Wednesday, December 18, 2013

An autobiography.


 I’m 30. That’s weird to say. It sounds old, but I don’t feel old. My body tries to tell me I’m 30 with backaches and demand for sleep at ten at night. I guess I really am thirty, an adult of sorts. So what I have done with 30 years of life? Let me first list the worldly accomplishments to gain some creditability. I’ve earned an Associate’s, Bachelor’s and a Master’s degree. I’ve bought two cars and have a full time salaried job. I work as a therapist at school for trouble teens. Oh, and I’m happily married with one cat. Geez, now I am really starting to sound like an adult. The funny thing adults scare me; well let me back up, parents scare me. They seem un-relatable. What do I talk to them about? Their mortgages? Their kid’s allergies? The whole thing is nerve raking. Which makes doing family therapy changeling for me- no, not changeling, an accomplishment. I’m also afraid of heights, but love rock climbing. I guess, in a sense I’m a brave 30 year old, choosing a career and a hobby that push me to face my fears. Either brave or stupid, but I would argue my Master’s degree disproves the latter.

Anyways, now you know where I am let me tell you about where I came from, so you get the whole picture. Things in my past still affect me today, as much as they are in the past the always seem to creep into my present mind without me knowing. I grew up poor. I remember my mom using food stamps. I remember our water getting turned off because my parents didn’t have enough many to pay the bill. Nowadays I find myself hiding money around the house (we are talking $100 dollar bills here, 50’s over there). I love to put money in my savings. If I want to buy something for myself that is “expensive” (usually anything over $50) I have to consult my husband to make sure “I’m being responsible.” My parents divorced when I was in ninth grade. It was and is a messy divorce. I would often hear my dad say my mom was “too emotional.” The word “emotional” became something to fear and had such a negative connotation to it. Growing up I would often worry if I was “too emotional.” I mean, I cried when I found out my high school crush Jon Faux didn’t like me back. Was that too emotional? Presently, I find myself tripping up on this same worry. I cried the other day due to stress, does that make me too emotional? Ugh! I guess the past will always find it way to sneak in. I’ve found accepting the past and getting a cat is best way to move along toward the future. Take it from me, I’m an adult of sorts.

1 comment:

R.A. said...

I get the emotional thing. Only, it wasn't because my parents divorced (they didn't), it's because my mom was always saying, "Go to your room if you're going to cry." But it gets better.

Actually, being past 30 gets better. You leave the neurotic self-consciousness of your 20s behind and you begin to understand yourself and say, "I don't give a damn" when someone doesn't like the self that you finally know.