Quirky Personalities Over Mean Attitudes

I was venting yesterday about office-mates and I had an interesting realization. I have hailed my current job as the best I have had since my nanny days, mostly due to the fact that my anxiety, my mental health and for my personality, I'm truly in a rational place oof employment where I can thrive, as opposed to a volatile environment with unclear expectations. I had made a comment of "I work with some very interesting people, but I'm taken care of so well that I can overlook all the idiosyncrasies of those I share my office space with." Thus began the adumbration. 

I've been thinking about my job history in terms of my mental health, along with my ability to grow, handle things well, and thrive and I realized that environment has been everything for me. My current office is generally quiet. My co-workers are polite, kind, and mostly considerate of each other. They all have good and bad days, sometimes their personality quirks come out strong, sometimes they are muted. My current bosses are understanding and respectful. I have only had two times where my bosses were super "bossy" with me, and they paled in comparison to some employers of the past.

My weird, albeit interesting realization was, coming out of new phases in motherhood and back into the workforce some 6 years ago, I stumbled into situations fraught with forms of bullying. When I look back now I accept that not only was I just so desperate to better my situation that my outlook was cloudy, but I also I had no self-esteem to stand my ground and stand up for myself. Looking back, when I was backed into a corner with a co-worker or boss, I always waved the white flag of surrender, even if I knew better because it was easier to stay away from confrontation.

When you're struggling at home and in life painting work as your escape, you can easily enmesh yourself in workplace drama, gossip, co-worker "friendship"s and anything to keep you from dealing with your own problems. Such was my life for almost 3 years. It was when I was at my worst, at my lowest, that I "hit-bottom" per-se, was mentally beaten down and bloodied for the last time, that I decided to get out while the getting was good.

It was a good decision for me to leave a place where I was drowning. The job I chose to replace it, was actually a bad choice, but now, I realize it brought me to where I am now so it served it's purpose.

I had spent nearly 4 years under the reign of bullying in some sense or another. Maybe one afternoon it was a boss. Maybe another day it was a co-worker, or at time even a customer, but while struggling at home (which I knew better than to ever share about at work), I started mentally collapsing at work. Ironically, my job performance didn't suffer noticeably, I just started alienating myself and trying to find a way out.

I had found a handful of good people in my workplaces to keep me afloat but I was very much not okay and extremely desperate to prove on the outside I was beyond okay. It was a crazy world to live in. After the car accident I really saw the light and started to dig my way out more and more. The detour I took from there was rough and definitely a set back, but again, it brought me to where I am now so it wasn't all for nothing.

Looking back, sure I worked with some characters, but mostly I feel like I worked with grouchy, mean, and angry people that fed my negativity and shoved me deeper into my depression in the past just by being immersed in that environment. Now in my current place of work, even on their grouchy days, I see the good in all these wonderfully unique souls I share an office with.

You don't actually have to LIKE everyone, but you have to co-exist, which is tough to manage in a gossipy-behind-the-back, competitive workplace, which I have unfortunately  experienced the hard way. You don't have to agree with everyone, but it's tough to see someone else's point of view when you are constantly told how it should be received. 

Let me clear something up, I'm grateful for all of my jobs and all of my negative experiences because they have made me the woman I am now, sitting here, writing this. Above all, the good people I have met through those places, have made my world whole, and forever changed me, no matter how short their visit in this thing know as my so-called life. This isn't a bitter diatribe about my resume or bad jobs, but rather a reflection on how I've discovered that I can't be my best self, if I'm not near people who WANT that from me and for me. In some work-places, that's not part of the employee handbook, unfortunately.

Where I am now, I can have my peace when I need it. I can listen to music and podcasts and answer texts without judgement. I can have authority over things I've become proficient with. I CAN MAKE MISTAKES without any serious detriment or punishment. I can be Alison without fully filtering myself beyond recognition. I can live my life and have my job; one doesn't overturn the other.

When you have lived without this, that kind of freedom is as close to "relaxing," as I can get, and I that is why I rarely complain. I work in an environment where I never feel as though someone is "out to get me," or "will hate me tomorrow," or "will fire me, because I suck." 

At one of my previous jobs I had met someone that worked for my company but as an independent contractor of sorts, if you will. He once made a comment to me about telling my supervisor I could do more and showing them how great I could be in a new position. I remember telling him, "No, I can't draw too much attention because then the expectation will be too much. I have to stay just under the radar. I have to do well at what I am supposed to and not fuck up anything else, but not make them think to give me too much and then fail. Just under the radar and not messing up." I will never forget he looked at me deadpan and said, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. You can do better."

In that moment I shrugged it off. Now I feel sad that someone else saw that potential in me, but the people I had worked with just didn't at all, or it least didn't make me feel as though they did. I was too busy using the Jim Halpert work ethic, which I quoted often when I worked in there:

I look back at Facebook posts of how grateful I was even in my misery; how much I posted I loved those jobs. Then I look at the Pinterest posts of memes and quotes of how sad I was as a person and how much I just couldn't get it together around the forced gratitude for not working at McDonald's. I was very afraid in general and didn't work in a place where I had the support to do what I needed for myself and my family without suffering financially, mentally or just as an employee.

