Tag Archives: bipolar

Fuck this ADHD Bipolar Depressed and Anxious Insane Asylum of My Mind

4:15. What did I accomplish today? Thinking. Thoughts. Many of them. I started writing a book. Well, a paragraph of it anyway. Over lunch. I did do a lot of work tasks this morning. I feel like I didn’t get anything substantial done yet though. Trying now. Clearly being productive since I’m writing this blog post right? Uh. I talked to two coaches. I think they’re both firing me. One did. Said I need a resume writer. Resume writers say I need a coach. Oh well. Keep on keeping on. So it goes.

Our net worth is up $75k in a month. According to the crazy spreadsheet I built that has 18 tabs and counting. Closed the month out at $2.23M. Why does that not feel–anything? Just a few years ago it was $600k. Every month of growth should feel monumental. But no. I’m just more lost than ever.

Listening to a Spotify playlist I created two years ago when I was manic. Not diagnosed manic but clearly I was off. Off on some runway taking off to the land of making a thousand horrible decisions. At least I was making decisions. I think. That’s a positive, right? I felt like I could actually be successful. Desirable. Useful. A somebody. Not an anybody. The playlist reminds me how different I am now to who I was then. Thank goodness, right?

Machinehead. That’s where my head was. That, and High and Dry and all that.

I have things to do. A thousand things to do. How can I focus? How can I take a big fucking task and break it down to smaller tasks that feel achievable and make progress on those tasks? I don’t know. I don’t know if I can. I am overwhelmed. Working at home doesn’t help. I love working from home in terms of being around my family and seeing them more than a few hours a night. But it isn’t good for focus at all. My walls are too textured. Fucking drop down texture. And horrible beige pink. My kids are screaming. I. Just. Can’t. Focus.

Not that I could focus at an office either.

How do I figure out how to be a normal adult? Clearly not happening. Right. So how do I figure out how to be consistent enough to do something productive in society that also pays the bills? I’m slipping again. I got things to get done. Things to do. But each step makes me anxious. Contact other people. Follow up with people. People. People. People. I want to just do. Make. Get shit done. In a bubble. I can’t exist amongst others. I guess. Is that true? I don’t know. Sometimes I can. When I’m in the right mood. But I’m not in the mood these days. I want to dig a hole and get a lot of shit done.

It doesn’t help that every 3 hours I need to feed a baby. I’m grateful to be able to actually breastfeed through the entire first year of his life, instead of having to stop twice a day to pump. This is how it’s supposed to be. Except I should be napping and stuff, not working this year. That’s how it’s biologically supposed to be. No wonder I feel batshit.

Meanwhile, at work, I have to project manage and think big picture and be creative and care but not care and make amazing things but also deal with being told my ideas aren’t good enough and someone else’s ideas are better even though they’re really not.

Another job won’t solve this. I need to get inside my head and change its fundamental chemistry.

Meanwhile, still feeling lonely. Lonely and misunderstood. On a floating island off in the sea slipping out so far I might as well be flicked off to outer space. You know? Maybe it’s the onset of mania. Is it? I don’t think so. Could be. It’s that time a year isn’t it? Fall. But it doesn’t feel like mania. I don’t feel like I can do anything, or be anyone. I feel like I can’t do a lot and I can be pretty much no one. I’m trying. To make senes of it all. Yet again. I want to reach out for help but I don’t know who can help me. So I just get through it. I think I’m ready for the downfall of myself again. I’ll ride it out. It’s easier to get a job when employed but maybe in this case it’s best to just do as much as I can until I’m let go. It’s different this time though because my boss is kind of my friend though not really. But it would be pretty shitty to be fired by him. I’d rather walk on my own. I can’t walk on my own since I need the unemployment and health insurance continual coverage should I get fired.

My husband has some health issues. I’m worried about him. Maybe they are serious. He refused to go to the doctor until things got real bad. Typical man. I’m terrified too. Of his health. Just as mine started to recover after the vaccine fucked with my system and gave me the worst headache for weeks and other stuff. I know it sounds like I’m crazy and that wasn’t real but trust me it was, I am just sensitive I guess. I’m better now. But my husband has other stuff going on. I joke we’re getting the most out of my health insurance but really two MRIs in one year for free is a pretty good deal, right? That’s why I need to keep my job too. My mind jumps to worst case scenarios always. But with him, I don’t know, some of the findings are very concerning. What will the MRI reveal? We’re at that age where shit happens to people. I mean, shit happens to people at any age but I feel like there’s this wave of shit that happens to people in their late 30s and early 40s. I’m scared, you know? I can’t even imagine losing him. I try not to let my mind go there. I mean, it’s probably nothing serious. I just have to wait and see. My MRI came back clean. His will too, right?

I’m trying to eat healthy. I haven’t got back into exercising yet which I know is so important because it makes me somewhat sane. I should go out running or something. I need something like that. I liked when I went to hip hop classes during my manic phase and then walked home and looked pictures of leaves cutting against the sky. I liked when my limbs expanded from my flesh not necessarily my shoulder or thigh sockets but across my body out to the world, you know, clutching at a layer in the world that cuts through it all to the visceral truth that brings us back to the moment we entered the world and felt it all. Seeking the eruption  of rebirth instead of our slow slippage to scheduled obsolescence.

And yet, as a mom, I have this whole other layer of existing for the sheer purpose of raising children who exist in the world in a healthier way than I ever will. If I can help it. To teach them that it’s ok to be sad sometimes, despite my 3 year old’s stance that he is always happy when he makes the case angrily with fists bound tightly that he is “not mad” and I better believe him or else all hell breaks loose and so I’m not really doing a good job of that anyway am I.

What am I doing a good job at? I don’t know. I’m just trying to exist these days. Add some value. Determine why my son’s youngest son’s hair appears to be red. Genetically speaking (who in my family had red hair???)

I like the intro to Letting the Cabbies Sleep. It is the kind of song I’d like to experience performed live. Concerts are overrated for their cost and how short they are but maybe I haven’t attended them intoxicated enough. I need some new music. Or old. The soundtrack for now. The moment of depression, if that’s what this is. Something to get me through it. Ride the wave so it doesn’t turn into a tsunami of self destruction. I’ve done it many times. I’ll do it again. Swim horizontal to shore until the ripe tide eventually stops pulling me under. Nemo this shit. Just keep swimming.

The Ups and Downs of Life En Route to 38.

