I celebrated my 35th birthday this week. 35. When you're 25, 35 seems like such a life time away. It seems like wrinkles and stuffy clothes; like 8pm bedtimes and 6am yoga...
But I don't feel old. I feel like I'm not smart enough, like I haven't accomplished enough, like I haven't yet found how to be happy enough... to be deemed 35.
This last month has been a realllllly rough one for me - both work wise and personally. This week was not only my birthday, but it also marked the completion of my 4th year at my job. By no means is this the worst job in the world and when there are thousands of people out there willing to take any job for pay, there is little room to complain about having a solid one. I get it. It doesn't mean that I'm not grateful for the job, it just means I'm not where I want to be.
As I round out my latest year here (at my job), I think in some ways it is finally getting easier to make the hour and a half commute because I'm not really leaving babies anymore. My baby is about to turn 3 in a few months and is as happy and healthy as the next kid. My 8 and 6 year olds are also doing just fine. They are not damaged because I work. The one who most resents me working is my Big Kid. She remembers our adventures when I stayed at home most vividly out of the three. We didn't have a lot of money, but we certainly found a lot of interesting and fun things to do with each other.
0 comments:
Post a Comment