Where I am now, I have been able to do what I need to be my best Alison, in and out of the office. I can schedule doctor's appointments on lunch breaks, with no argument. I can schedule therapy on lunch breaks, no questions asked. I can leave early to pick up my child, with no eye roll or need to "make up for that time." I can show up late because of bad traffic, with no scolding. I can take a vacation and not be worried about coming into a pile of extra things left to remind me that I shouldn't take time off, and I can even go away and not worry about missing a paycheck or being docked because of my absence. These are all game changers.

I realized that I spent too long surrounded by meanness and negativity. I spent too long trying to please people who were just generally displeased with most of life, not just my contribution to it. I realized I worked in proximity to people who didn't "get me" and who didn't know me, but knew "the image I was supposed to emulate." 

That's sad, isn't it? I remember during another "hit bottom" period I revealed to my best friend some of the darkness that plagued my home life and she just said, "I'm so sorry you ever felt that. I'm so sorry you ever had those bad moments and I wish you didn't have to go through that." That was an a-ha moment for me of...and if I walked in to my boss' office and laid out that this is where I was and I was deeply struggling,there would not be a response with that kind of understanding, ever.

My affirmation for that assumption came when I quit. I'll admit I had left abruptly but I wrote my boss and the family and note, not thanking them for the employment, but rather thanking them for inviting us to some out of work activities that connected us with people that were helping us thrive. The response to this was being blocked by most of them on social media, and spoken to only under duress in any social situation where we happened upon each other since. It doesn't make me sad or upset. It gives me reassurance that I did the right thing.

I am surrounded by quirky personalities that speak in cliches and small talk strange things. I am surrounded by people who march to their own beat and are even incredibly weird sometimes. I am in a positive work environment where in two years I've never felt attacked, never felt anxious, never felt berated by even a boss on a bad day. Every day I'm grateful for not being surrounded by mean attitudes and perpetual grouches that make Oscar on Sesame Street look like an optimist.

It's the people, places and things. It's the cliche that they encourage in AA, NA and such that your triggers can come from people, places and things so once you change those, you're proactively working on the problem more constructively. I've never embraced that more.

Ironically I'd watched this with other people. Everything I had gone through I had seen in the past with friends or family but couldn't recognize it within myself until now. And what a revelation. 

The Budget Bawl

I just had an overwhelming, overtaking, quick-to-dry, full on cry. It's not a bad day, it's not that I'm in a funk, it's because I had to meticulously go over the budget. Math makes me cry sometimes, I swear. This is probably some weird disorder with a creepy name about math giving you meltdowns, or maybe subconsciously I just felt the weight of everything whilst doing said math, and the frustration popped right on outta my tear ducts.

I've recently had to make amends with the fact that my trauma is starting to play peek-a-boo. It has made some unscheduled cameo appearances, and some of it is weird stuff. When you've lived fight or flight for half a decade just trying not to freak out on a co-worker or cry in public to get through the day, and then you start to heal, shit gets real and really weird.

My budget battles began within my first year of marriage. I thought we'd figured it out and had a good system but we had credit card debt. By the time I was pregnant, I was working 2 jobs to wipe clean the remainder of said debt so we could put down the payment for the midwife program at Tampa General and work slowly to pay that off. We still didn't quite have the hang of it. In fact we were rookies and had really only basic credit card knowledge so, ending up where we are now doesn't surprise me, although we are far, far better off and aware now than 5 years ago.

Realizing you have bad credit and can't have basic things without "paying" for that bad credit in the form of some humiliating punishment is pretty shitty. When I realized how far gone we were while home with my infant and trying not to eat everything and/or cry from watching Glee or a car commercial, it seemed pretty bleak.

"Everything will work out," "It'll all be okay," and "We'll make it work," are my self-soothing mantras to get me through my initial silent screaming freak out that happens with every budget review, time and time again.

Today was something simple and seemingly stupid but it became overwhelming quickly. I'm a very visual person so I've become very obsessive about checking accounts and statements and making sure things are accounted for, balance and well understood. I think this is a product of having your "life savings" stolen from you when you're 13 so all of your babysitting, yard sale and birthday money is just gone one day, and then you truly appreciate having money and knowing where it is.

I idle between being so proud of how far we have come, and struggling with getting back into the red again. I'm not a shopper anymore. Between growing up, budgeting, and parenthood you really learn what you need and what you don't, and you give up many luxuries and niceties to have a lot more security. Now my definition of niceties and luxuries may differ from others, but I hold them close and try to live frugally. 

I wrote earlier about my bad experience with a budget analyst- type guy who made me feel smaller than anyone in "Honey I Shrunk The Kids," and I will say this very anti-feminist thing that may just have some truth to it. It was my personal experience that the male persuasion were not only the "breadwinners," "top money-makers" and household head honchos, but they were actually more intelligent about money matters. It is my personal and recent experience that I may have been slightly misled.

Many men actually know financial stuff well enough to do well enough and then some, but I think the assumption that men "know better," when it comes to money and finances is a whole lotta crap, especially now. If you think about it, it's predominantly men who do stock market type things and women are the ones who are proficient with couponing and being thrifty. Interesting, isn't it? Perhaps that's because we are rarely afforded the kind of money men have to work with - okay that's all for that sentiment. 

Back to the real part of this post, it was this morning that I realized that if any budgeting or mathematical stuff actually makes me feel stupid and unintelligent, I break down. On top of that, in all of my post nanny-ing jobs, my biggest struggle has been my male bosses making me feel intellectually inferior and that is when I do the girly thing and angry cry.

