Revertigo

There’s this episode of “How I Met Your Mother” that Hubby & I recently watched. It’s the episode in which Robin meets up with her Canadian High School boyfriend; a boy who broke her teenage heart in his van after playing a gig with his band, The Foreskins**.  She confesses to her friends that the minute she set eyes on him, she suddenly felt like she was sixteen again; complete with the excitement and butterflies that a “first love” could only elicit. But not only that, Robin found herself acting exactly like she did at that age. 

Marshall, in his wise ways, had developed a term for this type of behavior. He called it “Revertigo” … a phenomenon in which a person reverts back to his or her former self when around certain individuals from their past. In this episode, he uses Lily as an example; having her invite her old high school friend, Michelle, who brings out the “gangsta” in her whenever they’re together. But once separated from one another, they revert back to their normal selves. 

Hubby and I could not stop laughing during the entire episode.*** It was something that we both know happens to me when I get together with my Canadian cousins. When we get together I somehow slip back into this version of myself that I can only call “The American Cousin” — all brash and outspoken with a hint of arrogance (not intentional, of course). But not only that … for some strange insane reason, I also find myself speaking in a Canadian accent; complete with long O’s (as in “sooorry”) and unconsciously adding “eh?” to the end of all my sentences. 

Seriously. We could be in the heart of the continental U.S. and I could suddenly be mistaken for a Canadian! 

The thing is, when experiencing “Revertigo,” every fiber of you begins to revert back to that place and time. All the good and the bad. All the excitement of being at the age that you were and all the insecurities you may have experienced at that time. 

Proof that I was a GleeK in high school

This Saturday is my 20th High School Reunion. And while I debated for a verrrry long time about whether I’d attend, I finally decided that I would skip out on the festivities. I can say that I did it for a number of reasons. The easiest being that I didn’t feel like shelling out the money to see people I really didn’t know that well twenty years ago. Or that I only wanted to see certain people from my graduating class; ones that I’m not even sure will be in attendance. 

I’ll admit that both of those reasons are indeed true; and — in my eyes — valid, as well. But the primary reason is this: I’m just not at the best place that I want to be in my life at this exact moment. I don’t (nor will I likely ever have) the children that I know most of my classmates already have. I don’t have that beautifully maintained home with a well-manicured lawn that my suburban counterparts will also likely have. And I certainly don’t have the job / degree / success in my life that I thought I’d have by this time in my life. 

But I was also a HS Hottie (along with future-SIL), too!

And seeing that this past spring and summer were beyond stressful**** I’m feeling just a leeetle insecure with myself. 

If the phenomenon known as “Revertigo” is true; then all those insecurities and lack of self-confidence I currently have at this point in my life will be twenty-times magnified … like everything tends to be during those “puberty years.” 

Oh, I’m not naive enough to know that my classmates likely feel the same way about themselves in some capacity or another. If anything, I certainly believe that most of us, in our late-thirties, feel like we haven’t accomplished everything that we thought we would have over the last twenty years. 

No, really. I simply don’t want to attend for this simple reason: I’m trying to avoid feeling and acting as if I’m in high school again. And seeing that I’ve had a few major curveballs thrown at me over the past six months, I don’t know if I’d have the strength to combat this bout of “Revertigo.” 

Class of 1990

 One more thing and I’ll go back to being a 38 year old Gen-X slacker … my lack of desire to attend my high school reunion, by no means indicates that I don’t want to see those people I considered close friends during my teenage years.

The way that I look at it is this: If I hadn’t already found you via Facebook (or any other means of communication) … this simply means that you don’t want to be found. And I can respect that need for privacy. And if we were meant to find our way back to one another, then we’ll find each other when the time is right.

To me, friendship is all about every day life; and there shouldn’t be a need to make a big formal deal about it. 

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** “There were four of us. And we didn’t wear any shirts.” At least that’s how the band name was explained. LOL!  

*** Mainly because Robin’s ex-boyfriend was played by James Van der Beek of “Dawson’s Creek” fame.  

**** A quick recap:

  • I got fired from the job I moved to Chicago for; the one that I hoped would help heal me gain some of that self-confidence that Infertility robbed me of.
  • I found out that Dr. Bro and Dr. SIL have finally made the decision to (successfully) procreate.
  • I recently started and am currently training for a new job that will take my career in a different direction.
  • And in the midst of job-hunting, debated on a move back to Detroit only to decide to stay in Chicago (but move to a smaller apartment); much to the chagrin of family members that wanted us to move back “home.”
  • Oh … and being unemployed certainly didn’t help our financial situation, either.

Fickle Facebook

Oh, Facebook … why do you tease me so? You are a fickle friend who loves to simultaneously bring me closer to family and friends I haven’t seen in ages … and make me feel insanely alone. Especially when seeing “First Day of School” pics or status updates from everyone.

