Facing your Fears

Today I am 43. I do not feel old or sad or anxious about aging for the most part. I am somewhat relieved. First and foremost 43 is an odd number ("Hallelujah" as little F would say) and secondly, I may be finally evolving. I will be completely honest. Moving has been brutally hard for me, much harder than I had imagined. Maybe part of the problem is that I did not try to imagine it. I was tired of my job, tired of the schlepping on the subway, of working at night.... ready for a change. How could I pursue a nursing degree while sending five kids to a private school and live in Manhattan? I came to Newton and it was desolate. Everyone was on vacation. We lived on a ghost street and F was in NY for a week finishing his previous job. I started to have to drive everywhere. Yuck. I joined the JCC and everyone was rich and spoke Hebrew. Yuck. From living amongst all African Americans I went to celebrate the days I could spot one. I had a bad attitude. I cried. I was not going to be able to sleep listening to fucking crickets. Why were people here so unfriendly? Turns out that is their resting face- they are not actually being actively unfriendly- I think. Why were they almost all deranged sports fans? That one I cannot answer.  I have always been uber aware of working to not come off as a snob. Argentines all think they are superior, I do not want to be like that. Private school people have the same complex- not me, I would be down to earth. I got here, where they actively (almost unbeknownst to NY) compete with my hometown and I am the worst snob. Fuck Boston. I am a New Yorker. Forever. This sentiment, while true, would not help me. I realized after reading an article that my former head of school sent me that I was in mourning. Mourning the person I used to be. Who the hell was I? Not a Spanish teacher after twenty years of being one. Not a New Yorker, at least not on a daily basis (but always in my heart). Nobody knew me or needed me like in the old iteration of myself where I organized, connected, and helped at all the institutions I was affiliated with. I was not even a nursing student. Even though I was 10-20 years older than my BMCC classmates, at least I had them. I spent the fall taking microbiology online and preparing for the GREs. Mostly I spent them thinking about my old school/job and going to farms with little F. He was sad. He missed BT and L and had to get used to being with me and in the car. All. The. Time. I knew one very nice woman from grad school- she has her own life. That was it. While F went to a wonderful job and began another part of his career, the kids began school. We knew nobody and had nobody to help us. I went to the elementary and middle schools and could not help compare them to the one in NY. Apples and oranges. Private versus public. I did not know a single parent or teacher or rule after having known them all, always. I ramble and digress. Every trip back to NY has been hard and wonderful and great and sad. I no longer belong to the school. I have wonderful friends and colleagues and they tell me how much they miss me and this warms my heart. But then I remember Newton, the suburb where I live. I began to go the JCC religiously in September for the free child care (I have yet to lose a pound or an inch). I go to the library many times per week. F and I food shop and nap together. My best friend is two. He is a funny and smart two but still a two-year old. We talk about snacks and cows, chickens and tv, ee-i-ee-i-oh and caca. He eventually stops crying when F goes to work and the kids to school. Recently I decided to try to surrender a little more. I invited a mother from the JCC for a playdate. She is a nurse! She has a hard and also lonely life even though she is from here. I had previously read her as cold- I was wrong. I finished my BC application weeks ago and now I wait. Vulnerable and unsure if they will take me. If I do not become a nursing student, what will I be? I think for now I will focus on being a good mother and wife and a better version of myself if possible. I want to enjoy this finite time at home that I never had or will have with a child again. I want to acknowledge that I am fortunate and have no real problems. I want to hope that being scared and untethered will make me stronger. I want to be brave. I hold on to the new/good parts. I already have so many good/old parts- amazing siblings, parents, friends. The new: Zumba Gold and POUND with Ketty- the kindest woman I have met here. Fun and fit she is a woman in her 50s who hugs me and invites me to her house because she remembers being new here. The library- huge and amazing- we go there every week and take out books, movies puzzles, and even instruments! Five children who have had a relatively easy transition to public school and a new life despite it all. A partner who supports me literally and figuratively (the former irks me but I breathe and try to accept it). A new friend? The chance to start a new career at 43?! Not many people get that. I do not want to be from here but I will work to do a good job being here. May 43 to 44 allow me to grow and accept.