Sunday, October 26, 2014

More months than I thought it's been

Since I sat down to update this space. I can't seem to walk away from this small corner of the internet that's mine, although I can't help but wonder if its shelf life has expired. I like having the archives that chronicle the last several years of my life, knowing all that I'm not writing between the lines, although it's often painful for me to go back and read them.

Five years ago this month, I got job offers coming at me in all directions--all in the middle of the recession, and the worst financial time that my generation has experienced. I worked in a niche area of healthcare policy, and that niche area had been embedded into Obama's stimulus package of 2009. Everyone who knew anything about this was suddenly highly marketable. It was a flash in the pan moment for me and my fledgling "career" --only 6 years out of college at that time --and the likes of which I will likely ever see again my lifetime.

Five years ago this month, I took a deep breath and made the difficult decision to move back to Washington, D.C.

Five.

I've lived in my little apartment in my vibrant bustling city for longer than I've ever lived anywhere in my life. My career has skyrocketed to a level I could never have envisioned--I don't regret that decision for a minute. I am well-known in my field, and we're winding down. Mission accomplished, so to speak, in a lot of ways. It's changing, pulling me down into the depths of which I'm not sure I want to go.

I've grown more than I ever have (in more than ways than one, and I should look very seriously at Weight Watchers in my future!). I am a different person than I was--and that's life as it should be.


"And the walls came tumbling down in the city that we love." 

I'm typing this sitting on an airport floor, outside gate 38, waiting to board a plane to Louisville so that I can have a four-hour long job interview tomorrow. I think there's a good chance I'll get it (I know the woman I'd be working for, or else I wouldn't be nearly this sure), and thus a good chance my life will turn on its head and a new chapter will begin.

Or it won't. And that's ok too, but I am ready to get home. I think I am destined, as a child of divorce, to always feel torn between two homes. DC has been my home for many, many years and I will cry a lot over the next month as I pack up my life again to journey back to my Kentucky home. There is no guarantee, but I've been asking the universe (quite literally, out loud) to bring me something good. Please, let something good happen.

In an attempt to control things I can control, I decided to dye my hair brown, as it finally became clear it was turning under those blonde highlights I kept putting in. Embracing the physical changes, the emotional ones, for what's next.

Cross your fingers.

"And if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you've been here before?"









Friday, April 25, 2014

Mothers and Daughters


She stares at my pictures and my hands and my face like she's searching for something.

My mother was just here for a week, and she comes here fairly frequently--maybe 2-3 times a year, and stays for several days. We are together non-stop when she is here, and she enmeshes into my day to day patterns for a moment. When we are apart, we rarely talk except via text messages. It's an ebb and flow, as are most relationships I suppose. She knows me in a way only a mother can, and is kept at arm's length in a way that you only keep your mother.

Mom grew up very poor in deep rural Kentucky. This wasn't your average poor...Mom actually just told me this last time she was here that she didn't taste meat until she was about 7 or 8--old enough to remember her mother cutting the head off a chicken. Only vegetables from the garden (funny how poverty has flipped from vegetables only to processed, terrible foods only as accessible to the poor.) Running water didn't enter her home until she was 16. She and her sisters grew up, in her words "as poor as church mice," but she graduated high school and then went to technical school to be a secretary.

She moved to Frankfort, our Kentucky state capitol, which was several hours away from her home, to work for the state. To be very clear, my mother moving in the early 1970's to Frankfort to work all by herself at the age of about 20 is almost an exact parallel to her own daughter fleeing to Washington DC, another capitol city all by herself. I joke that if I am to have my own daughter, she will probably flee to NATO headquarters to work.

But that is where the parallel's end. My mother didn't have the help I did -- she didn't have a father's help to springboard from, as I did. She ate the free crackers from fast food restaurants, and put the free ketchup on them, and those were her meals. My father, when he met her, said she kept all her belongings in a cardboard box. Money was sent back home to her own family, and she still kept enough out to live.

I know her and my dad were happy for a little while. She then gave birth to his clone (in personality, and looks). I am her only child, and the very replica of her former mother-in-law.



My mother loves me. So much that I know it brings her to tears if she thinks about it for too long. But, she is also baffled by me -- me, and my quick humor and liberal tendencies and career that she doesn't understand. But what means the world to me...is that she tries. I telework when I can when she visits, so she hears me on conference calls and meetings. She'll always ask alot of questions when they're over and sometimes I catch her watching me with this mix of disbelief and fondness and...something I can't put my finger on.

We were watching TV one night and I showed her a cut on my hand. She caught my hand in hers, and absentmindedly studied and prodded each finger, each nail, for several minutes, like she was trying to find her baby's hands in there somewhere. I let her.

I know she is proud of me. I know she would probably prefer if I were about 25 pounds lighter, and maybe given her a grandchild by now (or if she had any hope of ever getting one). But, she ended up with me, her baffling daughter. She says frequently that I "raised myself." I did have to do a fair amount of solo trudging through the divorce and subsequent stepparents and stepsiblings and all their accompanying drama. But, I was always cared for and loved.

I just wish she would give herself more credit for the extraordinary life she has lived, simply by wanting more and making that 'more' happen. I wish she could realize what I know --that from the ashes of poverty, she rose to scrape out a better life. And I stand on her shoulders, scraping out mine.

