Turning 30: Moving on.

credit: Jennifer Churchill

It’s time to wrap up my Month of Me posts (a little late, delayed because I needed a few extra weeks to really process it all). I have spoken with a lot of women over the last few weeks about turning thirty; time and again, the same thing was told to me: “Your thirties rock. You’re going to love it.” They say, unanimously, that a woman’s twenties are a frantic time full of angst and confusion, and that the turning of the next decade seems to set a woman free. She finds herself on track suddenly, with more self confidence and a sense of direction. Perhaps there’s a relief from the pressures and expectations that young women are burdened with: the ideals of beauty, youth, vibrancy, vigor, and achievement levels are perhaps less doggedly applied to women no longer seen as ‘youth’. (Take no offence here, women; it’s a theory based on my mere three weeks of experience as a thirty year-old.)

Regardless, these conversations with women made me wonder: what is it about my twenties that I’m so afraid to lose? And I realized that all the important stuff from my twenties will be carried along into my thirties. So I compiled a list of what my twenties gave to me...

WHAT MY TWENTIES GAVE ME:

●A beautiful husband.

●My first motorcycle ride, which led to a passion for riding.

●A college diploma, with honors.

●Career experiences, both highlights and lowlights, but all resulting in a bundle of wisdom.

●A blog and the chance to write again.

●An on-again, off-again professional visual arts career.

●A best friend who is integral to my happiness.

●A better relationship with my parents. Much, much better than the decade before.

●A breast reduction that saved my tortured back.

●A two-year adventure in roller derby, and other athletics that I didn’t try in high school.

●A clear sense of what I do and don’t like.

●A clear sense of who I do and don’t like.

●A sense of career direction, and the opportunities I needed to realize it.

●A fat pug who makes me grin like a child.

●My first car.

●Three Caribbean cruises.

●A wedding that turned into a project that turned into a bit of an opus.

●Coldplay albums.

●The perfect stuffed animal that fits perfectly into my neck crook at night.

●A good sense of what hemlines are appropriate for which situations.

●The ability to cook well enough that I won’t starve or die of scurvy.

●The ability to see the grey area between black and white.

●A sense that sometimes, I just don’t care if I’ve upset someone else, and that’s okay.

●Lactose intolerance.

●Adult-onset acne.

●An appreciation for my natural hair colour.

●A swim with dolphins that changed my life.

●A chance to zipline over the Mexican jungle.

●The sure knowledge, after having tried it, that snorkelling is not my thing.

●A visit to Banff, Alberta that took my breath away.

●Tact.

With the exception of one or two of those dubious gifts, there’s almost none that I’d ask to refund. But with these notches on the metaphorical belt of my life, I am feeling like I’m ready to slow down a little...if only to get my bearings and then forge forward with greater purpose, dignity, and confidence.

Thirty isn’t so bad so far. I’ve been having some health challenges, but I have been moved to tears on a daily basis by the unwavering support and love I’ve received from the handful of people I’ve gathered around me as my core support team. I’m feeling pretty good about my new job, and I’m starting to set my sights on more writing. I think the only thing left to mourn about the termination of my twenties is that I don’t get to surprise people with my age-to-accomplishment ratio. But I’m feeling more focused on doing a stellar job now, rather than just doing a lot of jobs like I did in my twenties. I’m discovering that, when I slow down just a touch, I have a deep appreciation for simple things. In my twenties, I seemed incapable of moving at anything less than a lightning pace. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not slowing down like an old lady here; it’s more about taking broader, meaningful strides instead of running around like a chicken with her head cut off.

I mean, yes fine, I admit that I stuck my head out of the car last night and shouted along to Teenage Wasteland, but I got it out of my system and I’m good now.

Until We Are the Champions comes on, of course. I’m thirty, not dead.

Month of Me: birthday day review.

My Month of Me is wrapping up at the end of the upcoming weekend. Yes, I acknowledge that this will make it more of a Six Weeks of Me. It was a weird month and there were scheduling difficulties. Anyway, I’m enjoying this ‘me’ stuff so much that I may just keep right on doing it.

