I’ve been in between work projects for about 2 weeks now, and I’ve taken that time to sort through and clean every closet and junk drawer in the house. Yes, OCD at its finest. I’m an expert purger, unforgiving when it comes to cleaning out the clutter from our house. Toys, clothes, books, knick knacks, games – anything that we haven’t used in a year gets boxed up and put out on the street. In New York, you can put things out on the curb and 98% of the time, everything will be gone in a matter of hours. But there are 2 things that I can never give up despite thinking that one day I might let them go: my old art supplies and boxes of old letters from various friends, some of which date back 20+ years. The most recent letters, aside from a few holiday and birthday cards are about 10 years old. I guess that was around the time my friends and I stopped writing letters and started emailing instead. The art supplies? Well, the thinking is that I would use them again. I look at the old calligraphy nibs from way back to sophomore year at Cooper and realize they were last used 24 years ago, but here they still are, in the art box, stored away with other relics. It’s funny that they’ve moved with me a few times across country.

I know why I get so zealous with the purging and organizing during down times; I’m not fooling myself. It’s both a distraction and a metaphor for what’s going through my mind when I’m not working, busy and occupied – a distraction from dangerous thoughts and a metaphor for decluttering the insecurities and doubts that inevitably work its way in.
 
The weekend was interesting. Little did I realize that when I wrote that “don’t give up” post on Friday, I’d be repeating it to myself over and over all weekend, but that’s exactly what I did. I questioned a lot of things. I questioned whether I was holding onto something that has worked for us in the past, but may not be working for us anymore. I questioned if my motivations for holding on were based on fear and selfishness, rather than the belief that this was the right thing to do. I questioned if the path that I had taken was the right path, now that I am here and looking back. I questioned whether or not I was living up to my potential; I already knew that I wasn’t living up to my expectations. I know I raise that bar high, maybe unrealistically so, but I questioned everything.
 
I’m struggling. Sometimes I feel like I don’t really know who I am anymore and that is a dark and scary place to be, but I emerged from the weekend determined to give myself the time and space to try and sort it out. This is the year. I came to the realization, finally, that one part of my life that I was holding onto was not going to play a part in my future much longer, despite both my efforts and denial. I am giving that up. So don’t give up, I wrote on Friday, unless you know that there is nothing left for you and it’s time to move on.
 
It’s time to move on now.

So, this whole “Pay Yourself First” thing that I posted about a few weeks ago isn’t really happening in the way I expected. I wish I could tell you that I’ve made some progress on the art front, but that hasn’t happened…yet. But something else did that I didn’t quite expect.

 
Friends, I am exercising.

 
Oh you know, whenever my doctors ask me if I’m exercising, I nod and say, “yes, not as often as I should, but I do”. But what this actually means is that I do some half-assed yoga and stretches at home once, maaaaybe twice a week if I can get around to it. I’ve never really been an exercising type of person and I hated gym in school. I was always that skinny kid who the opposite team would choose to break through during that stupid childhood game, Red Rover, and I was an easy target during dodgeball. I did, however, have a brief 6 month affair around 2001-2002 with running. I was all serious about it too. I bought running clothes and proper sneakers and I’d load up my minidisc player (remember those? I bet some of you don’t, so here) and walk up to Prospect Park to run the loop. But then my back started hurting and and my knees felt all sore and one day I even heard a popping sound around the knees, so I stopped. After I had babies, it was all downhill from there (though I will say that pushing a double stroller of 2 kids worth 50 pounds up a hill almost daily was a lot more exercise than I’ve gotten in the last 3+ years since we’ve been stroller-free).

Now, I’m also not the type of person who weighs myself either, but when you go to the doctor they want to know what you weigh. I actually had no idea what my weight was and to be honest, I was a little surprised at the number that came up when I stepped on that scale last Friday.
 
{insert disclaimer here}
Because I know that weight can be a touchy subject, let me just say that I am fully aware that I am currently at a healthy weight for my height and frame and I fully acknowledge that I am still a thin person. This is not commentary on any other body type or weight but my own. The mention about my weight comes not from any fear that I am gaining weight, it comes from the fact that my body has changed, my metabolism has slowed down and some of the pregnancy weight that I never lost is my new normal. But can I just say, what is with the vanity sizing on all these clothing brands? Because there is NO WAY I am the same size or SMALLER than I was when I weighed 10-15 pounds less. And what is it with Asian mothers who ask if you’ve gained weight when most of your life they’ve been hounding you to gain weight as they try to stuff your face with food? Whatever, I know that nothing is off limits with Asian families and the weight thing is just so typical, but come on.
{/end disclaimer/tangent}
 

