I let my thirtieth birthday go by largely unnoticed last month. Maybe that is because I barely noticed it. Life has been coming at me like a freight train lately, and I have been jumping off the tracks just in time to keep from a nervous breakdown.
From the outside, I think it would be hard to understand why I have been coming undone. I am exactly where I wanted to be, but I guess it isn't all it is cracked up to be. I love my job, but it is overwhelming right now. It just doesn't pay quite enough, and that causes me lots of worry. I just thought that after law school I would have no problem making enough money to support a family in a good neighborhood with a quality school. We are there - but, it is not comfortable. I still feel like we are a major car repair or illness away from catastrophe - and that wears on me.
My husband has been going through some medical challenges, and I know it is wearing on him. I think we may be getting closer to getting it solved - but it is not perfect yet, and I think we are both pretty uneasy about it. Out of respect for his privacy, I wont go into more detail, except to say that it is HARD to take care of other people. It doesn't come naturally to me, and it is supposed to. After all, I am a woman, and therefore am supposed to be nurturing. I am going to admit something - I AM NOT GOOD AT THIS. I always feel like I am faking the nurturing. I know sort of what I am supposed to do and say from watching others, but it DOES NOT come naturally. I just keep hoping he gets better, so I don't feel so inept.
I feel like such a work in progress now and I am waiting for that wave of "30-ness" to come over me. I have started to feel more comfortable in my skin. I am also starting to care less and less what other people think of me. But I still feel a sense of being an outsider. When we go to the park, I just feel so different than the other moms. I don't have time to get involved in PTA politics - which is a relief, but also a source of guilt.
Last week at church, the minister described a feeling watching an ambulance. She described seeing a person being put into an ambulance after a car accident. It didn't look too serious, but still, the person was going to the hospital. This inspired in the story teller an odd emotion - jealousy. If only to be taken care of - to go to a room, and have others care for you. To have those worldly responsibilities taken off the table for a while. Of course, she pointed out, being in a hospital is far from restful. But I don't think it is the resting I am jealous of - it is the weight being lifted. The weight of daily responsibilities and obligations. I could use a lift - just for a while.
Then, maybe it will dawn on me that I am thirty and getting wrinkles.
