'…There Is a Season'

Last week I learned that I would be losing my job. I've had time to process that development, think about what I'm going to do next, and have been inundated with kind words, hugs, pats on the shoulder, high-fives and more generous outpouring than I can properly describe.

I will always appreciate it.

While dealing with this news, I got this week's questionnaire back from Charlotte, a former coworker who was laid off when she was 35. As many times as I've heard that this happened for a reason and that things will get better, I definitely appreciated hearing from someone who, four years later, is living proof.

Your name Charlotte J.

What year did you turn 35? 2008

Where were you living then? California

What were you doing then (working, going to school, raising kids, etc.)? Married with no children, and working super long hours at my job.

What big personal milestones happened when you were 35 (got married, bought a house, moved to a new city, started a new job, etc.)? That year was not my happiest. In short: We had a death in the family (my father-in-law). I got laid off. I had to look for a new job in the midst of the Great Recession. But it wasn't all bad: That was the year we decided (finally—and after seven years of marriage), "Let's have a baby!"

What major events happened in the world that year? Two memorable events come to mind: President Obama won his first term in office, and the US Airways plane landed on the Hudson.

What are your favorite memories of being 35? First, losing my job—a definite highlight of my life (fast forward two questions for the reason why). Financial worries aside, I will always remember the absolute, unbounded joy bursting from my heart as I left that building for the last time: I felt free. I also traveled overseas for the second time—at first we thought of cancelling, since I had just lost my job and we were so used to living on two incomes, but the tickets were paid for so we went anyway. My husband and I shared an amazing vacation, just the two of us in my favorite place, even though we were grappling with the realization that starting a family wasn't going to happen in a "pinch" just because we wanted a baby. It was going to be a scary and exhilarating rollercoaster with some major ups and downs. Lastly, the year I was 35, we also adopted a kitten who has grown into a wonderfully sensitive, hilarious, cuddly and sweet tomcat.

What did you like best about yourself at that age? I felt strong and focused. The layoff allowed me to really live each day with purpose and not feel trapped in a negative corporate situation. I was able to take on more freelance business and work on my novel. I could spend more hours helping my sister build her amazing business. I made it a point to visit my out-of-town family for longer stretches of time than I ever could before. I could go to the beach for inspiration at 2 p.m. on a weekday. And when my doctor suggested IVF for me because of my age, I knew deep inside that route wasn't for me. Of course everyone is different, but I trusted my intuition and wanted to give it a couple more years on my terms. I wasn't in this enormous rush to have a baby, and I truly felt deep within that it would happen if I just relaxed and "let be."

What did you like least about yourself at that age? When I turned 35, I was unhappy in my career despite a big promotion. The job that I once enjoyed had evolved under new management and turned into a toxic work environment. I wasn't happy there anymore and needed a change. That was a difficult time for me, and I was incredibly stressed.

What were the biggest lessons you learned at that age? The lesson that… you should never be emotionally attached to your job. Unless you own your own business, someone else is in charge of your destiny, and it doesn't necessarily matter how hard you work or your level of dedication.
The lesson of … patience. Well-meaning friends and family, and even doctors can make you feel like something is wrong if you don't pop out a baby a year after "starting." Not allowing this to get to me despite certain challenges allowed me to live my life, be happy, and just enjoy this time without feeling pressured or letting it darken my psyche.
The lesson of … cherishing today. We all know this, but sometimes we forget. My father-in-law died that January after Christmas. We had all just gathered in the Midwest for the holidays (despite me complaining to my husband, "I'm too stressed to pull this trip off! Let's go next year instead!"). I am SO HAPPY my husband gently convinced me to keep our commitment and go. It was fun, family bonding time—and was also the last time I saw my husband's father alive. Just a few weeks later we were meeting up in a foreign country, working with the U.S. consulate to bring his remains home.

What were the biggest misconceptions you had about being 35? I didn't realize how young inside I would still feel. As a teenager, I thought 30 was "old." Thirty-five was even worse—ancient and middle aged—you don't know what's on the top 40 music charts anymore (not true! … well, pretty much). I thought that "mom jeans" and Reeboks would be wardrobe staples. I thought I'd have a teenager by 35; instead I was just starting!

What was the most surprising thing about being 35? The age itself didn't surprise me, but I was surprised to face so many setbacks in one year. There were some dark days. The good thing, which isn't all that surprising, is that eventually things (usually) will get better. And they did.

If you could go back to that age knowing what you know now, what would you do differently? It would be nice to tell myself and trust, "It will all work out."

What advice can you offer to other 35-year-old women? To make your personal goals happen and don't wait. If you want to travel but feel like you can't, there are creative ways to make it happen. If you want a baby, consider all your options and don't put it off too long if at all possible. At 35 you still feel like you have so much time … but it slips away quickly. Of course everyone is different, but it took me more than three years from "Let's have a baby!" to actually hearing his first adorable cries in the delivery room. And don't obsess over aging! I tell myself all the time: You will never be as young as you are today. Someday, when you actually are old, you will look back at being 35 (or 40, or even 50) and you will know that you truly were still young (ish) and you looked great. Aging is a gift to be cherished … especially when compared to the alternative. A friend recently told me to think of wrinkles as reminders of all the times I have laughed in my life. Unfortunately (or fortunately?), I find humor all around me and laugh A LOT!

