danapop

Walking down the path to an open crater at Poas during my 30th birthday trip to Costa Rica.

One of my dearest friends is moving from Atlanta. After 17 years in this city, she and her husband are moving to L.A. Her move got me thinking of all the change this year has brought, not just for her, but so many people in my life (including us).

Not just in 2010, but for some reason around August/September of last year, there was a huge shift in our life. And right now, several of my close friends (and family) are entering life-altering transition phases. I have more than one friend going through a divorce. One of my twin’s friends came out of the closet, two children and a marriage later. My brother and his family, who’ve always lived near my mother in the Kansas City area, are moving to Dallas. Not all of this is bad. Closing the door on one life, opening another.

Friends of mine, after about 5 years of trying for a baby, just had their son in December. And we, I think, are closer to what we want than we have been in years, and it took a layoff for us to figure out what that truly was.

Contemplating in Charleston, SC.

The only common link that I can hold onto is that we’re all in our thirties. In my twenties, I took so many distractions as signs; now, I’m smart enough to know the difference. Not everything means something. Is it that in our thirties we have a clearer idea of what we want and are more focused on how to get it?

Does this economy have something to do with it? That people are fed up and are making a conscious choice to weed through the self-proclaimed bull shite? To start companies, and take stock in their own desires? In my twenties the book that captured it all was Quarterlife Crisis. I read it feverishly just after college and related to it like no other. The notion of, “Awesome. I have a degree, a car payment and rent due, now what?”

Mid-life and quarterlife crises are over-reported and over-exposed. Are they just a hall pass to act like an asshole? Because, I’ve found, every age and stage has its challenges, as well as the hopefulness for the next year. But, in my life, for right now, the parallels of major shifts, bravery and grabbing onto that life you want, even if it’s some 2,000 miles away, that’s the real stuff that defines you.

Series: What Was Ours by ceramic artist Ann Hazels

I’m fairly certain I’m not alone in my relationship metaphor in which one person is generally driving the train while the other person is passenger. In my marriage this is an accurate assessment, but who’s at the helm is constantly changing. But, in my parent’s relationship, for instance, my father was the sole driver, my mother, sitting passenger … for 33 years. And it worked for them.

The point of who’s driving is that I’ve noticed something with my girlfriends. Who they are in their relationship may not be who they are when they are with friends (myself included).

Need a valid example? My best friend and I cannot figure out what to order when we’re together and inevitably will end up with a bottle of wine (err who are we kidding?), a cheese plate, a bowl Marcona almonds, and a hangover from hell. But, I assure you–neither of us is this indecisive in our everyday life and relationships.

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I read somewhere that most people tend to stick to their goals better if they can visualize them. My mind is apparently wired the same as the majority, because if I see it, it’s generally easier for me to achieve it. In lieu of the standard resolutions for this coming decade, here’s my vision. My creative board of what I’d like to happen and what inspires me to make it a reality. Universe, are you listening? Bueller?… Bueller?… So, what’s on your vision board?

How I wonder what you are.

As a child, I was obsessed with outer space. If I had to guess now, it was more likely the idea of a vast universe with all sorts of matter floating around. It intrigued me and filled my mind with curiosity for years, the existential questions of what is really out there, the unknown. Because I’m so familiar with these thoughts in my own mind, I often wonder why is it so scary, the unknown? I’ve always wrestled with it. Now, the full disclosure–after thinking our life was going one way, it’s clearly not.

This was supposed to be our baby year. This was supposed to be my writing year. This was the husband gets a promotion at work year so I could have both the writing and us working on trying for a baby. Then, the economy tanked, just after I’d started up my business.

Then, my husband’s company kept eliminating positions until finally, while I was in California (which you’ll read all about next week) visiting my sister, my husband calmly (err, sort of calmly) told me he’d been laid off. The news was delivered in a tone I recognized from five years prior when I was post-appendectomy with my husband tearing through the Piedmont Hospital hallway screaming, “My wife is throwing up!” and me sitting in the mechanical bed covered in vomit wearing my coke bottle glasses, crying, “I don’t know why you love me!” We really know how to hold it together, the both of us.