When I left the doctor’s office, I walked out determined to exercise. It wasn’t about the weight – I didn’t care about the weight, but I did care that I wasn’t in better shape. Maybe it was the discussions about mammograms and fun, wacky perimenopausal hormones, coupled with my general feelings of meh and looking at the mirror and seeing signs of aging like the gray hairs that are growing in abundance like weeds (I am at about 50% gray now) that finally made me reach some kind of breaking point. My GP doc said something to me last year too that was sort of like a “duh” moment, but one that I had not really considered before. When asked about my newly diagnosed herniated discs, I responded that I knew what I needed to do in order to keep it in check: I just avoid situations where I’m on my feet for long periods of time and I don’t pick up and carry anything more than 10 pounds ever. He told me that avoidance was one way to deal with it, but a better way to deal with is was to strengthen my body so that I didn’t have to avoid those situations. Super obvious, right?
 
Which leads me back to exercise. I’m not sure how I found it, but I did and now I’m doing it. Don’t laugh at me, but I am doing the 30 Day Shred. I’m only on day 3, but I haven’t skipped a day yet (I mean, I am only on day 3, 4 now! So we’ll see…). And yeah, you know what? IT’S HARD. You know, you sit there on the couch and watch the video first because you want to see what it’s all about, but when you get up and actually do it you feel like you’re dying, especially because the only hand weights I have are 5 pounders and even the people in the video don’t look like they’re using 5 pounders. Also, I can’t really do a proper push-up, nope.
 
So I’ll keep you posted on how it goes. I’m scared of Level 2, but I’m fairly motivated to do this because I’ve read enough reviews that convinces me this works. I will make the time; it is only 20 minutes a day after all. I have never really challenged myself physically in any capacity, except for maybe my short running stint (oh! And pushing 2 babies out of my body), so this is sort of new. And now, since I have blogged all about it here, I will be too ashamed to quit.
 
PS. I realize the hilarity of posting a photo of myself and writing all about me right after my post raising questions about blogging and narcissism. I am now officially ridiculous.

About a year ago, a friend of mine hurled some words at me during an exchange that weirdly escalated into an uncomfortable misunderstanding and it stuck with me like an annoying fly all these months later. I wanted to ignore it, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t even directly related to what we were arguing about and it was an offhanded remark, maybe even a cheap shot, but there was some truth to it. It made me examine some of the reasons why we blog and put ourselves out there in social media. Is blogging a creative release? Yes. Is it self promotional for the business? Sure. Is it a way to connect with people and form some sort of community? Yeah, I guess so. But is blogging also narcissistic? Probably, to some extent.

But here’s a tougher question, and the point that was being inferred by my friend’s remark: Am I relying too much on the blog and twitter for validation and approval from others (mostly strangers at that) rather than seeking acceptance from within? Is it to fill some sort of void, an emptiness, a loneliness, to declare that I am here so I don’t feel invisible otherwise? Um…ouch.
 
I think it goes without saying that it feels good when someone likes or retweets a post or leaves a comment. Let’s not mince words here; it’s an ego boost, however small (“somebody likes me!”). When it doesn’t happen or starts happening less, you start questioning yourself – your words, your work, your product. I’m not that self confident that I’m immune to this. Far from it in fact, and I hate that at this age I still struggle with some of the same insecurity around friendships, socialization and acceptance that I dealt with in middle school. I’m asking you, as a 42 43 year old woman, why does this bullshit still happen? Aren’t we past this? Or does all of this information saturation on social media make it too easy to fall into old traps of insecurity and comparisons?
 
Clearly, I have a lot of work to do on myself. At this age, again.
 
I was changing one of the lights in the bathroom the other day and the bulb slipped out of my hands and shattered to pieces in the sink. It immediately took me back to high school. Why? One of the more memorable and challenging assignments in junior year drawing class was drawing a light bulb. We had to put a light bulb in a padded bag, smash it, spill out the pieces onto a surface and draw exactly how it landed. You could choose your perspective from where you wanted to draw, but you couldn’t move the pieces. Sounds like some metaphor for life, doesn’t it? It’s funny, but I just stared at the broken light bulb for 5 minutes thinking back to a time when I used to have so much more focus to study and draw that intently for hours at a time, uninterrupted. Where has the focus gone? In those days, the world was smaller and I only sought validation and approval from my little circle, not from thousands of strangers. It feels a bit unsettling to realize this.
 
So, I don’t want to blog for the wrong reasons (wrong for me, that is). I want to blog because it’s still a creative outlet and it still helps promote our business. As for the rest – self confidence, self acceptance and validation – I’m just going to have to spend time with myself without some of the distractions and noise of social media to tackle that one, despite the fear of feeling disconnected or irrelevant.
 
Sometimes criticism hurts because the truth hurts. But sometimes criticism can make you face something that you didn’t want to see before.

