Kristin writes at That Unique* Weblog. She has an amazing perspective (check out the Thanksgiving challenge that she threw out to her readers). She’s an editor and regular contributor to Yeah Write, which means that she’s an amazingly sharp, interesting writer. She has a category called Glad I Saw It, in which she muses on out of the ordinary things she sees and what, in turn, they make her think about.
I’m thrilled to have Kristin here to share her unique* expectations.
My blog began as therapy; I’m sure many personal blogs started the same way. My first post was a photo of graffiti that made me actually say out loud, “I’m Glad I Saw That.” And with that, my therapy began. It’s possible that I had stepped over that graffiti many times before the day I stopped and actually noticed it, but I had to first get to a place that allowed me to appreciate what was in front of me. This post is about that journey.
I once told my beloved that I could be happy anywhere because I could teach anywhere, and I could find cool people anywhere. At the time of my flippant remark about happiness, I was picturing picking up and moving to Portland, ME or The Berkshires of Massachusetts or rural and artsy Upstate NY. I fantasized that I would teach high school, garden, and learn to cook stews and bake breads. But at the time, I didn’t actually believe that we’d ever leave Brooklyn. It’s easy to make claims and plan around daydreams when you’re confident they’ll never be tested.
Here’s the other thing: I told my husband all that before we had kids. Kids changed “all that” because I had taken a leave of absence to be home, and because I could no longer wander around town and stop for margaritas in quite the same way. Kids – the second one, specifically – also put plans for housing on fast-forward, and soon we realized that we couldn’t afford to buy anything we wanted to own in NYC.
So picture the four of us driving from Brooklyn through the Battery Park Tunnel to the Lincoln Tunnel to Suburban New Jersey every weekend for six months. The first time was with a four-week-old and an almost two-year-old. And you can bet I made sure my husband knew he was dragging me all over New Jersey with two under two. Already I knew: I could not be happy outside of Brooklyn. Each Saturday morning, I’d slide my sunglasses on, lean my head against the passenger side window, and watch the bottom of the Gowanus Expressway blur with tears as we drove away from home to look at houses. After the sadness, during the sadness, I became resentful and angry.
My anger was directed at a lot of things, but mostly it was aimed at myself. Why didn’t I have better arguments for staying in Brooklyn? Why had I extended my leave from work so we’d eat up more of our savings? Why didn’t I put my foot down harder when we discussed our housing options? Why hadn’t I said we should settle for less space and no yard? Why? Why! WHY?!
Fast forward a year, and we had a house in NJ, three times the amount of living space, and a fenced in backyard. We also had a long winter with two under three and no familiar folks nearby. My optimistic “I can be happy anywhere!” laughed at me whenever I looked in the mirror. It mocked me every time I yelled at the kids. And it gleefully pinched my ego as I started putting on weight. What really frustrated me was that I couldn’t find anything to complain about. People were friendly, the house was gorgeous, we lived close to a huge park with two playgrounds, and the kids were thrilled with half-empty rooms in which to run around and dance. Add in a helping of guilt for being grumpy about gaining a house when others were losing theirs, and you’ve got my mindset as I started settling into my new home.
I was able to get over my disappointment in myself, my anger at myself, and my resentment at everything around me by admitting that most of my depression – let’s call it what it was, albeit it mild – stemmed from choosing to leave my career. Then, of course I had to face that it was indeed a choice that I made. No one else made it for me. I took back responsibility for my life and where I had landed, and it was such a relief! It was also about that time that I was able to start looking around and noticing things I was glad to see. The funny, quirky, odd-ball environment had always been there, but I hadn’t been ready to notice until I was happy to see myself as a part of it.
Follow Kristin at That Unique Weblog, on Twitter @kdwald and on Facebook.
Holy moly, intense debate just ate my profusely gushing comment about Kristin's post and Greta's amazing project over here. This was my favorite GE post ever and thanks to you both for sharing it.
I can feel your gushing from over here. I think the comment program was just saving us from its full force. 🙂
Ladies, this was just lovely. Thank you, Kristin, as always for your keen insight and beautiful writing, This was a lovely piece. Thanks, Greta, for sharing it. Perfection. Erin
Thank you, Erin, for the compliments. And thank you for taking the time to type them out loud. 😉
I too love when someone I already read is featured at another one of my favorite blogs. It's like Bloggy Happy Hour! Thanks for sharing your journey…huge life transitions can be rough especially when you feel guilty about it. i was determined to be a SAHM after baby #2 and yet I was miserable and felt guilty about not liking the choice I made.