 The first instance happened when I got fired after audibly being frustrated with myself, and my boss' wife and assistant manager decided that I was speaking to her meanly and undermining her every move as if to dethrone her. Also, I picked the wrong day to bring in my nail polish and test colors with my coworker when it was slow and they yelled at us for stinking up the store and doing our nails on the job -- I'll give them THAT one, but the me being some shady underminer and calling the boss' wife stupid? Um, no. 

The second instance was my boss calling me a "bitch" for not coddling the younger employees when they needed to actually do their jobs and because I referred to my close friend, who was hiking the Appalachian at the time, as looking "haggard." I know and fully knew then what haggard means: 

1. looking exhausted and unwell, especially from fatigue, worry, or suffering.,"I trailed on behind, haggard and disheveled",synonyms:careworn, tired, drained, drawn, raddled.

He said that calling my friend that confirmed that I was indeed a bitch with no regard for others. Firstly, if you don't look haggard when you're hiking and living off the land, you're doing it wrong. Secondly, I told her to her face she looked haggard on her trip and she wasn't in the least bit defensive. Yet the man basically calls me an unintelligent bitch for using a word he doesn't seem to fully understand? 

After that, I picked better bosses for 2 jobs then reverted back to placing myself under those that see women as mostly inferior. It was when I got in trouble for a choice my husband made in our personal lives, but at my job left me effectively attempted to be demoted that I left one position abruptly, so as not to let them punish me for "not getting it." Although, being made to feel stupid for trusting in my husband to take care of something struck a pretty deep chord in me, I shall say.

My last disaster job that was a necessary gateway to my current job, where I am devoutly respected by my male bosses and never treated as though I am stupid or inferior, left me feeling so low, that I've decided of course I could only move upwards. I blame most of my previous job ills on cultural gaps and the fact that I took on too much during a rough personal period. Although any job where I am made to feel dumb, hasn't exactly worked out after this short review, it seems.

We all have our moments where we feel stupid, inferior or dumb, and depending on the circumstances they than make you break down. I get very very oversensitive to when I am made to feel stupid by the opposite sex. Some moms have made me feel kinda dumb, but in general I feel like as women we really champion each other's intelligence and try to grow our knowledge as a whole.

My husband rarely rarely rarely makes me feel dumb. He usually makes me feel intelligent and respected but today in the budget squabble he seemed to have it down and I was left to mull it over and break it down so I just felt defeated and left behind in understanding.

I took my deep breath and stepped back and dissected the issue, which is definitely resolved today, but I don't say it wasn't a set back mentally for a bit. I will say I was going to blog about something completely different and then this happened and I'm happy it did.

Maybe you don't bawl over silly things, or maybe you do. Maybe something else is your budget bawl, but sometimes we have these things that we need extra patience with that just make us feel inferior, and that sucks! There's no way around how much that sucks. The important thing is to know we all have those moments where it just doesn't click and it gets frustrating. My daughter has them regularly and I now fully commiserate with the outbursts!  

Moving From Florida To Oregon...Opposite Of What We Did

This month marks a decade of us living in Florida. Does that make us Floridians? Yesterday we said goodbye to some good friends that are moving from Clearwater to Portland Oregon. Ironic; insanely ironic.

I was listening about the excitement, new job opportunities, and being in such a beautiful place and I felt so happy for them. And I realized that we did that for ourselves, on our own and are finally settled into it.

I fell in love with Florida when I was 14. The ocean, the restaurants, the beach shops, and it was warm and sunny. The thunderstorms only lasted 20 minutes and life looked so pretty. My residence with my mom from 16 to 17 literally only lasted a year so I felt like I got robbed of my time testing out Florida. 

When I was forced back to Oregon it didn't bother me. Temperature-wise Oregon was so much like Pennsylvania so it didn't phase me. I loved the hikes, the coast and the culture though. I loved the University of Oregon campus and fell head over heels for COFFEE on the west coast. I had a lot of family there. It was a new home for sure.

Oregon is beautiful. I think I'll end up retiring there when I've saved enough money for the high heating bills I will have to sustain comfort. Turns out I have thyroid issues that make me unable to deal with the cold, no seriously. I also had a hard time with the seasonal depression stuff. 

I listened to our friends list their reasons for being happy to move and I sat in confidence remembering I had the same kind of list for Florida. It felt oddly gratifying. I don't regret moving. I never have.

When I had my daughter, it was really rough but some of that was due to other issues within our household, it wasn't just feeling far away. Don't get me wrong, I miss SO MANY PEOPLE, very dearly, but I like being on our own. We've kicked and screamed and fought our way to where we are but we're on the way to a better, more stable place.

I also felt some positive affirmation because I wasn't envious or jealous of people moving on and moving up and progressing in their lives and careers. I was genuinely happy that these friends were excited about a new slate, and a new place. That made me feel like I've come a long way personally.

I'm also selfishly happy, which I admitted to them, because we have more friends for my daughter in Oregon when we come to visit now. Regardless, we had a good day with good friends for a goodbye, and I appreciated all of it, especially the food.

It helped me realize that everyone has different phases, different choices, and most people will operate opposite of us, but that doesn't mean it's a negative thing. I think we all make big choices, big changes and work hard at completely different paces. What we did a decade ago and what friends are experiencing now doesn't make one better than the other, it just inevitably brings us closer. 