It is strange living life with so much instability mentally.  When I was young I would tell myself that as misfit as I am, at least I knew I could be true to myself. That authenticity was so core to my identity that I never questioned if I was I was feeling or thinking was “real.” Or if it was something that would change over time. The very essence of who I am and what I care about, the impulses and objectives and all that… wasn’t that… who I am? 

Instead, over the years I’ve learned I’m a bit more complicated than that. I once cherished art and aesthetics. Now I think investment into such is meaningless, though appreciate any happiness or positive feeling that comes along with it. One example. But also my undiagnosed bipolar is not fun to accept. Not to embrace. But to rein in. To close out mistakes, despite that ink blotch dried into the fabric of life and not budging with any advanced cleaning technique. So there it is. But I don’t have to look at it. Though I do. To remember not to make any more stains. It’s important. Imperative, really.

Focusing on money is also tiring, but necessary. Eventually, I’ll be past that, I guess. When I have “enough.” Five million. So it seems. Then, I can move on from it. Have it, but not obsess over it. Though then I need a new obsession. Then my kids will be grown, probably. Unless I can get there before they hit puberty. That would be ideal. Taking my teenagers on world trips without worrying about my future. Knowing I can pay for my mother’s care in old age. All the things. I flew my sister out to visit because she doesn’t have any money and I like spending time with her (even though she constantly complains about it) and she’s the only family I have. Well, that’s $400 for a flight plus food while she’s here, and activities to keep her busy and not complaining that she would have rather used the days off to do something else. But she seemed happy to see her nephews.

Ink blotches messing with me though. So many I can ignore but had to go make a stain front and center. Why. Why let mania be so self destructive? All things considered, stain isn’t that bad, I guess. Just, embarrassing. So many other stains I just push aside. Never talk to people again, you know? A few words spilled make little difference if one can move on from the situation and try to learn from it. Except. Well, fuck. I was in such a bad place. Maybe it’s ok. I’m sick to my stomach and don’t remember the things I said. Just the gist of it. All the money in the world can’t fix that. Maybe it can fix me from any more stains in the future. Any more shouldn’t have said that or thought that. I’m sorry. Can I say that? Did I say that? Does it matter? Well. I am. And appreciative. For not saying any more. For words disappearing. For being so adult about everything. Damn mature. I’m learning. I’m old now. So I guess I need to learn. But it is chemical. I think. I don’t know.  I went crazy then. I held it together, mostly. It all could have been a lot worse. But still kicking myself. Feel like I ruined one of the best things I had. Even though I didn’t. Did I. Unclear. Just because of words. Words words words. So long ago now. What happens to time. Time happens to it.

There is an emptiness, though. Unrelatedly. It’s this hole etched in me. This longing for connection. In mania, it seems possibly to fill, like this electric current running through me. In depression, it’s just there, infinitely hollow. I just want someone to see me. That can’t be bought. I made a few people laugh this week so that felt good. My typical humor. Inappropriate. Unexpected. Sarcastic. I like that. For a moment there’s a connection. With anyone who gets it. I’d pay for a companion like that. That would be safe. Just pay someone to go to dinner or drinks or whatever and we would look into each other’s eyes and talk about things and there would be serious and not-so-serious moments and we would just be there, connecting. “We” isn’t actually any one person and it’s not a romantic thing it’s like friendship but up a notch I guess if that’s a thing, I don’t think it’s allowed to be a thing, but I’m hungry for that kind of connection, whatever it is, I don’t know what to call it. I feel lonely otherwise. Though that’s my own fault.

I’m not drinking much anymore anyway. The worst of me is drunk me. So I’ve stopped that. I drink, but slowly and deliberately and with awareness. A glass of wine or two. If I am feeling off mentally for the day I just won’t drink. Not one sip. It’s not worth it. I’m holding myself accountable for myself. I’m holding myself together. Barely. But if I can convince everyone else I’ve got it all superglued tight I guess that’s the best victory I can ask for.

End of the Month Check In: Progress and Stagnation

Well, it’s somehow (basically) June and closing in on the half-way point of 2021. Insanity, right? As the world slowly chugs back to normal-ish, I’m spending most of my time moving projects along and figuring out how on earth I will unpack my entire garage when I don’t have a closet (my family renter has the largest room with the walk-in-closet, which he uses as a library since he owns very little other than books.) So. I have to figure that out.

Despite my whining about work stuffs, I’m feeling pretty good about making it through the year as long I can keep chugging along. No hopes and dreams of getting a knockout performance review and being promoted or anything like that. I could stay at this company 10 years more and would probably never see a raise or title increase. Which is why I’m still, albeit less obsessively these days, thinking about what’s next.

But I also have realized that IF I can negotiate a WFH situation (not sure I can into next year) then it might make sense to stay for a bit longer. It’s definitely worth applying (and hopefully interviewing) starting around Feb next year, but I don’t have to jump to the next thing. This job, as stressful and frustrating as it can be at times, seems somewhat manageable for me. I have a sense for how to do it well, even with some of the newer things my new boss wants me to do, and I think I can sort those out too. Again, I’m kind of limited in going above and beyond since I seem to get penalized every time I offer any creative ideas to make things better or do more than is expected of me (which seems to be the requirement for a high performance review and promotion?!) BUT it’s kind of nice to, for once, have some sort of feeling that I can just stick it out, get the work done, try to fly by invisible, make people happy, and have time to maybe get healthy and maybe see my kids a bit before they’re off to school and such.

So I’ve got these 7 months left to get through with the best work I can do. I think it’s achievable as long as I tell my ego to shut the fruck up. I’m being treated horribly but no one cares when I’m making as much as I’m making this year and I get it, that’s fair, I don’t deserve to be treated with respect or anything. At least no one is yelling at my face. I also feel good(?) knowing some of my colleagues are leaving soon because the environment has gotten toxic, so I know it’s not all me. I think their leaving is a huge loss to the organization but doubt it will be enough for things to change. People don’t stay in jobs that long here anyway, you do your 4 years of vesting and then you move on or you can’t keep the same income. It’s sad that’s how it’s structured as companies don’t really care if they lose that knowledge and talent, but I guess it saves them money over time. Anyway. I can leave anytime between Jan 1, 2022 and April 1, 2023. I’ll be in no rush and just try to find the right next fit. The only rush I’m in is trying to get into a new company before I attempt to have my last baby. I don’t want to go through this company as the woman who took 3 maternity leaves, and I’d also like to find a company that covers IVF since I’ll be 39 (!,!,!,!??) when hopefully getting pregnant with my last kid.