This post is just a brief one today, though, highlighting my birthday day itself. I had posted to say that I would be doing the 10 Photos project—one photo an hour for 10 hours—for my birthday, and I did it. I missed a spot here or there, usually when I was having the best times, of course. What’s that old quote? “It’s the good girls who keep diaries. The bad girls never have time.” But I think I got enough to illustrate how my awesome day went.

Gift #1: typewriter charm from Brian. Love! Presents in bed are the best kind.

An hour later, birthday pug Mr Darcy comes to get me out of bed.

By request, Brian finally shaves his mountain man growth. Another present for moi.

Lunch of sushi with my sweetie!

Down at Magpie in Westboro to pick up my Pyrrha (gift to myself); and Brian surprised me with a dino pendant!
Meanwhile, I fed the staff chocolate covered ginger.

Shopping with birthday money...3 garments, good for work AND play.

A stop at my BFF's house to watch River Monsters.

Mom and Dad give me their gift: archery equipment to learn with Brian and Dad!

Dinner with parents at the new Mill Street Brew Pub. I was too busy eating to take a photo, so here's the dino pendant
that Brian got me as gift #2.

Comedy club with Brian and parents. Front row seats meant that everyone got harassed, high-fived, and hollered at.

Bonus pic: Mom & Dad at the comedy club.

Bonus pic: me and Brian at the comedy club.

Unexpected gift: Brian made the bed. (It looked better before, but I jumped on it in glee.) Confession:
there was another gift in the bedroom. But I'm not showing you.

 So all in all, a fantastic birthday. Probably my favourite so far, actually. Adventurous food, a plethora of presents, comedy club laughs...and time with my biggest cheerleaders. It felt like such a great way to start off my new year. I've got more reflections brewing, so stay tuned for another post about the Month of Me before long. In the meantime, I'm trying to just enjoy the afterglow of being spoiled rotten; and I'm trying to stop hesitating before programming my age into the elliptical machine.

Turning 30: Birthday Day

Today is my birthday. We are half-way through, and this is the first chance I've had to write a quick post. I will be taking a photo every hour (like we've done, along with many others, for the 10 Photos challenges on holidays past), and posting them on Twitter. Later, I'll write a post about the day and how the Month of Me has been going...but for now, you can follow along on Twitter by clicking here. Or, you can search for hashtag #jordanbday .

Hopefully your weekend is turning out as spectacular as mine is.

Month of Me: rebranding the caterpillar

REBRANDING: NOT JUST FOR BIG BIZ ANYMORE.

Me, graduating 2007 from social service worker program.

I have been in the process of rebranding myself for a few months now. Well, maybe to be fair, I should say that I’ve been contemplating my rebranding. It began when I was successful in gaining employment outside my college field (social services) and within a field I desperately wish I’d studied in (marketing/communications). I decided that this was a sign: I could recreate myself from the hodgepodge muckitymuck that I had managed to assemble during the first 28 years, into something happier, cooler, and smarter in my 29^th year and beyond.

FIRST STEPS:

The idea of rebranding usually is applied to a company or, well, a brand. I think people can rebrand themselves, as well. I had to look at the same questions that a business would look at, a few being:

-What concepts/labels/words are you currently associated with?

-Which of those did you choose for yourself, and which were chosen by your audience?

-What concepts/labels/words would you rather be associated with?

-What are you selling [or doing, being, offering, creating]?

-What’s your look-and-feel?

When I asked myself these questions, I wasn’t happy with the results. So the first step was to run my butt off to get into marketing/communications (check!), and the next step was to start examining my image. I tried to figure out what labels or words I’d apply to myself, and found that the list of ones I had chosen were short and sort of ambiguous, whereas the list of ones thrust upon me were very effective in boxing me in:

 

Me, 3 yrs ago, taking a plane solo for the 1st time.

Self-proclaimed labels:

-creator

-achiever

-loyal

-funny

Labels given by others:

-social worker

-wife (or fiancée)

-disabled

-homebody

-perfectionist

-anxious

YOU ARE WHAT YOU ALLOW.