Mom looks out the window at her childhood home, being torn down; 2013




Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Night walks



Even in angst, even in wonder (shall I wander?), even when I doubt -I still look at this when I walk at night, on a Tuesday, and I think "Fucking lucky. So fucking lucky."

Monday, March 24, 2014

Cups of tea I forget to drink



View of my desk, from the viewpoint of someone with their head in their arms. I am buried, deep down, in work. And at the same time, stagnant. There are decisions to be made, even if they lead to me staying at the status quo for awhile. To avoid being overly cryptic, I have another job offer on the table. No relocation, so I'd stay here. But it would involve leaving the industry I've been in for 8 years. Is it time? I also have a very tentative "offer" from another place that would come with relocation.

I'm so tired of having the same arguments in my head, with myself. I'm so tired of having to make every single decision by myself, with no one truly understanding exactly what is at stake for me, career or personal-life wise. I can see why people marry into ho-hum relationships or stay married even if it's shitty. It sucks, sometimes, having to do everything on your own. This isn't a pity party, but just a statement. I am at once jealous and dismissive of women who never had to do anything on their own.

Decisions will be made, and the world won't end. Lives won't be affected--only mine. And what does that matter?

I talked to my dad for a long time yesterday about all the decisions. I love that I have a father that wants to hear about my life. That offers to pay for things even if we make the same amount of money, and I haven't asked for a dime since college. That offers to drive up for my birthday. At the same time, it can be maddening talking to him (or to anyone in my family) because there is so little understanding and comprehension about what I do for a living. Not because they are dumb or that I am doing anything exotic, but life just simply has zoomed on and we've lost that day-to-day "oh this is my bitch coworker Debbie; I'm working on this project; I'm running this meeting tomorrow on the Hill." 

We were going back and forth, and I mentioned about how my sister's first reaction is "but won't you be bored if you move away from DC??" That seems to be so many's reaction--that I'm living in some glamorous place (ok. I kind of am. 50% amazing, 50% parking tickets). I said "I don't want to have to defend constantly my decision to leave if and when that ever comes. This is just where I live to me, not "Washington, DC." Would all of you be moaning about all my lost opportunities for entertainment if I said "Hey fam, I think I'm really ready to leave Raleigh?" For some reason, this cracked him up and made him see exactly what I mean. I said I was going to start posting more pictures of my electric bill and the city rats on Facebook, to make it seem less amazing. Deal, he said.

I had to go to the doctor this morning for some follow-up bloodwork. She was filling the vials, and I talked about how I'm having anxiety pop up again. It's been a long, long time since that happened. My doctor is remarkably un-hysterical and was pretty calm about it like, oh well, don't let it get out of control. Let me know. Which is exactly what I needed--no medicine or anything, just a stated fact. It's out there. We'll watch it.

Cabin fever! I need winter to be over. I have signed up for two softball leagues (both co-ed, same league I was in last year.) I'll get to play twice a week games and practices. I can't wait to get outside and shake off winter.

On the way to the doctor for my 730am appointment, I noticed the moon still out over the rising sun. I snapped this photo and grinned. And put it on Facebook.




I think Dad put his head in his arms, buried on his desk, and thought about his dramatic daughter living the dream she always wanted.


Thursday, March 6, 2014

Blowing in the wind

I've gone quiet in this space of late, as I do when things are busy. They've been as busy as they come. I'm typing this out on my phone, killing time waiting for a friend. The friend I'm waiting for is referenced in the post a few posts down -we've gotten through this silent period and she's in town for work. It'll be good to see her--I think the separation did us good (even if she didn't even know it was intentional on my end).

I wandered around Target for about an hour. I am sitting in my car listening to a $7.99 copy of The Essential Bob Dylan that I picked up while in there. On the checkout line, I realized I bought cat food, this CD, and beer. And pajamas. I apologized to the checkout guy for the extremely random purchase order and he said while shrugging "I should probably ask you out." Ha!

I just got back from a week and half at our annual conference where I thought I was going to meet Hillary. Aargh it didn't happen. My boss met her and burst into tears. He's a grown man. He bursts into tears far too often for my taste. 

I did get to see her from a perch in the staff balcony, and I posted this panoramic picture to Facebook. Check out the sea of smartphone and iPad screens held up to record her.

 
Then I was off to Philly right after to meet up with friends for a birthday weekend. I did yoga for an hour and a half. Yoga is not my jam. I thought at one point while squatting and being told to breeeaathe "I came all the way here to be tortured!!" 


Off to listen to Mr Dylan and drive around. Thanks for driving by this little small space. 

Thursday, February 13, 2014

For Liv

The view from my back porch!

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

February


February.

February mires me down in cold and I have a case of the bleaks, although it's not as bad as August. Things are barreling along for me and I'm in survival mode until spring.

In this month I am/will be busier than a one-legged dog in a race. January was about that bad and this month is not going to see much rest for me. Our annual conference will be at the end of the month and it numbers into the tens of thousands that attend. Every weekday until then and especially during then, I am already double and sometimes triple booked on my calendar.

I stand up when I'm on conference calls and pace around. I eat lunch standing up. I am like a caged bird in February.

In this month, I will get to meet Hillary Clinton on the day my mother will turn 61. She wants a picture of the two of us, and she wants it in a frame.

That I can do.

And now I leave you with this....it is full of the f-bomb, but I dare you not to have the beginning line in your head for the rest of all time.


I find myself humming "Holy shit, it's another fuckin' day" in the shower all the time now.