Anyway, this month has been pretty flat for net worth growth because it went down then came back up. It’s kind of sad that I didn’t sell out of more of my company stock as it hasn’t come back up and my dreams of hitting $3M this year are no longer viable. That’s ok, though. I’ve got a solid plan to get to $3M in about 5 years. And I’ve decided one I get to $3M, which includes having $150k per 529 plan locked, loaded, and forgotten about, I can relax a bit when it comes to spending.

My plan is basically pay the mortgage a year in advance so I always have that safety net (won’t lose my house for a year) and just let it all roll. By 43 or so we should have $3M unless the stock market tanks. A lot of that increase will be gains on the current investments but it also includes still putting a lot of income to savings. Once we get to $3M, I don’t think I’ll need to save as much. We’ll still max out our retirement accounts, but I’ll feel good about where we are so we can spend more on home furnishings, maybe save for and add on to our house or even move to the town where I really want to live. I figure my in-law will probably live with us for 5 more years, and him putting money to us instead of rent helps too. So instead of our mortgage being $7k, it’s $5k a month, which includes about $2k going to principle, so we’re basically paying $3k a month to live here, which makes my brain feel better knowing we were paying $2.5k for a 1 bedroom apartment and now we have a house with a yard. I try to ignore the lost gains on the downpayment and principal.

Anyway…

Here is where we are start of June and updated stitch goals for the year. It’s unlikely we can be up another $450k this year (my estimated additional savings for us as of June 1 is about $200k after expenses (due to the remainder of my stock vesting and living fairly frugally for the rest of the year), so that would mean our total investments (1.78)  would have to increase by $250k or about 15% in 7 months — unlikely.)

GOAL Apr May Jun
Retirement $775.0 $521.5 $715.0 $715.7
Taxable $1,100.0 $804.5 $856.0 $822.1
Cash $0.1 $0.1 $0.1 $0.3
529 A $150.0 $91.6 $105.0 $106.2
529 B $150.0 $41.3 $73.0 $74.7
529 C $65.0 $63.7 $65.0 $65.5
Home Equity $260.0 $250.0 $257.0 $257.6
TOTAL $2,500 $1,773 $2,071 $2,042

I’d say more realistically we’re looking at closing the year out with $2.2M, maybe flat, but if flat then hopefully there will be a run up at some point where we’ll see increase in the stock market. Or it could all crash and we could close the year out at $1M. Who knows. That would suck. I want to get to the point where we have $3M in investments then I can just live life and not worry about saving a ton more and let those investments ride for years so they can go up and down and not bother me much. Then with $3M invested it will get to $5M eventually, especially if we continue to max out our retirement accounts but not add more to our savings otherwise. I’ll probably start a small UTMA for my kids once eligible for gifting them again (since we’re superfunding 529 this we can’t give them any gifts again for 5 years) – I figure I’ll start doing small contributions to UTMA in year 6 and then whenever they get their first jobs I’ll start matching their income so they can all start Roths. That should fall in line nicely with when I’ll have enough saved up to feel like I can do that without impacting our future. It also will be around the time when my mom will need money probably so I want to make sure I have enough saved where I can help her if needed and pay to fly out to visit her frequently when she can no longer travel (that hopefully will be in a bit longer, but good to know I have the money to do it so I don’t have to worry about spending a lot on flights to see her.)

What I feel best about is where the 529s are right now. My parents gave me the gift of my education and while I can never pay that back to them, I can pass that gift down to my kids. And I will. With $225k already saved in 529s, I’m well on my way to making sure my kid’s undergrad is covered in full — and if the market works for me it’s possible they can have grad school covered and/or their kid’s college education covered (and if I’m still alive by  the time my kids have kids — the I should be in a place financially where I can help put them through college too.)

I’m hoping I am alive that long as my health has been not the best lately, but I’m starting to feel a bit better with random “flares” of who knows what. I know everyone thinks my health issues are related to my having given birth earlier this year and maybe they are but the headaches seem possibly vaccine related (they got really bad after second shot then went away about 3 weeks after the shot) but the fatigue is concerning and my eye blurring issues (two episodes of my right eye vision going blurry for 15-30 minutes) still have me worried even though the eye doctor said she found a benign thing in there and that could explain it…

My neurologist offered and MRI and I’m so fucking claustrophobic that she said I really don’t need to do one now since it’s super unlikely based on my symptoms and her office testing that they’d find anything. She also seemed comfortable with the idea that the headaches were caused by the vaccine as she has heard that some people do get headaches for a few weeks after the vaccine (yet everything I read online about it says side effects should go away in 36 hours.) My allergy tests all came back negative so I don’t know what’s up. I think I’m going to make another appointment with my doctor once I finish my at-home 72 hour EKG as we’re seeing if anything is going on with my heart (though the weird chest spasms seem to have stopped — I doubt they’ll find anything.) Maybe that’s a good thing and I can just put this all behind me, which I’d like to do, except every once in a while I’ll feel incredibly fatigued, like my lungs are just weak, and no matter how much I breathe in I can’t get enough air. Maybe it’s just anxiety and panic attacks but I don’t know… even my initial EKG saw that my PR interval was slightly depressed but not enough to diagnose a heart block since my heart rate was low at the time. I’m really curious what this EKG will find, if anything. I just want to feel better. It’s taking too long to lose weight after baby and I’m still considered obese which I’m sure isn’t helping. I know it’s hard to lose weight while breastfeeding but still I have to get the weight down.

So outside of keeping my job and saving as much as possible this year towards my $2.5M goal, my other main goal is getting back to the “overweight” and not obese BMI category. I’m not going to get to a healthy BMI this year but I can inch closer. If I want to even consider having a third kid… and getting pregnant in 1.5 years (!) especially with IVF I need to drop the weight. And I don’t want to feel like this for the rest of my life. At least doctors will treat me better if I’m a healthy weight.

