41 going on 14

Earlier today, I had to talk a friend down from the ledge. She was crying and very emotional over a man that she met online that was no longer talking to her. Tiesh has been ghosted by her friend group because she fell out with Wadley. I am looking for a job with the same gusto I had that summer when I got my work permit. I can't help but feel like I have been here before. What is it about middle age that has me feeling like I am reliving life as a tween? Breakups. Petty friendship disputes. Being broke. I am half expecting a friend to call me tomorrow and tell me her signed Immature poster has come in the mail and, if she keeps her room clean, her mom has promised to get her Aaliyah tickets. 

I have concluded that either life happens to you in a series of loops that feel familiar as time goes on, or me and the people I know have experienced no growth and still have the horrible communication skills of children. Neither idea is comforting. I didn't want to be a child when I was a child, but the way that I have been feeling of late and the situations that I have been witnessing my friends fall into has me looking into my purse to make sure that I have my Lip Smacker and my Lisa Frank notebook. With all that has been going on, I half wonder if you can be an adult and a kid at the same time. 

I have long said that I feel that you are who you are by the time you hit a certain age in elementary school. Everything you pick up along the way either adds to or takes away from your personality. With that being said, perhaps me and my girls aren't experiencing the same situation over and over again, but rather we are essentially the same people we were at 14, so we are handling all situations, no matter how serious or grown up, the same way we would have in the 99s and 2000s. Again, not a great conclusion. 

In my friends' defense, there is no great way to handle breakups or friend loss at any age. Having to deal with them leaves you feeling just as dumb and vulnerable as that kid on the couch, waiting for "All That" to come on while waiting for life to happen. How many ways can life happen the same way? Am I going to be 80 upset because a friend did not return my text? Who knows? All I can do is try to be there for my friends. They all need support. 41 can be a very hormonal, difficult age. 

Youth pt. 2

It feels like me and the women in my life turned 39, the universe was alerted, and she sent us an array of crap. The whole thing has me thinking about the meaning of youth. 

As you know, 39 brought me endometrial polyps I had to have plucked out. That was emotional and incredibly stressful for a woman whose anxiety is already so naturally high that I could shoot to the moon on it. A college friend told me that she has already had her mammogram, something that should be set for next year, because our good friend's wife was diagnosed with breast cancer at 39. 

For some of my other girlfriends, the race to have a baby has never been so real, especially for my uncoupled friends that have to weigh waiting for a man with getting a donor. Today, my 39-year-old doctor friend died in hospice care from a disease she wasn't even old enough to get screened for! 

Is the universe trying to tell me and my soon-to-be middle-aged friends to cherish life and your health because you never know what trick life is going to pull out of its hat? Okay! Message received. Now can you please keep all my girls well and alive?

It doesn't work like that. 

When I was a kid, I'd hear my grandma on the phone giving and receiving updates on sick friends and friends who had passed. The whole thing would go over my head, now it's at my feet. For lack of a better word, it's scary. 

Is this to be life from now on? Scared for my wellbeing and that of those I love? I guess this is yet another disgusting part of adulting. My grandma would tell me to pray. I think I will. 

Homecoming Post 8: Old- Treating HER-rectile Dysfunction

I just want you to know that this homecoming I had the best intentions. I was going to go to all of the events and take lots of pictures. I was going to twerk my away across every Xavier event! Spoiler alert: that did not happen. The first event I attended was on the yard on Friday. Getting out of my Uber, I had a strong urge to climb back in and go back to the Air B and B. Listening to the loud music and seeing the students bouncing around, I felt like I needed a good two-hour nap. After that, I was supposed to go to the day party, which I was actually excited about, but that plan got derailed after I ordered myself some Copeland's for dinner and decided to catch up on Grey's Anatomy. 

"So, you don't want to go to the club?" Big Homie Sans asked that Friday, disappointed. I snickered to myself. In college, I went out every weekend and didn't really want to go then, at 18! If Uber would have been around in 2003, I would have spent exactly five minutes at every party before returning back to the dorm to enjoy a hot shower with everyone gone. Looking at the party flyers with Big Homie Sans made me yawn. I'd have to get dressed and do my hair to go to said club, get a car and go to said club, stand in line at said club, try not to collapse from exhaustion at said club. God forbid I did a line dance. I just may have gone to the bathroom, locked myself in a stall, used my clutch bag as a pillow, and turned in for the night. 

Saturday night I could tell that I had gotten on Big Homie Sans's nerves. I had promised to go to the club party that night but had again gotten sidetracked by Copeland's and news clips from CBS Mornings. She was amped up on energy drinks and ready to boogie, and I was full of Oreo cheesecake and ready to count sheep. Watching her put on her eye makeup, I did feel a little sad. She was so excited to party, and I had absolutely no desire to go out at all. All I could think of was those erectile dysfunction commercials where they are like, "Is your energy down? Is it hard for you to get excited? Are you disappointing the woman in your life?" I looked up at Big Homie Sans on the edge of the bed, pouting at me. "You may have erectile dysfunction." Maybe I have HER-rectile Dysfunction or She E.D. 