'You Find, You Get What You Need'

One of my favorite Fall Out Boy lyrics is the "Hum Hallelujah" line, "I could write it better than you ever felt it." I believe that sentiment whole-heartedly, that a line from a song, poem, book, play, movie or TV show can perfectly sum up whatever you're going through.

When my aunt died suddenly a few years ago, it took a while for me to process the loss. On the drive home one day, I was listening to Madonna's fantastic "American Life." The song "X-Static Process" helped me sort through so many feelings in just a few bars. I pulled over to the side of the road, finally able to let it all out.

For the past few days, I've been mulling through the possibility of a big life change. I've tried to be logical about the whole thing, not wanting to get wound up or depressed before I had all the information. Even as I got more details, I still tried to keep my feelings under control.

A few nights ago, The Rolling Stones undid that calm, collected, contained control I'd been trying so hard to maintain.

I've heard The Stones' "You Can't Always Get What You Want" hundreds of times in my 35 years. Its chorus is a somewhat jokey motto in my family; it's inclusion in "The Big Chill" makes me think ours is not the only one to have adopted it.

I'd been frustrated with the radio in the final stretch of my long journey home. I flipped and scanned, stopping when I heard the familiar boys' choir singing Mick and Keith's words. I pulled to the side of the little road I was on and broke down. It finally set in—I'm losing my job.

Over the past 10 years, I've seen so many talented, dedicated, hard-working people shown the door that I've understood the uncertainty of my job, or any job, for that matter. I've routinely mapped out the different paths I could take if the bankers' box ever appeared on my desk.

That history hasn't made this easier, hasn't eased all the questions and doubts. At this point, I have no answers, just a little question mark wondering when I will get what it is I need out of this experience.

'It's Easy'

I've written on my other blog a bit about the impact The Beatles has had on my life. Like so many people my age, I was raised on the band's music, movies and ideals, and have come to regard John, Paul, George and Ringo almost as family members.

The music of The Beatles is comfortable and familiar. It's consoled me. It's encouraged me. It's entertained me. It's inspired me. The songs are sentimental, powerful, spiritual, universal, personal, optimistic, dangerous, sullen, silly. The songs hold within them a million stories, a unique memory for each listener, and because of those connections Beatles lyrics have become mottos and philosophies.

The greatest theme in Beatles' songs is love. The Cirque du Soleil tribute to the band is called "LOVE" because that word appears in Beatles' lyrics more than any other. Over the course of its short recording career, the band explored love in its many forms, from the personal to the universal, the romantic to the spiritual.

Aside from the fact that the band wrote such incredible music, maybe it's this focus on love that has kept the songs spinning for nearly five decades, and will keep them in heavy rotation for decades more.

"All You Need Is Love" is, for me, the pinnacle. It's such a beautiful and honest song, optimistic and introspective. It's a song I gave to my niece and nephew when they were born. It's a song that keeps teaching me lessons, and probably always will.

Saying "all you need is love" is a trite but absolutely true. The longer I live, the more I understand how powerful and essential love is, love for others and, as importantly, love for yourself. It multiplies and expands and, if you let, can envelop your whole world.

Though I know this to be true, it's so hard to live it, so hard to really take it in, let it take over. Those moments that I do, though, I feel invincible.

'Everly, Misery'

I've made my plans for New Year's Eve and started thinking about New Year's resolutions. Should I even bother? I did think for a bit about what I could reasonably commit to doing (or not doing) in 2013 that would have a positive impact on my life, make me feel accomplished or, at the very least, bring a little happiness this way.

My resolution for 2013 is I will see Morrissey in concert.

I know that buying tickets for Morrissey's makeup (and possible farewell) concert in March won't really get me anywhere closer to finding the solutions for all the problems that mash around in my head day and night. It will, however, be another possibly magical experience I can look back on from time to time.

Even if it's something as seemingly inconsequential as a concert, it's good to take advantage of opportunities and have new experiences whenever possible. I find Morrissey endlessly fascinating and it's a not-so-secret fantasy of mine to have an audience with this great man. The chances of that happening for me, a mere mortal, and carnivore at that, is slim to none, so being in a room with him, surrounded by a few thousand of the faithful feels like something I shouldn't pass up, so I won't.

(Side Note: OK, so I don't actually believe that concerts are inconsequential, sure, going to a concert isn't as high on the priority chain as going to work, taking care of your children, eating, sleeping and all that, but there have been moments when a show, or just the idea of a show, feels that important to me.)

I know I'll come up with some real resolutions over the next few weeks, imagining a more perfect version of myself who could exist in the new year, a time made up entirely of possibilities. To be her, I'll only need to make a few hundred tiny, and not-so-tiny, changes. If all that fails, if I fall back into back habits, or even pick up a few new ones, I can at least console myself at the concert.