I’m also wondering about if I want to stay sober for good. I never considered myself an alcoholic but at this point in my life I can look back and see that of all the moments in my life I regret about 90% of them occurred when I was drinking. I was a binge drinker and it was hard for me to stop at one drink when socializing. I had a lot of fun being a drunk idiot too, don’t get me wrong, but I just am not the right kind of person when I’m drinking. I think I can manage a glass of wine with dinner when I go out on a date, but I don’t want to to do the social drinking that has led to me being an idiot and saying shit I can never take back. I’d say the other 10% of things I regret are due to my likely undiagnosed bipolar disorder as I can definitely see periods of my life where I was manic and I’m scared of who I was then and just hate myself for it, but I’ve decided I have to just close the book on that and move on and try really hard to focus on knowing when I’m in a phase like that so I can just stop myself from saying whatever it is I’m thinking at the time because it’s not real and it’s not me. My therapists never believe me that I’m bipolar but I know I am. Drinking while manic is the worst for me. Though it’s not exactly good while depressed either. :/ So, yea, I’m going to try to reduce my drinking. Really cut myself off at 1-2 drinks if I do decide to drink. I haven’t had a drink in over a year (due to being pregnant and breastfeeding) and I don’t see why I can’t continue on this way. It’s rough as I’m so socially anxious and I really do find it easier to engage with other humans after a drink… or two. But I’m old now and a mom and I don’t really want to be social like that anymore. I’m worried I’ve fucked my liver with my occasional binge drinking through the years. It was not frequent, but it was still pretty bad when it happened. Plus, not drinking saves $$… though I’ve been putting that to overpriced tea at Starbucks and Peets. At least that’s a bit healthier for me. Oh, and I’m trying to cut out caffeine as well outside of green tea and matcha. That mostly means not having the occasional latte and especially not having Coke Zero an Diet Pepsi which is horrible for me anyway.

So if I can get to the end of this year mentally stable, with my kids thriving, with $2.5M (or $2.3M) in the bank, with my job intact, etc etc, and alive, I’ll call it a win. Really I’m considering this job my $2.5M job so I’d like to stay in it until I get to $2.5M, but we’ll see about that. This job is my $2.5M job and the next job needs to be my $3M job so I have to find the right fit and right salary to make it worth a move. The only thing I can do is just try to go the best I can at this job and stop going to get overpriced tea so much. But it’s my one self care pleasure in life so I allow myself that.

 

Wanting a Life That Isn’t About Making It to the Next Vest.

My spreadsheet has some good news — if I can hold out four more vesting periods, I’ll be able to afford taking a job with lower pay for a few years while I sort out a better career path. “All I have to do is just survive until 2022, and then… things will be better. Somehow. Or, at least different.” I think this to myself over and over again as my fast-growing toddler and infant cling to me and I realize that a year from now my infant and toddler will be, well, a year older–a big year of changes and growth that I don’t want to miss. I don’t want to “just survive.”

Then–there’s the fact that I’m almost 40. Fuck. How’d that happen? 40. It is just another year and yet it is–fucking forty. That’s old. No offense to my readers who are 40 or much older. Because there’s nothing wrong with being old. And certainly when you’re 70, 40 seems young. It’s a matter of perspective. But it’s one of those ages that when you’re a kid and when you’re 21 you think is old. Not to be morbid, but random people start to die at 40. Not a lot of people. And it happens before 40. And others live to 110. But you hear things like… just today actor Dustin Diamond died at 44. Cancer. He found out about it 3 weeks ago and just like that, he’s gone.

I don’t think I’ll die in my 40s just because I’m turning 40–but I certainly feel my mortality in a way I didn’t in my 20s or 30s. Time is always finite, but it is–finiter. And being 37 thinking “man, I just want to survive until I’m 39” doesn’t sit right, even if it means I’ll have (maybe) $500k more in my bank account. It’s fine to want to get through the year and do a good job at work to earn my keep and then some, but I’m so so so tired of spending my life waking up every day thinking how do I get to the next X. Friday. Vest date. Year end.

I’ve lost all passion for living. Not that I had a ton, ever. But I used to look forward to things in the short term. I don’t know how to anymore. Occasionally I look up and see my toddler cuddling with my husband and I feel like I’m watching my life as if it were a movie. How cute they look. What a perfect father and son. A little boy who is no longer a little infant who is no longer a combination of DNA in my belly. A little boy who soon will be a big boy and then a man with little time in between to even notice the transformation unless I’m paying close attention. And here I am, waking up each day thinking how I’ll survive to 2022.

I’m not going to change this mentality any time soon. Surviving until 2022 is still a major goal of mine. As I’ve mentioned before many times, it is the winning lottery ticket that I just need to keep in my hands for a short time via quality and on-time work and then the proceeds can significantly impact the stability of my family’s future. I just want to figure out how to stop playing my life like it’s a game and just start living it. But how?

I don’t know if this is depression or if it’s just what happens when you’re an adult who has lost her way. I don’t know if I take some pills to boost my dopamine that I’ll suddenly feel “in” my life again. Like, is this actually chemical? Is this why in periods of mania and/or depression I find myself craving chaos, something that shocks the system and provides a different sense of time. I get that from some healthy things… like starting a new job, for the first few months. Those early wins. The first months where unconscious bias of your hiring manager gives you the benefit of the doubt and tells themself you can do no wrong — after all, they hired you and you must be great. Your work proves them right.  You’re a shining star, picking things up so quickly. Impressively so. Until you’re not. Until everything great is expected of you, and anything less than excellent causes grave concern and achieving success becomes a higher hill to climb each time. The novelty is gone. It’s just another job. And you’re just another employee.

There’s seeking that thrill in work, there’s not finding it there and accidentally chasing it in real life. There’s stepping back and slapping yourself in the face with a big reality check and a reminder that your life isn’t meant to be some crazy adventure. Stability is good. Enjoying the little moments is what it’s all about. There is no plot. No  winning. No game. Well, the only winning is–actual survival. The health of your family. Helping your kids solve challenges. Inspiring them to do so on their own. Changing their many diapers. Getting them ready to face adulthood a little (or a lot) better than you did. Watching them grow. Spending time with your parents and other family members as long as they have left. Talking about meaningless whatevers. Disagreeing and debating for the sake of social entertainment. That’s life. That’s what maters.

Survival is pathetic. It’s basically a form of long-term suicide. Just watching the months and years go by. Experiencing all of it from the outside. Afraid and uncomfortable. Unable to say the right things but somehow perfectly capable of saying all the wrong ones. So you just get through it all. You kick yourself, constantly, for all the things you’ve said wrong. You wish to start over. You run from your past, even if your past was just a few minutes ago. Your life is survival and escape. And you’re so tired of it. You want to be normal. Happy? Maybe. At least just living for the moment instead of trying to get through the moment. It may be a pill is needed to make that possible.  A pill to fill my mind with the chemicals needed to wake the fuck up and fall in love with life before it’s too late. Hopefully there’s plenty of time life. But there’s never enough. So why waste it wishing the days disappear as fast as they appear? No good reason. This has to change. It must.

