A Thought at Twenty Eight

A prose/poem/thought

Today is my birthday.
I’m well into my “late-2o’s.”
At this point, I can only remember with (decent) accuracy roughly 68% of my life.

My earliest memory is when I’m not much more than 2. I’m standing in a playpen at the first house I ever lived in, and I’m watching my uncle go about the living room.
Later in life, I learn this is probably when my sister was born, and my uncle came to look after my brother and me.

Later in life, I can’t picture the memory as clearly, only that at one point this was the furthest back I could remember to.

At twenty eight, I reflect on how far back I can remember to.

There are highlights from elementary school-age, and things that I forgot happened.
But, then I find them in pictures and I can remember a little bit better afterwards.

I think I’m about nine in my earliest memories that are a bit clearer.
Which makes approximately nineteen years of my life up to this point.
How strange to think that the first nine years of my life are just amiss in the minds of other people.

How strange to wonder how far away nine will be next year, and will it still seem as clear then?

And even as I get to be the kind of age that you think of adults as being–I still have trouble sometimes sorting out exactly how old I was when certain events took place.
Or what year it was when this thing or that happened.
See… I have to think about it before I know for sure–or at least have a good guess.

Age is a weird concept.

Some days… I can play around like I’m five.
Or carry on a conversation like I’m eighty five.
Sometimes, this happens in the same day.

I have one grey hair that I know of.

But I can still stay up until midnight.

So… what does it even mean to be twenty eight? It feels much more natural than how old it sounded, even when I was twenty.

But, I also begin to worry about how much of my life I’ll remember when I’m seventy.
A patient at work the other day told me all about his life when he was ten.
And his family vacations when he was growing up with surprising detail.
He’s eighty two now.

I’m so desperate some days to hold on to everything that happens, that I’ll take hundreds of pictures to document it, to have something to prove to myself one day that “this happened.”
To have a memory instead of just a thought of one.

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in it, I hope I’m storing the details in my head, too.
But we never really know until we get a couple years past it, looking back.

So here I am.

Twenty eight.

And I try to think about everything that’s happened.
And wonder about everything that comes next.

I’d Tell You to go to Hell (if I Could Find the Words to be Polite)

I’m having some unnatural-to-me interpersonal struggles here. Let me tell you why…

But first… I must digress…

When I was younger, I used to come home from school and occasionally complain to my mom about various kids in my class who were annoying to me. I used to get so frustrated at all the annoying little personality quirks, weird things they did, strange things they said, etc.

My mom would tell me that I just needed to learn to deal with it. Because one day… I’d be in the real world, and I’d have to interact with all kinds of people in all kinds of places. And sometimes… that would be people who I didn’t like, or found annoying, or whatever-your-evil-might-be.

“That’s life.”

She’d tell me.

But as I grew up, I found that I generally and genuinely likemost people. And even the ones I didn’t… I still seemed to find ways to deal with it and make things work without much to-do.

And as I got older… I learned that I actually really liked people in general. And I could appreciate their differences, their quirks, and their perspectives.

I found that most people seemed to like me, too.

Don’t worry.

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So You Want to be a Parent?

But… Where to Begin?

I struggle sometimes to find the words to describe the simultaneous feelings I have about this subject. Those being: wanting to be a parent, yet not wanting to physically birth children, and the fact that I’m quite happily a married woman in a same-sex relationship.

I’ve known all three of these things for a long time. From an early age, I knew I wanted to have kids and a family. I was probably around 13 or so when I began to realize there was something just “different” about me in the way I thought about boys, girls, and relationships. And I was sitting in 9th grade health class when I realized childbirth? Was maybe–most likely–not for me.

So, yeah.

I want to be a parent. I feel like I have a lot of love to give to a child and the desire to help bring up a little good in the world. But these things conflict from time-to-time, don’t they? Not to mention my latest fears of not being “parenty” enough to be a parent… Or (for that matter) adult enough to be an adult. But here we are… Adulting (somehow). And maybe just figuring it out as we go. And maybe parenting is a bit the same way.

As my sister told me recently: “[Being a parent] is kind of like being a professional person. Sometimes at work I’m like I cried yesterday because I ran out of cake but let me help you with your problems!”

Maybe there’s some truth to that. It made sense to me. Because, let’s be real, how are we supposed to be a parents when our own lives have the potential to cause these mini-breakdowns every so often?? It’s the same story as being a real-life adult. Sometimes you just do it, and sometimes you cry because you ran out of cake, or because tomorrow’s Monday and you just don’t wanna. But somehow it all works out. Mostly.

Fears Aside…

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2.0.1.7.

Welcome to the future, everyone!

We made it. For better, or for worse, 2016 exists only as a memory. On behalf of the family here, I’d like to wish you all a happy and healthy year.

I just checked… and it’s been exactly 99 DAYS?!?!  since we updated the blog. I could say “oops.” I could apologize and give you some reasons for the time warp. Or… I could just say–hey, we were busy living our life and the world is crazy.

So… What’s been happening since the end of September?

