it’s my party and i’ll cry if i want to.
well. it’s my birthday. i’m 32. i’m depressed about this one. and i’m going to indulge myself here. misery ahoy….
most of my friends are older than i am and they’re laughing at me.
a few weeks ago my Very Dear Friend said: ‘can you believe we’ve known each other for ten years?’ ‘yes. i can believe it. i’m almost 32. can you believe that? i feel so old.’ ‘that is not old. that’s young. in another ten years…i’ll tell you you’re old.’ (this might not sound sweet, but it was. or i took it that way, in any case.)
he’s fifteen years older than i am—and i guess i was 21 when we met. in sanskrit class. and i was like this red-hot little ball of brilliance and promise. (though i did not feel that way. i was miserable: i was still three-quarters child, had no ability to take care of myself, didn’t have even the most rudimentary life skills, and i was just starting to figure out that there was something wrong with me physically—something i wasn’t growing out of, but something no one could explain.) but i was brilliant, i’ll give you that! i think it almost made me manic at times. i used to ask VDF to marry me a lot. he always politely declined.
i think that’s the thing about turning 32 (sans career) when you graduated from college at 19—it’s like, well, so most of my life has just been a waste, then. in terms of upward mobility. self-actualization. the personal fable. etc. i let myself be depressed for years. i let other people ruin what could have been a brilliant career. (cue belle and sebastian). (and my musical tastes are outdated—hey, i’m dating myself!) i’m a weird old burnout. too weird to even be a cautionary tale.
on some level i think that Tread-Lightly didn’t want me because i’m not in the professional class. i think i’ve written about that before. i think it’s probably good that i’m going to see my therapist today! insert smiley emoticon here.
i certainly wouldn’t mind having a career again! but any aim i impose on myself is necessarily arbitrary. there isn’t any one i particularly want. all i want is to hold someone and love them—to be held and loved. to have the promise of a life in partnership. but i might just have to impose an aim on myself because i can’t see turning 33 without one. (i’ve been telling people that i want to be some kind of therapist myself—this is sort of a lie. it’s a career i feel like i should have because i have an incredible talent for empathy and for actively caring-about-others. and i guess it would be satisfying. obviously it would be satisfying. but i’m wary of shoulds.)
trying to find a bright side today….i don’t have chlamydia anymore. (last week’s lab results were negative.) that’s a pretty good present.
also i am going to scotland in a few days! how can i keep forgetting that. i know it will be great. forbiddingly beautiful in november.