This belt. I’ve worn it nearly every day for years. If I told you that my everyday belt was white studded leather, you might laugh and think it was tacky. Maybe it is, but it’s funny the things that we reach for, the things that we put on everyday like a security blanket. Maybe it’s like armour, something to hide behind. Or maybe it’s just a belt, or a studded leather bracelet (I do have a thing for studs, I must admit), or a pair of earrings. These small hoops were novel when I bought it 14 years ago because it was the first piece of gold jewelry that I’ve ever been compelled to buy and wear, but that color of gold was too inviting, like little nuggets of sunshine, and it made all my other silver jewelry look gray and cold. Now, 14 years later, they rarely leave my ears.

I’m up way too late these days, pushing bedtimes to 3am. But while I’m up, let me elaborate on that whole “being middle-aged is like being a teenager all over again” statement I made on the last post. Some of you seemed horrified at the prospect of living through that angst again – and maybe you won’t by the time you get here, but I actually found some relief when I connected that analogy. I feel like there might be a shift happening; I don’t know towards (or away?) from what, but sometimes you feel these things like faint butterflies deep inside your gut. But before there are answers, there’s this unsettled period where a lot doesn’t make sense anymore and you start to question everything including your identity. Insecurity follows; sometimes loneliness and isolation too. But it isn’t depression because that feeling, which isn’t at all tangible at this stage, is kissed with a hint of hope and optimism on the other side. I know this might not make any sense (this is what happens when you get to be my age, apparently – you start rambling nonsense and lord help me if this blog turns into some kind of self help journal for the middle aged), but it helps to sort out these complex feelings by writing them down and that’s when it hit me that I’ve felt this before, when I was a teenager headed into college. The years that followed were a wonderful, tangled mess of experimentation, letting go, making ugly mistakes and making huge leaps of faith, sometimes without a plan.
 
I’m feeling like there is some sort of next stage in life imminently approaching. The girls are growing up and aren’t so little anymore; their needs from me as a parent are changing. Despite the fact that it’s sometimes terrifying, I’m a role model to them now more than ever. As the industry I work in continually changes, my career as freelancer and designer might also be shifting (and to be perfectly honest, I can’t help but feel there is an expiring timeline at work here). I also feel like we need to step into the next phase of the business, whatever that route may be. We’re trying to figure it out, but I know we’ve played it safe in the past, partly because we need this business to be a solid rock in the way that it supports our family. Business aside, I’m yearning to do something different and big, whether just for myself or another business venture. Sometimes I think I’m crazy when I think this way – after all, I barely have enough time to even keep up with what’s on my plate now, but it’s a persistent nagging that I can’t ignore. I don’t even know what “IT” is, but I want to allow myself the time and freedom to mess around and figure it out. I know that in order to even begin thinking about this I have to shut down some of these outside noises that waste my time and not be so concerned with what everyone else is doing. This means spending less time on social media and not comparing myself to a thousand other people. But this also means spending more quality time talking with the people I care about.
 
A few months ago, I felt this sudden pull towards the coast. Sometimes we can’t explain what moves or pulls us, but I’ve been planning a trip around it this summer. I don’t know what I’m going to find there – maybe nothing – but I’m following my gut on what inspires me at the moment. This seems like a good path to follow. If I were to continue with that analogy of feeling like a teenager on some sort of precipice to the next stage in life, then I’m excited about what might follow – mess, mistakes and all. I know that I have to self motivate on the leaps of faith, something that comes easier when you’re 18 and don’t have the responsibilities of a family or a job, but I’m allowing little steps to count as progress. Maybe it’s taking some of the armour off and putting on a color you’ve never worn before. Maybe it’s taking a trip and changing your environment or taking a class and learning something new. I’m standing here now, but where do I go from here?

We’re at the point in winter where most people are totally over it. Funny how even the complaining is predictably cyclical like the seasons, isn’t it? But even though the weather is a drag I haven’t minded winter much. I admit that I’ve been in a bit of a hibernating (hiding?) mood where I haven’t been going out at all (the girls have noticed too and have asked why I’ve been home every night. Like I was constantly going out all the time before??), but I’m pretty content with my boring life right now. I’ve been really busy with work, but I won’t deny that winter strips away most of the motivation to leave the house after dark.

Things feel pretty good around here. I’ve been having one of those parental stretches where I look at the girls and can’t get over how big they’re getting. I know it’s such a boring cliche, but it all does go by very fast and I’m realizing that they’re entering into more independence every day. For the first time, I can catch glimmers of what their life might be like without us – it isn’t really all that hard to imagine anymore. And then when Claudine starts reminding me every week that it’s time to do laundry because the basket is overflowing or when Mia squints while looking at my face and asks if I’m wearing eyeliner (“but you never wear makeup!”), they start sounding more like my mother.
 
