"Life gets complicated." It’s what you hear as a kid, what your parents tell you when they’re trying to convince you to enjoy life now, "cuz it only gets harder." I didn’t get it then, of course, but I’ve recently had moments where that phrase is actually a comfort. It’s a reminder to me that life gets complicated for everyone as they grow older, not just me.
I’m 33, almost 34, and am going to get my first bachelor’s degree in a month and two days. I first went to college right after high school, when I moved from the suburbs of Chicago to the city. I only lasted a semester, and was much more devoted to my newfound freedom as a city girl. So I left school and worked at a record shop downtown for a year. It was my biggest coming-of-age year, one of drama, partying, and feeling invincible. But I burned out of it quickly, and the next year moved back in with my folks and went to community college. It really wasn’t that different from living in the city, except a little safer. I still hung out with a lot of friends (lots of them went to the same community college), going to shows, parties, movies, etc. I liked going to school, too, especially my last quarter which was one outdoor living course that involved the same 20 students the whole quarter, sharing classes in biology, psychology (basically group-therapy once a week), and social studies, all the while taking two trips a week either hiking, canoeing, rock-climbing, or some other outdoor activity. Our "final" was driving out to Utah to backpack through the canyonlands for 8 days.
After that quarter, which cemented my love for travel and the outdoors, I transferred to southern Illinois to attend a four-year college. The school was in a small college town, surrounded by a very large, beautiful national forest that would become my home away from home for two years while I majored in Geology, then Early Childhood Education. I loved the idea of teaching kids about the environment, and wanted to learn how to teach the required material in an outdoor setting. My teachers hated the idea though, and I got really frustrated with getting Cs on lesson plans that I had worked so hard on, so I dropped out.
I lived with my parents for a few months then moved up to Ann Arbor, Michigan to live with my sister while she went to grad school. I was a nanny and worked at a bookstore. I lived there 15 months. I was restless at that point and moved out to San Francisco to live with several of my college friends. I looked for a place to live for three months – during that time I lived with anywhere from 4-13 roommates in four bedroom flat with no living room, often sleeping on the roof of the next building, as it was just outside our kitchen window. I got fed up quickly with those living arrangements and moved to Arcata, CA, "where the redwoods meet the ocean." That’s how I describe it, anyway. It’s a progressive, laid-back college town and I loved it. I lived, played and worked in the woods, but couldn’t find a job. I lived there for just over a year, working first at a jewelry factory, then at the California Conservation Corps, which I aged out of at age 24. In August 1997 I flew back to Chicago for my cousin’s wedding, and ended up staying for nine months while working at an internet service provider, my first well-paid job. I didn’t see Arcata again for almost two years.
After my Chicago stint I moved out to Seattle. I did my research first, and looked for a place with reasonable housing and employment opportunities. Plus, my sister and several college friends lived there, so it was an all-around smart move. In May 1998 I arrived in Seattle. This story is a particularly long one, so to sum it up: I got a job with an internet marketing firm, stayed there for 3+ years. I hated it like mad, and left my $41,000/year job to make $11 as a data entry clerk for the local AIDS service agency. I found my calling in non-profit work, and stayed there for almost four years, having moved from data entry, to financial clerk, to special events manager. I wanted to grow in my non-profit work but wanted 1) to get out of fundraising (too much pressure!), and 2) focus more on environmental issues. I left my job to return to school to get my undergraduate degree. I paid my way through loans, doing odd fundraising & non-profit jobs, grants/scholarships, and landscaping/gardening.
I swore I would try my best not to work while I was in school. I didn’t care about loans, I just wanted to return to school and do my absolute best, without anything to distract me. Well it turns out that’s not such an easy thing to ask for. This goes back to the "Life is Complicated" saying I’m so fond of. In the beginning of my senior year, an organization I have volunteered with since 2001 was in trouble. The last of the founders left, and the remaining staff person was half-way out the door. It looked like this organization I loved so much would have to close it’s doors. I wanted to help, and felt like I had the skills to get this org back on track. I also needed to choose a senior project, so I proposed stepping in to be office manager, and to help create a sustainable organizational structure, so that the livelihood of the org would no longer rest on just one person’s shoulders. This organization has several very devoted volunteers, some of which are my good friends. These friends also wanted to help, and stepped in to join some of the committees, as well the advisory committee, the governing body of the org.
