I’m sitting in an Austin coffee shop, staring out at the traffic passing by on their way to and from the university. A couple is arguing themselves in circles, even though they’ve already broken up. I’m having my first Clover brewed cup of coffee and appreciating that a drip coffee doesn’t taste bitter. I grab my headphones and turn the volume all the way up so I don’t jump in the couple’s fight and tell the girl she’s a hypocrite. I’m meant to relax now.

I just finished my interview a few hours ago, and it went well. I’m trying not to think of what it means or might mean. I’m trying not to run my own personal troop withdraw time tables, not to figure out how much my present salary would equal in this higher cost of living market. I’m trying not to think of what it would mean for my own struggling relationship, trying not to hear the couple’s conversation that reminds me of the tears-inducing talk Date #4 and I had earlier this week.

No, I’m in Austin. I can tell this is my city. I plan to spend the next few days falling in love with it.

The stress leading into this interview has been unreal. Not only was I stressed out about the interview, but about the travel surrounding it, my relationship problems, and some financial issues that have surfaced. I really couldn’t afford it, but I needed a vacation. So, I’m taking one. I figured a stay at a mental facility would cost a lot more than the bed and breakfast I rented. Har har.

Even here, people seem a little surprised that I’m alone on vacation. I’m calling it my “solocation.” I need some time to myself to not think for a while. I brought about 10 books with me, a journal and that’s about it. I’ve got the B&B until Saturday morning and I don’t need to be back in Corpus Christi until Monday. I’m not really sure where I’ll go or what I’ll do. I’ve got my car, a state parks pass and an adventurous spirit. So far all I’ve wanted to do is not pick up my phone, take a nap and eat something.

I do love not having any plans. I love not having anything to do, no place in particular to go. I especially love not knowing anybody.

Adventure.

One of my favorite childhood memories is of my parents’ record collection. I would sit in front of our stereo with the records spread over the living room carpet, balancing the much-too-large headphones over my ears. I would close my eyes and listen with delight, awe and sadness to The Kinks, Peter Frampton, Janis Joplin, Cream, Chicago, and the Allman Brothers. What I heard affected me.

It’s a wonder my parents didn’t guess I would be a DJ and run a radio station one day.

Music can move me in a way nothing else can. When people ask me about my spirituality, I tell them that it’s one part music, one part night sky and one part ocean (gawd, I sound like a hippie). Nothing gets at my soul as quickly and profoundly as music does. I can still spend an evening happily with my headphones on lying on my own living room floor, just in front of my computer now instead of a hi-fi.

After spending this past Saturday night hanging out with GIWS listening to music and talking for a few hours, he pointed out a habit I’ve known about for a while. “You and your kicks,” he said. “You get on these kicks with certain albums.” It’s true. I tend to take an album, whether it just came out or I suddenly get the urge to revisit it, and I listen to it over and over and over. For like weeks, usually months at a time, until I’m absolutely sick of it and can’t stand to hear it for another 6 months or so.

The really amazing thing about my little habit, which has annoyed the crap out of almost every boyfriend I’ve had who doesn’t understand my relationship to music, is that it creates an aural memory-inducer. In layman’s terms, later in life when I hear a song from that “kick” it takes me instantly back to that few weeks or months of my life.

It’s fantastic.

When I hear Death Cab For Cutie’s “The Photo Album,” I am swept instantly back to my sophomore year of college. I was playing it non-stop in the fall of that year, and it reminds me of my best friend Amanda, trying to repress my shouted requests when they toured through Orlando that year, and making out with a cute, cute boy to track #3.

When I hear Coldplay’s “Parachutes,” I am instantly sitting on the shared upstairs porch with my dorm mate Heeral, drunkenly shouting the lyrics after sauntering back to campus as a freshman who somehow didn’t get carded at a British pub. It always reminds me of the way you could tell she was drunk because she’d start speaking with a British accent.

When I hear Neil Halstead’s “Sleeping on Roads,” I can vividly remember my first apartment in Orlando and how gorgeous the spring was that year, my junior year of college. I would put it on while doing little things, like putting clean, hot pink sheets on my bed or sitting in my favorite chair (a hideous green wool La-Z-Boy I bought for $5 at a garage sale) overlooking second-story trees in bloom while reading. It reminds me of much simpler times.

