiny). And for a little slice of heaven give me a getaway with Rob and throw in a dear friend or two. 

As often happens when I put my issues/feelings/angst/funkapotomusness into writing, I'm blessed with some insight. The occasional "A Ha!" moment. Having put it all out there, it occurs to me that at least some of my personality disorder changes can be attributed to evolving family dynamics. I have two children who are torpedoing toward independence. I've also experienced entirely too much loss in the past nine months. In addition to the understandable haywire affect it's having on my emotions, this loss and change is calling me to re-prioritize. And shocker -- it looks like family really does come first, with friends and faith right up there as well. What's less important is the stress of a job, the need for a clean and tidy home, and social obligations with people I really don't want to spend my valuable time with. 

Today I leave for vacation -- Breckenridge, CO -- and it can't come soon enough. It's been a tough summer. It's been a tough year. I'm ready to get away from it all and focus on the stuff that matters. I may even refrain from checking my work email. 

Just one more thing. Before you think I've truly become an evil person, I didn't actually torture some stranger's kids at Dunkin' Donuts. You didn't really think I could actually be so heartless, did you?

Hop On! We're Taking a Tour of Changeland

The Funkapotomus has been away on an extended vacation. I always feel better when he heads out of town (obviously). Unfortunately, the big guy's back and settled in quite nicely, occasionally hugging me so tightly I can barely breath or think.

Whenever the Funkapotomus returns I spend a good deal of time trying to figure out exactly why he's here. Rainy day? Wintertime? Fight with Rob, or the kids, or my parents, or my boss or a friend? My monthly hormonal imbalances? If I answer "no" to all of the above I begin my nearly expert process of self-diagnosis. It's better than self-medicating and considerably less expensive than seeing a professional.

I have come to the conclusion that the Funkapotomus came home at this particular time because he's relishing the significant amount of change happening in my life, practically none of which is great or even good. Allow me to take you on a guided tour of Changeland, featuring the Funkapotomus in a starring role.

For our first stop, let's visit Kim's not-so-new-anymore job. I weathered quite well the initial transition in November. Making the move after eleven years at Judson Press was surprisingly painless. But as you know, my dear colleague/boss Burt passed away in January and that saddened me tremendously. I soldiered on and the dean lifted my spirits by taking a minute to say hello to me in the mornings. But now they've gone and replaced Burt. The new gentleman started a couple weeks ago and by all appearances he's a good guy. He says the right things, does the right things, treats his staff the right way. I think it's the staff part that's causing me to be childish bothering me. I'm not used to being "supervised" by someone ten years younger than me. Actually, I'm not accustomed to being supervised at all. And if I am going to work for someone, I want it to be Burt. I miss him. And it doesn't help that the dean stopped saying hello to me. I guess hellos are reserved for his direct reports.

We're now moving out of Career World toward our second stop -- Parenthood. A considerably more complex site on our tour. Simply put, I'm becoming painfully aware that my children don't really want me involved in their lives anymore. They still need me to drive them places, but that's about it. Heck, Abby can make her own meals, go grocery shopping, and do her laundry, rendering me almost completely obsolete. Being sad about this is terribly ironic given that I spent the first ten five few years of their lives wishing they didn't need me so damn much. It's not that I've had a change of heart and really want to do stuff for my kids, it's more that I want to be needed and loved and then free to decline all demands and requests they make of me. Kinda the way I want to be invited to parties, but don't actually want to go.

Now, let's pay a visit to Friendville. This year I watched as my childrens' relationships evolved and in some cases dissolved. Over the past year I too have seen a number of my friendships change. Some have become stronger and more fulfilling, while others have faded or been strained by forces left unspoken. Never an easy thing, no matter how old you are.

And speaking of age, like it or not, we have to take a moment for Grown Up Stuff. My parents, my friends' parents, and my aunts and uncles are all getting older (as if the rest of us are standing still). This means we're increasingly dealing with loss. My Aunt Faify passed last month. My friend Amy's father died in June. And my Aunt Glenna only has a short time left.as she battles leukemia. In the years ahead loss is going to become way too familiar. I know it's inevitable, but it still weighs on me. I'm not in the slightest bit prepared to lose my parents.