Or I am old. 

You have to remember that I was the only girl in my kindergarten class that carried a purse! The only girl in middle school whose grandma set her hair with foam rollers. Now I am 38 and put going out to a club and having fun with friends in the same basket as doing Crossfit or climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. Maybe next year I will buy an overpriced section at the club with bottle service so I can sit and tap my toes to the music. Just don't say a word if you notice that I am wearing a floor length nightgown and watching Murder She Wrote on my phone. Real change takes time. 

Life Is A Scratched Cell Phone Screen

Those of you who have been reading my blog for a while know that I have always been a little sensitive to time, especially in regards to aging and missed opportunities. Time has been showing up as a theme for me over the past few weeks. Young women that I mentored when they were in middle school just graduated college in May. My little brother just turned 30, and while I was twiddling my thumbs on whether or not to go to grad school, many of my friends enrolled and are now finishing up Ph.D. programs. And at 36, I have now gotten to a place where people who are WAY older than me feel comfortable reminding me that I am almost 40. It's an awkward place to be- kinda young and sorta old at the same time. But I assumed that no one else my age cared about these things, especially not my college friends. When I go on Instagram, they are all drinking artisanal beers in their $600,000 homes. This is why my meet-up with my old friend Tanya was curious. 

Tanya is that friend that you don't speak to for months, and when you reunite, it is like no time has passed. We knew each other at our most ratchet: as freshmen in college. There was really no one better to twerk and drink the days away with. She is a man-magnet because she is so fun and funny. She is strong and independent and often felt like a butterfly that you just couldn't catch. So you can imagine how weird it was to meet up with my butterfly after not hearing from her for a couple of years, only to find that her wings are sprained and bandaged. 

Why? Well, you guessed it- a man! She is going through a nasty breakup with her boyfriend of eight years. They lived together and now have to vacate their condo because neither of them can afford it on their own. Now she and her son have to uproot their lives and start over with the help of her family, who NEVER liked this guy. I have never met him, but I don't like him either. She told me about how she played nursey for him when he was sick, how she led the household when he lost his job, and even let some relationships die because he required so much attention, only for him to text her all through our girl date about how he didn't approve of her being out. I couldn't believe that my independent friend had hitched her wagon to someone that seemed VERY controlling and immature. She even told me that they keep their GPS on on their phones so they always know where they are when they are apart. WHAT?!

As you can imagine, she was pretty down. And not just because she has gotten to a point where she can't stand someone that she once loved, but because of the time that has been wasted. Eight years. You know, when you are in your 20s, you are taught to never look at time as a waste because you learned something during a situation. By my age, if you are smart, you have learned that that is a lie! You can learn life lessons in a relationship, on a job, or any other situation and still come out knowing and feeling that the whole thing was a huge waste! You cannot get time back. You cannot! It is the one thing we all lose repeatedly that is not coming back to us. Eight Years. She got with this guy when she was 27. Now she is almost 40. 

Before we parted ways, I took out my phone to take a picture of us and noticed that my screen was cracked. 

"Aw man!" I said. "Well, life is like a scratched cell phone screen," I joke. 

"Isn't it?" she asked, flatly. 

Touche Tanya. Yeah it is. Life looks all beautiful in HD until something comes along and scratches our view. Hopefully, our scratch isn't an 8-year all-consuming love drain that is going to be a nightmare to get over. 

The good thing is that Tanya is strong and amazing and will get over this and find love again. It's not like she has a choice. Like me, she is almost 40. She doesn't have the time to do anything else but move on. 

School

So...your girl is in grad school! 

I know that this is a shocker to many of you that remember how horrified I have been about retaking the GRE. The first go 'round I was so stressed out over it that I would punch the wall in my sleep. I pretty much gave up on ever furthering my education which was never a good idea, seeing that I got my undergraduate degree in a dying industry. But I'm in school now baby! I'm 36, working towards my part 2! 

You should see me. I look completely different than I did in undergrad. Not just physically (although I am still a cutie) but in the way that I am taking my education seriously. Guys, I won't even tell you how many times I chose frat parties I chose over studying. I was no slave to homework or tutoring. I was just trying to be cute, eat, sleep, and party in The Creasant City. I wouldn't give those carefree times up for the world, but in this season of my life, just call me a nerd! I am reading, taking notes, kicking butt, and taking names! I don't want to brag...but I am leveling.up. 

One of the things that was stopping me from going back to school was feeling like I was too old, especially when I looked back a few years and realized how much time I wasted. But I am in class with women old enough to be grandmother, and they are amazing! Don't let the excuses stop you sis! You aren't too old or too stupid are too ugly or whatever lie you have told yourself. Get it done! There are probably amazing blessing on the other side. 

Okay kids, I'm done for now. Gotta go study. 