What I’ve done with my play-the-crap-out-of-it habit is create a soundtrack to my life. The Verve is what I listened to my first month of sobriety, and “Lucky Man” is the official song of my sober life. Pete Yorn is what I listened to as I fell for GIWS. And now, as I go through what I can only describe as a new painful period of growth, I am stuck on Radiohead’s “The Bends.”

I don’t fight it because I know that it will help me get through today and that one day in the future I’ll hear it and be swept back to these days, fondly remembering how I didn’t know yet what was in store for me. Maybe that’s the fun part of making the memory – realizing that this will be the past one day and that I might as well enjoy where I’m at.

Eating crow: humiliation by admitting wrongness or having been proven wrong after taking a strong position

Eat humble pie: to apologize and face humiliation for a serious error

I’m not sure either of these describes exactly how I feel, but they come close. I had a particularly, and unexpectedly, emotional day. Around noon, I learned that a friend’s sister overdosed last night. I didn’t know the sister, but this recovering alcoholic can tell you that there is something about hearing that this disease has claimed another person that shakes you at your core. I believe it was that shaken state that allowed everything to bubble up to the surface.

I can’t write list posts or tell you how to get through your first day of work or even how to make more room in your life for love. The only real thing I have to offer is a candid view of the way I live my life, and to be as achingly honest about it as possible. And I’ve been wrong. About several things.

It started innocently enough. I stopped by Old Navy on my way home from work to pick up a pair of pajama shorts since it’s become clear to me that Date #4 will not take the hint and leave behind the necessary boyfriend boxers I would prefer to sleep in. While there, I decided to be a good auntie to my cousin’s 1-year-old daughter and pick up a few cute little things. I dumped it all on the bed when I got home, changed into my new shorts (ah…) and stared at the clothes. They were so cute, so little, and I couldn’t wait to see her in them. A feeling started to come up… and I shoved it back down.

All day, I’d been shoving it back down.

The loss of my friend’s sister stirred up my still-raw emotions over the loss of my friend Maureen back in March. I shoved it back down. Date #4 not being able to spend his birthday weekend with me stirred up feelings of jealousy, resentment and fear. I shoved it back down. As I stared down at the little girl’s clothes, it stirred up emotions of something I’d lost years ago, and I shoved that down too.

But it wouldn’t stay down.

As I tried to finish going about my night (I needed to blog, get my work and running clothes ready, make some concrete business decisions…), it just wouldn’t stay down. Something wasn’t right. It’s been this way for a few months but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I thought it was maybe my sinuses, maybe not exercising, not having my work and life balanced just the right way or not doing the right kind of work. I searched, all the while shooing away this nagging feeling that I wasn’t working something important out. Shoved it down.

It came up. All at once.

I miss Maureen and her death has affected me. I can’t ignore that. I don’t want to feel that pain because it is so very strong. I am missing a friend, a person who totally got me, who gave to me and took from me, to whom I told “I love you” every time we said goodbye. I wasn’t dealing with those feelings, that grief. I ignored it.

What I really want when I imagine a good, fine life for myself is to own my own café, just as I envisioned it in December, an airy cozy shop full of funky vintage furniture, good coffee and an owner (me!) who knows everybody. I would be in a cool town, maybe not too big but too small. Somehow I got the notion into my head that it just wasn’t grand enough a business for a smarty-pants like me. So I shelved it, said it was best left for retirement.

The most startling realization to you, my readers, might be what else I see in this picture. As I run my own successful café, I very clearly see children running around my shop. I want children. Three years ago, I was an alcohol who could not bring myself to bring a child into my world. That experience has been far more impacting than I ever thought, and fear has driven me in that regard.

I realize now that when it comes to the emotional things in my life, it’s going to take much longer to heal than I thought. It wouldn’t say much about my friendship with Maureen if I weren’t still moved to tears a mere five months later. I am. It wouldn’t be treating my disease with enough respect to think that the choices I made years ago because of my drinking would just go away on their own. They haven’t.

As to my business choices, I think I simply veered off course looking for something perhaps a little more glamorous, a little more grand than my simple dream of owning my own coffee shop. But now that I’m back there, it’s like a warm blanket, familiar and just right.

In some respects, I’m back where I was in December, which isn’t necessarily bad. I feel a little sheepish, a little humbled admitting that my ego inflated as I attempted to fluff myself up to meet these grand ideas. I don’t always know what I’m doing. I thought I was just putting on a brave face. When I put a brave face on, I only fool myself. And fool myself, I did.