Let's make Media Presbyterian Church the fifth and final stop on our tour. Formerly a place of comfort, fellowship and strength, my church has become a source of division, stress and disappointment. For those of you who aren't experiencing hell's arrival in your place of worship, let me tell you it sucks. Our senior pastor resigned after it was discovered he had been (and is still) in a relationship with a former coworker while she was employed by the church. (And no, it's not our awesome former children's director, Cara.) His behavior is in direct violation of the Presbyterian Church's Book of Order. And yes, I've only shared the Reader's Digest condensed version with you, partly because it's not proper to air what is actually years worth of dirty laundry, but mostly because I don't want to be sued for libel. Let's just say I feel like Dorothy, seeing the great and powerful Oz behind the curtain. It's been heartbreaking and emotionally and physically exhausting, and I've been bitterly disappointed not only in my pastor but in those whose responsibility it is (as church elders) to make important decisions related to this difficult situation. Even though I'm certain we'll survive this turbulent time, a strong, loving church -- your place of refuge -- is last place you want to see change.

This concludes our tour of Changeland.  I hope you've enjoyed the whine. Please watch the tram car and carefully exit through the gift shop. Come back soon!

A Peek at Peaking

When did you peak? Which were your best years? You know what I'm talking about, right? That time in your life when you really had it all going on. You looked good. You felt good. You fit in your own skin. Life seemed full of possibilities.

Were you in your glory during high school? Popular. Beautiful. None of that teenage awkwardness of that 90% of your classmates were feeling? 

Or maybe the college years were it for you. You finally felt free to be you. With hundreds or thousands of potential friends you found a place to belong. You discovered your passion.

Could it be that those young adult years were the best years of your life? The high school school prediction that you were "most likely to succeed" was coming true. Your career took off. You found yourself surrounded by like-minded friends. You joined a gym and lost the freshmen 15. You traded in those college sweats for a personal sense of style.

Or maybe you're one of those for whom marriage and kids came as easily as breathing. You were meant to be a spouse and a parent. You found security, comfort, and contentment in those roles. The PTA, your home, and the community baseball league all offered the sense of fulfillment you'd craved. You attended those high school reunions without a drop of insecurity and gloated noted that the popular kids' glory years were clearly behind them.

Perhaps you blossomed even later. You shook off those clingy kids and rediscovered your spouse. You pursued anew your career or other passion. You started running triathlons. You had an "a ha" moment when you realized you were happy with who you'd become. You attended your high school reunion without feeling the need to gloat over those whose best years were a thing of the past. Or you skipped it altogether because you just didn't see the point.

Is retirement the pinnacle for you? You may have had to wait 70 years for your peak, but now you're living large in newfound freedom from kids, jobs, and mortgage payments. You don't give a crap what the neighbors think and being you has never been easier.

So when did you blossom?

I think for me it was my early-to-mid-30s. I had survived the toddler years. I had settled in to a fulfilling career with a great organization. I was literally kicking ass in Tae Kwon Do. I was surrounded by wonderful friends and my faith was strong. My weirdness had become a natural and somewhat charming part of me. I gave up praying no longer prayed I'd be normal. Occasionally, I even felt content. Good times indeed.

Your 30s aren't a bad time to peak, but I think your 40s might be even better. Just imagine hitting your stride when many of us start to think our best days are behind us and there's nothing exciting to look forward to until retirement. Or maybe that's just me.

Anyway...


Rocker and Blogger
at the Top of His Game


Yesterday I had lunch with my friend Jim. Jim isn't someone I really knew back when we went to high school together, but we've been lucky to reconnect via Facebook. I have the sense that Jim is blossoming now (though I guess "blossoming" sounds rather girly and as evidenced by the picture to your right, Jim exhibits no feminine qualities). Jim will be happy to tell you that he graduated from high school 25 years ago with every intention of being a heavy metal rock star. He gave it the old college try. He gave college the old college try. Neither worked out exactly as he planned, but today he's got it going on.

