So what's new with me? Nothing. Everything. Not to be dramatic or anything, but I don't think I'm the same person I was three years ago. I'm 32 years old now; I find myself saying "I'm too old for (insert item here)" more than I care to admit. But I love my thirties. Definitely better than my twenties. In the spirit of being that polar bear, I think I'm closer than I've ever been, especially due to recent events. Here, let me explain...
As a thirty-something woman, I have spent the better part of ten years trying to assert my independence and individuality. When I was in college, I had a serious boyfriend who I thought I was going to marry. The problem was that he controlled everything. Mind you, he wasn't controlling, but I definitely molded myself into what I thought he wanted. I made friends with all his friends; he thought my friends were rather obnoxious. He was (is) a huge Gopher fan, and I went to many a basketball game. He bought a place in Eagan and notified me that when I moved in I was going to have to get rid of a lot of my stuff. One day I looked in the mirror and realized that I couldn't marry him. Marrying him would mean essentially letting myself fall to the wayside.
So I broke up with him. I have never doubted that it was the right thing to do, but what followed that breakup was years of soul searching, grief, financial woes, and a few really dark moments. There were sweet times, too, but I was on a roller coaster. And for the most part, I rode that roller coaster by myself. I was deathly afraid of falling into the same patterns, so I avoided relationships. When I did get involved with men, they were usually unsuitable in one way or another, but it was better that way because I always knew how it was going to turn out. My friends shook their heads at me in bewilderment half the time, but in the long run my heart experienced minimal damage.
I actually got really comfortable being by myself until one late night not too long ago. I was lying in bed reading, and I kept seeing something out of the corner of my eye. It was two in the morning and I was convinced that I was freaking myself out, so I tried to ignore it, but finally I looked up, and there it was. A bat--a motherfucking bat--was circling the room. I froze for a full minute, trying to decide whether or not ignoring the problem was an option. After coming to terms with the fact that I had no choice but to deal with the critter, the thought crossed my mind that it would be nice to have someone there to help. Not someone to do it for me, but someone to commiserate with. I buried the thought as quickly as it appeared and hatched a plan, ducking into the kitchen to grab supplies. After successfully trapping the bat in an empty freezie pop box and releasing it into the night, I felt proud of myself for catching the bat on my own. There was a part of me, though, that wanted to laugh about it with someone, maybe share a high-five or something.
So why am I telling you all of this? Well, since the bat night, the thought of letting someone in became less of a fear and more of a desire. The problem is that as an adult I have a much more jaded view of love and what it really means. I came from a home where my parents stayed together, so my view of relationships was overly simple back then. You met someone, you married them, you had kids, and that was that. These days I am well aware of the...messiness that can (and will) ensue. Everyone has issues, a lot of people cheat, life throws curveballs, and nothing is perfect. But the thing is, I don't care anymore. I wanna try. I'm sick of thinking that I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life when I have to admit that I've never really tried that hard.
And I met someone. And we connected instantly, in a way that I haven't experienced before. God, I sound so girly, but it's true. And it hasn't been very long, but for the first time in my life, even though I'm scared as hell, I'm thinking that I can make the jump into the unknown. I feel in my bones that he's going to be in my life for a very long time, but I'm scared to be wrong. I'm scared that he's bullshitting me. But I don't think he is. I think this is for real.
I thought that once I took the plunge everything would be easy, but I still have a lot of anxiety about the whole thing. It actually feels good, though, because if nothing else comes of this, I'm proud of myself for trying (even if my friends will continue to shake their heads at me). Or maybe it'll be the best thing in the world. I don't know yet--and that's totally fine.
So that's what's new with me. Huh. I just wrote kind of a serious blog, which is unlike me, so I hope that's okay. I promise I'll be funnier later...