Life is a tricky thing. I’m skeptical of anyone who says they’ve got it all figured out. Especially in these early years, as we try to form ideas of who we want to be and how we can become those people, certainly we’ll look a little foolish along the way. I guess I’m just happy to be trying.

I’ve been a bookworm all my life. If you ask my mom, she’ll tell you it’s the result of her reading books to me in utero. My older sister taught me to read when I was 4 years old, and before that I would memorize the books as they were read to me and recite them, pretending to read. My mom and I read Edgar Allen Poe collections every night before bed when I was 8, and my dad got me into Ray Bradbury at the ripe old age of 9. I had a voracious reading appetite. I would read anything I could get my hands on.

I don’t remember any Barnes & Nobles or Borders when I was a kid. Even if they’d been around our town, I don’t think we would have gone there. We grew up pretty poor, and my parents had to be resourceful with what we did have. With a kid who burned through books faster than most kids change television channels, even the used bookstores were pricey.

Enter the public library.

Now, somehow I forgot about the library. I love books, clearly. I love the covers, I love the words, I even love the way used books smell (they’ve got personality; they’ve traveled). My dad used to get mad when I left my books on the ground or got them wet in the bathtub – “You should respect your books, Holly,” he would say.

Once I’ve read a book, I want to hang onto it. It’s part of the family. I lugged my books with me all the way to college, then from Orlando to south Texas, and packed and unpacked them at – count ‘em – yep, six apartments in the past four years. Everything from Jane Austen to existentialist philosophy, Henry VIII biographies to Gabriel Garcia Marquez fill my shelves, my nightstand, the floors. I even love listening to books in the car.

It’s not like times haven’t been tough before. Sure, I could say it’s the rising price of gas or the fear of a soft job economy that led me to think of the public library today. Honestly, I can’t remember how I thought of it. But I called my friend Mel and asked if she was willing to go on a little adventure this afternoon. Off we went to La Retama Central Library.

Thus, I became a card-carrying member of the Corpus Christi public library system today. I checked out two audiobooks and two paperbacks. The Barnes & Noble price would’ve been $67.88 before taxes. My public library price: $0.00. 

Needless to say, I was thrilled walking through the aisles of my new lending library this afternoon. I greeted familiar titles like they were old friends, and felt downright triumphant when I found books I’d wanted to read for ages, but didn’t fit into my budget.

Nothing’s been so easy as getting my library card. I simply filled out a half-page form and showed my ID. It took less than five minutes and I was on my way, clutching my new treasures. I don’t even have to return them to the same library – I can take them to whichever one I want when I’m done. If I need longer at the end of two weeks, I can go online to renew them.

Tough economic times, whether they are caused by a recession or an entry-level salary, can either keep us from continuing our lives, or we can get resourceful, much like my parents did. I have a theory that the most creativity comes when we have limitations or obstacles to overcome. What are your creative solutions to maintaining your simple pleasures? Have you been to your public library lately?

I hadn’t written a blog post in a few days, almost a week actually. I was fresh out of ideas and inspiration. Granted, I had blogged for a good four or five days in a row, but still. Sitting at my desk at work, my eyes had glazed over in computer screen hypnosis. I skipped lunch and needed to get out, empty gas tank be damned.

As I drove, they started coming to me – ideas for blog posts. By the time I got to the café, I’d thought of and developed four solid articles in my head. I realized as I grabbed my coffee and settled at a table that I’d been completely lost the entire drive over. It came together – I hadn’t been driving as much as I normally do because gas prices were (are) ridiculously high. I stayed at Date #4’s place all week, which is 5 minutes from work as opposed to the 25 minutes it takes from my place. Sure, I saved a bundle on gas, but at what cost?

In my life, I don’t get a lot of alone time. Nothing compared to people with kids, but in comparison to being single, alone time is scarce these days. As I was telling Date #4 just yesterday, there are some things I’ll only do when I’m bored. Mainly, cleaning and tidying up in general, but I would lump “getting blog ideas” in there as well.

The high cost of gas has me thinking about a scene in “Singles” (one of my all-time favorite movies… I still heart you, Cameron Crowe, even though you made “Elizabethtown”). The main character is telling his love interest about a light rail transit project he’s proposing to his city. As he’s explaining all of the benefits, she says, “Yeah, but I love my car.” 

