Being Bianca S is hard. Being 35 is hard. Being Bianca S at 35 is really hard. I must be going through some mid-30’s crisis because for the past few days. I have not been myself at all. Have you ever felt like that? You know that you need to move in a different direction, but someone has put crazy glue on the soles of your shoes and you can’t move? If not, I can tell you that it is the most depressing, frustrating feeling in the world. Knowing that you need to change something, but don’t know what to change or how to do it.
There was so much that I wanted to accomplish by 30: married, kids, house, and amazing career. But here I am at 35: single, a dog and a cat, in a one-room apartment, with a job were I get to listen to people complain 99.9% of the time. Sometimes when reality comes crashing into your face like a ton of bricks, you need to just soak it all in as is. Right now, it feels like everyone around me has their shit together, and I here I am standing in the middle of the street, in my underwear with my finger up my nose. There’s a visual for you.
People say that you shouldn’t compare yourself to anyone else and they are completely right. But when you are in the midst of a total mid-30’s anxiety attack, it is very hard not to. It is so hard not to wallow in the pool of self-pity that is all the shoes, clothes, bags and experiences you can’t have because your wallet is empty. To be constantly reminded every time you scroll through your Facebook news feed that you are husbandless, childless, and absolutely going nowhere right now.
And that’s when it hit me. This is just “right now” not forever. There is a chance to turn things around and be who I am supposed to be. Boom – another wall. Who the hell am I supposed to be? Let the anxiety attack begin again. Let me let you in a little secret and maybe you’ve heard this story before. Once upon a time, there was a little girl who was taught that if you work hard, are respectful, and do what is asked of you, she will be successful. And she did. She worked hard, did everything that was asked of her and more, and then, shazam. She’s fired from her job, took a job at a much lower salary just so she would have pay check, was worked like a government mule until she couldn’t take it anymore. She left that job for another one, which while paying more, is mind numbingly boing and way to administrative for her liking. The young girl then goes on to start a couple of side hustles hoping that one will help her pay bills and pan out to become her passion all while trying to piece together some sort of social life to help her forget about her less than exciting career.
Sound familiar? Well, this has been me for the past three years. Going from situation to situation, trying to move up in the world and get my life together all at the same time. This has been the hardest three years of my life and there have been times when could do was throw my hands up in the air and said, “Lord I surrender,” because I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t take the constant rejection letters from jobs, no one wanted to participate in my accountability groups, no one wanting to take me out on a date, no one to tell me that this is all temporary.
Yup, it took a couple (several) self- help books for it to finally get in my head. That this whole fucked up part of my life is just temporary. It could be permanent if I choose for it to be, but oh no. That is not the goal. I have big plans for my life and crying about (which I have done) is not going to change anything. Even when times are the hardest, you have to have that small glimmer of hope that everything will be ok and it will be.
That’s where I am now. With strength, determination, and faith, I am going to get me shit together come Hell or high water (whatever that means). And if I can do this, anyone, including you, can to. Like Peter Pan says, “All you need is a little faith, trust, and pixie dust.”