Posts Tagged ‘growing up’

Very early Friday morning I was woken up by the Husband coming in. As soon as I heard him I started telling him how Bentley spent the night whining, and finally I let him sleep with me on the bed to stop his whining (he usually loves his crate, the whole thing was rather abnormal). I didn’t sleep well because for a still small puppy, he sure spreads out. The Husband listened and then said, “I got into an accident last night”.

I say, “what?” and flip on the light.

And standing there is my Husband with stitches down his forehead, bruised, and a little out of it.

I would like to say I stayed calm, but I immediately jumped up, held back tears…that eventually came out and asked a million questions.

His last night as an officer, and he got into an accident.

Oh the absolutely, incredibly, exciting news? Last week the Husband made detective! A drug unit detective to be exact, the path he has wanted since day one.

And so on his last night on patrol on the overnight shift, he went out with a bang. Literally.

Apparently he got into an icy car accident…with a dump truck. He was rushed via ambulance to the ER. It was at this time that all of his shift decided they shouldn’t call me. I’m still not sure how I feel about this one, but they knew I couldn’t do anything, he was OK aside from needing a few stitches, and they didn’t want me driving at 3am on icy roads to get to the hospital.

And so on Friday I took a personal day. As much as he assured me he was ok, aside from sore and looking like Frankenstein, I couldn’t stomach him being home alone and going to sleep without someone checking on him. Only he spent all of Friday awake. For whatever reason, shock, excitement, discomfort – he stayed awake through 7pm. (At that point he had been awake well over 24 hours.)

I was supposed to head into the city for my friend’s 30th birthday, but I just couldn’t. I had this horrible fear about him going to sleep and not waking up, and I was extremely anxious about leaving him. To the point of going into the bathroom and talking myself down from a full-blown panic attack. A call to my understanding friend (thank God) and I stayed home and he finally went to sleep. Every few hours I went in to the bedroom, woke him up and asked him questions. Later, after having my own relief tear fest, just as I crawled into bed, he turned to me and shouted his birthday, “9-26-84, shh, I am sleeping”. At least we ended the night with a little laugh.

And then there was Saturday.

The cliff notes version. I met my younger sister for a quick spin class, spent the whole time fearing she would faint – since her heart-break diet has made her even more thin than she already is – and then headed home with her in tow as I promised her a full sister day.

A day or two prior I had noticed that Bentley was getting eye discharge, a little darker than the previous normal discharge. And on Saturday morning, his eyes were covered in crust, with dark discharge. Our normal vet doesn’t have weekend hours so I placed a quick call to the pet ER. They gave two options, he could come, get checked out and likely given meds (and confirm it’s not a scratch or worse) or wait to see the regular vet, but chance it to get worse and of course, hold him out of daycare for the first few days of the week. I’m not sure I would have been as concerned if my work friend hadn’t just been in the same scenario which resulted in her dog getting his eye removed last month.

And so off to the pet ER we went. Turns out he has conjunctivitis, just like a human, and we are giving him ointment 3x a day. Apparently very common in dogs, especially ones at daycare who rough house but the vet thought it was good we went so that he can return to daycare on Tuesday.

Bentley was exhausted at this point, thankfully, so I fed him, and crated him and the little sister and I went off to do some shopping and then saw Frozen. Frozen was hilarious, and the perfect sister, cheer you up movie! After we grabbed some food and headed home to eat and hang with Bentley and the Husband. Sister ended up sleeping over since she didn’t want to be alone.

Sunday morning we were up by 6:30am (thanks Bentley) and drinking coffee before I drove the little sister home around 9. Half hour there, then half hour back and I raced to get into the shower to get ready to head out to the Husband’s parent’s house. His Dad, (as a fun side project) built a ton of condos and they were having the first open house. We toured through them, had a nice late lunch, and then drove the hour home finally ending my weekend around 8pm.

The Husband ended up in bed by 9:15pm, still exhausted and getting used to the new schedule.

I sort of spent an hour or so last night getting worked up and anxious.

I don’t know what it is, but I all around can’t stop feeling like a failure when it comes to half-ironman training. Half my training went out the window last week – between snow storms, ER trips, and other priorities. I have this underlying “I can’t do it” feeling which brings me down even more.