Perhaps we love our cars because it’s the one place where we don’t have to deal with people. Or maybe it’s because it can become our one-man karaoke machine. Or perhaps it’s just the place were we get our best ideas.

Either way, our dependence on oil might make the long car trip a thing of the past. Instead of thoughtfully losing ourselves in the highway, we’re watching our odometers and our gas gauges, calculating times between stop lights on our daily routes so that we don’t have to brake or come to a full stop (hey, it saves gas).

I’m not saying we shouldn’t save on gas, I’m just saying that unless we get some sort of alternative fuel, our old ways will die. And with them goes an untold number of little streams of creativity and peace.

Photo from Flickr Creative Commons user freeparking.

In an earlier post, I announced that I would begin a new accountability regime: posting my goals and my progress toward them to this blog once a month. Several of you, both readers and fellow bloggers, expressed interest in doing the same. I’m inviting everyone to participate who would like to post something similar on their blogs. Email me your blog entries and I’ll post them links to them here as well.

Without any further ado, I give you my first Hold Me Accountable post.

Physical
This is probably the area where I’ve lost the most steam as of late. It is also the one that I would like to get back on track with the most. When I treat my body well, it treats me well. Everything else runs so much more smoothly in my life when I feel good physically. There are three components to my physical goals: exercise, diet and overall health.

Exercise
I took up running in late December last year. I put running down around the beginning of May. I had been training for a relay marathon and once it was over, so was the training. I need a goal in order to stay motivated in my running, even though I love it. I know I’m going to feel good after a run (phenomenal, actually), but the motivation I need is when I really don’t feel like waking up early and lacing up my shoes. So, I’m going to sign up for a half-marathon. I’m confident I can do it if I start training now. I’ll do short runs on Mondays, hard runs on Wednesdays, cross-train on Saturdays and long runs on Sundays.
Goals: Sign up for half-marathon in October; beginning training schedule.

Diet
I don’t mean diet in the sense that I’m trying to lose weight. I’m not. I simply want to give my body good fuel, not crap. The main threat to my diet is the vending machines at work. If I forget (or am too lazy) to make my lunch, I’m known to eat a lunch of chips and soda. Blech. I’ve already begun to make dinner at night and bring leftovers to work. Note: This helps financial goals as well – double-plus bonus! I’m also really bad about keeping my refrigerator at home stocked. When it’s full, not only do I eat better and save money on eating out, but it gives me an odd sense of fulfillment. Hmm.
Goals: Cut out soda, vending machine snacks; bring healthy lunches and snacks to work; keep home fridge stocked.

Health
You’ve heard me complain about my sinus infections ad nauseum, I know. I bought a neti pot (for nasal irrigation) because I heard from many, many sources that it works wonders. I’ve been too chicken to try it, even though I feel confident it will help. I’ve been battling some serious fatigue, probably due to sinus infections and not exercising, which is added incentive for the workout routine. Finally, it’s been about 3 years (!) since I’ve been to the dentist. Yikes.
Goals: Use neti pot three times a week for one month; see dentist.

Relationships
My biggest issue with my relationships right now is that I’m spending an awful lot of time with a certain someone instead of spending some time with myself, my friends and my family. This was fine and well in the budding stages of the relationship, but now that things have settled down a bit I desperately need to hook back up with my friends and fam.
Goals: Hang out with my three best friends for some serious QT at least once this month; visit my aunt and my grandmother.

Career
For now, thing seem to be going really well with my 8-5 job. I’m relatively focused and my recent annual performance evaluation was stellar (including a raise!). Guess where nothing is happening? That’s right – my business. uSavvy, my IT consultancy, has one client, no actual tax ID number, nothing, plus a website that’s just sitting there, all designed and hosted and not actually up. Include my blog in here, and I haven’t been posting as regularly as I would like, which is about 3-4 times per week.
Goals: Obtain tax ID number and sole proprietor status; open bank account; finish site buildout and get online; buy business cards; write business plan; blog 3-4 times per week.