I don't think it's a coincidence we befriended them. I don't think any of it wasn't meant to be. I know we were meant to be exactly where we are, no matter what we had to endure to get here. So in life we have our opposites and our hurdles but we still keep kicking. And I like knowing, on this lazy yet productive Sunday, that whether you move from East to West or West to East, whether you're opposite or the same in things, we're all just making our choices and doing what we can for our families and our lives.

You Won't Hear Me Complain About My Job...Finally

I can complain a lot. Most of us can. Back to, "It's always something," am I right? But after 10 years in the mainstream work force, and many jobs, my current job will not be something I complain about.

I've had maybe 3 legitimately bad days when it comes to specific work-related things since I've taken this job, 2 years ago this May. I can't say that for any other job outside of nannying, and probably when I worked at Massage Envy because I learned a bunch there and worked with great people.

I go through a twilight period with jobs where I'm grateful and stay positive even though transitions are super hard for me, and then when the new wears off and things get real, I kind of can get stir crazy and uncomfortable. After some truly bad and hurtful experiences with jobs, I now just carry with me the people I found through them that have added value to my life, instead of focusing on the negative and pain. I have found some amazing people throughout my employment history.

The hardest part for me is my personality. It gets me in trouble often. I'm you're best friend if you want me to be, or I can be an enemy. It's up to you. Once it becomes apparent to me that you don't like me as person, we don't need to do anything but be civil towards one another, which sometimes can border on fake, but hey, haters gonna hate. My biggest hurdle has been when people don't recognize the job I do, but rather complain about me as a person.

My being a "bitch" or, in my mind, being focused on making sure the job gets done, doesn't matter unless I'm being a bitch to a boss, or worse, a customer. I don't have to be best friends with my-coworkers but I also don't have to accept their lack of common sense with a smile. I also learned quickly never to add your bosses onto your social media. Not because I post inappropriate things, but moreso, it's another way for them to judge you.

It took me 8 years to get where I am now and I can confidently say I'm not going anywhere. I've never been so grateful and so aware of being in a place that is so wonderful, kind and accepting of even the worst parts of myself in the job position. There are deadlines and time sensitive things, but also I can go to the bathroom whenever I want, take lunch or schedule appointments and not have to choose between getting paid what I need, or needing to get a physical.

Because I'm grateful, I take care of my work place and have realistic expectations in much better ways than ever before. So when someone asks me how work is, my new auto-response is, "Work is always fine. My job is the easiest part of my life." This truth makes me happy.

Motherhood will always make me feel inferior. I worry about everything messing my kid up, especially my personality making her stress more and having less success later. With my job I can come in, do my stuff, go home, and get paid knowing I did what I needed to. I don't stress about work at home. Work is work, home is home. If anything my home life totally infiltrates my work, and I'm just thankful to have approachable bosses that I can tell when things are up. If I have a sick kid or some kind of issue I can leave with no punishment and worry. This is a luxury I've never been afforded.

My first couple jobs in Florida were pretty treacherous and bad for me mentally. Massage Envy is where I found some of my tribe and learned so much, leaving me able to grow and thrive. No boss is ideal, but I felt like I could at least talk to them if life things came up and never felt too afraid I'd just get fired.

The other places I worked just weren't as comfortable,  my job right before this one, was especially uncomfortable. That was a misstep, but hey it brought me here. I jumped into something overwhelming, got myself in over my head in about 400 ways, and was very much not happy there. I know you're supposed to get out of your comfort zone to grow, but this wasn't the correct test of that, unfortunately. Also, my personality got me into trouble again because I spoke up for myself, which didn't go very well.

When the opportunity to work where I am now came up, aside from more money, the job itself was impossible to refuse because it was actually using my degree. The fact that I get to edit, and still have time to freelance write, is beyond huge for me. Everything else is just a perk.

There's so much exterior stress in my life; so many personal hurdles and things to work on and overcome. It's beyond amazing to know my work is my work and no one is breathing down my neck or micromanaging to make me mess up worse than I might already. 

And I love not complaining about my job. I love feeling comfortable and capable at something. I love my daily tasks, routines and ability to rock some customer service and editing. It feels good to be in an Alison-friendly workplace so I really embrace it and I think it makes me try harder. 

It makes me wish this for everyone, and I now understand all the job change and job struggle stuff for so many of my peers because it might not be about doing what you love, but rather just not hating where you work to where you dread a place you spend 40 hours a week. So I feel so grateful and I hold that close. And if you hate your job, I put out all the positive vibes that you find a place to thrive. For a mess like me, it has made all the difference in the quality of life.

Happy Monday!

The Florida Move - Who, What, When, Where...Maybe Even Why?

We're inching closer to a full decade as Floridians and my husband also has reminded me, I've officially lived in Florida longer than I did in Oregon and I'm 3 years shy of beating out my 13 years in Pennsylvania. The Florida move was a big one for my husband but less so for me, and 10 years later I figure I can better explain the move now, as opposed to before.

When I was all of 7 years old and obsessed with Father of The Bride with Steve Martin, I decided I was going to get married in my dad's church, have the reception at our house, that I loved so much, of course stay close by to family and raise my kids right there, right? Why would you ever leave "home?" That's how it worked right?

By 13 my mom was consistently out of the picture and my dad, having moved to Pennsylvania for my mom and her family more than anything else, was growing tired of being where he no longer seemingly had a reason to solidify his roots. My dad attempted to find us a secondary space in North Carolina, our version of a summer home he bought for him and my mom. When the shit hit the fan, he lost the house, and all his future plans, so he started devise a decision on what he wanted in terms of a new life alone.