Okay, so I exaggerate a bit. What can I say? I was in the Drama Club in high school.

And truth be told, I love seeing all the cute pictures of the kids; especially as I get to see how much bigger and older they’ve gotten since the last pictures of them were posted.

But yet, there’s the little part of me that feels those tiny daggers stabbing away at my core. The sad thing is … well, I’m not quite sure if my “core” is my barren uterus. Or my heart.

Bit by bit, those daggers are disappearing from my heart … and I’m feeling less envious of those family & friends who have become parents. Rather, I’m beginning to be more accepting of where I am in my life and which path my life is taking me.

What an enormous leap from where I was two years ago, eh?

Anyway, I figured since most people are posting pics of their kids on this first day of school, I should post some of mine. Well, my furbabies anyway!

Bottoms Up …

My previous boss once said to me, “You don’t have to get everyone to like you.”

This is the same boss who, in the midst of all the chaos at the end of this past April, didn’t do a thing to help me out. The same boss who worried the whole time that I’d find the job horrible and go running back to Detroit.

But, as difficult as my position at this company would get, I actually enjoyed my job. I found that it challenged me in ways I hadn’t been challenged before. And up until the day I was sent home (and eventually told to stay home), I found myself gaining a little more confidence in myself … confidence I had lost so much of when going through the roller coaster of Infertility.

Megan from Bottoms Off and On the Table wrote a post that really resonated with me. In her post she talks about how busy she’s been at work and how, perhaps, she’s using work as a self-imposed coping mechanism while deciding on the next step of her Infertility journey.

And, oh … could I ever relate to this.

Reading her post reminded me of “stepping down” from my previous supervisor position in Michigan in order to concentrate my energies on IVF. After all, I had already been through years of conservative treatment and months of medicated cycles … all with disappointing results. By then I was so exhausted by the monthly cycles of treatment, which included multiple trips to the various doctor’s offices for lab draws and pelvic ultrasounds, only to be concluded with yet another negative pregnancy test.

And how I even managed to keep track of all the supervisor duties I had during those years, I’ll never remember. But what I do know is that once I decided to become a “regular” staff member (instead of supervisor), I suddenly felt as if I had more breathing room … at least enough to allow some positivity and hope into my life before heading into IVF territory.

After our IVF failed, I admit I began to slack off at work; an obvious sign that I cared little about anything during those first months of incredible depression. Then I discovered that throwing myself into work helped distract me from feeling like a complete failure. Flash forward a few years, and now I found myself moving to Chicago to accept a position that I’d hope would advance my career. I, once again became a supervisor; but this time for a high-profile group within a much larger company.

I did this for a number of reasons, but mostly I did this so that I could further my career. My thought was this: If I couldn’t give bear children because Infertility robbed me, then I might as well focus on the part of myself that I knew I could be good at. I might as well be a “successful” career woman.

And then … well, you know what eventually happened with that job. And the ultimate failure I felt from that fallout. What had angered me most was that I felt I went above and beyond my capabilities of being successful (and had been recognized for such accomplishments), but yet my previous boss never bothered to step up for me and fight for me; something she could have easily done. Except … well, this being the same boss who told me that I didn’t need to be liked, I rather think she had something against me. Personally, I think it’s because she had kids and was currently in school, which meant that she couldn’t completely “focus” in further her career …

As I’ve just completed my first week at my new job, I have found myself contemplating the lessons I’ve learned from my last job; what I should take away from that experience. And since I had four months to mull over the past year and a half, this is what I came up with:

There’s no need to “make up” for my inability to bear children with trying to more successful in other ways. Because it’s more important to focus on being happy with who I am and the strong(ish) person I’ve become … even though it’s nowhere close to where I though I’d be at this time in my life.

And

My previous boss was right. I don’t have to get everyone to like me. Because it’s not about being “liked.” Rather, it’s about being respected … which should really begin with respecting myself. And how can I respect myself if I continue to measure myself on my inability to have children? My life isn’t supposed to be all about whether I or not I failed in the “kids” department. I should be about my accomplishments and about remembering to give myself credit where credit is due.

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Like Sands Through The Hourglass …

I can’t believe it’s already the last few days of August. Where has the time gone?

All I know is that Hubby & I have been busy non-stop since returning to the “Flat Fields” of the Midwest.** We returned to Chi-town (via Detroit after Seattle) on Thursday and have pretty much been packing up our apartment since then.

Yes, I know. We should have been packed for our move to our new apartment before leaving for our Alaskan Adventure … but if you recall from this post, exactly where we were going to live was still up in the air right up until just before we left for Alaska.

And then there’s the whole matter of me flying out to North Carolina today … which also happens to be the only day in which we’d be able to pick up the keys to our new place.