Financial
I have two areas I’m currently working on financially. I’ve got terrible credit (hey, I drank heavily during those pivotal post-college years), and practically no savings… OK, no savings if you aren’t counting that $50 in my ING Orange savings account. I started the ball rolling on this one yesterday though. My pay increase will show up in my next paycheck and instead of rejoicing at the extra money, I already set up an autodraft for the increase amount to pay down my credit card. I also have an autodraft set up for a student loan I am rehabilitating, as well as one for $50 per paycheck to my savings account. Once the credit card is paid down, I will up my savings autodraft to include the amount from the pay increase. The problem with my savings account is that I almost always tap into it. I’m a little more solid financially right now, so my goal is not to do that.
Goals: Pay off credit card in 2.5 months; continue savings without touching it.

Spirituality
I don’t talk about my spirituality very much on this blog, even though it’s a big part of my life. The truth is that I’ve been a little disappointed in my spirituality lately… or my lack thereof. I’m not a churchgoer, that’s just not for me. However, I do pray and meditate. I include my sobriety as part of this picture because the way I stay sober is to work a spiritual program. I go to three or four 12-step meetings every week, but I’d like to start branching out a little more into more groups besides my home group, particularly to this one young people’s group. I’d also like to try to meditate in the mornings, even if it’s just for a short time period.
Goals: Attend one non-home group 12-step meeting per week; meditate twice a week.

General
Finally, this part relates to my overall life goals, mood and emotions. I’d say lately I’ve been in a funk. Definitely in a funk. It’s not enough for me to focus on my short-term goals, so I need to keep my long-term goals on the burners, too. I really would like to move to a larger city. I would like to either advance to the next level of my career in research or I would like to take my business full-time. I would like to be a less selfish person on a day-to-day basis. The other day I realized at the end of the day that I was the only person I had thought about all day. That sucks. And I’m guessing that it probably also makes me a pretty obnoxious person to deal with.
Goal
s: Mostly just to keep my larger life goals top-of-mind; try to think of other people and how I affect them throughout my day.

I will keep you all up-to-date with my progress on a monthly basis, at the very least. I hope that some of you will jump in and participate. It would be really great to have a community of people who are all holding each other accountable, encouraging one another and learning what works and what doesn’t in real time, wouldn’t it?

Related articles:
Got goals? Hold yourself accountable
How baby steps became a huge deal
Stand up and be accounted
How I change my habits

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I’m having a little accountability issue. As in, I have none. I have a lot of goals, not just in my career, but also in my personal life, my finances and my health. As I’ve struggled to regain my footing after falling in love, I’ve come to find my real issue is now that I simply lack the motivation to accomplish on a day-to-day basis, and that daily action is critical to the fulfillment of larger goals.

I know one thing to be true when it comes to setting goals and achieving them: the most surefire method is to chip away at it one step at a time. Daily action is necessary. If you want to train to run a marathon, you’ve got to actually put your shoes on and go for a run. If you want to pay off your credit cards, you cannot charge anything to them today. I prefer to live one day at a time this way. When I start to use the word “tomorrow,” I get myself into a world of trouble. I won’t accomplish much with “I’ll run tomorrow” or “I’ll stop using my credit card tomorrow.” This method of goal procrastination will leave you stranded. You just need to start.

Enter accountability. Now that you’ve decided to go through with the daily action method you could use a little reinforcement. I used to get this through Guy I Was Seeing. Though we’re still friends, I don’t get to talk to him as much as I used to. Read more about what an accountability partner can do for you here.

What happens if you can’t find an accountability partner or group? Or if you’re the only one who ever does anything in said partnership/group? I’m not sure, but I’m taking a stab with my blog. Yep, you guys are now my accountability partners. I find it hard to make excuses to you all… mostly because my lame excuses look really bad in print. That, and I’ve sworn to be as honest and as transparent as possible.

I know I won’t meet all of my goals 100 percent of the time, but the nice thing about accountability partners is not the negative pressure – it’s the positive pressure. It’s reassuring to think you guys know what my goals are, what I’m doing to get there, and that you get to see the results when I do what I say and when I don’t. It might be corny and a little arrogant, but for some reason I have the feeling that you guys have my back.

All mushiness aside, my monthly accountability posts will basically have a “where I’m at” theme. I’ll review my goals, what I’ve done, what I haven’t done and what I plan to do. The areas in which I will be accountable are broad: physical (exercise, health, diet), relationships (family, significant other, friends), career (job, entrepreneurship), financial (credit, savings), spirituality (meditation, sobriety), general (emotion, mood, life goals).

I realize that not everyone wants to read about me, me, me, but my hope is that my transparency in these things will allow people to see what really works… and what really doesn’t. I’ll be posting the first one tomorrow.