Great question! Let’s go through the highlights:

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Becoming Complacent

Jen Post:

I never wanted to be the person who worked too many jobs in too few of years. I always felt like that made me look like I was never satisfied, didn’t like what I did, or I was one that “doesn’t play well with others.” Now I look at my resume and in my professional career, I have held four jobs in the past five years.  So much for those thoughts…

But one of reasons I left those jobs is that I become complacent. I stopped caring about the business or how I was doing. I didn’t want to improve and I didn’t want to challenge myself anymore, and I wasn’t being challenged. I was just stagnant. I went to work, came home, watched TV, and went to bed. I’ve worked in many different settings for the career I have chosen (brain injuries, rehab, geriatric, chemical dependency, mental health, even community settings), and in each one I find myself leaving a job with a stale taste.

So is it the career path I chose or the company I’m working for? Is it me? Am I just sluggish and lazy?

The newest adventure I’ve come upon in mental health and chemical dependency really is taking a toll on me, as I don’t think I’ve had to push myself this hard in my career path to really push for what I want and stand up for what I think is right. I’ve never used my voice this much as a professional and I’ve also never been more proud of myself. I’ve never had more patients thank me or want to know who I am. I’ve never remembered more patients’ names or want to be on the unit so much to help the nurses and behavioral health workers.

I’m not really sure where I will be working 5 years from now. I’m done letting myself be complacent and giving up on being the best I can. I feel like I need to start giving a damn about how others look at me, and mainly, how I look at myself. What I do in my life is important, and if I don’t believe that, how am I supposed to make others see it?

-Jen

 

Running Thoughts

But… Why?

Tonight I went for a run in, ah… longer than I’d like to admit to.

I ran 2.5 miles and didn’t stop to walk and felt pretty alright about it all. It wasn’t far, but it’s a start!

Things like running, and cycling, and swimming (my three biggest sporting loves), always give me time to think. Space to decompress. To process. I always seem to find something to think about. And if I don’t, sometimes not thinking about anything except the task at hand can also be rewarding in it’s own way.

I’m not a fast runner. I’m not a fast swimmer. I’m a decent cyclist.

A few years ago, I was in great shape. I did a triathlon at least once a month from June-September, and placed in my age group often. But… I was also single. Didn’t have very many friends. Had a part-time job and 2 hours a day to devote to the gym. My life as a whole was not super fulfilling.

When I look at where I am now–Wonderful wife (plus cat-children). Great neighborhood. Good job. Solid friends. And I feel like I live a much more well-rounded and satisfying life these days.

It’s not about winning. It never has been. But sometimes I get caught up in the competitiveness of sports, in the comparisons of my times and abilities to someone else’s, and I forget the real reasons why these things matter to me.

So… What Are we Learning?

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How to Complete a DIY House Project

So, You’re a Homeowner!

Congrats! That’s super exciting. I, myself, am a first-time home owner. There’s something special in having a house, owning something that you get to take care of, and of course–being responsible for all your own home improvements!

In this day and age, DIY feels super feasible. We have the internet, after all! Plus there’s youtube, and HGTV… message boards, and even phone-a-friend options, too! It seems silly to pay a specialist in some situations where with a little time, elbow-grease, and patience–you can successfully Do-It-Yourself!

So… Something in Your House Needs Improving?

Great! You’ve come to the right place. This particular post refers more specifically to “How to Fix a Leaky Shower Faucet.” However, I feel a lot of this information will be universal for many DIY House Projects. I hope you find this information helpful to prepare you for  whatever your next DIY project might be!

How to Complete Your own DIY Home-Project:

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How to Make Friends (in a Post-25-Year-Old Life)

When I was very young, my first lesson in friendship came from my mom. She taught me that to make friends all you needed to do was say, “Hi, my name’s Meghan. Do you want to play with me? Do you want to be friends?” 

And you know what–It worked! (Most of the time)

But I find that as we get older, we start to realize that in order to make friends you have to be just a little more subtle… 😉

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This One’s for the Birds

Just kidding — it’s for Patrick.
Just kidding — it’s for EVERYONE!
Alright, kidding aside (for now). You might be wondering:

What Have the Veigas Been Up To?

How’s the new house? How’s the new job (Jen)? What ARE the cats doing!?

So please sit back, get comfortable and consider this your catch-up episode of “Keeping up with the KarVeigaians” or… something like that!

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We gonna be adultin’ now!

You may be wondering: Why the radio silence this week? Where’s my allergy-free menu? I NEED A PICTURE OF THE CATS! Or, just feeling a general lack of whatever presence you like to experience from this blog.

And you might be wondering. . . . .  WHY!?

So here’s your answer:

We bought ourselves a house!

And so we ‘gon be real adultin’ now.
Moving this week means:

  1. Packing
  2. Renting a moving truck
  3. Packing some more
  4. Giving away a lot of stuff
  5. Throwing away a lot of stuff
  6. Bribing our friends into carrying all our stuff
  7. Wondering ‘why the hell do we have this stuff?’ 
  8. And uh… Probably some more packing

The good news is though… by this time next week, we’ll be OFFICIALLY free of our apartment-life and starting to get used to living the house-life (and the commute-life).

Something about buying a house makes me feel reminiscent and thoughtful, so bear with me while we stroll down that road for a minute.

Here’s something you should know about me: buying a house is STRANGE to me. It feels like a huge commitment to me–bigger than getting married or wanting to have children.

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