I looked at the question mark that was my self-image and thought, no wonder I feel aimless. Remove the label ‘creator’, and my self-image was synonymous with a well-trained border collie. Meanwhile, I’d been spending my time living within the constructed labels given to me by my surroundings: an anxious, disabled social worker, presumed straight and in a long-term relationship, who doesn’t like to go out at night and is anal-retentive. Now, I know that I helped people to begin associating me with these labels through my own actions—I’m not blaming my sorry state on them—but what’s frustrating is that the people around you like to keep you in your designated box, often by accident. Friends get used to not inviting you out; people stop chatting with you about same-sex rights; no one asks you to proofread their work because you’ll rant about semicolons. 

REINCARNATING:

Rebranding is hard because you have to do things that may be the entire opposite of what’s expected of you…and no matter how positive these actions are, people will have an initial uncomfortable reaction. The trick is to stick with it. Walk your talk. Make your own box. My new box ideally reads:

 

-cool non-straight married chick

-communications wizard

-social media padawan

-blogger extraordinaire

-writer and will-be author

Me, 2 yrs ago: first day of roller derby;
went on to play for 18 months.

-woman of wry wit

-loving soul

-breadwinner

-organizer (most notably, of SoCapOtt)

-adventurer (at her own pace)

-Brian's sweetheart

-meditator

-pragmatic

-spiritual seeker

-visioneer

-multi-tasker

-assertive

-best friend

-introspective

-introvert (and proud of it)

-amateur chef

-healing body

-healing soul

-happy spirit

-agent of change

-solution-finder

-risk manager

REALISTIC GOALS: I'M NOT ELLE MACPHERSON.

Now, it’s important to recognize your limitations during a rebranding process. If Coke tomorrow wanted to become the new recommended drink of the Diabetes Association, they’d be shooting themselves in the foot. Likewise, I recognize that there are certain labels that may never apply to me (at least not in this incarnation): ‘warm’, for example, has never been applied to me; ‘laid back’ is another foreign concept. But ‘enthusiastic’ was practically made for me. Recognizing the inalienable truths about ourselves makes us stronger, because by recognizing our weaknesses, they become strengths. An introvert who pretends to be an extrovert doesn’t last very long—I speak from experience.

ROLLING WITH THE PUNCHES: SHORN NEAR-BALD AND SHOELESS.

I’ve had some setbacks. Last week, before I started my new job, I went out and spent some Month of Me money on getting a haircut and work clothes. My regular stylist is off on mat leave, and I’ve been travelling around the city trying to find someone who’ll still cut my hair like a rockin’ punky-emo-hipster-21-year-old, with little success. I went to see my mother’s stylist this time, though, as she  tends to be creative. Her creativity resulted in a Vulcan bowl-cut with straight-across bangs that she then cut into different 1-inch lengths, like piano keys across my forehead. I demanded she fix it, and she removed the blunt ends to my bangs but by the end of cutting, I was left with tufts—I’m not exaggerating—all over a nearly-shaved head. I left in tears. My hair is a big part of my image—my brand—and while I don’t mind crazy hair, this was out of control. I looked like I’d been shorn with a bowie knife to avoid lice during a post-apocalypse scenario. With so little left, I can’t get it recut, so currently I’m attempting to style it attractively.

I bought pants, a skirt, some shirts, and a some shoes for my new job, too. I found this pair of shoes that made my heart sing: they work equally well with pants or a dress, which women know is as hard to find as the genuinely perfect Little Black Dress. I bought them on sale, and wore them to work on my first day…only to discover I’d bought them a half-size too large. Calls to the company were fruitless; size 9’s were sold out nationwide. I returned the shoes that evening and began tearing through shops looking for a replacement, to no avail. I ended my evening sobbing on the couch, trying to explain to Brian that this wasn’t about two pieces of leather strapped to layers of rubber…this was about my failure at revamping my public image. I would now be headed into work in my old Converse chucks and my sorority-prank-styled hair. 