How do you stay accountable? How do you reach your goals, little and big?

I’m not happy with my personal style lately. It’s sort of been ongoing since I got sober and lost some weight… and you know, stopped spending all my money on booze. I’ve told myself that part of the problem is that I don’t have a lot of money to spend on new clothes, but I think there’s a little more to it than that. I would say the real problem is that I don’t give it much thought until I’m actually in a store, ready to buy some item that I need. Seeing as I give almost everything in my life too much thought, I thought that was a little ironic.

Whether we like it or not, we’re judged at a moment’s glance by our outward image. And as much as the BF hems and haws about appearances not mattering, he plays by the rules and wears a suit to the office every day, even Fridays. In our careers, in dating, we’re judged first by our appearance and our clothing does a lot of the talking. (I wasn’t sure if I was attracted to Date #4 when we met – he was wearing a suit and I always say that it blocked any read I was trying to get from him.)

I’ve been watching the preliminary back-to-school ads roll in, and it amazes me how much time and thought middle and high school kids put into their clothing choices. Their clothes (in their minds) say so much about them – what group they belong to, what kind of music they listen to, what their socioeconomic status is, how in tune they are with trends, which causes they support (if any). Why this is, is an entirely different subject that I don’t wish to touch on here. What it did, though, was prompt me to look at my style choices and think about what they said about me.

That’s when I realized that my style choices weren’t really so much choices as they were lazy acquiesces. I live in a town with few clothing options, but I’m not sure I would be much better off anywhere else.

I love:
Blazers
3/4-sleeve jackets
Cardigans
Dark jeans
Vintage-y blouses
‘40s inspired dresses, shoes, hair… well, anything really
Splashes of bright color
Scarves
Preppy-style flats
Colorful, vintage heels
Long dresses

How much of this do I own? Er… none. I do have a few cardigans, but they’re pretty much a necessity in my 60-degree office. Oh, and I own about 7 pairs of dark jeans, but all in the same style and cut from the same store. Even I know that’s wrong.

Looking at this list, I can see that this is actually how I used to dress in high school. My mom hated taking me shopping – I never saw anything I liked unless we were at a Goodwill. Luckily, times have changed and Anthropologie picked up what I was throwing down. Anyhow, I did think that it said something about me. Like today’s teenagers, I was keenly aware of the message I was trying to send. I was eclectic, creative, a little hip, a little bohemian, a non-conformist, an intellectual.

How many of us can say we put that much thought into our wardrobe post-high school or college? I grab whatever Express is offering that month in the way of office-appropriate attire within my budget and that’s about it. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a personal style again?

It’s not just about sending an arbitrary message about who I think I am. After all, if you’re worthwhile and think I’m worthwhile, we’ll get to know each other and you’ll figure out who I am. When my outer self matches my inner self, who it is that I am, I’m a lot happier. Plain and simple, if I actually enjoy the clothes I’m wearing, then I’m a lot happier overall. I also feel a lot more at home in social situations. I feel more comfortable projecting who I am when I’m not tugging on uncomfortable clothes that don’t fit right. And, of course, I wouldn’t mind standing out from the crowd a little.

In an age when personal branding seems to be all the rage, why are we sticking ourselves in the same suits and brands as everyone else? Why aren’t we spending more time thinking about how our “look” corresponds to our personal brand, our goals, and where we want to go?

Some questions to ask yourself about your personal style:
• How would I like people to see me? Use descriptive adjectives: polished, bohemian, put-together, artsy, sleek, glamorous, etc.
• How would I describe myself in a few words? Are you a corporate go-getter, an intellectual, a tech geek, a trendsetter, outdoorsy, creative?
• What styles do I identify with? What words describe them? Do those words describe me?
• What are some items I really like? Do I currently have them in my collection?
• How do my clothing choices affect me on a daily basis? Am I happier when I wear certain colors? Certain styles?

Me, personally, I’m going to start holding out for items that fit with my now clearly defined personal style. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to rethink those 7 pairs of jeans…

All images from Anthropologie.com.

If you haven’t read my previous post about my issues with mamahood, then go for it so you can get an idea of how serious I’ve been about not wanting kids. My sentiments are also echoed here and here [hat tip: Penelope Trunk; TwentySet]. Now, bear in my mind that the decision I’m scrutinizing is my own, and not the decision of whether or not to have kids in the empirical sense.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this lately, primarily because (of course) it is an issue in my fledgling relationship. Granted, we’ve both agreed that it’s not an immediate issue, but he would like to have at least one child with whomever he marries. It’s no secret that I’m crazy about the man, but I’m not willing to agree to children just because that’s what he wants.