A year or so ago Jim totally copied off of me and started blogging at www.gojimmygo.net. Where I've gone from three posts a week to one, Jim's gone from zero to 60. The guy easily turns out five posts a week, sometimes more than one a day. And he's not just whining about parenthood, writing about his best buddies, or sharing some snarky insights. No, Jim has engaged his passion for music and film by interviewing stars, or former stars. And he doesn't just share his posts on his personal blog. No, Jim's posts frequently appear on GuitarWorld.com. And Jim doesn't just talk about writing a book that he's got in mind. No, Jim writes the book and solicits the advice of a friend who knows publishing. And then Jim tries to encourage said friend to go for the brass ring and accomplish all the great things that are stuck inside her head. But said friend just doesn't have the energy or enthusiasm anymore. Said friend has peaked and is coming down the other side of the mountain.

I'm hoping that it's possible to peak more than once in a lifetime, and that if and when I do, I've got the mojo that Jim's got working.

Now what about you, your prime, your stride, your peak...? Let's hear your stories. Unless of course you're going to tell me that you've always been comfortable in your skin and there was never a time you weren't your best self. Come on now, no one really wants to hear that stuff. I try to keep these posts upbeat, after all...

What are Your 25 Greatest Achievements?

You're probably saying to yourself, Kim's really been in a mood lately. No fun to be with. Increasingly snide and sarcastic posts. A bad attitude all around. You're right; I know you're right. Given the lack of a more legitimate explanation for the state I'm in, I believe that I may be in the throes of a mid-life crisis. Several signs would seem to confirm this diagnosis:

1. My daily search for the perfect convertible
2. A subscription to Botox Injection of the Month Club
3. An increasing tendency to wear skinny jeans whether they look good or not
4. Surprising maternal angst because my daughter is leaving elementary school and my son is headed to high school

In addition to these outward indicators of the approach of a mid-40s meltdown, I am also finding myself in the desert of vocational wandering. Translated, this means I have no idea what I'm doing with my career. Am I in the right job at the right place and should I hunker down and wait for retirement, or is it time to shake things up? I've always wanted to own a marina. Or maybe I should pursue stardom in Hollywood. Or perhaps the circus is calling.

If you find yourself in the desert of vocational wandering, I pray that you are blessed with an employer like mine. One you can go to in tears, crying "what am I here for??" without fear that they will put you on the list for the next round of pink slips. Of course, it's possible I'm on the list and just don't know it yet, but in the meantime, they're appearing very supportive. So supportive, in fact, that they're giving me the opportunity to visit the Center for Career Development and Ministry outside Boston.

Before my August visit to CCDM, there's lots of homework to complete. Some of it is fun, personality and skill assessment kinda stuff, but one assignment has put a serious damper on the good time I was having:

List Your 25 Greatest Achievements

You can't believe how difficult this is proving to be. I can think of a list of maybe 10-12 things, including:

• Learning to ride a bike
• Successfully narrating the 5th grade spring concert 
• Winning a few Forensic competitions in high school
• Singing a solo in a high school musical 
• Going to Girls State and some other leadership conference while in high school
• Writing a master's thesis
• Scoring a couple black belts (also have a couple brown ones; depends on what I'm wearing)
• Marrying well
• Having good kids 

A close look at these accomplishments reveals that all but one of my achievements was pre-kids. And that black belt was merely a means for handling the stress of having said kids.

As I work on this assignment, it occurs to me that it would be much easier to make a list of 25 things I haven't done that I consider to be true feats. For instance, I haven't:

• Run away from home
• Strangled either of my children
• Smothered my snoring husband with a pillow
• Quit my job on a bad day
• Rented my own apartment
• Told everyone what I really think of them
• Quit every volunteer position I have
• Succumbed to my desire to eat nothing but soft pretzels and mini powdered donuts, and drink nothing but fountain cokes
• Fire bombed the kids' rooms when they are beyond trashed (the rooms, not the kids)
• Kidnapped my sister and brought her home from Colorado

See how much easier that was?

If ever there was a blog post deserving of your contribution/comments, this is it. Go ahead and share your achievements, whether they be the "I did it!" kind or in the "I wanted to, but you're lucky I didn't" category. Have fun!