BACK ON THAT BRANDING HORSE:

But I rallied. I have decided that lipstick is a part of my image, and I’ve been experimenting with types. I am enjoying the mix-and-match process of getting dressed in the mornings, and when I finally calmed down, I revisited the Aerosole store and noticed a pair of shoes I’d forgotten about: a pair that I love more than the first ones, even though they’re a bit too tall for my walking abilities. Regardless, they were on sale for the same price as the first pair, and they’re gorgeous. And they 100% suit my envisioned public image.

I’m taking great big strides towards my personal rebranding. I’m at that awkward stage where I’m still in my cocoon, one wing extended out, dripping and unpretty. But I’ve still got eleven days ‘til my 30^th birthday; that’s when I’ll really hit the ground running. Oh, but not in these shoes; I’ll have to bring my Converse along.

Month of Me: a weekend of tea and craft

I know it’s midweek now, but I’m still glowing from my weekend. It was a 48 hour period of Month of Me activities (my birthday month of self-indulgence), and I can’t stop talking about it. The highlights: High Tea with my mom, and a killer felting workshop with Annie Bananie.

TEA FOR TWO: THE TEA PARTY ON YORK STREET

In preparation for my birthday month, I purchased a social coupon (you know, off a site that does group coupons, if you will), for The Tea Party on York Street in the Byward Market. I’d been in there only once before, just to peek around while on a stroll with Brian, so I didn’t remember much about it except that it was located in an ancient house on the edge of the market. Anything Alice in Wonderland themed is guaranteed to catch my eye, so I bought the coupon--$20 for a High Tea for two—and invited my mom along.

We headed down to the market, parked, and walked down to the little house. As we stepped inside, the place was rockin’ busy. A dozen charmingly mismatched tables were crowded with cheerful diners enjoying all sorts of (unexpectedly) Indian lunch foods. I have made a note to come back and try the tandoori tofu because it looked delicious. We were led to our tiny reserved table in a corner by the front window, and while we waited for our server to come see us, we perused the shelves of tea cups, teapots, and china all available for sale. A two-tier Alice in Wonderland themed tea tray caught my eye and I may have to go back for it.

The server brought us our teas in big pots, chosen by us from the wall of labelled glass jars. The tea was lovely, and I was pleased to see the wide array of non-caffeinated options they had. Settling on a concoction called Jamaican Chai, I was delighted with the spicy aroma mixed with tropical undertones. Mom chose an anise-based tea called Angel Wings which she enjoyed very much, being a fan of strong flavours. A few sips into our tea, our tray of squares, scones, and sandwiches arrived. We were surprised to find none of the ‘usual’ tea sandwiches—no tuna, egg salad, or ham here—but a wide variety of unique flavours instead. My favourites included a roasted red pepper with hummus, and a tomato with some type of baba ghannouj.  The scones were superb, served with a pot of jam, and the squares were all made on-site…no pre-packaged date squares here.

We munched away happily, lingering long after our sandwiches were done, pouring more tea from our big pots and gossiping. When it was finally time to go, we went to the cash to buy a tea cup for Mom, and received the last part of our social coupon deal: two little bags of tea to take home. I grabbed a bag called Yoga Spice, and Mom grabbed a green tea. We headed out, satiated and promising to return for a full lunch.

FELTING WITH ANNIE BANANIE

Happy crafting Jordan.

Sunday found us at the workshop of Annie Bananie, local crafter extraordinaire. Annie Bananie is no stranger to us: she helped us out with the wedding project by offering a workshop for our wedding party to make felt rosettes, which we used as decorations in our centrepieces. Annie and I have kept in touch, as I adore her felt creations. This incredibly talented yoga teacher, Singing Tree daycare owner, and arts instructor is one of those wonderful people you feel blessed to have met. To my utter joy, she feels the same about us. So when Annie invited us to come to her felting workshop, wild horses couldn’t keep me away.

Another woman's work.