We have had a lot of conversations about it though, and it’s got me thinking about it on my own. As I began to examine my issues with having kids, talking about it openly and honestly with friends of differing ages, marital and child status, and watching people with kids more closely, I started to realize how close-minded I’ve been.

I began to realize that my problem is not with actually having kids, but that they become an end in themselves and not a side effect of living the life I’d like.

A few things happened leading up to this realization. One, I’ve been talking with a mentor of mine who is 50 and has the coolest relationship with her daughter I’ve ever seen. I have no qualms being totally open and honest with her, even with the ugliest parts of myself. She pointblank told me one afternoon that I was being close-minded when it came to my thinking regarding family life. I realized that I was assigning arbitrary labels to people and making assumptions about their lives based upon that. Married, divorced, middle-aged, overweight, with or without kids, single, thin, etc. Does the label make the experience of the life?

Somewhere around that same time I was leaving Date #4’s house, and an early-thirties-ish couple walked by with a stroller and a grandparent in tow. They were just taking a Fourth of July stroll after a fresh rain, chatting and such. “That’s probably the best thing that could ever happen to me,” was the unwelcome thought that popped into my head. Whoa. Where’d that come from?

On my drive home, I rolled it around in my head and realized the truth of it. I’ve seen a lot of families that are happy, in which the parents continue to live dreams independent of their children. While their families greatly enhance their happiness, their kids are supplemental to the happiness that they already experience in life. They are not, and never did, expect children to be the main source of their happiness in life. They are simply one of the aspects of their life that they derive joy out of.

I have been watching a few families in my life since I began to seriously evaluate this issue. One is a young couple who have probably the cutest baby girl I’ve ever seen. I’ve said before that if I could insure that a child of mine would come out that cute, happy and well-mannered, I’d have kids without a doubt. The thing is that I watch the parents, too. They’re happy, and appear to be very much in love. I’m not close to them, and so they may have more problems than I’m aware, but they seem like fairly transparent people. I see them together, separate, and with their families. I won’t lie – there is a part of me that craves a normal family life because of the dysfunctional part of mine. They are always friendly and seem to possess a sense of peace about their lives.

I also watch my older female mentor and her family closely. She’s been a single mom for a long time, and her daughter is a well-adjusted, intelligent young woman. She has self-confidence at 13 that I still wish I had. The openness and frankness with which they deal with the little and big things in their lives is truly inspiring to me. It gives me goose bumps. That family probably has the most irreverent sense of humor I’ve been privy to and they have a lot of fun in their lives. It’s clear that they simply enjoy the ride.

Finally, I watch the families that make me not want kids. In doing so, I’ve come to realize that the thing that bothers me is not that they have children, but what their intentions or preconceived notions were in doing so. They all have a few things in common for the most part. One is that they had their children too young and/or too soon into a relationship/marriage. I’ve watched people have kids and treat them as accessories, and I’ve seen people have kids because they wanted something to love. They were trying to fill a hole that remains unfilled. And now they have kids to take care of when they didn’t know how to take care of themselves in the first place. (Side note: I was in the ER with my grandmother last night and a 17-year-old came in with impacted bowels, i.e. constipation. Her second birth and she didn’t realize that she should’ve been drinking lots of water, eating fiber, and probably shouldn’t have waited a week to tell the doctors she hadn’t had a bowel movement. If you can’t take care of yourself, how will you raise a child?)

I guess my point is that as Gen-Y women we’ve been told that “having it all” is a myth. That makes me feel like I have to choose between my career and having a child. It’s saying that I won’t be able to do both. While I know that to some extent one suffers at the hands of the other, I’ve been watching this young couple juggle a baby and a new business successfully. By successful, I mean that the baby is clearly happy and well cared for, the business is doing very well, and they both seem extremely happy and still in love, though at times admittedly tired.

It gives me hope. Perhaps I can live life happily without any sacrifices.

When I met Date #4, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I was simply mixing a little business with pleasure when my online dating research yielded a surprising result – a dateable, attractive man with whom I was compatible. My life was run at a hectic, but efficient and highly effective pace. There simply wasn’t a whole lot of room. I liked it that way.