 

36 Weeks Pregnant and Maybe a Less Depressing Post

Sorry for all the depressing posts lately. I just feel super overwhelmed. I’m looking forward to meeting my new baby. Lots of things are going well in my life. I just wish I could find a way to be happy with what I have. I know I have SO MUCH but nothing feels right, if that makes any sense. I don’t feel settled. This house isn’t helping. It certainly doesn’t feel like home. I probably could make it feel like home with enough purchases and remodeling, but the costs to do that are so high I feel like, why bother until I have, like $5M saved up. Then… maybe I can splurge a bit. Beyond the $75k splurge of remodeling one bathroom and putting in AC and a new electric panel and functional garage door.

Most of all, I just want to figure out the storage situation in this house. Christmas was lovely yesterday, but now my son’s new toys (complete with about 100 new parts) are all over our family room floor. Because we moved from a 1 bedroom apartment we just don’t have that much furniture. I know I can buy IKEA or used stuff, but I want to have “nice things” in my home to make it feel more like a home. Not designer pieces or anything… but sturdy, nicely made cabinets and such. I don’t want to buy crap because I know we’ll keep it forever as we did with our prior broken pieces.

So I’m trying to strategize on what to buy when, but it’s just overwhelming. We do need a kitchen table, so that’s probably first. But there’s also just so much space in this house that is wasted and I want to use it for storage. The hallway, for example, is extra wide, while the bedrooms are small. It seems ripe for putting in some good storage. But then, it will cost a lot…

And I’m really feeling like this isn’t our forever home. Maybe I’ll change my mind on that in a few years, but it’s just boxy and has no character. It works. It’s fine. Our bedroom is in the living room and after spending $1.7M on a house I still feel like I’m living like someone who just graduated from college. I guess that is probably what is bothering me the most. I bought this place because it has potential… but who can afford to make potential what it can be in the Bay Area? Maybe I should have spent more. Or at least bought in the city where I feel at home. Why did I buy here? Well, I was running from things as per usual. It was a bit more affordable as well, but really… I just wanted to move far from my job so I have NO EXCUSES when it comes to looking for something new in a year. I needed. change. Since I was 17 I’ve moved every 4 years or so. Or less. I felt restless. I was going crazy. New city. New everything. Except we happened to move close to some old friends which happened by accident as I’m super confused about the geography of where we live. That’s how little I know about this area.

But then I realized I’m sad I left the place where I want to be. I mean, it’s only a 40 minute drive away. And long term this area may be better for my career. Even though I’m far from certain jobs, there are a number of companies within a 15 minute drive. If I can score a position at one of them then I’ll be able to come home from work and see my kids more often (once I’m back at an office.) That’s really important to me. And the area does seem family friendly. If I can make friends with other families with young kids then that will help too. Right now it’s just impossible with the pandemic. And it’s always impossible with my awkwardness and social anxiety (people who say you just meet people through your kids don’t understand what it’s like to have crippling social anxiety) but at some point maybe I can make some friends and have some kind of a life again. Maybe I’ll end up liking it here.

Or maybe I won’t. I need to focus — eye on the prize. $3M then more.  Get to the point where I can buy furniture for my house and paint the walls a color I like and put in new flooring and revamp the landscaping so it feels like my home, not someone else’s that I’m living in temporarily. Or move. Probably move. It is stupid we didn’t just rent but — it’s ALSO good to have this home as a test run. We’re learning a lot about home ownership and what we want to buy. Unfortunately it took buying a home to do this, but we’re ready to be smart homebuyers now! Hopefully if we sell we won’t lose too much. I’m expecting to lose about $100k on this house if we sell in 3 years, which is pretty crappy but it is the price of figuring out what we want and what matters most. If I can keep earning and growing my net worth it will be ok. Sucky, but ok. And I think it will actually be fun to shop for a HOME when the pandemic is over and our oldest son is old enough to come with us and help us pick out a place. Who knows what the market will be like then, but if it’s up then my house will be worth more to sell and if it’s down then houses where I want to buy will be more affordable, maybe.

I also had a pretty major realization yesterday morning in my half-waking moments about my career path. I figured out something I could do and actually even be VP of where I probably could thrive. I was thinking about all the things I’ve done in the past few years that were successful and a light bulb went off. I really need a job where I can have a team and where I run strategy and don’t get in the weeds on the projects. The opposite of my job now! But, the good news is that my new role, while super in the weeds, is really forcing me to learn how to project manage and time manage in a way I haven’t before. My boss is REALLY good at this stuff, and I’m learning a lot from him. So I’m feeling pretty confident about landing a role that is a much better fit in a year when I start looking. This year will still be rough (and I have to get my shit together and be ON TOP of things) but I think I can do it. I need to completely ignore the stock vesting because it gives me so much anxiety to think about this lotto ticket I’m holding on to for dear life (I mean, when else in my life will I be looking at a year where it’s possible I will make $1M — or anything close to that?) Can you blame me for feeling anxious and distracted? I guess that would motivate some people. For me all I can think about is how if I fuck up I’m throwing away SO MUCH MONEY and all I have to do is NOT BE A TOTAL FUCK UP right now.

Easier said than done looking ahead at a year with a toddler and a newborn. But I’ve got a path to making it work. A year ago, being put on a PIP by my boss and basically being slowly pushed out the door, I fought for my right to stay. With nothing to lose (because I figured I was getting fired anyway) I suddenly could focus on my work. I just need that energy again. And to ignore the potential earning. It helps to think about how many people I work with are likely earning a lot more than I am (which is crazy) due to being in more senior roles or negotiating better or just joining even earlier. It is just insane. Especially in the world we live in right now where so many people are struggling and then there’s our little tech bubble where stock prices are going up and up and up. It’s bizarre. I am both grateful and terrified, and horrified.

Anyway, I’m enjoying watching the sunrise out of my window. This doesn’t feel like home but it’s still a nice place to be for now. Maybe it will grow on me. Or maybe I will grow on me and figure out a way to earn more and have a stable career so we can move back where I really want to be. I just need to figure out how to chill out and be happy with what we have for now. And enjoy the next weeks of being a mom of one and the many ahead of being a mom of two. Because life is happening whether I like it or not. And I’m tired of wasting it feeling like a complete failure and mental basket case. I’m at least not manic right now. The more that I think about it the more I realize that I am super bipolar and that makes me sad too. Because I need to deal with that at some point. Or at least figure out how to not let my moods change my personality and make me do stupid things. I mean, thank G-d I didn’t do anything too stupid, but it could have easily gone past embarrassing myself in a number of cases to total self destruction. I am still sitting here thinking WTF happened in 2019 and who was I?  And how do I avoid that happening again in the future? I know it wasn’t a one time thing. I’ve had phases of life where I’ve been more manic. Like this engine was running. Like I was just alive and connecting with others and it felt good at the time. But then… that’s fantasy world. That’s insanity. I’m glad I’m not there now. I want to erase all of it. But I also realize that whatever this is – this depression–is just as “not real” and one day I’ll come out of it, I guess. I’ll look back and wonder why I was so sad and hopeless.