You can see the whole tutorial on Annie’s blog, including photos of Brian and I working our butts off; but in a nutshell, let me say this: the seven hours you spend in this workshop will simultaneously be the most exhausting and the most rewarding thing you do all week. The morning started off with a brief Kundalini yoga-based meditation. This is something outside my comfort zone, as Kundalini involves chanting and singing, and I’m not really a public singer. I rock out in my car, but to sit in a circle and chant ancient Sanskrit is something outside my box. I did it, though, and Brian was a trooper too, only once disturbing the group when he got carried away with his yogic spine rotations and hit his elbow off a shelf. I held it together and managed not to burst into giggles…sometimes Brian is just like a Great Dane puppy, all feet and tail.

We started out felting project, laying out the white felt that would become the back of our hanging. I had planned to make something about 2’ by 3’, but Brian kept quietly laying out more wool, and before I knew it we had a piece about 4’ by 5’. Annie encouraged everyone to work as large as they liked, and I shrugged, figuring it would be a centrepiece in our house somewhere. We argued back and forth over the image we’d create and finally amalgamated our two ideas: toadstools and owls.

The other workshoppers remarked on how brave we were to be doing a project like this as a team. I have to admit, there was a few times where I had to deep breathe and not snatch the wool away from Brian, rearranging things until they looked ‘right’. But as the image started to come together, I had that wonderful moment where I can see how much cooler the product is going to be because it was a collaborative effort. We finished laying out our image, ate a homemade lunch of pea soup and ArtIsIn bread (provided as part of the workshop), then began the process of felting the wool into one big mat.

Rolling the snake with our feet. UGH.

When Annie encouraged us to work on a big piece, the one thing she failed to tell us was that it would mean more work at the felting stage. Another woman who had created a smaller piece finished felting her mat and left around lunchtime, while we were still layering colours of wool. The process of felting the wool involves soaking the project with soapy water, stepping all over it, and then rolling it into a tube and rolling that tube back and forth along the floor. Because our piece was so big, the usual technique—laying your hands on it and rolling it like a big Play-doh snake—was proving ineffective. Every time we unrolled it to peek, fibres were still lose and easy to pluck. So after about an hour of using our hands and arms, we switched to using our feet.

One hour of rolling the mat with our hands, then two hours of rolling our mat with our feet, and finally we were done…or at least, I didn’t want to roll it anymore. We took our piece home, rinsed it in the shower to get rid of the soap, and tumbled it in the dryer for a bit to finish the felting process. It was still wet, so we layed it out on some garbage bags and left it to dry.

Other workers' creations.

Ready for water.

My legs ached for two days after this project. I got a better workout from rolling that damned wall hanging than I have ever gotten from roller derby. It was exhausting, but the final product is something pretty extraordinary. There is nothing pretty about our owl and mushroom scene, especially because the owl’s eyes sort of felted in different ways and he looks a bit drunk. But it is a collaborative expression of our nest: Brian as the owl, brightly coloured and a bit wobbly; then me as the hedgehog (a last minute addition to the piece), because as much as I call Brian a Great Dane, Brian calls me a hedgehog: cute, but rolls into a spiky ball when provoked. So there is Brian the owl, with Jordan the hedgehog, hanging out in a field of mushrooms. It probably sounds silly when you read it, but this hanging is truly a visual representation of our little world.

I fell in love with felting at Annie’s workshop. I find myself plotting new designs, examining our piece to see how colours blended so that I can plan my layers out better next time. I don’t think I’ll make such a large piece again because the rolling sucked so badly; but guaranteed, I’m going to be felting again soon. As an artist who typically works in paint and pen, the less precise, more expressive motions of felting was again outside my ‘box’, but as these things so often are, it was wonderfully rewarding. We can’t thank Annie enough for having us along, and we heartily recommend you all sign up for the next one. Annie is planning another wet felting workshop in the warmer weather, to potentially be held in Wakefield out on a beautiful piece of land…but if you can’t wait that long to get your hands on Annie’s workshops, other ones will be coming along soon and can be found on her blog.

IN SUMMARY: A JORDANESQUE WEEKEND, INDEED.

Tea and shopping with mom…tiny triangle sandwiches…time with my sweetheart…and a new art medium. It doesn’t get much better than that. I would say this was a highly successful Month of Me weekend. Let the games continue!