Things started slowly. I told him I wasn’t looking for anything serious, that I was, ahem, very busy and important. No time for a relationship, not looking for that sort of thing. He said he understood, respected my priorities, etc.

Then I fell in love with him.

The “serious” thing needed revising, obviously. As two people are apt to do when they find they enjoy one another’s company, we spent a lot of time together. 

A lot.

I stopped running. I stopped blogging as regularly. I stopped doing laundry and grocery shopping. I was deep in Cloud Cuckoo Land, as I like to call it. That place where newly formed couples spend way too long looking into each other’s eyes, sleeping really late on weekends, and having lots and lots of hot monkey sex. 

As much as I knew this was going to happen, I couldn’t stop it. Perhaps I didn’t want to stop it. What the hell? Falling in love is fantastic. Why skip all the fun stuff and move straight into routine? 

Incorporating Date #4 into my life isn’t the same as making a new friend or having a relative move into town. This is someone that I hope to have a meaningful relationship with. Anyone who has been in a relationship for a period of time knows that it takes time to get to know someone. I liked Date #4 and I wanted to learn about him – that takes time. Granted, you can take your time getting to know someone, but I tend to be an extremist with a “good” button instead of an “easy” button. If it makes me feel good or happy, I’ll slam that damn button till it’s broke. Luckily, I didn’t do that here.

Armed with a little bit of knowledge of myself and my habits, I tried to resist Cloud Cuckoo Land, but it was simply too alluring. GIWS and I had managed to see each other only once a week, twice tops, throughout the few months we dated. I tried to do this again, but to no avail.

When I got sick (again), my frustration reared its head. I had gained 5 lbs. I was completely out of racing shape. I’d been eating entire meals out of the vending machines at work. Thanks to my fourth sinus infection this year, I was waylaid and unable to stay awake long enough to do anything other than go to work. I reached my breaking point when my libido disappeared. WTF?!

A week later, I got better and I got some perspective. Date #4 and I have been together for only two months. I realized that I could maintain my old schedule and kick him out of my life or I could find a new routine. That period of everything going to hell was just a slash-and-burn method of prepping the soil for a new life. One that involves the man that I love and all the activities I love.

What I ended up having to do was first explain to him what was going on in my head. He understood and didn’t take it personally at all, which was essential for me to feel comfortable moving forward. I explained to him that there are a lot of things I enjoy doing that I haven’t been doing lately, and that I need a routine or schedule in order to make it all fit into my life.

I looked at my schedule, needs and priorities. I looked at his schedule, needs and priorities. He has two dogs, so he can’t stay over too often. I live out of the way of my work and his house, so I have to bring all my stuff for work if I’m staying over. It made more sense to do all that if I were staying two nights in a row. For both of our sanity and respect of personal space, I decided two nights apart would be good for us. Thus, a schedule emerged. I would stay with him Wednesdays and Thursdays, and he would stay with me on Tuesdays and Fridays. Sundays and Mondays we had off, and Saturdays I left to whim (even I don’t try to plan everything).

I make sure to bring my running shoes to his place and try to take the dogs out with me. I also run on the evenings we’re not seeing each other. The beginning of the week can be overwhelming for me, so that’s why I picked those two days to spend apart. It gives me the time to work on my blog, get my clothes ready for the week, and to generally spend time with myself, which I think is important in any relationship.

Once I identified the problem and communicated that to him, I was able to then ask, what now? How can I have both – him and my old life? Planning the nights was a great first step. It allows me to plan what will need to happen and when. The other stuff is simply up to me. Once I finished the relay marathon I had spent months training for in May, I had a hard time staying motivated, so I signed up for a race on July 4 and started looking for more to keep me running.

Maybe this is easy for some people to figure out, but I was really happy being single. My life was happy and whole when I met Date #4, so much in fact that if it weren’t for my sister’s sage advice to not let opportunities pass me by, I probably wouldn’t have made the leap.

I’m glad that I did, but that period of transition can be tough. I think it’s important to be honest with yourself, to communicate your frustration without laying any blame, and to get into the solution. Dwelling in the problem while I was sick yielded nothing but a depressing blog post (sorry!). Once I decided to try a solution, I was already feeling like my old self and it didn’t take long to get back on track.

Oh, and my libido came back. Thank god.

[Photo credit: Evan Romine]