He decided on Oregon. My mom ended up in Delray Beach, Florida for her first solid year of stability. I came down for summer camp and visits and much like the opposite of Frozen's Elsa, "The heat never bothered me anyway." I fell in love easily with Florida. My grandparents were just an hour north of her in Port St. Lucie too and I was just in awe of all things Florida.

I loved the palm trees, the big changing signs along I-95, the malls, and it was bright and sunny so that you could go to the beach or the pool year round. I loved the big houses almost as I loved the little key west style one-floor ranchers and loved that it was WARM!

When I was vying for having a mother figure back and my dad was itching for distance, he said he was going to go back to Oregon when I was 16 and I had zero interest in following. I wanted to live with my mom in Delray. So, I finished my sophomore year of high school living with my Aunt in Pennsylvania and then was shipped to Delray Beach.

I landed in Ft. Lauderdale, and did my junior year in Delray Beach and literally lasted a year to the day, before my dad packed up all my stuff and dragged me across the country with him to Oregon to finish high school and then go to college. My mom and I were not fit to share a roof. Unfortunately this still stands and has been recently proven. 

After moving to two high schools in 2 years, moving didn't bother me. I could be a nomad, whatever. In fact for the next 7 years, I moved once a year. My dad rented a place on Hilyard in South Eugene for High School. After that we moved to West Eugene to an apartment for my first year at community College. Then I was on 11th with my first roommate, then I lived by myself on High Street, then to Bailey Hill in a little townhouse with a roommate, moved in the same complex but a one bedroom with my then boyfriend, now husband, and then with my Aunt back in South Eugene, whilst I planned my graduation and Oregon escape.

My sights were originally set on San Francisco, or New York. I always dreamed that being poor in a big city was more romantic than being rich in the suburbs. But, after another bad situation with my mom derailed me, and I had a year of pretty intense depression and anxiety, I gave into the idea that maybe I was the type that could settle down and have a family, and my adolescent Carrie Bradshaw dreams were just the stuff of immaturity.

My husband had never really lived anywhere. Just Oregon; Medford and then Eugene. When he met me, we visited Pennsylvania often, he saw the Jersey Shore and even Delray Beach, Florida. When I mentioned possibly leaving for a new place, he was all in. But then I was like, well if we're moving 3,000 miles together, if we were to get married we'd do that before we left right? Because I'd never be that person to get married on a beach. 

So, in the midst of planning a cross country trek and new life, we snuck in a wedding that turned into an epic send off and I was ready. I had studied for about 4 months in Europe in 2007 and it was just the best time ever. I LOVED to travel. It didn't  matter if it involved road trips or flying anywhere new, I was in. My husband was just kind of starting to embrace new horizons. Moreover for me, I wanted a place that was just ours.

My mom almost successfully ruined our relocation, but I refused to let her take away one more thing from my life. Originally I wanted to go back to Delray, but my husband had an Aunt in Tampa and I had had cousins move from Pennsylvania to St. Petersburg, Florida about 2 or so years prior. We visited once and very much liked it so we just changed the location a bit.

I was so ready for a clean slate, a warm new place that didn't even know anything about us. In Oregon, everyone knew my husband and I as this entity of "us," which was great and fine, but I just wanted our own real place.  I also didn't want to get stuck doing everything that everyone around us in Oregon was doing, but rather to find my own way.

Finding my footing was tough at first, but after about 2 job changes I found a place to thrive. After I left Pennsylvania "home" became a fluid concept anyway. It wasn't a place but more, a feeling of comfort in who I was with. My husband was home. The apartment didn't matter, only that we were in it together. 

For career reasons, I knew that Oregon couldn't support what I wanted to do for writing. I was in for a rude awakening that nowhere really could, especially in my married life, and also that our lives couldn't support endless internships or relocation for such things. Therefore, I just found my way with jobs to pay the bills.

In truth, with a broken heart from family life, and a guy next to me saying he wanted to go with and love me, why stay put? I wasn't immediately ready to settle down and have a family, but I liked knowing I didn't have to be alone. I wanted to just live a bit. 

Maybe my husband's reasons are completely different and I won't speculate but for me, the "who" was my husband and I, the "what" was, "moved to Florida," or as my sister said, "You can't move any further away." The "when" ended up being June-July of 2009 because we took our time getting down here. The "where" changed from Delray to Tampa Bay and the never ending "Why," would be best answered as, because we deserved a chance to have something that was our own.

Of course a decade later with a dog and a child, and even a house purchase in, boy did nothing go as I'd imagined. Expectations have been shattered and things have been harder than I could have ever thought, but I don't regret leaving. I asked my husband the same thing last year and he agreed.

Don't get me wrong, I love Oregon. I miss it. But I cannot handle the cold. The cold makes me so very physically uncomfortable and depressive. I'm much better here in the Sunshine State.

The why is complicated, I'll admit. I also think as I get older and one can only hope, wiser, it may become more succinct but I just wanted something that was completely and utterly ours. In Oregon I would have had babies immediately with everyone else, got a job I hated for no pay and struggled through the seasons to find what I was even looking for, and I didn't feel like that was where I should be. Luckily, I had a co-pilot who wanted to come with. 