Reading your writing is like talking to a good friend – easy and effortless. Everything flows and you share your heart quickly. A lovely piece. I especially enjoyed your description of those emotion-filled car rides and your journey to acceptance and then affection for your new home. You keep writing, I'll keep reading. Thanks for sharing this.
That could totally be a Hallmark card for writers. Thank you so much!
This is so lovely, and I understand these feelings well. I just left NYC for the suburbs about a month ago, and I took some tear filled car rides up the west side highway, leaning my head against the glass and watching Manhattan disappear in the rear view mirror. I'm so glad for you that you found your place in your new home.
It's been three years, almost to the day – and yes, I think I have! 🙂
I'm glad things worked out in the end. I know I would be in tears if we had to move out of the city, although I think my husband would be in even more tears. 😉
My husband was ready, and in the end, the compromises would have been misery-enducing in the space we had. I still miss the energy, but I don't miss stepping (or strolling) through vomit. 🙂
Kristen, Wow, I so relate to this – when I stopped being a lawyer, I practically didn't even know who I was anymore. So glad to read your journey and coming out the other side. So glad you keep sharing it with us.
It really ended up being how deeply my identity was tied up in being a high school teacher. And that I had always pictured myself growing old in Brooklyn. But now I know I can move back and party it up once the kids are out of the house. Ha!
Wow, how I love this. I know this isn't the point of the piece, but we take an annual vacation back to our old neighborhood in nyc. It's not the same as the old days, but it's still pretty awesome. Glad you're in Jerz and finding the happy here.
Love your raw honesty in this. I know how you felt and feel, making a choice and then coming to terms with it after. Sometimes that's just how things go and it's a real accomplishment to persevere 😉
One thing I have learned is that it's never too late to make a change – and I find that very comforting and it enables me to enjoy the present situation for what it is.
It's true. I'm a nester, and change is difficult for me anyway. I have always known that I live in a fairly compact radius from my home base, and that's frightening when it's new. I have made some changes, and some of them are soon to be changed back. Go figure!
Change is hard especially if it involves giving up a part of your identity and forging a new one. This was beautifully written and I admire the courage it must have taken to get introspective and really figure out where your anger was coming from. Nice post!
Thank you so much! It's amazing how freeing it can be to realize the source of anger.
My guess is that there are very few people who couldn't relate to this post. You wrote about it beautifully!
Thanks, Stacie. 🙂
I can definitely relate to how having kids change things! I left teaching at a top notch school to raise my kids. I miss teaching, yet would never give back those years I have had with my babies.
That's good to hear. Getting involved in my son's K class has shown me that I can still be involved in educating children in a more traditional sense.
"It’s easy to make claims and plan around daydreams when you’re confident they’ll never be tested." I identify with this entire post for lots of reasons. Not choosing or not providing input before a decision is made it a choice too. Those are the kinds I'm guilty of making. Plus, change is hard especially when your heart isn't totally in it. This is written so clearly and engaging.
Thank you, Gina! I really love that line you picked out – I'm still thinking about how I can make it clearer.
I love this. I am so happy to be part of this funny, quirky, odd-ball environment … and so glad Kristin is too.
Let's hear it for odd-balls! (And I mean that in the least raunchy way possible.)
great post. totally relate. it's not easy giving up the vision we have of ourselves and adjusting it to a new reality. i'm glad your in a happy place now.
Thanks Screamer! Figuring it out as I go along now…off that career path and onward!
Holy cow, this blew me away. I love every word. It's mournful and honest and perfect.
Thanks, Outlaw Mama!
It's the kids. The things that we have to put on hold, to change, to sacrifice to raise them — sometimes it seems like giving up one more thing is too much. I would probably go postal if hubby said he wanted to leave our community right now. I never wanted to come back to Iowa and made him promise that the move was only temporary, but once he was *thisclose* to getting a position at Purdue and I about lost it. I didn't want to find a new daycare. I didn't want to get used to a new school. I didn't want to go someplace where I would be alone with the kids all day long and have no one and nothing for me. I get that.
Thanks for sharing your version of this. I totally get the "I don't want to start over again" thing.
Feeling uprooted is so hard – I’m a nester too. It makes such a difference in coping with many things in life when you frame them as choices. Glad to hear you’re feeling better about the move.
Thank you! I don't know if I could easily go back to Brooklyn at this point. I've definitely nested here.
Thank you, Kathleen. It's true – it's all about embracing where we are NOW. Or, if we can't, changing the view.