And then, the Husband’s new schedule is fantastic in that he has weekends off (woohoo!) but…

His new week day schedule is likely 1pm-9pmish. Meaning I need to get home from work and to doggy daycare by the 6:30pm pick-up time – every week day. I won’t see him on weekdays much and I pretty much need to get my workouts in and completed in the morning since now I don’t have to worry about getting Bentley to daycare since the Hubby can.

The truth is, this is a big change, and 95% a fantastic one. The 5% is just that we need to figure out our new normal, adjust schedules, and now – make time for each other on weekends.

This is an insanely long post but I guess I need to get this out too.

With the exception of my closest Boston friend, and likely my friend S who is always busy too, my other Boston friends and my younger sister, don’t understand the need for me to spend time with my Husband. Sometimes it feels really unfair. It’s a constant judgment if I say I can’t do something to spend time with Jim “because I live with him”. I’m getting frustrated, really frustrated. And anxious, clearly.

In fact, aside from those same two friends, none of my friends said anything along the lines of, “hope the Husband is ok”. I got one text from a friend saying she was sad I didn’t make it to that birthday party – and truthfully I bet she doesn’t even understand why I wanted to stay home with my stitched up and concussed husband. I had let them know what happened, so it’s not that they were unaware.

I guess I just don’t understand their thinking. I love everyone in my life – but I understand when they have other priorities (between work, family, friends, babies, weddings, etc.) or even need their own down time. It doesn’t upset me if they can’t do something, because I know there’s good reason behind it, and I’ll gladly spend time with them when they can.

I think this is really weighing me down a bit. I’m struggling to find balance, and most of all, struggling to find selfish time for me and my workouts. Everything seems to be a priority these days, but the truth is, they aren’t all priorities to me. And yet, I end up feeling guilty and anxious when some friends don’t understand and so I find myself paying $50, driving an hour into the city to walk through a beer fest and not drink because I was driving, with a friend and her boyfriend so she doesn’t get upset, and I end up home at 11pm, unhappy. It’s even harder when every single weekend there are multiple “priority” things. Between Bentley, work, my friends, my family, the Husband’s friends, the Husband’s family, and God forbid trying to make time for just us as a couple… I’m losing it. Cleaning? Organizing? Errands? A hair cut? Who has time for that?!

I just found out my Tokyo project, which includes my evening 7pm -9/10pm calls will continue through September.

I want to run away. But, I know… I just need to take a deep breath.



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Feeling my way through the darkness
Guided by a beating heart
I can’t tell where the journey will end
But I know where to start


They tell me I’m too young to understand
They say I’m caught up in a dream
Well life will pass me by if I don’t open up my eyes
Well that’s fine by me

So wake me up when it’s all over
When I’m wiser and I’m older
All this time I was finding myself
And I didn’t know I was lost


I tried carrying the weight of the world
But I only have two hands
I hope I get the chance to travel the world
And I don’t have any plans
Wish that I could stay forever this young
Not afraid to close my eyes
Life’s a game made for everyone
And love is the prize

So wake me up when it’s all over
When I’m wiser and I’m older
All this time I was finding myself
And I didn’t know I was lost

I didn’t know that I was lost


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This is something I have been thinking about for a few months now, and after a conversation with a friend the other night, I can’t help but write about it.

In my early 20’s I would look at older friends or acquaintances who were getting married or having babies and think – they must miss this lifestyle I’m currently living. The freedom of being single, going out late nights, making last-minute plans, travelling across the world, and caring little about responsibility, savings or having to make a decision as an “us”. In a way, I not only felt badly for them, like they were missing out, but I dreaded ever getting to that point.

I’m on the other side now. My 28-year-old self can look back at my 22-year-old self and realize, at this moment in my life, I don’t miss that lifestyle. It’s almost like, being on this side – it feels like this secret that until you’re here, you just don’t get.

I have a feeling the same will happen when it comes to having children. It’s easy now to think, how could we give up our life, our freedom to just do what we want as a couple without having to think of a child too? But something tells me, once you get to that stage, most parents look back at us couples without kids and think, they don’t understand the love you can feel for a child, for your partner, and what being a parent and a family really means. It means sacrifice but it’s worth it.

