(In the tradition of past breakup posts – See 2008 2007 2006 2005, 2004, 2003)
Dear 2009,
I was thinking today about my friend Audrey. Someone whom I haven’t seen in years. A great gal. Beautiful voice, fun spirit.
She moved to NYC a few years back and when we met up for dinner she described the city in this way.
“It’s kind of like the boyfriend that is lame and forgets your birthday and occasionally pukes on your doorstep and maybe hits you in a fit. But then there’s that one day when he brings you flowers out of the blue and it feels like everything is just magic again.”
I wouldn’t describe you, dear 2009, quite like that. But I would say that we had a lot more times of stress and distress together than we had moments of magic and wonder.
Let’s talk first about transitions.
There’s been so much transition for me this past year. It has been unsettling and you know me, I like stability, order, some level of certainty. There’s been so little of that for me this year. Shuttling back and forth from Seattle to San Francisco for doctors appointments and the move back. Doing that while pregnant and increasingly uncomfortable during the first part of this year was unraveling. Doing it while feeling emotionally isolated while physically unweidly – that much harder.
The identity transition was more difficult than I care to admit. And the struggle with conceding that work options for me were nil as a pregnant woman in transition from one city to another was abysmal. And then on to motherhood & housewife? Weird. And something I still don’t feel comfortable with. I was able to do some great work to support some friends projects but were awesome still, in a consultant roll, but it still felt oddly awkward and uncomfortable for me. I love Amelia with all my heart and I embrace my relationship with her as her mother. But being a professional Mother seems … well, just not quite me.
Like I wasn’t in my own skin or pretending to be someone else. I felt that way a lot this year.
But we survived the transitions and made it back to the bay area, settled into a small home and slowly made it home-ish though after several months here it still doesn’t quite feel like home.
There was the car aggro. Never so much in a single year have I hated my car so much. Broken taillight. Cracked windshield. Bad wipers. Saturn going out of business and the nearest service center being a 2.5 hour drive away. Being pulled over for expired car registration due to mail forwarding snafu’s from all the moving around and having to wait in line for 2 hours on my feet while holding the baby at the court house was an experience that I never ever want to experience again. Ever.
There was the physical exhaustion. Pregnant to the birth to the sleep exhaustion to the general feeling that I’m not as physically resilient as I’ve been when I was younger. Oh 2009, you made me feel my age.
And relationship stress. I hate the fact that I’ve had relationships with important people in my life become strained and cracked. And there’s this sense that I have no tools or abilities to fix them. I hope that changes. I need that to change. It breaks my heart and brings me to tears every time I think about it. And I know admitting that outloud makes it sound melodramatic or postpartum hormonal but it’s true. There are some relationships, that the absense of, has made my heart hurt.
And while it’s great to be back in the bay area and have good friends nearer than far – the dynamic is notably different. Those friends that are unencumbered by children are free and out at bars and concerts and parties and mischief. I’m able to make an apearance on a rare occasion but a lot of the dynamics are different.
But there has been magic.
Amelia is pure magic. At the cusp of 2010 she is 7 and a half months old. Sitting up by herself, smiling at the drop of a dime. Giggling at Peek-A-Boo. Standing while supporting herself at her play table. Starting on solid foods and sleeping a solid 9 hours a night now. She is pretty and personable and giggly and good. She. Is. Pure. Magic. And I love her with all my heart in a way that I cannot begin to describe or explain to someone else who is not a parent. This, my most precious cargo that I have angsted and worried over during 9 monthts of gestatiion to birth and to change after daily and hourly change after change (and I’m not just talking stinky diapers). She is magical.
So, 2009. I thank you for her. Thank you so much for her.
She was the grain of sand of hope that the entire world of Fantasia can be made from.
(Yes – Nerd 80s movie reference. Do you get it?).
So 2009. Our time is done. Looking forward to a more magical 2010.
Yours,
Min Jung