As I reflect upon 2012, I realize how truly remarkable the change that can occur in one year can be. At the beginning of this year I was days out of a 3 year relationship, an ending that was devastating and painful. After 10 years of being completely independent, I came knocking on my parents' door, needing a place to stay until I could muster the money for a deposit to a new apartment. I was back in the town I had grown up in. And I was only 4 months in to the first year of a doctorate program, part of which involved working at a community mental health agency in Marin.
It was one of those periods in life where everything shifts and is re-evaluated. It was time to take a good long look inside and figure out what I truly wanted out of life, and how I was going to get there. Although I was grieving, I felt something inside of me change, open up. A fire was lit in me. It was time to start over, start new again.
We hear about such change in the form of the "mid life crisis," but this kind of monumental shift can occur at any point in one's life. For me, this period served as a "light bulb moment," a realization of where I ultimately wanted to go in life. For years I had asserted my feminist opinions in the form of denying any interest in ultimately having a family one day. I wasn't sure I wanted to be married at all. I didn't know where I wanted to live, or what I wanted to do. I had always felt there was more to life, but I wasn't sure what it was.
I was months away from becoming engaged when I realized that I could not see one year in the future with this partner, let alone a lifetime. And as I packed up the last of my things from our shared apartment, sorting through our shared CD case of movies to find mine, I realized I no longer had the patience or the time to date frivolously anymore. I never wanted to sort through another CD case again.
Of course grieving is a process. So I began the year by reconnecting with old friends from my home town, a place that has always held me and supported me through many transitions. I like to think of it as a landing pad for my airplane to go when it needs a base point. I worked on my relationship with my parents. And I poured myself into my work at school.
Eventually I gathered the money and began to look into places to move closer to school. I fell in love with Oakland the first time I visited. It exemplified the kind of place I wanted to live in at this very moment in time: adapt to adversity, community-oriented, and full of life. I knew this place needed to be my new home.
I moved into my quaint Lake Merritt studio in April. I was finally in the land of public transportation and 2 hour parking (another change I had to figure out- luckily, it only took about 15 parking tickets before I got it). I started expanding upon newer friendships. Over the summer I allowed myself to relive my early 20's and get a bit reckless, staying out late and dancing. And in my free time I explored this new city, and discovered all it had to offer (secret parks and lakes, Friday art gallery crawls, wonderful food, to mention a few things).
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At the end of the summer I met a new man. He was caring, intelligent, gentle. I felt safe with him. Still, I took my time getting to know him, cautiously resisting the urge to jump into something serious again. For the first time ever, I listened to my head as much as my heart in a romantic situation, and I consciously chose this partner. Suddenly the future didn't seem so far away any more. I was growing up.
In the fall I began my second year in the program. This year was to be the toughest academic year, and that was the case. I was assigned to work in the Mission district in San Francisco, quite a difference from my work in Marin the previous year. By the time school started I felt strong and ready to begin another chapter. So far, I'm charging through it.
In one year I lost a relationship, moved home with my parents, moved to a new city, ended a school year, found a new kind of relationship, and began a new school year and a new job. Lots of change. Change seems to be a defining feature of my 20's. But as I grow older, I feel myself longing to bury my feet in the soil somewhere. I can finally admit that I do, in fact, want a family one day.
And so I look forward to 2013, and maintain hope that perhaps in my 30's I will find more stability. Until then, I'll continue to roll with the changes ;)
Happy holidays everyone.
Love,
Your favorite twirty-something
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