... might be a third life crisis... or maybe the stirring in my soul...

Or some shit like that. Thanks Mr. Mayer for the lyrics that I poorly abused.

I'm too old for Mayer's "quarter life crisis," and too young for a midlife crisis. And yet, I feel a creeping, anxious sensation, a little (obnoxious... high-decibel...) voice telling me my life isn't where it should be, isn't what it should resemble. I look at my friends, with so much going on with their things that involve the words professional and career, and what I do pales by comparison. I'm a community organizer whose performance is iffy at best. I blog to a tiny audience, and I'd be terrified to take it further. I'm a mom to the sweetest, cutest boy on the block, but that doesn't bring home any proverbial bacon. I ride bikes, but I'm not an amazing cyclist. I'm doing nothing show stopping... in spite of the fact that I really think I am an individual with intellect, wit, a personable person with lots of talent and a wide range of interests.

But I try to look up when that voice gets too loud, and remind myself to be patient, and that really, things are good. I remember that I have years and years ahead of me to try lots of different doors and find the right one, even though it isn't open right now. Sometimes I think there are people who wake up the morning they turn 18 and know what they want to do with their lives. I don't think I did. I had ideas, like I always do... but most of that revolved around my desire to travel and look at art, and to write about that. Before that, I wanted to be a geologist. After that, an artist, then a horse trainer, then an ag teacher. Finally, I settled on International Relations, mostly because I love to write and enjoy the interaction on the international stage. I also wanted to make a difference in the world... that bit... that lack of making a difference on a grand scale... that's the hardest to work through.

I try to look up and see the amazing things I do now that I would never have imagined back then. The things I've seen travelling with the family I never planned. The feelings I've felt, parenting or climbing a mountain on my bike. The freedom to compose whatever I want to, and share it with the world. All this freedom comes at a cost, and some days that cost feels expensive.

I don't have a professional life, one of established knowledge. Mostly, my life consists of dragging my hands along a long wall in the dark, in search of an elusive light switch. I have no clue what I'm doing usually.  Often, I feel like I'm doing a disservice to my expensive and expansive education.

Then I see the way I can parent and teach our boy because of my broad range of learning. He already communicates in very simple French. He learns about different types of rocks and the way they are formed. He knows how to ride a bike, and has a heart of empathy. I'm able to wake up most mornings and decide what our day will hold, with flexibility to achieve my own small goals along the way. I have the chance to work in my community to help others. I have lots of blank spaces to fill in, and lots of time to madlib and adlib. I didn't grow up at 18. Why am I in a rush?

Why do I have to complicate my life?

The swirl of feelings and emotions that are the basis of my thoughts can suck it. I'm where I am, where I'm supposed to be. I'm growing, blooming late. When most of my peers have seemingly ended their age of self discovery and moved on to self knowledge, I'm still changing, learning, gaining knowledge, experiencing metamorphoses. I'm alright with that. That voice... that little, shrill, irritating, doubtful jessie inside... she can go to hell.