Something Wonderful

I haven't written in ages. For some reason, it became too hard. Like a job. I just didn't enjoy it anymore. But so much continues to well up inside me that I need to get out and this seems like the most logical way.

It's been two years and almost four months into my "no real job" existence. What have I learned and where do I find myself now? Those are two really BIG questions. Financially, I need to get a real job again. My consulting has really slowed down and we can't live on just my husband's income. So, it's been off to job interviews and updating the resume. I haven't done that in over nine years! Finding a job is definitely different now. There's the sometimes impenetrable email wall between you and employers. It seems so passive aggressive. I frequently find it quite annoying.

On the personal front, I've made headway in lots of ways. I'm so much happier with myself now. I still don't have all the answers but at least I'm content with the fact that that's ok. I'm imperfect, but I find that there are moments when that's sort of glorious. And I've finally figured out that most of my aches and pains can be banished pretty quickly by just ceasing the consumption of wheat and other gluten-containing grains. That sucks for the bread-lover in me. But I've found some good pasta substitutions and I'm figuring out good swaps that leave me feeling satiated and still don't mess up my system.

My weight, that life-long adversary, continues to be an issue. A part of me has just come to terms with the fact that I'm pretty lazy where exercise is concerned. I hate it. But at my age (42), I'm starting to see that in order to live a healthy, long life I need to find a way to co-exist with it as a daily part of my existence. I don't like it. But I NEED it. The mental game of this is still something I struggle with but I think I've finally come to accept it.

And to make my middle-aged, jobless situation even more crazy, my husband and I have actually decided to try and have a baby. A baby! Good god. My new ob/gyn seems to think that I should actually be able to conceive and have a healthy baby at my age. I was actually quite taken aback while sitting on the examination table, dressed in nothing but a sloppy, ill-fitting blue gown with a piece of paper over my naughty bits, when my doctor didn't just look me in the eye and say, "Are you out of your freaking mind?" when the subject of pregnancy came up.

Hearing her talk about a potential pregnancy, I actually found to be way more emotional than I'd expected. Most of my life I've been really ambivalent about having a kid and my husband seemed quite disinterested. Two years ago when I quit my job would have been, theoretically, the best time to go for procreation. But I was in such a bad place mentally. Exhausted. So unhappy. On the verge of a rare and aggravating medical condition that took a three-day hospital stay, a colonoscopy, trips to numerous specialists, two surgeries and 18 months to diagnose and finally cure. Not a good time to be pregnant or have a little baby to care for.

But my employment status aside, now seems so right. Craze and I are in a good place in our relationship and our lives. The prospect of bringing another individual, taking their first tentative steps into this world, seems thrilling and wondrous. What a blessing it would be.

And I guess when I think back on the last two years or so, that's what I keep coming back to--all the blessings in my life. The simple things that hold so much weight and meaning. I've come to appreciate the beauty in my life. In little moments and quiet spaces. An illness cured. Feeling good. Reconnecting with old, dear friends. The miracle that a new little life might bring. Breathing in the cool air of autumn and knowing that there will always be something wonderful, no matter how small, in the day that lies ahead of me.