All of this has me thinking more about blogging and kids and all that stuff in general, a continuation of this post from September. I questioned where the line needed to be drawn then, but I know the answer now. The girls have their own identity; it’s not mine to express. While I may have never identified with the whole “mommy blogger” label (actually, I don’t know a better way to piss me off than calling me that, ha), my role as a parent fills many aspects of my life including what I write here, but as I’ve written in this post a few years ago, being a mom doesn’t define who I am. It’s part of who I am, but it doesn’t define me. I think I’ve always tried to take that approach with this blog, but it’s time to shift things even farther away from the girls. It isn’t about removing them from the blog, but more about shifting the posts to focus back on writing as a parent to 2 girls, a designer, a freelancer, a New Yorker, and less on the girls specifically – or at least I’m going to try and think carefully about what I post from now on. Maybe it won’t be as interesting here, but I’m ok with that. I’m also ok in saying out loud that I have less readers than I did 2 years ago. I’m fine with going back to small. Sometimes things just happen without you realizing it, you know? And then you and your family are being spotted in every city that you travel to. I’ve enjoyed every single personal encounter with blog readers and that is the truth, but we aren’t attention seeking people. I think when many of us early bloggers started writing over 10 years ago, the online world felt smaller and maybe a bit safer. It’s a bit naive to think that it’s stayed the same 10 years later. I’m not sure where any of us will be in the online world 10 years from now either, but in many ways we’re forging ahead while still in uncharted waters. Are any of us looking ahead while looking back at what we’ve left behind? That alone is enough to make me pause and at least think of my purpose here.

2013 will be my 11th year as a freelancer. I’ve actually freelanced off and on longer than that working projects and PT jobs during my years at grad school, but this February marks 10 full years as a freelancer. I sometimes wonder how I’ve managed to make it this far as I didn’t have any expectations beyond the fact that freelancing was the best solution to the conundrum of working without full time childcare, which was unaffordable for us at the time. Indeed, at the end of every year there is always a sigh of grateful relief at the acknowledgment that I made it through another year.

I have on a few occasions wondered if I’ll ever go back to a full time office job (and now that I think about it, I’ve only actually had 4), but those thoughts are usually driven by fear and insecurity and not necessarily by any pressing financial need. The truth is, freelancing has been very good to me. I’ll admit that I haven’t had to hustle that hard for jobs because the majority of my projects come from long-term steady clients and referrals that I’ve built up over the years, many of them from grad school contacts. Though the nature of freelance is up and down (and I know that I have expressed weariness of that instability here), I’ve been fortunate with a steady stream of work. For the most part, benefits aside, I’ve been able to earn a higher salary than any full time job I’ve had. The flexibility has played in integral role in the way we have raised our kids and it’s enabled us to build our business, but the girls are older now and in school. We still have childcare needs, but they are less pressing and working a full time job is more of a realistic possibility than ever.
 
Last year was a down year, the first since the early days when Mia was a baby. Many projects were put on hold and some went away. For the first time I seriously wondered if it was time to get a full time job. I’d like to believe that I would never compromise the livelihood of my family for this freelance lifestyle that I was used to and quite frankly, preferred, but I have to admit that the thought of a full time job was daunting. I had been working from home for so long that even the thought of looking for a job was intimidating. I didn’t even know where in an agency hierarchy I would fit in. What position would I apply for? How would I adjust to a daily commute or a desk job and what would that mean for my general health? (I can’t sit for more than an hour or 2 at a time without pain because of back and tailbone issues). How would we be able to run our business if I was gone 9-10 hours every day? Although some of these concerns were very real, I wondered if they were just excuses to deflect the fears and insecurities I was feeling about my career as a designer, and one who wasn’t getting any younger. All of this made for some serious soul searching.
 
In the end, we pushed through the Fall which was admittedly tough and I’m back to juggling multiple deadlines this month. I know we are in a good place and we try to do all the responsible financial things. I may not, however, be any closer to facing some of these tougher internal questions and maybe I won’t have to if the work continues to stream in, but I also know that anything is possible and nothing is forever. If there was ever a point where I would feel like I’d need to find a full time job to put food on the table, I’d “man up” and do it in a heartbeat, but I’m committed as ever to making freelance work for another 10 years as I enter into my 11th. I know that this in part is due to the fact that I know so many other freelancers and small business owners now like us and I’m inspired by anyone who is committed to making this life work. This wasn’t always the case when I was starting out 10 years ago. Perhaps I wasn’t looking in the right places for support or maybe the recession has forced many of us to be more creative with our employment, but there are a lot of us out there. Even though last year was the toughest year we had in awhile, I’m glad to have gone through a rocky period. Upon reflection, it just proved once again that we could adapt and be flexible. It was a good lesson learned and everything ended up being ok. It makes you a little more humble and it makes you question everything. That is always a good thing.