Turning 30: Jordan's Month of Me Part 1

I’m turning 30 in less than 30 days. I decided a while back that the best way to ring in this major milestone was to follow in the footsteps of blogger Julie (of Coffee with Julie) by having a “Month of Me”. Julie took a month for herself and indulged in self-affirming activities for thirty days…my month has accidentally become protracted somewhat, however, and has really turned into “Six Weeks of Me”, but that doesn’t sound as good so we’ll call it a month.

WHAT IS A 'MONTH OF ME'?

What is my Month of Me? It’s the month where I treat myself with all the care, love, respect, and fun that I…well, that I should have been showing myself for the past thirty years more consistently. It’s my month to reaffirm that I deserve attention, love, generosity, and indulgence—from myself, not relying on anyone else’s affections or attentions. It’s a reminder that everything I need is already inside. I am my own best friend. (Now let’s see if I can learn to actually live like that.)

MONTH OF ME: PART I

The month began this past weekend, with our housewarming party. Well, ‘party’ may be a big word for a small gathering of, in the end, six people. We’d had a number of last-minute cancellations, which at first saddened me until I remembered that Brian likes big crowds, not me—so really, this was happier for me anyway. As the evening progressed, our family and friends engaged in conversation about everything from deer hunting to the Celestine Prophecy; I took a moment and just drank in the happiness. I think it’s a good sign when you can bring friends together who don’t know each other, and all of them like each other right away. It makes me feel like we’re on the right track. And coincidentally (or not), the people that came were ones that have been recently playing some important roles in our lives as confidantes, playmates, and spiritual comrades. So: house is officially warmed.

I also took a job offer for a new full time job that will replace both my part-time jobs. This wasn’t technically part of the Month of Me plan, but it worked out and allowed me to justify buying some new work clothes. I’ve worked for ten years with youth, so my wardrobe had narrowed down to include three pairs of jeans and a slew of printed tees. While I love clothes and fashion, the teens I work with feel I’m more approachable in casual digs, and I haven’t protested because I love being comfortable. But my goal is to rediscover my personal ‘brand’ and have it combine a professional image with my Pearl Jam-loving-gypsy-ragamuffin-rocker clothing personality. More on this later.

I was also supposed to go for a pedicure, but I spent my pennies on a lip waxing instead. I could go into great detail explaining, but suffice it to say, age brings more hair...and when the wax girl apologized for taking so long, explaining, "You just have so much hair!" I knew I'd made the right choice. Few people see my feet, but a lot of people would notice crumbs stuck in my mo.

WHAT'S NEXT IN THE MONTH OF ME:

The rest of the month is still being scheduled, but the plans so far include:

-high tea at the Tea Party with Mom

-a late Christmas dinner with my cousin (and former bridesmaid) Suzie

-a felting workshop with Annie Bananie

-a craft tweetup mid-month (I’ve never done this before and I’m STOKED)

-dinner at a Mexican restaurant for which I have a Groupon

-getting my hair cut

-using our prize for ARC the hotel: we won a 2-night stay last year and are going to use it

-sushi

-a special piece of jewellery for myself from Magpie (more on this later)

-dinner and a comedy club with my parents

-dinner and a movie with my friends

I feel funny looking at that list. Normally in a given year, I might do that list of things over the course of 12 months, not 45 days. But, where hitting thirty years may be an indicator to some people to slow down and start taking responsibilities more seriously, etc etc etc, I am the opposite. I lived a very austere, serious, and self-sacrificing first three decades, and I’ve promised myself more fun, self-care, and fancy-free time from here-on out. I mean, of course I still check to make sure that we have the resources to support these things…I’m not flying out to Cuba tomorrow for a month or anything…but I am committed to learning how to give myself a dose of the love and generosity that I have always been so willing to give to others.

So if you hear me justifying and rationalizing and defending my Month of Me, please comment and tell me to stop it. I will try not to rebut with equally defensive replies. And if you have suggestions of more things to do, comment below, or email or tweet! I should note, however, that all demands of bungee jumping or skydiving will be ignored. I’m thirty, not twenty-one.