2009 Can Suck It…2010 Can Bring It

Out with the old...in with the new...

Here’s an understatement: This was a tough year.

I spent December 31, 2008, in my bed, sick with the flu and bronchitis. It was a sign of things to come. As the months progressed, being sick in bed, hacking up a lung seemed more fun than dealing with a lot of the crap that came my way.

Like most people, I struggled with my job. I went from being notified that I would be laid off, to told that if I took a pay cut and accept some other changes I’d have a job, to wishing that I had been laid off.

It wasn’t a big shock—I knew my small company was struggling—but it affected me more profoundly than I ever expected.

I turned 40 in 2009, which wasn’t so much traumatic as it was a wake-up call. I had more than a few What Have I Done With My Life? moments. I second-guessed my decision to switch careers two years ago, and I was terrified that I’d have to do it again. I don’t have kids (ultimately my choice) so I think I tend to give my career way more importance to my self-worth and expect more fulfillment from it than I should. So when I examined my life up close, I got scared, unhappy and angry.

I was slapped in the face with the realization that I lost any sense of balance in my life and allowed my job to permeate every molecule of my being. I stopped doing anything other than complaining and crying. I didn’t go out of my way to make plans with my husband or my friends—things that would have pulled me out of my self-absorption and given me a reality check. Instead, I hunkered down at home like soldier in a foxhole, feeling trapped and attacked. Even blogging, which used to be my creative outlet, became a chore and my posts got increasingly negative.

I was miserable. And worse? I wanted everyone to know just how miserable I was. I knew I crossed the line when co-workers started asking me what was going on and if I was okay. Scowling around the office wasn’t going to solve my problems. Neither was taking it out on my husband—the same man who told me—repeatedly—that if I was that unhappy I could quit and we’d be fine.

Here’s the thing: In the scheme of things, my life isn’t all that bad. I’m healthy, my husband is healthy, and so are my parents (pretty amazing considering my dad is 81 and my mom is 76). I’m not hungry or homeless and I’m not unemployed (in spite of my wish to be quit or be fired). I am surrounded by good friends who put up with me in spite of myself. Most of the things that sucked about this year are all things that I have the ability to fix—maybe not easily and definitely not overnight, but I have more control over my destiny than I allowed myself to have.

I don’t normally make New Year’s resolutions. Sure, I can always lose a few pounds, be smarter with money, and stop saying “fuck” so much, but I feel like starting my year off with unrealistic expectations just sets me up for failure.

But for 2010 I will make one resolution: I resolve to stop being so negative, to quit bitching about things (well, maybe not totally quit) and get off my ass to solve the problems I encounter.

I don’t know—this may be harder than eliminating “fuck” from my vocabulary.

This is my first entry for {W}rite of Passage, a weekly challenge to just write. This week’s assignment is to write about New Year’s Resolutions.