That’s not to say that at these stages I think I have, or will have to, give all of my freedom up. It’s not that at all. Stability, in my job, with friends, in love, with money – isn’t a bad thing. Hell, it’s been a great thing. And it’s still nice to go out for a night on the town with my girlfriends but, it’s an added bonus to come home to my husband and sleep on my comfy expensive sheets.

It’s just strange. Growing up is all around strange. This adventurous, thrill-seeking, sometimes almost reckless person I was at times in high-school, college and into mid-20’s – has somewhat faded. Those things, roller-coaster short-lived relationships, binge drinking and drugs, waterfall repelling, sky-diving – just aren’t desirable anymore. There are brief moments I miss the idea of those things, but really I’m even more surprised that most of the time, I just don’t. Those things aren’t fulfilling – fulfilling in a long-term, real life, way.

Instead I find myself wanting a house. A pet. A baby, or two. Travel with the Husband. Challenging opportunities at work. Fitness goals, like running races and cleaning up my diet. Time to myself. And hours of real quality time and experiences with the Husband, friends or family.

Maybe to some that sounds boring or even makes me boring. But in the end, I think in a way I’ve stopped thrill-seeking because I’ve found a way to get that thrill-seeking feeling, in a long-term way. I’m fulfilled and finally relaxed in a way that I don’t think I could have understood until I got here. Here being, happy. I can’t help but realize, I’m fully and genuinely happy. Take that 22-year-old self.

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Thanks everyone for your comments and thoughts on yesterday’s post. I think reading Becelisa’s post combined with spending time with my family over the weekend brought up some thoughts I hadn’t realized I was having.

While I ended the post with, “it is what it is” I know deep down I don’t really believe that. If I did I probably wouldn’t have written that post yesterday. I probably also wouldn’t have tossed and turned all night thinking about what D said over the weekend, that she doesn’t want my Dad to walk her down the aisle. I know it will hurt my Dad more than she’ll ever understand but I guess it’s not my choice it make.

Anyway, sorry to stay on the serious side today but all of this made me realize that my bubble has really been popped.

I swear in your younger years you are protected by this bubble. It’s not just that your family and school protect you from the bad, but there’s just some invisible force field that seems to keep out some of the obvious. If you reflect back now on your childhood and teenage years you notice a heck of a lot more than you did at the time.

While I said I didn’t see my parent’s divorce coming I meant it. But looking back now I can see the years building up to it and could guess it was coming.

Now being 26 I also am starting to notice other things. Like my Grandmother who I looked up to more than anyone in the world was an alcoholic. How did I completely miss that growing up? The family did a great job of hiding it and truthfully she was a high-functioning alcoholic, until 6pm that is. But I now look back on a night where it had gotten too late and she started cruelly arguing with me over the simple statement that I wanted a car. I can see now her change in behavior was a result of too many gin and tonics not my bratty 16-year-old desire for a car.

Or that my Mom isn’t perfect. I know, no one is. But growing up I thought my Mom was the most amazing woman to look up to and I do still look up to her. But sometimes she is negative and sometimes it frustrates me how giving she is because people take advantage of that she gets upset and angry and doesn’t realize that she has allowed that to happen.

Or that death has become a much more common occurrence than I wanted. The loss of grandparents, aunts, uncles, parents, friends, etc. – it just feels like every few months someone else dies.

And one the hardest thing about my mid to late 20’s so far? Letting go of friends.

I don’t know what it is about this age but all the sudden it seems obvious that some friendships take too much effort, they no longer meet in the middle, they no longer make you happy, and your values, life goals, and perspective are so far from each other you spend more time pretending than being real. In the past few months I have held on to a few friendships just because we had such a history, but I can’t help but notice I’m spending more time trying to save those friendships versus fostering my other friendships. It doesn’t necessarily mean cutting these people out of my life, it just means I need to let go.

While I still whole heartedly believe that each year gets better and better, and that with age comes this amazing self-confidence, content and drive, I have to say, sometimes ignorance is bliss.

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