Ironically now I have zero desire to leave Safety Harbor. My daughter jokes about having a different house and I'm like, "Uh, no, this is the forever house." I've had what I've built threatened to disintegrate often, and this is the first time I'm not like, "Sure we'll just move along elsewhere," but rather I'm like, "I refuse to give up what I've worked hard for."

It took me 8 years to land a job that even kind of used my degree, not to mention a job that actually was friendly to my anxiety and personal struggles. It took me 8 years to find a place I would want to stay and right now I'm having to rebuild some massive personal destruction and I won't let anyone tell me I shouldn't be spending my time to be a better mom and human. When I had my daughter there were a few times when I wished family was closer, but even when we go visit, I'm constantly reminded at how hard it is there for us, or at least for me.

Florida may not be forever but at least I can see the first hints of calm. I love this "colorful, lawless swamp" that I call home and why even? Because it is my home. And home is where the heart is right? I think we can end on that cliche for a Monday!

Drivers Driving Me Crazy

I've made no attempt at hiding my PTSD from the accident and some moments are far worse than others, but these drivers down here in sunny Florida are driving me crazy. I was once told that most drivers expect a last minute merge and cutoff, so that's how you should just do it because it's already anticipated...um no. 

I'm overly cautious because I have a huge fear of the sideswipe. Blind spots freak me out and the speed with which people drive around is concerning in general. Since I've been driving to St. Pete daily for the work week, I've become even more sensitive but also more used to how crazy it can get.

I'm not going to sit here and pretend I don't look at my phone while I'm driving ever. Besides needing to be a Spotify DJ and moments at stops lights of boredom, I try very much not to mess with my phone in transit. What concerns me now, is how much cell phones are just a constant in every car and how now one seems to pay attention to what is around them, but rather has phone in hand, just driving along. I'm not exaggerating that it's almost every car and that you'll find it with me too.

Yesterday on my way home on the Bayside bridge I saw this white sedan feverishly tailgating in stop and go traffic. Swerving to get between and in front of everyone and noticeably pissing off drivers everywhere,  when I finally passed her she was texting on her phone. It was crazy, but I sighed to myself, "Of course!" She was already driving recklessly and so naturally, let's add the cell phone into the mix.

I can't speak for anyone else in terms of surviving a traumatic car accident, but I am just very sensitive to all aspects of the commute, along with traffic and driving woes. It is a bitter diatribe overall, but also just a question of safety. When my daughter is in the car with me I'm even more overly cautious, because it just freaks me out how crazy drivers can be these days.

I grew up in places made of small towns, country roads, and then mountain roads. This was before cell phones were really a commodity, let alone commonplace in a car. Oregon has distracted driving laws. My dad will pull over when I call, tell me he can't talk for another hour, then safely call me back at home. New York has something similar I think.

Don't get me wrong, Michael Scott said it best as Florida being a "Colorful, lawless swamp," but I've never seen so many accidents and had never really been in one, until we moved here.

Now, I learned how to drive in south Florida, off of I-95 near one of America's most notably "dangerous" stretches of highway. It was a lot like that iconic scene from Clueless where they end up on the freeway freaking out:

My husband never understood why I drove so defensively like, "kill or be killed" on the Oregon highways until we moved to Tampa and one day had the a-ha moment of "Oh, you had to outwit all these psycho drivers! I see now!"

It doesn't help that we have so many snow birds either. To their credit, we love what our part time residents do for the Florida economy and we appreciate it, but it's confusing and frustrating when the locals need to be places. These drivers are driving me crazy!

It seriously stresses me out and gives me anxiety to the point where I will go out of my way to go around certain trigger areas or areas that I just can't deal with. After driving in Oregon and then coming back to Florida, and I just so happen to actually know the majority of the pedestrian, driving and even cycling laws, I usually have the above Zoolander reaction regularly.

More often than not it is all maddening. I try to just breathe and take it down a notch but these drivers drive me crazy. I'm sure I drive people nuts too, but I seriously wish that before we enter the era where the cars just drive for us, we could all actually learn to drive safely. However, after all this I have come to the conclusion that Florida may be just playing it fast and loose with the definition of "safely."

Buckle up readers!

Life In Proximity To The Hospitality Industry

About a decade ago, I left my life of being a nanny and a full time student in Eugene, Oregon to come to the "beautiful, lawless swamp" that is Florida. My first job was a cashier in a medical apparel store or "Scrub Store" as we called it in the University Community Hospital right by USF main campus.

My husband, however, has always been a restaurant man and a self-taught cook, which is one of the reasons I married him, because I cannot cook, like at all. I can bake a few things but outside of Mac and Cheese, sandwiches and salads, nope.

The hubby got a job at like 19 or 20 maybe at "Pizza Pete's" Italian Kitchen in Eugene and worked his way up from the dish pit and delivery to learning the ropes in the kitchen. From there it was to the new, soon to be hot spot, "El Vaquero," which was Eugene's premier Tapas Bar, and also had one of America's top 5 bartenders, Jeffrey Morgenthaler, as the man behind the cocktails. Morgenthaler and his second in command, Scott Butler, took my hubby under their wing from time to time to show him all about craft cocktails and what real bartenders looked like.

At El Vaquero my husband went from prep to pastry chef and a little bit in between. When the owners saw that he could actually thrive in the kitchen, the sent him across town to his pride and joy, Asado. Asado was a smaller, but also intimate Mexican-type kitchen with tapas and cocktails, and it was there he found his long time friend, Jarred, who was a groomsman at our wedding. He learned how to run a kitchen and even a restaurant during his time there.