Yes … the trip to North Carolina in which I’ll be attending my New Employee orientation for my new job. For an entire week. The same week in which we’d need to hand in the keys to our old apartment by Tuesday night.

So if you haven’t figured it out by now … this means that:

  1. Hubby and I had less than three days to pack up our old place,
  2. Hubby & I only have three days to move all our crap stuff into our new place, and
  3. I wasn’t going to be around to help move all our crap stuff.

Uh-huh. That’s right. I’ve totally bailed on Hubby. And believe me … I feel absolutely horrible about it.***

What’s worse is that Tuesday is our 14th Wedding Anniversary … and we won’t even be in the same state! This will be the first time we’ll have been apart during any type of special day. Boo.

And tomorrow … well, tomorrow I start my new job. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, but I guess the only thing I can do is go into it with my head held high … and pray for the best.

Despite all the “brick walls” we’ve been encountering lately, I must admit that I’m excited with all these new changes: nicer (yet smaller) and more affordtable apartment, and a new career direction.

I just wish the timing of it all didn’t suck.

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** Ugh … totally sucks not seeing mountains in the background anymore. We so miss Seattle right about now!

*** Thank you (from the bottom of my heart) to my In-Laws, who are currently in Chicago helping Hubby out!!

Ghostly Thoughts

I have ghosts in my head that keep telling me I’m a failure.

Amazingly, this feeling of failure has nothing to do with my inability to have children. Well maybe indirectly, anyway.

No, this feeling of failure has to do with everything that has happened since losing my job this past May. And with what has transpired since.

You see, I had this wonderful blog entry scheduled to post today; anticipating that I’d be busy in Seattle (thanks to the generosity of my parents) trying to board a cruise liner for an all-expense paid cruise to Alaska. It talked about how lucky Hubby & I were to be able to have had a wonderful (albeit hectic and financially difficult) summer this year. And I also wrote how I was looking forward to starting my new career path in Clinical Health Care Education. And how excited I was that Hubby & I decided to stay in Chicago rather than moving back to Suburban Detroit.

Except something happened this past Friday to make me scrap that post. Without going into much detail, Hubby & I were forced to reassess whether or not we were making the right decision to stay in Chicago. It affected us so much, that we were willing to lose the security deposit on the lease we just signed for an apartment and move back to Detroit.

We knew it would be financially risky to stay in Chicago. However, when we sat down to discuss the pros and cons, our guts told us that moving back to an economically-challenged state (with incredibly limited job opportunities for Hubby) would be the wrong thing to do. At least in Chicago, we knew there was a demand for talented people like Hubby … even though it might only be contract or free-lance work.

As Hubby & I (once again) discussed our various options, I found myself spiraling down uncontrollably. Suddenly my feelings of inadequacy and incompetence started to resurface. And it was perpetuated by this feeling I’ve had since this past May …. that, since *I* was the one to lose a job, I was a failure.

I was a failure because *I* moved us to Chicago for this “incredible” job opportunity … and then lost this job.

I was a failure because *I* encouraged Hubby to quit his full-time job in Michigan and go “free-lance” so that he could realize his dream of working for himself. But since I no longer had a job, I couldn’t support his dream.

I was a failure because *I* wanted to move to Chicago order to provide some distance away from all the bad Infertility memories we had in Michigan; all in an effort to help us move forward in our lives. Except now, we were on the cusp of moving back to Michigan, back to the same house that held such bad memories.

So yeah, the way that I see it … I just plain and outright, failed.

What’s worse than this feeling of failure is the self-doubt that has now crept in to my head.

These same ghosts, hence forth known as Ghosts of Failures Past (GFP), are now telling me that I’m not going to be able to hold any job down.

It’s as if my GFP decided to team up with my Ghosts of Failures Future to give tips on what to look out for if I started to travel down the road of “failure” once again.

And that no matter how excited I am to start my new job … new career, I should just expect to fail again. After all, wasn’t I so excited to move to Chicago for an incredible job opportunity?

Yes, I realize that this makes no logical sense. And I realize that I shouldn’t base every future experience on all horrible past experiences. But I do. And I am. And it terrifies me.

Despite the (relatively large and indescribable) hiccup that happened on Friday, Hubby & I have determined that we will stay Chicago. For now. While I’m incredibly happy excited relieved that our decision is final, I’m now incredibly scared that I might just screw up again.

I know Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” And I’ve tried to ingrain that quote in my mind; believe that, without a doubt, I am the master of my own perceptions.

But when it’s your own “Ghosts” that are the cause of such inferior thoughts … how do you counteract these thoughts?

Perhaps visiting Seattle, the city where Hubby & I have dreamed of moving to, will keep me focused on moving forward.

Perhaps breathing in some fresh Pacific Northwest mountain will help clear the ghosts from my head.

And if it doesn’t, I’ll be making some serious phone calls to Dr. Peter Venkman to do some serious Ghostbusting.

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