It’s safer here though. The depression is a much safer place to be. I know who I am here. I maybe am hyper sensitive and irritable but I at least feel like I’m grounded in logic. Whereas mania is different. It’s… it’s taking the things I feel and think that I know are absolutely ridiculous and making them seem possible. Sometimes that is good, I guess. One can be extremely creative and productive in those periods. But then it feels like anything that isn’t attached to that heightened existence is numbing. It’s a drug and you need more of it. Like you’re always on the verge of some incredible release that can only be achieved by ripping yourself apart or being a character in a story that isn’t meant for real life. And then, I guess, at some point, you snap out of it. You come back to earth. You think — oh my god — what did I say? Who was I then? How can I look my friends and family in the eye again, if they happened to be involved in any of this craziness? You fall into this deep depression out of being embarrassed and ashamed. You wonder if/when you’ll be that person again. You try to explain this to your therapist but she doesn’t understand exactly. Or you don’t really tell her because you are that ashamed of it. You don’t really want the diagnosis. Depression is ok. It’s kind of quaint. It’s ok to hate yourself too much. But is it ok to love yourself too much? Not that loving oneself is really what mania is… it’s also a form of self hatred. But in my case, it’s just wanting to be loved with such intensity, to find some kind of outer worldly connection to something. The opposite of numb. The opposite of aging and adulting and absoluting. I see why it’s so compelling. And I am so scared of falling back into it.

So for now, I am better off in this sad space. It’s safe. It’s not crazy. I still can find little moments of happiness here. I hope this is where I stay through the next year at least. So I can push through this last year of vesting and reevaluate everything when I’m close to $3M net worth. It is one year. I need to hold my breath, not do anything else stupid, and get through it. I’m going to do it.

Oh, and I bought a Roomba.

It Might Be Mania As Well

I figured out I’m bipolar. I’m uncertain how to manage it. I’m hypomanic or manic right now, I think. It’s unfortunate I’ve had to come to terms with my delusional thinking. I prefer, after months of deep, self-hating depression, to actually believe I am desirable again. To think that people ARE looking at me and undressing me with their eyes. I don’t know why that makes me feel so good, but it does.

It’s the energy. The heightened sense of everything. The racing thoughts. The super focus paired with the I can’t think about anything else. The being turned on by just about anything. The shaking of the espresso machine. People’s murmured voices. Christmas music. Pans being washed. The rush of water. The edge of a chair cutting into my shoulder. Everything.

My therapist only sees me once a month and has not seen me manic yet. I need more therapy. I signed up for an app that provides $300 a month chat with a therapist. It’s not helping.

I’m on the verge of a thousand mistakes. I’m headed to getting fired as I do during these episodes. I feel beside myself and deep inside myself. Music helps or hurts I’m not sure. I listen to the same 8 seconds of a song on repeat and come close to exploding in my seat at work as I clench my legs at my desk. I’m not supposed to be getting off. I’m supposed to be writing an article. Doing any number of projects I’m behind on. But instead I’m listening to music and holding myself together. Smelling the scent of humans around me, those pheromones. I can’t focus. I can’t do anything to stop my mind from racing racing racing.

I’d pay for some intimacy right now. But that would be a bad idea. I’m completely devastated from proving my thinking is indeed delusional. I’m not off the deep end, but I want to be. I want to be held down and used. Sometimes. Because life is short. Because I’m manic and need something to quiet this energy. Raw, intense, angry, everything—-not this make believe world not this Puritan respectable everything —- I am hungry to taste it all.

I rub my finger over the edge of a lemonade cap, scratching my flesh, and I want to feel more of it.

But I know this all isn’t real. I need to stop all of it. I need serious therapy and should just pay out of pocket for it. Or I should get in a car and drive who knows where and find a body to throw myself against and let myself be used let myself crumble into flesh perhaps—- I can’t and I won’t but i can’t stop thinking about it. I couldn’t refuse anything right now. Thank god I’m unattractive.

Hitting the Wall Hard

There are things one can learn to do, and then there are things ones naturally abilities, or lack there of, limit them from doing. Today, I feel incredibly lost, afraid, and unsure of my next steps. I was hoping by this part of my life I’d have my shit together. Not so. It appears no one really has their shit together, just some people are better at faking it until it starts to make a bit more sense.

I am deeply saddened by the situation. I know I spend too much time caught up in what I am unable to do so my productivity on the things I am able to do is reduced as well. It’s not an ideal situation to say the least. I’m contemplating a complete career change but I’m terrified and while I have many interests, I don’t know where I’d actually be sustainably successful. I do know that the only thing that makes me happy is helping other people. The highlight of my last week was helping a woman from another country who didn’t speak English understand how to use the ticketing machine at the train station.

While I am inspired by helping people, when I feel my job does not actually help anyone it makes me go bonkers. When I see that instead of helping I am actually hurting other people, I drop into a deep depression. While I’m not sure I would have been consistently responsible enough to be a doctor or anything, I fear that my actual calling was some form of healthcare, but I never understood myself enough to pursue much of anything. I just rolled with the punches, and the punches sent me along this bumpy, somewhat lucrative ride which leads me where I am today – completely lost, afraid, alone, and hating myself more and more for not just getting my shit together.

Yet at the end of the day it’s clear that I do not have what it takes to be successful in this role. I’ve had the great fortune to be able to experience leadership and see that I am not built to be this kind of leader. It’s rather astounding that I have managed to get this far, though I am an imposter and cannot succeed further. While I know this sounds overly dramatic, the reality is that I’m too sensitive for business. I also cannot make fast decisions and spend too much time overanalyzing things I shouldn’t while too little time under analyzing things I should [analyze.] How much can I really improve? When do I put up the white flag and surrender? And, where do I go once I do?

 

 

What Did You Want to Be When You Grow Up?

When I was a little girl, I never for a moment envisioned myself as a grown woman. I’m not sure how many kids actually picture themselves as grow ups, so maybe this isn’t that strange. I could easily imagine myself as a teenager, but not any form of an adult – not a working woman, not a mother, not anything other than an awkward child.

Maybe if I had some vision for myself as an adult, this all wouldn’t be so hard. If I had grown up watching a mother put on a suit each morning and go into the office, coming home with stories about her own boss and sharing her tactics for handling adult life. My mother, like many mothers of babies born in the 1980s, was a stay-at-home mother.