When Asado was sold, he moved onto The Old Pad, which was strictly "bar food" and then lastly to the Villard Street Pub near campus. He has learned every single cuisine from scratch, from Italian to Mexican, to Sushi to Coastal Cuisine and lastly, French food. In Florida he got a job at a Sushi place, a Mexican Grille, then a local bar, he helped open a new Coastal Kitchen in Westchase and designed the menu, then for the same company put together craft cocktails and American gastro-pub fare at another new restaurant that holds two locations to this day and will remain nameless. From there he did some time at a local artisan sandwich place, finally landing a high-end French fine dining establishment close to home. He's never gone to culinary school and is extremely talented in my humble opinion.

However, living the life of the wife of a chef, is anything but easy. I had my foray in the food biz about 9 and a half years ago too. We once worked at the same restaurant together, he was in the kitchen and I was front of the house. I had the personality and the energy for it, but I got burned and burned out quickly in every sense of the words. The picture above is from my favorite restaurant life movie "Waiting," which I used to watch weekly to handle the stress of that whole atmosphere.

I was good at my job too, but I had no desire to be a manager and the tipping system where I was, left a lot to be desired. I met some amazing people though, and learned a lot. My biggest takeaway is pictured below, please excuse the swear but unfortunately it is completely true:

While I am incredibly proud of my husband and ever-impressed by his culinary evolution, no one tells you that life in restaurant industry is rough as you enter the family phases. And I say this for me personally, not even just for the man working the stove! We had once talked about running a restaurant together someday, and even once had the opportunity to do so outside of Florida, but as my husband simply said, "Then you would really never see me."

When I say I never see my husband let's break it down for all you non-believers. After half a decade of struggling as parents and job-jumping and life hurdles, I have found my "forever job," that is unless they fire me. It is an 8-5, lunch at noon office type thing. It is reliable with all the benefits that work best for family life. The kid is in school and after care full tilt. My daughter and I are off full weekends and I'm home every single evening.

Hubby is not quite on the same schedule although he did score Saturdays as a routine day off, which is a restaurant life miracle, but regardless, we don't have much time together. In a realistic scope, we have Saturday from about 8:30am to 10pm at night, give or take bed times, so what is that 13ish hours? And we have Sunday mornings from say 7:30am to 1:30pm, but throw in church drumming, commuting and errands, maybe separate cars, we can call that a good 4 hours of seeing each other? And he is off all day Monday and I get home at 6pm and am always in bed by 9pm weekdays so, let's call that 3 hours? So doing the math; 13 + 4 + 3 is...20 hours a week.

I have the opportunity to see my husband for a total of 20 hours a week, at best. That is less than a full day out of 7 days each week. You may think I'm exaggerating or being dramatic, and I'd like to say I am but add in errands, or plans with other people on the nights I have back up and it's easily less than 20 hours a week. It's not an simple thing.

For the longest time, this born of was necessity. When you literally cannot afford childcare or daycare or anything like that but still can't just stay home full time, you work opposite shifts, not matter how crappy and painful. You promise yourself it will get easier as the kiddo gets older and it does in SOME ways, but the more things change, the more things stay the same.

My husband's talents are completely underrated by many; I think my dad and sisters may be his biggest fans. He usually gets irritated because of all the favorite things of his I love for him to make, all I ever want is Tacos and Pizza, which he finds unimpressive. They are so damn good though!

He's always made me insanely proud because he has brought himself up from the dish pit to a sous chef, but that's not to say the life in proximity to the hospitality industry doesn't have its sacrifices and challenges, because it very much does.

The wives that send their men to the army, or that have husbands that constantly travel for business, or their hubby runs a hotel or bar? Those are the women in my tribe who can commiserate, if not trump my whining over wine-ing. It sucks sometimes, but unfortunately I've gotten used to it.

In a perfect world we'd have family meals every evening, we'd have routine nights out and all the sporting events and extra curricular activities would rule our nights and weekends, but we are far from being able to do that. We cram a lot into Saturdays. We juggle a lot on Sunday mornings more often than not, and we just keep on keeping on.

It's hard for a lot of people to understand and sometimes I wonder if we would even know how to be around each other more, if it ever happened. Even on vacations it's like divide and conquer and we have to re-learn how to be around each other for that many hours in row. 

I'm extremely grateful to have a man who works insanely long, 12-14 hour shifts on his feet creating delicious food and still manages to cook for me, while providing for the family. Although, I will say,  life in the hospitality business is not for the faint of heart. There are a million times I wish he could have come home early from a shift to help with the sick kid, the sick dog or a sick me, but alas we continued.

I think life is hard enough as it is, and as we grow older we just look for ways to shape things to ease the rough exteriors and make everything more palatable. I very much have to take one day at a time. I've learned that planning in advance with his career is super difficult. I've learned how to operate around the Kitchen chaos. I've learned that most of kitchen life is fluid and if you can't stand the heat, you gotta get out of the kitchen, all puns intended. 

Maybe some day schedules will align and be different but for now, we stay grateful for the food on the table, the roof over our heads and health we have to work the hours we do, especially for him. As I live this life in proximity to the Hospitality Industry I can say I've learned so much and appreciate all the lessons...and the food, but certainly wouldn't mind seeing the man behind the food more often. A girl can dream! Cheers!