Pots

I am 34 and I don't have a pot to piss in. The only thing separating me from a person that is REALLY up shit's creek is that I have a lot of close friends, and I think that at least two of them would let me borrow a pot if I really needed one, under the condition, of course, that I would wash it before I returned it.
If you have never been under INTENSE financial stress, allow me to describe it to you. In short, it is a consistent state of anxiety and fear. You are afraid to the answer the phone. It could be a bill collector. You don't check the mail. It could be full of bills. The same feeling you get in your stomach when you have to call you OB/GYN for your pap test results is the same feeling you have when you have to call the IRS and BEG them to reinstate your payment plan.
Time flies. When I was a 2nd grader, I used to entertain myself by counting on my fingers how old I would be in five years, ten years, etc. I would get excited, thinking of myself at 21. I would be rich and married to one of the members of Immature. Well, me and Romeo never made a love connection and I am now in my mid-30s. And no, I don't play that add-up-the-years game anymore. If I count forward 50 years, I don't see me dancing in an Immature video. I see me in a nursing home that smells of poop. It's the only place that will take me because I didn't have a savings, and it is the only place my poor people insurance will cover. The nurses will smoke cigs and blow the smoke in my face. I will spend days on end in my soiled diapers. And, perhaps worst of all, the only beverage option I will have with my pureed dinner is UNSWEETENED TEA!
I try to complain about this to P, but he is a "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" type of man. He just doesn't get it. I had to throw my last pair of boots away, the ones I had had for 12 years, because I could no longer plug up the holes in them with toilet paper.
My minister did a sermon about how bad times are good. You have to go through things so you will be prepared for what God has in store for you at the end of the rainbow. As hungry as I am for a change in my life, I better be able to taste this rainbow.
Enough belly aching for now. I have to go but my empty wallet next to my Bible and see if God can create a water-to-wine situation.

The Terrible 29s 4: Age Realization

Question: Why am I 29 wishing I was young again? I mean, I am still young right, technically? True, a female 29 is a male 66, I get it. But my God! My back cracks when I inhale! I get winded getting up in the middle of the night to pee!

I have a friend that teaches middle school full-time then is a part-time fitness instructor at a gym. On Instagram, you can find pictures of her instructing a class on how to run in place and do back bends. She is only two years younger than me. Where is she getting this energy from?! Running in place? Would you think less of me if I told you that I get from point A to point B in my apartment by rolling on my stomach?

Don’t even say it. I can hear you thinking that I should improve my diet and exercise. And I see all of you on social networking with your firm buns and tight Yoga pants, blending smoothies and using words like “glutes” and “’toids.” I work from home and don’t have time for this! Pardon me if I am 29 with little to no energy, but crying over your check book and dodging calls from creditors takes a lot out of you. How many calories do your burn running from Sally Mae?

I haven’t been the healthiest person up until now, I will admit it. But I worry because they say you are as old as you feel and I feel like Cicely Tyson looks. I used to be so fun! Okay, I have always been a little square, but I used to dance and laugh, what happened? More dues I had to pay the age police I guess. Sigh.

Getting it Together

My friend Sarah recently had a birthday. While I was looking at the pictures of the bday festivities on Facebook, Facebook reminded me that Sarah was in an album from last year...also documenting her birthday. Two Sarah albums? So, of course I click.
As I looked over the adorable outfits, it dawned on me: this was a year ago. This was a whole year ago? I felt like I had looked at those pics for the first time two days ago.
This told me that I need to jazz it up in my life. The days are just starting to fly by, and they all seem the same. I am the same Holly that I was last year! Since we are already talking about Sarah, we can use her as an example. Comparing the two albums, you could tell that her hair was different, her style is different. She is even a hair model for Carol's Daughter!
I still have a fro. Still write. Still broke. Still the same.
So this got me thinking about time, and about how I am not getting any younger, even though I am young. Honestly, after my next birthday, I will not be able to use youth as an excuse for my dumb decisions and lack of drive. When I was 22, I told a boss I had at an internship that I wanted to do communication, but I didn't quite know how and she said: "Figure it out. We are not 18 anymore." Sigh. I wonder what she would say now that I am 25?
This, then, got me thinking about grad school again. I have always wanted to go, but that GRE...Then it hit me: I have almost been out of school 4 years, I could have 2 grad degrees! All of this makes me want to crawl under a table. But I guess there is nothing to it but to do it, easier said than done.

School House Rock

I have been wanting to go to graduate school for like three years. At this point I am annoyed because, if I would have gone when I was supposed to, I would be done by now! Yeah, yeah, it's never too late. Tell that to the 30-year-old that is scheduling her Internet grad courses around breastfeeding.
Here is the thing: I know that having a graduate degree will make me more competitive in our poo-poo job market. I get it. But I can not decide if I really want to go to grad school or if I just want to go...for fun?
OK, $30, 000+ in adjustable interest rate loans is a pretty expensive good time. But I am realizing, after talking to a lot of my friends that are just now graduating, that the last time I was truly happy was when I was in school. Since then, I have been on a pretty exhausting emotional and professional roller coaster, documented on this here blog.
Then there is the age factor. Yes, I know that I am young. They tell me I am. But I feel too old to be getting back into the swing of things, even though deep down I know that that is ridiculous. Even thinking about moving and coming up with money and going to classes again is tiring at best.
I guess time will tell, but time needs to start now. I don't want to be the breastfeeding 30-year-old.