It didn’t come as a huge surprise. We’d been waiting for this day for a while, as the writing has been on the wall for ages now. But, if you ignore it enough, it goes away, right? Let me tell you, waiting for the shoe to drop doesn’t make it any less scary. Or easier. So, there’s quite a bit of unknowns at the moment. More than I can begin to wrap my head around.

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I sure liked the Mardi Gras beads.

You know you’re getting older when your dream car becomes a Volvo XC70 and if you came across a pile of moolah you’d buy a front load washer and dryer set. But, I wasn’t always like this–so mapped out. Well, I was in how I grew up, as that was quite controlled with the path mostly laid, but once I broke out of my parents’ house the compass sort of went off kilter for a while.

I think this happens to a lot of children brought up in strict households once they leave home. They go buck effing wild. I’m incredibly thankful that, for me, this occurred pre-internet and youtube boom–but still, I know there are pictures floating around that would make it impossible for me to run for political office (if that was an aspiration of mine, which thankfully, it is not). Most are tame, maybe in the realm of Girls Gone Wild and whatnot, but cringe-worthy nonetheless.

It’s a period in my life that I’m not particularly proud of–about a six-year span (roughly 18 to 23ish). I sort of wish I could forget (parts of it, ironically, are very fuzzy), but I know those moments made me who I am today–the whole me. Never in my life have I been so off course and confused than I was during those years. In short, I was lost. September marks the start of many college freshmen settling into campus life, and potentially the start of the wander off the laid path.

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It recently dawned on me that I don’t write much about my marriage. I mean, I feel like at this point, you know quite a bit about my family (brother, sister, twin, mom and dad, and a bit about my extend family on my husband’s side), but not so much about my husband  – our life and marriage – and I want to talk about that.

But, oddly enough, in order to do that, I have to begin with my first twin – my birth twin…my sister, because figuratively, the second twin in my life is my husband, which I’ll get to later.

My mother found out in her seventh month of pregnancy that she was expecting twins; can you imagine learning that you had just T minus two months to prepare for dos bambinos…in addition to the six-year-old and four-year-old already at home and a husband who was often away on business…and all without a housekeeper, nanny or BlackBerry – my, oh my, how did women do it then? They must have been made of stronger stuff than me, I think I would pass out on the spot.

But, mine not only did it, she did it well. We’ve all grown up to become semi-productive members of society – no criminal records, tattoos, illegal addictions – no judgment if you have any of these, but in my family, any of the aforementioned would’ve been a major faux pas and likely cause years of the silent treatment. So, job well done there, I suppose.

One of the most common life questions I get is – what is it like to be a twin? The simple answer is – I love it, but it’s all I know. For all I know, I’m sitting here this whole time thinking that having a twin sister is fabulous, but really it’s horrible and my non-twin friends feel sorry for me (just a thought).  But it just is. I love her and know her likely more than anyone else on this planet (barring her boyfriend). And vice versa.

The more complex answer is that being a twin and having a partner is so ingrained into my identity as a person – one doesn’t go without the other. I’ve never truly been alone in my life because of this. We aren’t geographically close, but I’ve never flown truly solo or felt like I was going at anything without her full support. She keeps me sane, balanced and calls me out when I need to be called out. I’d like to think I do the same.

I equate marriage to twinship. I looked for a partner that would be with me no matter what, and in return, I’d do the same. That said I always knew that my mate for life and love would know me like my twin. And he does.

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Whether you call them toxic friends or frenemies (the latest amalgamated word), there’s no denying that some relationships are loaded with destructive drama that leave us feeling overall worse, rather than better, about ourselves. As Gwyneth Paltrow put it so eloquently (har har) in her recent GOOP newsletter, these are those “frenemies, hell bent on taking us down.”

For most of my adult life, the e.e. Cummings poem, Let it Go has been one of my favorites. My very loose (and incredibly simplified) interpretation of it is that when you let go of the gunk, in comes the good. Cummings is specifically speaking of relationships, which intrigues me because one of the hardest lessons I’ve had to learn is letting go, particularly, letting go of friendships that are on life support. (more…)

When I began dating the man who was to become my husband I had this relationship epiphany; I call it “the one before the one.” 

When I think about all the boys (boys, yes, in the truest sense of the word) I had dated before meeting my husband, I realized how much time, energy and emotion I had wasted on these ones before the ONE.

But, I am in good company – this has happened to just about every one I know and it goes a little something like this…

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