Your Thirties Are For Saying No To Everything You Got Away With In Your Twenties

With a birthday looming, I'm starting to reflect much more. Does that just come with age? This is also our 10 year mark for moving to Florida as of July. So here I am, getting all philosophical and introspective.

The amount of adulting and growing up I've had to do the past few years is actually kinda unfair, but I maintain I'm better for it. Your twenties are for partying, credit card debt, adventures and working hard specifically so you can play hard. I remember working 6 days a week between two jobs, drinking every night and Sunday sleeping until noon, mimosas with breakfast, beer with lunch, bed at 10 and back at it again for another week, and that was tame compared to most others I knew.

By the time I hit about 26 I was feeling less and less into that kind of party and was way more interested in hosting people for dinners, drinks, and hang out sessions. I liked lunches out and buying new home items. Parties were reserved for concerts and some weekends depending on paychecks.

For me, I feel like the worst of adulting came with parenthood. I really thought I had it planned out and things would be okay, but that's the thing about life, it takes it's own route, doesn't tell you it's changing, and sometimes you can barely scrape together to find a path, let alone decipher the "way you should" go.

In my twenties, concerts were always a yes, no matter how far the drive and if I didn't have the money, just swipe my credit card, the money could happen later, the concert was happening regardless. Between my husband and I, our credit cards were very much well known and accepted anywhere. While I felt the burden of that intensely, it took a lot of work to undo that frivolity, but I wasn't unwilling to do it.

I worked diligently on fixing finances to the point of being unfair and obnoxious. I still feel humiliated having to say "no, we can't afford it," to a lot. The difference from my twenties to now is, I prefer to stay in my real, live, grown up house, whereas I never wanted to be stuck at my apartment when I could be out spending money and living life. My thirties are for being frugal so I can take a vacation that involved leaving Florida.

As if I'm not feeling old enough, this is the last year of the Vans Warped Tour with a huge 25th Anniversary festival in both California and New Jersey. I must say that when I saw that line-up, I wanted to cancel both trips we were planning this year and just take myself to both for one more foray into being a Punk Rock Princess before my retirement from my festival concert days.

Warped tour was my first festival-type show when I was 18 and came with all the stories, swag and was the beginning of my love affair with live music. It was always fun to bounce between stages, get bumper stickers, shirts and leave for home broke, dehydrated and sunburned with bags of memorabilia, ringing ears, and dirty Vans or Converse. Plus there was always a Taco Bell run at the end of it.

Despite my years as an avid Warped Tour addict, some of the big bands I've still never seen. Between both coasts, they are all on there. Now, I know some of you have bucket lists that include seeing different countries and cities, and mine does somewhat, but I have Bucket List Bands. Most of them are now un-affordable, unattainable or unfortunately dead. But when I saw that line up I wanted to take out a loan and just go!

Alas, now that I'm in my thirties I say "no" instead of "let's go." Often this makes me feel lame but lately I've had a better appreciation of what comes with this stage, and for me that's peace and security. Peace and security have been just a dream like those items in stores in New York City where you have to ring the bell and look put together enough to be allowed entrance. The employees could see me, and I was drooling at the peace and security, all shiny on display within the window, but I couldn't get near it. There was no access point for me then.

Being allowed in the shiny security and pretty peace store is even just a recent feat, so I tread lightly. I am definitely incredibly and cautiously optimistic about how far we've come but also appreciative of the journey.

My twenties were fun, filled with celebration and simple problems. My late twenties, my entrance into parenthood, and quick steps into my thirties have been existential. It's been really rough, but also rewarding, leaving me with still a ton of work to do, which I'm not unwilling to participate in.

I do feel like family life makes me say "No," more often than not and the exceptions are few and far between. We bend the rules occasionally but have been far more vigilant about staying the course. To those of you who walk on the wild side and just firmly believe that everything will find it's way and work out, feel free to share that wisdom with me because I suck at it.

I think I've always had no choice but to grow up early. I was violently shoved from my American Girl Doll days of dressing them up and listening to Hanson to having to figure out all walks of life on my own. Navigating social aspects was tough at times, I was super naive and simple, but I definitely had my teenage rebellion under way when the time was right.

I did however, strive for my independence. I wanted to work and go to school so I could have what I wanted and cover what I needed. Defining want and need was what changed quickly between my twenties and thirties, but I think that change was for the better. Now I know the times we need to "splurge" and "live a little," and the ones where we need to be more frugal. Okay maybe lately I just always think we need to be frugal but still! It's a work in progress, I'm a work in progress.

As I'm inching very slowly towards the next stage, and the next age I just feel aware of so much that my twenties were built on that just does not fly now. Some of it is frustrating and unfair. Some of it is affirming and kind of rejuvenating, because I know that I'm in a place where I can say no. Growth game strong!

For the first time, in a very long time I will say this, I'm pretty okay with where I am. I have my bills paid, no exorbitant debt at this time, we have plans for end of year vacations looming, and I can still get a coffee from time to time. I know there is savings and retirement kind of things happening and I have high hopes for some new appliances. There will always be unexpected things, and saying no is way more common now than it was a decade ago, but sometimes saying no is okay, or so I've explored previously.

So, I toast to being close to another year of being okay with saying no to all the stuff I easily got away with in my twenties, and to being even more firm in my thirties, I'm enjoying each new stage, no matter how difficult. Although, if anyone wants to send me to Warped Tour, that I would say yes to!