We started with zero dollars in the bank and power struggles between new and old volunteers. We all seem to know what’s best for the org, and have all felt at some time or another that we are spending the most amount of energy and time on this work. We all feel underappreciated, overworked, and unbelievably stressed out. This has been the hardest work I’ve ever done, not only in the actually org work but in the challenge it has presented to me in holding on to my friendships. All of this, and I’m also finishing my degree. It’s my last year, and I’ve neglected so much of my homework. I’ve only done what it takes to get by – I’ve missed as many classes as possible without getting into trouble with the professors. My major is student-lead, community-focused major, and I’ve skipped most meetings and activities related to governing the program. I’ve been distant from everyone, because I don’t have time to be close to anyone. So a few months ago I informed the advisory committee that I would be taking the months of May and June off of the committee, so I could focus on finishing my degree in a way to be proud of.
That was hard for me, and I kept taking on more tasks, well after my "last day" of being the primary office person. I decided to attend the committee meetings, and stay on the sub-committee I was co-chairing, but not take on tasks related to the overall governance of the camp. I thought I was setting boundaries around this, but then suddenly I would be taking on something else that took a large amount of time, and I didn’t know how I got there. I wasn’t able to say no. I realized that I shouldn’t be at these meetings. I had two choices; I could sit there and, as tasks were being delegated, say no, and be the asshole that wouldn’t do anything. The other choice was to not be there at all. I would still be the asshole, but we’d be spared the weekly rising tension and across-the-table glaring. The problem is, these are my friends. We get mad at each other, say hurtful things, and get so caught up in ourselves that we no longer treat each other in a friendly way.
Another cliche is "whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger." Not that I feel like this work can literally kill us, but it certainly could kill a few friendships. If we get through this, we’ll be all the stronger in the long-run. But right now, it seems a lot easier to say "screw this" and walk away. Instead, I need to figure out how to balance friendships and professional relationships in an organization in crisis mode 100% of the time.
So this morning, Sunday, my favorite day, I woke up early and came into the kitchen to clean. I turned on This American Life and had a moment. One that need a little background:
In 1995 I went on Dead tour. It was my last summer in southern Illinois, and I was 22. My friends Joe and Ingrid and I drove to Colorado to visit friends and see a show, then onto Las Vegas, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, then back to Colorado. We had stayed in the desert, mountains, and cities, mostly camping and crashing on floors and couches. San Francisco was our last show, and we ended up staying at Joe’s sister’s friend’s house. She was away on business, but left her key under the mat for us to live there for the three days of our stay. She lived near Golden Gate Park, near the bay, and I remember the warm, summer air smelling a little salty but fresh. We took turns on the feather bed, watched cable, and were welcome to anything in the house. The moment I remember the most was when I was cooking a meal, maybe breakfast? It was a sunny day, and there was a warm breeze coming from the window over the sink. The real moment was when I reached up to find some salt & pepper (or some other ingredient) and saw her spice cabinet for the first time. I had never seen such a thing before. She had the typical plastic spices that my mother had, but also jars full of bulk spices, saffron in an ornate glass container, and lots of small plastic bulk bags. It was the first time I saw bulk spices, and I thought, "This is independence." To me, the spices in that cozy apartment represented choice, curiosity, and adulthood, and I wanted it.
So today, I started cleaning my kitchen, all the while stressing over something my friend said to me at the office yesterday – one of those things that left me disappointed and hurt. I was hating how these things happen so frequently lately, stressing over how I should address it, if at all, what am I doing wrong, why doesn’t anyone trust me, like me, respect me, and I had my moment. I was standing in my bright kitchen, cleaning a counter, listening to This American Life, and I was somehow reminded that this is still the life that I wanted 12 years ago in that girl’s kitchen. I made it here all on my own, and it’s a good apartment. I live here with my boyfriend, who is the best person to ever have come into my life. We share this, but for the sake of this moment it is mine. I got myself here, and I am so proud of everything I have accomplished. I will learn from this experience this I’ve learned from all the others that got me here. It is the complications of life that have helped me grow and become a better person everyday. This is what I need to remember, because once I remember, everything comes into perspective, and I can see the beauty in the day again.
