Ok Leaf, Time for You to Turn Over.

I’ve been feeling pretty damn sorry for myself lately. I’m not saying I didn’t deserve a little wallowing-in-self-pity. A lot of stuff has been pretty shitty for the last half-year or so. But I have some wonderful, awesome and amazing girlfriends who have propped me up with love and support and kind words, and it’s time for me to start looking outside myself again. Expand my energies upwards and outwards. Time to turn over a new leaf.

It is my 45th birthday. I think that’s an appropriate time to think about fresh starts, new beginnings, opening doors and closing chapters. I have removed a lot of the obstacles I blamed for holding me back. Like a bad marriage to a good man, and a lack of education. Now, I have no one to blame but myself if I remain unhappy, unhealthy, overweight and unfulfilled. I better put my money where my mouth is.

Several weeks ago, (okay, it’s been more like two months…), I said I was going to shut up and listen to the Universe for guidance. I was “awaiting further instructions”. I was on the verge of a real mental breakdown. Too much stress for too long a time, a lot of it self-wrought. I have a very good habit of seeing mishaps coming down the road, and taking steps to avert them. I have a very BAD habit of second-guessing myself and thinking, “Well, but then if I do that, then THIS will happen” and completely changing my mind. So I create much of my own stress by trying to be perfect and create perfection, and I become paralyzed with indecision. One of the things I “heard” while listening to the Universe, is that nothing will ever be perfect. Shit is going to happen. So make a decision, choose a path and stick with it. Whatever mishaps occur I’ll just have to deal with them as they come. I cannot avoid every possible mistake or bad decision. Perserverence means pushing through those mistakes and carrying on. I’m not superwoman. I don’t have to be perfect.

Another of the very first things I “heard while listening”, was the Voice from the Universe asking me about leaving my marriage, “Are you sure? Is this really what you want?”. I thought back at Him, “Yes, of course it’s what I really want! How can You even ask me that?” (He does, after all, know what’s in our hearts, right?). The Voice thought back, “Then let go of the guilt”. This one is difficult, and it will take more work. More tears. More prayer. More contemplative solitude. More mourning.

Another thing I “heard”, this time while listening to Eric Clapton’s version of “Tore Down”, was a very deep homesickness for Indianapolis, for home, for making and playing music, for playing in a band, and for the girl I used to be. It’s too early to tell, I don’t want to make any more life-changing decisions while I’m still awhirl from the changes going on NOW, but maybe I’m supposed to go back to Indy. Maybe not. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a desire for something familiar, since I’m in such UN-familiar territory right now. But it was definitely a pull. I longed to be sitting in my favorite bar in the world, The Slippery Noodle Inn, listening to live blues, yacking with my homegirls who I miss terribly. I miss real Autumn weather, too. There’s something about the smell of Autumn, the smell of decaying leaves, of fertile rain-soaked soil, of fireplaces, mown grass... There’s nothing like it here in Phoenix, that’s for sure. All I smell here is dust and pollution and dry dead things. We’ll see. For now I’ve got a killer job here, and I’ve started school here, so I’ll stick it out a little longer.

I also “heard”, because someone pointed it out to me, that I can’t let myself relax. Going back a couple paragraphs to the worrying about every damn thing - I also keep everything that I’m worrying about active in the front of my mind because I’m afraid I’m going to forget something. I try to be hyper-vigilant. I must control everything. I cannot drop the ball. If I leave work on Friday afternoon, and there’s something that I need to do first thing Monday morning, I will worry about it the entire weekend. I will keep it as an active thought in the front of my head until I can put that thought back down when I get to work Monday. I can’t allow myself to put something on the “back burner”, so to speak, because I’m terrified if I take my eye off the ball, I’m going to lose control of it. So I worry, actively thinking about everything I’m worried about, all the time, everyday, 24-7. At any given time, I can be worrying about getting my laundry done, getting payroll done at work, finding the money to get my dogs groomed, remembering to buy that birthday card and get it in the mail, remembering to buy stamps too, how to deal with the cricket infestation in my backyard, needing to get invoicing done, hoping none of my neighbors realize my garage door opener is broken and the garage door is not locked and anyone can come and rip me off, worrying about my dogs being bored being locked up for 9 hours a day while I’m at work, worrying about that nagging little pain in my chest, and it just goes on and on and on…and all these thoughts are ACTIVE in the front of my mind, jostling for prominence. It’s crazy-making! So, the new leaf here is “Letting go and Letting God”. I can only do what I can do. I just need to set my priorities, do what I can do, and The Universe will take care of the rest. If I drop the ball, someone else will pick it up, and so it is meant to be.

I’m learning if I clear my mind of all this clutter, I’ve made room for new intuitions. If I quiet my mind, I can hear The Voice. I’ve freed myself from being stuck, spinning my rear wheels in the mud, and I can get traction on moving forward. There’s peace and joy in letting go, being messy and imperfect!

So...some people are suggesting this is all just a Mid-Life Crisis. Why is that a bad thing? I’ve seen other people call it a Mid-Life Re-evaluation. I’m going to adopt that attitude. Crises can bring about change. It’s an opportunity for growth, for change for the better. If I choose this time to learn from the past, learn from listening to The Voice, take care of self FIRST and the rest second, I can move forward. The writing on the underside of that freshly turned leaf reads: “Peace, Love and Harmony…in Mind, Body and Spirit”. I’m going to mark the occasion of the opening of the second, better, wiser half of my life with a tattoo: “Constance 2.0”.

