"Swirling Cesspool of Our Twenties" Part Two

(Click here for Part One)

I am not fit to give advice. Sure, I’m often accused—and yes, I mean that in the more deprecating sense— of having it all together, but it’s a farce. I’m not a girl with a plan, each life’s stage plotted out on a single line. No, I am seriously confused. Like the rest of us. Each night I lie awake because I’m terrified, and I’m floundering.

My life is lovely, and I am very fortunate. My husband works hard every day and brings in enough money for our family to live comfortably. We haven’t always been this fortunate, but we no longer have to worry so much about getting the bills paid or having food on our table. If we wanted, I would never need to work. But, many things have brought me to where I am now, and much of it started in high school when I came to realize my fallibility.

I once wrote for hours on end every day, and if I wasn’t writing, I was reading. I hid paperbacks in the pages of textbooks during lecture and endured ridicule when I hid to read books in public gym locker rooms, attempting to get a few more chapters in before I went home, rather than swimming with my friends. I relished every opportunity to compose a school paper, joined Forensics club to give speeches, and wrote for a children’s journalism group. When I didn’t think I’d be a famous journalist,—though I didn’t know what that would entail—I thought for certain I would be the next hot-selling novelist. I had no doubt I would succeed in whichever field I chose; I was impervious to failure, a consequence of my confident upbringing.

My mother would tell you that the moment I stopped wanting to write was when I fell in love with my now husband Kyle, she’s wrong, but not entirely. It didn’t happen overnight, but as I matured, I learned there was so much more to life than a career. I felt the engrossing jolts of love, the intense and fascinating joys of intimacy, and the excitement that surrounds the adventure of celebrating my youth. What would it mean to follow a journalism career? Move away, fight tooth and nail for every opportunity? I could, and most likely, would fail. The more I looked, the more I saw the possibility of a lifetime of disappointment. No, this competitive lifestyle, I decided, was not for me.

There was one thing I loved for certain and I didn’t have to compete for it. I didn’t have to leave my hometown, and I could be myself. I was, and still am, in love with Kyle. Every step I took away from a respectable career (I even hate the word), the more I seemed to disappoint people. But never him.

I took mostly liberal study courses my first year of college. I studied business and hated it. I took some anatomy classes and remained constantly distracted. Then, I was hired at Public Radio 90, and found myself once again writing. I loved my job, the people I worked with, and the opportunity to do something I felt proud of. 

Then, a few months later, at the end of my freshman year in college, I peed on a little plastic stick and saw two pink lines. I was pregnant.

Mothering is nothing short of fantastic, and the process of becoming a mom changed my life. Being a mother was something I could, finally, throw my whole heart into and feel right about. I quit school and changed my entire life. 
At home Kyle and I practiced attachment parenting (we still do), and this life style taught me the beauty of science—how our evolution has shaped our growth, and how, as humans, we all deserve the love and support of others. I was happy.

Still, I had an identity apart from my children, and my husband urged me to go back to school. His job is great but physically intense and, he said, our family deserves two parents who can both support their children if anything should happen to the other.

With my new found love for all things science and my love of human connection, I pursued nursing. I thought, “This is a job where I can be consistently challenged, help others, and work part time so that I can still spend time at home with my family.”

So here I am, in one of the most competitive and difficult majors my University offers. Pre-nursing students with great GPAs get wait listed for the program for semesters at a time. Nursing students who are accepted into the program, like me, work their asses off every day just to pass. I spend more time than ever studying, terrified of failure and, as I am no longer ignorant of my own fallibility, contemplating it with every move I make. As this very difficult semester winds down, I’m seriously asking myself, “What the hell am I doing?”

Still, writing has, yet again, found its way back into my life. During the day, I dream about how I’ll spend my time after graduation. Work maybe three to four days a week (though I often dream of working even less), write on my off days, and cook nice meals for my family. But mostly, I think about writing and how, at this very moment, I yearn to do it all day long. And I can’t.

This is why I flounder. Why am I spending all my time—and I still have two years till graduation—wishing for time to pass?

Some days, I consider giving up. I consider leaving nursing school and never looking back. Paying back thousands of dollars in loans bit by bit with money I’d make waiting tables and spending all my free time jotting down ideas for stories or poems on grocery receipts and taking daily adventurous hikes with my daughters.

Other days, I consider setting down my pen and never writing another word.

I’m wandering, lost, between two adages, (which, strangely enough, I read in “The Homemade Pantry” while I was writing this very blog post.) “Do what you love for free, then get a job,” and “Do what you love, and the money comes.”

People think I’ve got it all together, or so I’ve been told, but I don’t. I’m lost just like all the other twenty-something’s, and I throw veracious, confused tantrums over my future.

But if I’ve ever given good advice to others, it’s this: “Sometimes, you’ve just got to push through.” And I’m good at it, all thanks to my parents who gave me the confidence to do so.

So, here’s to swallowing my fears and pushing ahead—all the while doing both what I love for free and working towards a career that I know I will be good at and one which will always keep us fed should my husband’s knees finally fall apart.

Though my life is currently very emotionally, mentally, and physically trying for me, I honestly believe that every challenge is an opportunity for growth. Seeing these times as a reason to evolve is all I can do for now, and, because I’m a hedonist at heart, I’m damn sure going to find a way to be happy at the same time.