29 in a Global Parallelogram

Now while I should be excited about another revolution around the sun, I have to admit that I’m having some mixed feelings. It's February 4, 2021 and the novel coronavirus has claimed my birthday amidst all the other things it's snatched from us. 

My birthday has been my favorite holiday for a very long time. I’d claim every weekend, every weeknight, every single second of February as my birthday. We’d get brunch. I’d get pampered. We’d get great food and even better drinks. And I’d be floating from friend to friend, embracing my once-a-year social butterfly mode. (I may be an introvert, but you’d never know on my birthday). BABY IT’S MY FAVORITE! But this year is different.

Besides the obvious lack of celebration (thanks Ro Ro), the pendejo has put my quarter life crisis in hyper drive.

Quarter-Life Crisis

Think: midlife crisis’s younger sister

This time last year, I thought I had some kind of plan figured out. I was headed to New Orleans with some of my girlfriends to celebrate my last birthday unsupervised and unoccupied (also see: no husband and not pregnant). I was going to party as hard as I could before my husband and I started trying for our first child. Aside from trying to procreate, my 28th year to-do list included finishing my CFP education requirements, getting into client services at my job, being more social, buying a home, drinking more water, and getting into a love affair with lotion (I don’t lotion what you can’t see. Judge your mom). I successfully got pregnant… and that’s about it before the pictograph had the whole world on lockdown. 

Being trapped in my 200sqft apartment wasn't the worst thing. (It was bigger than that, but those walls definitely felt like they were closing in on me) Once the weather broke, I actually enjoyed the slower pace of life. I watered my plants, took walks with my friends, and actually cooked meals. It gave me a lot of time to think and that’s when the crazy started. When my life slowed down, I realized just how unsatisfied I was. Even the year I had planned wasn’t really the life I wanted. I felt like I was just checking the boxes on the imaginary “I’m almost 30” list. 

I felt (and still feel) so out of control. It’s very alarming to wake up one day and feel like you don’t have much going for yourself. Here’s the kicker though, quite a few of the girlfriends were feeling THE SAME WAY. All of us in the late-twenties to early thirties club were asking, “What’s next?” or “What am I becoming?”. I felt so lonely only to learn we were all in the same boat. 

I lived in the same apartment building as one of my girlfriends at the height of the panasonic and I’d go down to her place to air my frustrations. My “what you doing?” text would be returned with a “come hither”. I’d come in and stand in the middle of the floor. That spot would become my stage for the 30 minute rant that I would deliver in an angry stand-up comic kind of way. She’d listen, laugh, and talk me down; and then the roles would reverse. She’d go on about her life’s uncertainties and I’d woo woo woo right back. Passing the same advice back and forth like a game of hot potato. I’d repeat this same pattern with other friends near and far. We were all doing it. I wonder how we learned to be so kind to others and so mean to ourselves. 

Fast forward to this birthday. I’m a 29 year old black cis woman. I’ve been married for 6 years & a new mom. I have no clue where I want my career to go. My plants are dying and I’m still ashy. Nothing is checked off my list and I’m no closer to any direction. Not the story climax you expected? It gets worse. I closed out my birthday, having a full meltdown in my daughter’s closet. Ugly crying, snot running, sob fest because postpartum was kicking my butt. (I said it got worse) In the daylight, my meltdown felt well over the top. It was time to recalibrate.

In January, I wrote out a vision for the year. I revisited that list in the sunshine of a new day and it was very telling. Among the list of things I hope to accomplish, I unknowingly omitted anything to do with a career, wifehood, motherhood, or lotion! I made a joy list. It’s filled with aspirations to try things that might bring more joy in my life. I even listed “find adventure”. I guess my subconscious was trying to get me to be nicer to myself. So I guess it’s time to give it a try. 

Dear Pangea, 

I’m going to work on being nicer to me. 

Why don’t you try with me?

xoxo

Gossip Girl