Frustrations

I’ve tried to write this post a couple of times.  And so far it’s ended up blank every one of those times.  This time, I’m just going to spit it out.  It may not make much sense, but at least it’ll be here instead of still just sitting on my shoulders.

I was extremely fortunate to have been offered a job almost a year ago which, at the time and for many reasons, served my needs perfectly.  However, I accepted the position knowing full well that it was not a long-term match for several reasons, which I won’t go into because they’re not really relevant to my current conflict.  (My supervisor and I discussed these issues when I was hired and agreed that the position would probably end up being relatively short-term for me.)

I’ve been having the “where do I go now?” conversation with myself a lot lately, for a couple of reasons.  One, my annual review is coming up next month and I’m pretty sure the subject will come up then.  Two, I’m having a mid-life crisis. 

Yes, I have come to the conclusion that I’m having my mid-life crisis at the ripe old age of 26.  Why, I have no idea.  Ok, if I’m being honest with myself, I know.  See, I had this novel idea that I would graduate from college, buy a horse (first things first afterall), find a dream job, and work my way up the corporate ladder to a leadership position.  Tada, career!  I had this notion that hard work, dedication, loyalty, selflessness, etc. all paid off in the end.  I don’t want to sound jaded–I’m not, just more realistic–but I know now that that’s not entirely how the world turns. 

Ok, back to my mid-life crisis.  It’s because my life needs new direction.  I need to have my life/job/career mean something.  You know–I want to make a difference, do something meaningful, all that jazz.  So…

Goal: find new direction for my life. 

I’ve come up with three possible options:

     1.   Have a baby.

Because this completely re-focuses your life, correct?  On days when I’m having baby-longings, this seems like the answer to my mid-life crisis.  I mean, a child totally gives new meaning to your life, right?  However, I also have days when I think my main problem is lack of mental stimulation.  On those days, I’m pretty sure having a baby isn’t going to solve much.

     2.   Find a new, more career-oriented job.

Really, this is the solution.  It’s just a matter of finding the right fit.  However, after 3 years of constant searching and a year of “keeping-an-eye-out” searching, I’ve come to the conclusion that there really aren’t any equine/animal sciences/research/veterinary jobs in Dayton, Ohio that fit my credentials.  (Bachelor’s of Science @ OSU, majored in Animal Sciences w/focus in Equine Science, minor in Communication, reproductive physiology research exp.) 

Major Concern(s): This decision leaves me with a requirement: MOVE.  Probably out of state.  Since we just bought a house and are still paying for our wedding, this isn’t really feasible.  At least not right now.

     3.   Go back to school for my Master’s in Equine Reproductive Physiology.

Also a valid solution, providing a Master’s degree can actually help me get the type of job I want, not just land me with more student loan debt.  This was where I was headed in 2005 (when I graduated from undergrad), before a few road blocks fell in my lane.  

Major Concern(s): Same as above for solution #2.  Also, I would have about 20-30 credit hours of pre-req courses I’d have to take before I could even apply to grad school.  And I’d have to re-take the GRE, since my score from 2004 doesn’t count anymore.

Ah, dilemma, dilemma.

Here’s where a few personal stories would be quite helpful.  Anyone care to share a similar story, preferably with your choice and how it turned out for you?

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In search of peace with 25

Shortly after 9am this morning I turned 25. 

And for some reason this birthday freaks me out.  I’ve never gotten too worked up over turning a new age, but somehow this one is different.  Not just because between 18 and 24 not much changes (well, besides the 21st).  Not just because after today I’ll be working on 30.  (Ok, I’ll admit that maybe that does get me a little.) 

What’s bothering me is somewhat less tangible and difficult to put my finger on.  It’s almost restlessness, but more than that.  I’ve mulled it over a lot over the past month or so.  All I can describe it as is an undercurrent of restless discontent.   I feel like 25 should be a milestone, but it’s not.  I should have more to show for 25 years on this planet.  I wanted to accomplish more before a quarter of a century passed.  Don’t get me wrong–I’m not looking for fame or a way to save the world, but I feel like I’m in a race to get more things done.  Honestly, I’m not sure what or why.  I have a college degree, I’m married, I co-own a house.  I have a horse farm, which was always a huge goal of mine.  (It’s admittedly a small one, but it’s a farm.)  I’ve taken steps towards establishing it as a business.  It’s not all the way there, but those things take time. 

Those are all things I’ve done in the past 7 years. 

It just doesn’t feel like enough.

Perhaps it’s because I spend 40+ hours a week in a place I don’t want to be, doing things I don’t want to do.  Maybe a job I enjoy and want to keep will make me at peace with 25.  Maybe having a career, with a foreseeable future and honorable goals will make the difference.

Maybe I’m unknowingly longing for the Master’s degree I didn’t pursue.  That was a goal that I never fulfilled.  But giving up grad school was a conscious choice.  A choice I made so that the future hubby and I could move to Dayton and, ultimately, commit to spend the rest of our lives together.  Nobody forced me to leave it behind.  Besides, if it had been that important to me I would have found a way to make sure I went back to school.  Yes, I still think about it.  But, as far as I can tell I’m not pining away for it. 

Besides, it’s just a title.  A piece of paper.

Or perhaps this is all baby longing in disguise.  I like to watch babies.  I want them. 

Well, I used to think I wanted kids without any reservation.  Now, I’m not completely convinced.  Hell, I’m not even convinced I’ll make a good mother.  I mean, I think I will, but how do you KNOW?  I know I don’t want to share my hubby…at least for a while.  Selfish, I know.  That’s one reason why I’m not sure about being a mom.  I’m too selfish and hot headed.  Not really mommy qualities.  I assume those things will sort themselves out in time.  Honestly though, there are enough bad parents in the world…there’s no need to reproduce unless you’re 100% sure the resulting children will have a great home life.  I always wanted to be pregnant and give birth.  The part I never thought about until recently (i.e. the last 5 years) was that you’re responsible for the resulting child for the rest of your life.  Talk about commitment–the choice to become a parent is more serious than the choice to marry someone! 

I know it’s a bit odd that I always thought about being pregnant and giving birth rather than raising children, but it’s not so weird when you remember my mother makes her living assisting mothers as they bring their babies into the world.  Other little girls played with their Barbie’s or baby doll’s hair.  I ‘gave birth’ to my baby doll.  I know, I know.  Freaky.  But I grew up believing that giving birth is the coolest, most wonderful thing a woman can do. 

Anyway, I’m not sure where this turned into a dissertation on my views of becoming a parent instead of me trying to convey why I’m freaked out about my birthday.  But…yeah.  That’s about it.  The bottom line is that I don’t know why this birthday.  But this one is somehow more serious, more important.  More bothersome.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll be at peace with 25, but as of today I’m not quite there.

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