A year ago, I wrote about how I was dreading turning forty-five. At the time, I was mostly worried about what I was going to do next after years as a volunteer and stay-at-home mom. This was about a year after Sheryl Sanberg published Lean In about women going all in with their careers. Before I had kids, I was leaning in, taking the hard assignments and juicy projects. After Ada died, I still worked hard. I was traveling so much that I paid income tax in California for part of the year when my primary residence was in Chicago. When I was pregnant with Claire Adele, I continued to travel. I remember being very tired most of the time, changing time zones and having oddly timed flights. Restaurant food and limited exercise didn't help. I told one of my directors I was struggling, and she told me to get luggage with wheels. My old bag was a fold over carry-on, and everyone though a new bag would solve my problems. I did get a suitcase with wheels.* It was much easier to carry, but I was still exhausted.
As much as I liked the work and the people I worked with, I couldn't risk losing another child. So I quit. Fourteen years and two healthy kids later, I was itching to get back into the grown-up world and be productive. I thought that would be the problem of forty-five. It wasn't.
It turns out that last year was rougher than I could have imagined, in ways I could not have imagined. I am happy to put forty-five behind me, put it to bed, and shut the door. I am looking forward to this new year. It can't be as bad as the last.
The first few days of forty-six have been fine. I've started my new project, which is just like going back to work, except I have no boss. I have dozens of people to talk to and get advice, but I really have to sort all of this out on my own. I'll just have to finished Lean In to see what Sheryl Sandberg would advise.
* We took the suitcase I bought in 1999 on vacation this year. The fabric between the zipper and the edge of the suitcase ripped, and Jack sewed it up with neon yellow twine. The edges of the external pockets are fraying. The good news is that no one will mistakenly bring this suitcase home from the airport -- it is too ratty. The suitcase which served me so well will need to be retired soon.
This blog is about the little and big thoughts that pop into my head. I once read that when Flannery O'Connor walked into a bookstore, she would want to edit her published works with a red pen. In the digital world, we have the luxury of tweaking things up after we've hit the publish button. I can be a perfectionist/procrastinator, where waiting for the ideal means little gets done. Here I will share what is not--and likely will never be--perfect.
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