Hm. I don't FEEL like a College Student yet...

...although the financial aid debt load I just incurred assures me I am. But while I don't feel like a college student, I sure as hell feel smarter than I did 3 days ago! Sadly, that’s not because I learned a staggering amount of information this week, but because compared to the kids surrounding me in my first two classes, (and the first two instructors I met), I'm a flippin' GENIUS! I have never seen so much apathy and pathetic disinterest so densely concentrated in one room since.....well, since the last time I got naked in front of a date...but that's a story for another day.

Just 4 days shy of my 45th birthday, I embarked on my collegiate journey this week. I've sooo been looking forward to this, all summer long. I enrolled last April, made plans, asked advice, purchased books, even rearranged my home to create a quiet study nook...I hungered for learning, and expanding my mind. I had visions of raging debates over WEIGHTY AND IMPORTANT ISSUES! I yearned for wild-eyed professors, thumping fists against blackboards, frothing at the mouth, shouting heretofore undiscovered truths for my eager mind to absorb. These visions inspired me to forge ahead despite great trepidation over my cripplingly advance age. Would my age-addled brain be able to grasp new concepts? Would I fit in with the cool kids? Would the chairs be big enough for my fat ass? All grave concerns, but the fire of my desire for higher learning could not be doused! Damn the Torpedoes, Full Speed Ahead!

So much energy wasted worrying and wondering and imagining...all for naught. If it weren't so pathetic it would be funny.

Yesterday evening, I walked into the first class of my shiny new college career. I actually had butterflies in my stomach. I knew there would be many young people, but I dared to hope I wouldn't be the OLDEST person there. Not only was I the oldest student, I was also older than the instructor. (I’m betting the ink on her birth certificate isn’t even dry yet, never mind the ink on her degree!)

Despite my fervor, even I knew this course, entitled “Creating College Success”, was a gimme. Just a revenue stream for the institution. I suppose I can’t fault them for that. But still, I imagined eager and bright individuals ready to give discourse and to opine…instead there were colored folders and Crayola markers. Seriously. And just in case you were wondering, apparently the key to success in college is journaling. Huh! WHO KNEW?!

There was a self-assessment test, comprised of 64 statements to which we assigned a numeric value from 0 to 10 to indicate how strongly we agreed or disagreed. This was designed to help us discover our strengths and weaknesses. Notice I said “self” assessment. One kid leaned over to another and said, “Dude, I’m copying off of you!”. I guess he didn’t like his own assessment! How in the hell do you copy someone else on a self assessment? Please! Afterwards, we were to add up our scores by adding up the numbers in groups of 4. One kid actually pulled out his calculator because it was just too difficult. I SHIT YOU NOT! Then the instructor gave us our homework for next week. We were to read pages 18 to 21 in the textbook. Mind you, I said pages 18 to 21, not chapters, pages. I heard a kid behind me say, “Whoa! Dude!” I spun around expecting Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High! I thought he was joking! He was not. He was indignant. I’m thinking “DUDE! It’s FOUR FREAKIN’ PAGES and you have 7 DAYS TO GET IT DONE!!” I came home last night utterly disappointed, devastated and bereft of dreams, clinging desperately to a small dying ember of hope. Hope that tonight’s class, a REAL college course - Sociology101 - would redeem and restore. Alas ‘twas not to be.

Tonight, in Sociology, we went over the syllabus, and when finished the instructor asked US if we thought we should we stay or go home! I thought perhaps he might be conducting a Social Experiment, after all this was Sociology. At the very least a trick question to separate the slackers from the studious, to see who’d say stay and who’d say go. One girl said, “I vote ‘GO’ after I ask a question”. She asked her question, he answered and then SENT US HOME. I nearly fainted from the massive blood loss as the color drained from my face. My eager anticipation turned to slack-jawed horror when I realized he was serious. “I’VE BEEN ROBBED”, my mind screamed! “WHERE’S MY DEBATING? WHERE’S MY SOAKING UP KNOWLEDGE? WHERE’S MY GODDAMN BOOK-LARNIN’!!!! AAAARGH!”

What a sad state of affairs. Have the instructors sucked up apathy by osmosis? Did they ever give a crap at all, or was the caring beat out of them by the endless, shuffling, staring horde of non-responsive, catatonic teenagers who rotate through these classes, willing to do just enough to get a passing grade. Not necessarily there to learn, just to get a passing grade. In both classes, while reviewing the syllabus, more than one student asked questions like: “When you say paragraph, how many sentences do you require?” “If I journal for extra credit, how many lines do I need to write every day? Will three lines do? Is that three LINES or three SENTENCES?” God save us, these Twittering zombies are going to be our doctors, our teachers, our politicians. I’m grateful I’m half in my grave already, because I am afraid for our future.

I am, however, thrilled about all of the blog content I shall amass during the next four years. This is going to rock entirely. I thought I’d stick out like a (fat) sore thumb because of my age, but it looks like I’m going to stick out because I’m not afraid of SENTENCES. Woot!