She was a helicopter mother because she didn’t have anything better to do. Her entire life consisted of bragging about the accomplishments of her children. Every tiny win was a huge victory the world needed to know about. Every struggle was ignored. Emotions outside of anger and anxiety were not allowed in the household. No one knew how to handle such an emotional, insecure child. I never learned how to handle myself.

This weekend, I saw the movie Birdman, which is a film about a man who has basically lost his shit because life didn’t turn out quite the way he expected. While his psychological illness is one of delusion, I could relate to the feeling of hopelessness and angst surrounding all aspects of life not particularly epic. Perhaps it was the two-drink brunch and stresses of my work that brought me to tears through the film, along with my own compulsive self obsession, but I felt as if I were drowning. The film tossed many personally uncomfortable themes together – regarding life, parental misguidance, and the need to be not just loved but admired.

Gasping for air as I shoved a bag of drunkenly purchased move theater candy into my mouth, I didn’t want my friends who were also at the movie to my right to notice that I was having a minor emotional meltdown. I escaped to the woman’s restroom once the credits began to roll and muffled my overly dramatic tears with a few fraudulent flushes.

I’m far too sensitive. Both my boyfriend and a friend have said this in a different combination of words and looks of concern. Despite getting myself into professional situations where I take the brunt of deprecation, it is my own fault for allowing others actions to push me down so quickly and so hard. My boyfriend, like my last therapist, reminds me that so much of ones mental state has to do with their own internal monologues. He says that I need to actually believe that. I believe that if I believed whatever it was I was saying to myself – but just switching the talk track in my mind from “god I am so terrible at this” to “I tried my best and I think what I provided was actually good” is not going to change the fact that I believe I am so terrible at it.

Or, I have no ability to gauge what good enough is, since the only good I’ve ever learned is the one which can be paraded about for the neighborhood to see. It was artwork which wasn’t extraordinary but pretty good for a teenager. It was performing a solo at the school talent show despite being partially done deaf, and all of the photos which could come from the occasion. When one is not rewarded for being average or being just as good as the next person, it can effect a child in different ways. For some, they work harder, always feeling better than everyone else, but never quite being fulfilled. For me, I lost the tastebuds for the modicum of success that one must survive on in adult life.

The advice I received is not to let things said to me at work effect me at such a deep level. If my boss is not going to be happy with the work I produce, then either I figure out how to produce better work, acknowledge no amount of work will every satisfy him and do my best, or I look for another job. There is no point in just wallowing in self hatred because despite how much effort I put into my job I feel like I can’t produce what is needed for success. And, while I rarely discuss my emotional turmoil with those I know outside of those who read this blog, I can’t let myself slip into the land of suicidal ideation. Even though I’d never actually kill myself, it’s not at all productive to spend the remaining minutes of my life when I’m not at work or doing work fantasizing about the beauty of just being done with the world, since that’s the end result of all this anyway.

While I never pictured myself as an adult, today the picture I have of myself as the adult I hope to become has nothing to do with professional success. Today, my only sense of satisfaction comes from seeing my networth increase towards my annual goal. I do not find happiness or satisfaction in anything else, except perhaps exceeding my clearly quantifiable quarterly goals at work. Since when did I become so boring? I can’t make small talk because I have no hobbies. I don’t have time for hobbies beyond occasionally pouring my heart out in an anonymous psychological illness journal disguised as a personal finance blog. I tried to sign up for a club in the evening during the week after work but then my boss required me to meet in the evening and so I was unable to go to the club. So much for trying to build some sort of non-professional “life” for myself.

I fully acknowledge that I’m getting paid extremely well at this point in my life and I don’t want to fuck it up. I’m learning a lot and even though each day brings its meltdowns and takes weeks off of my life due to the stress that I let build up in my chest, I am in a very good place for many reasons. If I screw this up, I don’t know if I’ll ever have such a good opportunity again. I keep reminding myself this is not a forever thing, this is a focus and just move mountains now thing so I can open doors for the rest of my life and have options thing. I know I’m so fortunate to be in this place, yet I seek to find some resolution to the emptiness, the wanderlust for the epic, the acknowledgement that after all these years of thinking life was more exciting on the other side of the great youth-adult divide, the reality is that life is just a series of repetitions until our bodies fail to reboot for yet another go at it.

Is it so horribly wrong to want my parents to be impressed with my accomplishments? My father constantly reminds me that I can’t hold down a job, even though I’ve informed him time and again that spending 2-4 years in one company is completely normal for my industry. There are days when I just want to tell him exactly how much money I’m making because perhaps that would be enough to impress him, but that would open up a whole new can of worms. I’d forever regret having explained to him how I’m making the same if not more than most MBA graduates my age, despite having only an undergraduate degree in something unrelated to business — it would turn into some guilt session about how I should buy them nicer gifts, or how I should be purchasing a house now instead of renting. Worse yet, when the day comes that I leave this role, and if I was to decide to pursue something that pays less, which would be likely, I’d never hear the end of it. So I keep my mouth shut. I think to myself, every time I receive a paycheck, how proud they’d be if they only knew how far I’ve come.

Then I think to myself, damn, it’s sad that your parents aren’t proud of you for, you know, being in a stable relationship, or being “happy,” or having a job in the first place, or that you even care so much about what they think, even though you’re now a living specimen of a grown woman.

The whole overly dramatic depressed rambles aren’t very productive, but they’re what goes on in my mind day in and day out, nonetheless. I wish I could turn all of this energy into something useful. I think of all the great authors who have suffered with their own inner demons, who feel deeply enough to express the intricacies of human joy and suffering, yet create fiction with lessons for humanity that far outlive their demons. It is wrong to romanticized the disturbed creative mind, but it is at least calming to acknowledge that most of the world’s greatest poets, painters, and writers would probably feel just as tortured attempting to neatly fit into the box of corporate executive #280258019.

For all my incapacity for embracing the lull of routine, I’ve managed to force myself into a box in which I clearly do not fit. Every morning of everyday I roll out of bed, wipe my eyes wide open, and fold myself into myself until I look halfway presentable as some grown up woman going about her day. And I fight through my life with the hope that maybe someday, somehow, I’ll no longer feel so far removed from the world around me, that I’ll wake up and know what it’s like to be “normal,” and not waste so many precious seconds drawing out a romantic fantasies where either I’m some great savior or gone.

