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spryngI've technically already celebrated my birthday this month -- through the various Cake Attempts, and the two days off last week -- but today is my actual birthday. I used to yearn for Saturday birthdays growing up and through my 20s, but having a kid made me appreciate having them during the week, hah. Their needs don't magically stop just because it's Your Day.
So I'm keeping my expectations low -- all I want is a long run this morning and to make some cupcakes together later. At least I had the forethought to get a babysitter for tonight and tickets to a play. I'd originally thought we could go to the springs, but the thought of organizing it all and trying to get there before they close for capacity was too much. I am tired of organizing, cajoling, caroling, herding cats, etc. Maybe the kids will let me roam free in the backyard, dealing with all the summer's overgrowth and preparing the garden for winter instead.
37 was sure a year. I feel like I've been stripped to the bone, but I've still got some tendons and meat left and I know that I could lose that, too. Despite trying to go out and make friends, I'm somehow at fewer friends than I started 37 at: a parent friend who I thought we were on good terms with has ceased communication entirely; another parent friend has made it abundantly clear that she will only contact us when she needs us; the author group I was so close to we actually met up in-person last fall has pretty much disbanded; and all of my attempts at making friends IRL have fizzled out.
At least I have enough self-confidence now to know none of these were my fault. I can only reach out, organize, plan for others so many times before the lack of reciprocity is too much. And the author group imploded because of two individuals who couldn't hash their beef out somewhere else, poisoning the whole atmosphere there. Still, that little anxiety voice sure likes to point out that there's a commonality in all of these.
On top of that, I split with my agent, stopped doing the queer books list, and pulled back from social media quite a bit. I can't quite say I've never felt more alone, because man, that first year with a newborn having freshly moved to Michigan was achingly lonely, but it's close. And I don't know what to do differently, aside from keep trying different things, different venues. I know it's hard to make friends as an adult, but I also know there are so many other folks in the same basket.
Knowing we struck gold once is helping - two parent friends who were truly a delight to be around and who actually seemed interested in being friends. The other party reaching out and making suggestions as to things to do?? Le gasp! If only they didn't have to move. But it proves it's possible, if I just keep trying and have a little luck.
So idk, maybe that's gonna be the vibe for 38: just keep trying. Make room for luck.
37 was all about making new opportunities happen: joining the local writer's org, going to the Silent Book Club, going to school events. The writer's org was a bust -- apparently I'm not ready to be around folks who are actively publishing/seeking publication. SBC started out hopeful, but the first person I hit it off with moved to California, and now the meetings are so big folks don't talk as much. :/ And school events... I feel like I keep seeing the same people and none of them are interested in being friends. I get that we're all tired and overwhelmed, but surely someone else out there wants to meet up at a playground and talk to an adult while their kiddo plays with another kid and leaves them alone for 30min? Surely??
But... I did start a writing group, and that's nothing to sneeze at. I infiltrated the local NaNo group and suggested we start meeting up to write during the April Camp season, and now we meet (almost) every week. 4-6 of us, all dorks, all just trying to write. So I guess there was some success last year.
Speaking of success, I also have been back at Crossfit for an entire year. And I managed to do it without injuring myself! That's definitely something to be proud of -- listening to my body, respecting my limits, and still pushing myself. Even though it feels like every 3-4 weeks I have to take a week off because of illness, I come back every time and keep going. And I certainly feel stronger and more capable than I did a year ago. At this age I'm certainly not going to be competing, so I've let that dream go, but there's still massive value in staying and keeping strong. Everything I've read about being healthy/capable in your later years points back to laying and protecting that foundation in your 30s and beyond. I know a lot of it is luck, too, but the difference between family members who have stayed active vs not is very stark these days.
So... yeah. 37 was a stripping down to the foundations, but also fixing that foundation so I can build something new that will last. So maybe 38 will be that building up, of something stronger, and better, and kinder. That's all we can ask for, isn't it?
So I'm keeping my expectations low -- all I want is a long run this morning and to make some cupcakes together later. At least I had the forethought to get a babysitter for tonight and tickets to a play. I'd originally thought we could go to the springs, but the thought of organizing it all and trying to get there before they close for capacity was too much. I am tired of organizing, cajoling, caroling, herding cats, etc. Maybe the kids will let me roam free in the backyard, dealing with all the summer's overgrowth and preparing the garden for winter instead.
37 was sure a year. I feel like I've been stripped to the bone, but I've still got some tendons and meat left and I know that I could lose that, too. Despite trying to go out and make friends, I'm somehow at fewer friends than I started 37 at: a parent friend who I thought we were on good terms with has ceased communication entirely; another parent friend has made it abundantly clear that she will only contact us when she needs us; the author group I was so close to we actually met up in-person last fall has pretty much disbanded; and all of my attempts at making friends IRL have fizzled out.
At least I have enough self-confidence now to know none of these were my fault. I can only reach out, organize, plan for others so many times before the lack of reciprocity is too much. And the author group imploded because of two individuals who couldn't hash their beef out somewhere else, poisoning the whole atmosphere there. Still, that little anxiety voice sure likes to point out that there's a commonality in all of these.
On top of that, I split with my agent, stopped doing the queer books list, and pulled back from social media quite a bit. I can't quite say I've never felt more alone, because man, that first year with a newborn having freshly moved to Michigan was achingly lonely, but it's close. And I don't know what to do differently, aside from keep trying different things, different venues. I know it's hard to make friends as an adult, but I also know there are so many other folks in the same basket.
Knowing we struck gold once is helping - two parent friends who were truly a delight to be around and who actually seemed interested in being friends. The other party reaching out and making suggestions as to things to do?? Le gasp! If only they didn't have to move. But it proves it's possible, if I just keep trying and have a little luck.
So idk, maybe that's gonna be the vibe for 38: just keep trying. Make room for luck.
37 was all about making new opportunities happen: joining the local writer's org, going to the Silent Book Club, going to school events. The writer's org was a bust -- apparently I'm not ready to be around folks who are actively publishing/seeking publication. SBC started out hopeful, but the first person I hit it off with moved to California, and now the meetings are so big folks don't talk as much. :/ And school events... I feel like I keep seeing the same people and none of them are interested in being friends. I get that we're all tired and overwhelmed, but surely someone else out there wants to meet up at a playground and talk to an adult while their kiddo plays with another kid and leaves them alone for 30min? Surely??
But... I did start a writing group, and that's nothing to sneeze at. I infiltrated the local NaNo group and suggested we start meeting up to write during the April Camp season, and now we meet (almost) every week. 4-6 of us, all dorks, all just trying to write. So I guess there was some success last year.
Speaking of success, I also have been back at Crossfit for an entire year. And I managed to do it without injuring myself! That's definitely something to be proud of -- listening to my body, respecting my limits, and still pushing myself. Even though it feels like every 3-4 weeks I have to take a week off because of illness, I come back every time and keep going. And I certainly feel stronger and more capable than I did a year ago. At this age I'm certainly not going to be competing, so I've let that dream go, but there's still massive value in staying and keeping strong. Everything I've read about being healthy/capable in your later years points back to laying and protecting that foundation in your 30s and beyond. I know a lot of it is luck, too, but the difference between family members who have stayed active vs not is very stark these days.
So... yeah. 37 was a stripping down to the foundations, but also fixing that foundation so I can build something new that will last. So maybe 38 will be that building up, of something stronger, and better, and kinder. That's all we can ask for, isn't it?
