Baking a Life Worth Living.

“It was the fantasy made so real that I teared up a few times, wanted to pinch myself, and thought over and over and over, how is it that I am here?

How did this happen?

And I can trace the arc of it and still be amazed to be this woman[…]”

This is a quote from my friend Carmen’s blog today, or last night actually, the woman who began inspiring me to write a blog at all, and then a blog-a-day (or, almost a day. Self-care [aka sleep!] comes first during this month, sorry avid readers!).

Our paths have been divergent but so parallel over these few years, I once proposed we co-share a book based on our blogs: Her adventures in Paris, having moved there for her 40th birthday, and her triumphs and struggles there; My adventures in Cancer-land happening at the same time, as I turned 31, and the strangely similar triumphs and struggles.

Today, was no different: She was visiting New York City for the first time. I am in a musical for the first time as an adult.

Her words make me reflect and become present once again with the amaze-ball nature of where my life and energies currently are.

But, I also was very keen when I first found out I was cast about the words I used. I made sure to not say, “I can’t believe it.”

Sure, I couldn’t believe it! But, I wasn’t going to say that. I believe in the Law of Attraction-style woo-woo stuff, and in my readings on it, when you say things like, “I can’t believe this is happening to me” or “This is impossible!” or “This can’t be happening” – even though they’re amazing things – it’s my belief that the “Universe” hears that, that you hear that, and if that’s really your belief, then they can fade or change to support your belief that these amazing things aren’t actually happening.

Who knows? I don’t. But I’d rather be on the safer side of things!

So, when I told my mom, I said simply, "I’m so excited. I'm so grateful."

I do have to stop saying, "I’m so nervous." SURE, I am nervous. I had another voice lesson yesterday, and it’s helping me feel more comfortable in the lower register of my voice, but I won’t yet say I'm confident. It still feels like straining and yelling. But I’m getting more used to that discomfort…which I guess is another way of saying, “Getting comfortable”!

I am astonished by and pleased with the woman I am and have become. And I also know the places where I strive to grow and build and commit, and lay foundations for an even more “me” life.

I know progress is slow. My voice teacher said that it’s about first finding a place to build the house, before you even begin to think about what it looks like or furnishing it. You have to find the firm ground to stand on before you can build anything on it.

And, I’m doing that, slowly.

It’s strange sometimes to be the age I’m at. About to be 33 next month, and feeling so much older than some, and so much younger than others. Explaining to the 11-year old Pugsley what a revelation the cordless phone was when I was a teen. Even my new co-worker, age 22, fresh out of college, and so bristling with energy.

And then, there’s most of my friends, who are older than me, who hear me talk about the brevity of life and how there’s so much more I want to do, and give me the “You’re so young, you have so much time” face.

I get the feeling that this is the center (or the beginning of the center) of adulthood. When you know you’re not a child, really learning the world and who/how you want to be in it; and neither are you a middle-aged person, knowing that you are pretty well set in your personhood for the rest of your days.

It’s a period of final gelling that I feel. (Though I know learning and growing and changing is a lifelong process.)

But I sort of feel like all the ingredients have been gathered, have been mixed, and we’re waiting to see if what I’ve assembled is a sourdough or cupcake batter.

I do hope it’s cupcakes.

I am the woman who knows she eats 90 eggs a month (yes, really). Who knows she buys only Ultra Soft toilet paper, but the super eco-friendly paper towels. Who knows how to pay her bills on time, and knows she still won’t do her dishes until pressed by her own revulsion!

The woman I am looks for the hope, even in the desperate times. She relies on friendships built during the “ingredient assemblage” time, and knows they are in fact ingredients of this current and future life.

The woman I am struggles with self-doubt, and celebrates her moments of self-encouragement. Falls short of ideals, and laughs about it when she can, and shares about it when she can't.

“How did this happen? How am I here?”

I don’t have to pinch myself. I don’t think this is a dream. I do have to remind myself it’s a nuanced, challenging, changing, and ultimately precious reality. 

And the woman I am looks eagerly forward to licking the icing.