Becoming an Executive Malfunctioning

It’s a rough transition from individual contributor to executive, especially for someone with ADHD. While I’ve gotten to the point in life where I value my innate abilities, I also acknowledge that there are many things vital for moving up in the workforce that do not come naturally to me. I am currently at the point where either I figure out how to fake it well enough that no one realizes this, or giving up.

I don’t want to give up. The opportunity I have today is so great, so exciting, so overwhelmingly awesome that I end up getting to the end of every day and kicking myself for not doing it better. Because I know the best executives know how to be those ducks with their feet kicking hard under water but their faces never flinching. They manage to instantaneously prioritize thousands of projects or project particles while also not slipping up on any details. They are human gods.

There is a reality to my existence, which, at best, puts me into the absent minded professor type category and at worst has me tripping from job to job impressing on one project but failing magnificently on the next. The trick, I’ve learned, is an executive must learn how to make friends and influence people. She must have such charisma that even if other people come up with a great idea and execute on it flawlessly, she will somehow take part of the credit without hoarding all the credit to herself, and seem somehow to effortlessly manage so many moving parts at once. And while she embraces conflict in the right moments, she avoids it in all others. She is everything I’m not and will never be. Continue reading Becoming an Executive Malfunctioning

Hello 31.

Well, I’ve made it. Another year around the sun. Another 365 days of ups and downs, laughter and tears, deep depressions and manic outpouring of not-so-situationaly-appropriate glee. It has been a year of growth and change, saying goodbye to one job and another, embarking on a shaky yet exciting advancement in my career; moving in – finally – with my boyfriend of 8 years; losing my grandfather and attending my first funeral; and — starting — to accept that aging is going to happen, and is happening, to my own flesh despite still wanting to believe that I’m forever-young invincible.

So I have 1/32 of a grey hair now, a few more wrinkles in my forehead due to my chronic state of worry, and a couple of more breaths between freak outs to remind myself I’ve been in those unpleasant shoes before and managed to survive to see another happy day. I’ve taken steps to seek the right kind of help — hired an ADHD coach — focusing on treating the symptoms vs the root cause of my psyche which, no matter how well I psychoanalyze and understand, is never going to dramatically change. I guess you can say at 31 I’ve accepted that I have a chronic condition known as “me.”

Am I 100% satisfied with myself? God no. I have a lot of work to do. I’m always pushing myself to improve all while pondering how that may be possible given my constant state of neurosis. I’m longing to become a mother despite being terrified of how that fits in with this life I’ve managed to create for myself as a business executive and otherwise responsibility-free adult, all things considered – no mortgage, no car payments, no kids, no debts – just save, save, save, and push through the lows so I can try my best to enjoy the highs. It’s the best I’ve been able do so far, but I still have a lot to give and still have a lot of getting my shit together to do.

10 years ago I had this crazy goal to save $250,000 by age 30. I didn’t really think far past that, other than a seemingly impossible objective to save $500k before I have my first child. At the time I had $10k in the bank and didn’t even have a boyfriend so it was all a crapshoot of dreams. Today I have my guy and I’m nearing a solid $300k in networth as I say hello to 31. I’m in a good spot to achieve my $500k before my first kid goal. On paper my life is pretty damn spiffy. But every day is still a struggle with all the highs and lows.

In my 30s, now that I’m actually “in” my 30s vs just starting them, I want to achieve some kind of stability. Perhaps this means medication is a requirement vs a nice to have, but I need to find consistency in my routines and slow down enough to find serenity in the everyday. Perhaps I can do that. As opposed to my 20s and before when I longed for a bit of a crazy, uncertain, constantly changing life, now I yearn for consistency, routine, and regularity. I know I’ve always hungered for the later but a fear of not picking the right route of settling down kept me bouncing from one path to the next. I was terribly lost and only the rush of impractical choice would make me feel momentarily alive and free – but the lack of stability punched me in the gut day after day after day. In my 30s I’ll admit open heartedly that I’m tired of trying to be different and letting a fear of being “just like everyone else” run my life. Maybe being just like everyone else… (even though that’s not really possible anyway) is not that bad.

What’s throwing me off most tonight is that I graduated college in 2005 when I was 21. It was easy to accept 10 years removed since high school graduation — high school was the end of my childhood — but college… that doesn’t seem that far in the past in many respects. In others it seems like a lifetime ago. Still, it was actually 10 years ago. 10 years ago at this time I was in my senior year, falling into a very dark depression that I’d spring out of only after moving to the west coast and pushing through a year of one failure after another, picking my pieces up again every time I fell apart. Senior year of college is a blur – I was lonely, confused, unsure of where I was headed, and just trying to give myself some framework to follow, some sign to guide the way. I had just returned from my first trip abroad, a summer in eastern europe studying and traveling, and continued a relationship with my boyfriend at the time who had moved to a city on the east coast for the year, and who I visited fairly frequently as a treat to escape my life and throw myself squarely into his which I never did fit. It took a move to the west coast and a serious heart-to-heart shortly following the move that we mutually agreed we weren’t right for each other. And there I was, completely alone, with no framework or guide or must-do for life’s next steps. All I knew was that I couldn’t fail – permanently. I had to get up and keep going. And so I did.

Well, so now I’m 31. I have a goal to have my first child by 34 at the latest and the fact that that’s three years away probably scares me the most… especially because 34 isn’t even a “young” age to have a kid and I’d like to have at least two. It’s crazy how fast time flies once you’re in your mid 20s. I guess it’s strange because childhood is this extremely slow moving set of years where you’re growing and learning so quickly that every day can seem like a millennium… and suddenly you’re thrust through a magnetic launcher and boom you’re rapidly accelerating towards the rest of forever and you can’t stop it… you just have to try to breathe and appreciate the sights and sounds and wonder as you rapidly approach the end of your ride. I’m sure I’ll feel the same way at 35 and 40 and 50 and 60 and beyond, and even more so. And miss the days when time was long, the nights where the sun seemed like it would never set, the mornings rushing out the door and chasing after the school bus in excitement because of a certain topic to be discussed in class or an after school activity to be held that day.

My goal for this year is to find some sort of similar excitement in my life again -in a sane, healthy way. I’ve lost a sense of happiness, a sense of wonder, a sense of joy. Life has become a calculator of finances and hours in the day to fill with work and getting stuff done. While these are first world, middle class problems they are my problems nonetheless. I’m looking to establish my own independent sense of adventure and peace with solitude. I know this year will bring about lots of change, perhaps more than the shifts in the last 365 days, and I hope I’m ready for it. I approach my 31st year with wide eyes, an open heart and an open mind. Come on 31, bring it.