Five Years
My mom just reminded me of something I wish she hadn't.
It's been five years since I came back "home" -- to Middle Tennessee, anyway -- this year. As of, basically, right now...I came home at the very beginning of May.
She didn't remind me directly. That would have been kind of creepy and probably the start of an argument. But my sister's five-year wedding anniversary is this summer, too.
My family has basically grasped that I really, really suck at dates of things like birthdays unless they are for some reason really easy -- like my mother's, which is the first of the month, or my two friends from high school whose birthdays are the day of and day after St. Patrick's Day, so whenever I start hearing radio commercials for St. Paddy's I remember. Otherwise, I just really suck at it. Not on purpose, or because I don't care...the information just doesn't stay in my brain. So someone usually tries to remind me, because when I accidentally forget people's birthdays I feel horrible. I forgot my sister's this year (well, basically -- I didn't realize until 11:30pm, so I called and left a sort-of belated happy birthday thing on her cell phone). Anniversaries just don't rate. I wish they did, but nope.
I had forgotten my sister's five-year anniversary was coming up, which meant 5 years home for me. I wasn't even old enough to drink when I came back, for God's sake. It was before the Doctor, the Artist, CDHSarah, or even Papa Sue. (It wasn't really before the Doctor, but it was before his incarnation as such.)
Five years ago I had never heard of Robert Heinlein (which is odd, considering the people I lived with at the time). I had not yet begun to use the Osho Zen tarot, which means I wasn't using Tarot at all. I had not yet read the Principia. I was still more Gothy than hippie. I didn't have a cat, not even one. I hadn't run afoul of my hometown. I didn't read BUST!. I didn't have dreadlocks (although I got them at the end of the summer that year.)
Who the hell was I when I was 20? Who the hell am I now?
Dammit, Mom. I don't suppose I can blame you for the fact that my sister's wedding anniversary is also giving me an existential crisis, but hey. And big ups to my sis for keeping the five-year thing going (we're also five years apart in age which means I never forget how old she is like I do with my mom and dad) so I can remember everything except the baby's age with the same mental formula.
posted by Pope Lizbet @ 12:48 PM
3 comments
3 Comments:
Hmm... existential crisises (??) have their purpose, too, I guess, to help us re-evaluate our lives... and, something-something. I have no idea what I'm talking about. hey, better late than never!
As unpleasant as they are, existential crises are one of the best things that can happen to a person, IMHO. It's your psyche's way of telling you that there's more to life than you currently have. It's a challenge to grow, explore, live. To quote one of my favorite cliches, "faith isn't faith until it's been tested." I firmly believe that the same is true of life. Look at all of the people you admire the most. I'd be willing to bet that most of them have had more than their share of existential crises. You're going through a really shitty time right now but (to use yet another cliche) shit makes the flowers grow. Maybe now is a good time to pick a role model who has gone through a similar crisis and see how they got through it.
Agh. I'm going to go now before I make myself sick with these cliches. :-)
For the record, however, it sounds like you've accomplished one hell of a lot in the past five years. Don't lose sight of that while you're questioning.
Thanks, everyone. It's not so much a crisis, more of a taking-stock (and a freaking-out at how OLD I seem to be getting). I don't feel any older than I did when I got back to town, and those things don't feel four and five years distant.
I'll be OK. Times have been a lot shittier around here, although not much more messy.
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