A Few Words From the Bathtub on Marriage and Independence

I write this from the bathtub, where I am sitting, with my shoes on, listening to tornado sirens wail. If you take one thing away from this post, let it be this:

Rule #1 of home disaster preparedness is PUT YOUR DAMN SHOES ON. When it's too late to buy extra water and food, make a family disaster plan, or any of those other things that are so important, please please PLEASE put shoes on yourself and your family. Imagine trying to climb out of a house with a blown off roof and covered in debris (Or run from a zombie) without shoes, and you will see what I mean.

Safety First.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled blogging.

One of the things I was most worried about before the Grige and I got married was losing my independence. I was worried that there was a "Single Emily" that I would never get to know, or that being half of a marriage would mean that I was no longer a whole person. Most of all, I think I was/am afraid of not knowing how to be alone. In retrospect, you would think he had proposed that we become conjoined twins instead of getting married.

Well let me tell you (alone from the bathtub in the middle of a tornado), this first year of marriage has been a freaking crash course in "aloneness". I'm pretty sure I get my advanced certification after tonight. Perhaps you think I'm being dramatic, and maybe I am. But I was deeply afraid that marrying young would leave me unprepared for moments like this. And here I am, alone, in the candle-lit bathtub on the phone with my mom (WITH MY SHOES ON), and I will definitely survive.

INDEPENDENT MARRIED LADIES!

Quite the opposite, our new marriage has pushed me geographically, professionally, physically, mentally and emotionally. We moved to St. Louis, I faced down unemployment and accepted a new job where I'm pushed harder everyday, I ran a half marathon, sought out professional writing opportunities, and learned how to be alone in a new city (WHERE THEY HAVE TORNADOS) while my husband focuses on his graduate program. I also learned how to use power tools, haggle with mechanics and parallel park. Look out, world!

So I'm raising my tornado-bathtub glass of wine (yes, there is a wine bottle and a sippy cup in my tornado bag) to all the independent married ladies out there. Because marriage is not the same as being surgically attached, and sometimes marriage pushes us to more independence than our single selves could have imagined.

My Awesome Un-Job

I came to two startling realizations last night:

1. Grad school parties are exactly the same as undergrad parties, only nerdy-er and more selective. But not in a bad way! We went to a CMYK party last night, everyone was very welcoming, fun and dressed colorfully. Maybe it's because the Grige is endearing and did a good job of getting people excited to meet me, but I felt very welcome.

Cool-ass graphic via Tough Little Spider blog

2. I am way more comfortable talking about being unemployed than I ever was talking about my last job. Where are you in your career when you feel more confident and in control talking about how you sit on your couch and blog all day than you feel talking about your very well paid work as a legal recruiter?

I think I felt so much better talking about my plans for unemployment because I have a plan. In my job, I just sort of let things happen to me. My boss was generally in charge of my work flow, and every time I tried to invest and make myself essential to the completion of some facet of our work, I was told to "not worry about it" and just go home on time and that someone else would deal with the nitty gritty.

I'm not saying that wasn't nice. It was! I worked decent hours, didn't spend much time worrying about work and was very well paid. However, at this stage in my career, it really started to get to me to not feel "needed". While I was constantly thanked for my "hard work" and knew that what I did was helpful, I still had little to no control over how my work got done and felt like any one of the thousands of jobless recent grads out there could walk in and do exactly what I was doing.

That is a really good lesson to take into the job hunt with me: I'm not going to do my best work or enjoy my job if I don't feel "needed": Like I offer something important and unique to my work that is useful in the overall function of the company. It also re-affirms my decision to hold out for a job I really want. I don't feel like I'm wasting my time at all on my shorter-term unemployment goals.

What can you take away from this? If you're having a hard time talking about your job (and in a city like DC, I had to do this A LOT), something probably is wrong, and it may be worth your time to stop what you are doing and figure out what it is. Because even unemployment can have a positive spin. 

It's Fall! And Architects are Crazy.

It's fall! Guess how I know: It's not because the weather is cooler. It's not because all of my favorite stores keep sending me updates about sweater sales. It's not even because the main feature of my days is being reminded that school is in session.

I know, because in the last week, I have made 2 batches of pumpkin muffins and a batch of the most complicated (but also the most delicious) chicken pot pie recipe in the world (bon appetit, October 2011 issue - THANK YOU).

So. Much. Pumpkin.

I am also very excited for pumpkin beer, which is apparently going to happen in my kitchen this weekend. I couldn't really wait.. so I might have maybe, perhaps purchased some already...

Also, I would like to start a stereotype. After working in a law firm for 2 years, and in international disaster relief for 2 years, I can comfortably say that the stereotypes about those types of jobs are mostly true. Perhaps not in the greatest extremes that they are sometimes portrayed in, but lawyers do work extremely hard, almost always wear suits and are generally enslaved to the billable hour in some fashion or another. And international disaster relief attracts the rag-tag bunch of mostly cynical, insanely dedicated booze swilling nutcases that you might imagine.

However, the sterotypes about architects are not getting the story right. And as someone who has been deeply let down in the preparedness department by that missing cultural narrative, I would like to set the record straight. Architects are crazy. They. Work. So. Ridiculously. Hard. Do you remember those people were on campus who walked around like zombies who subsisted on panda express instead of human flesh and didn't sleep all semester? I always assumed they were law students or engineers or med students or homeless people who were trying to stay warm in the library. But no, they were future architects. 

They possess crazy of an artist with the attention to detail of an engineer and the work ethic of a junior lawyer at a Biglaw firm. I always imagined them walking around their buildings, wearing all black with a colorful scarf and saying things like "the columns are so very ethereal, don't you think, hmmmmm?". Instead it's more like my husband just slammed the door and face-planted in to bed with his clothes on a mere 20 minutes before my chicken pot pie that I spent six hours cooking him for dinner was done because he hasn't slept in 2 days. And then asks me if I'd like to attend an optional guest lecture with him the next day. 

And that's the last time we were ever awake in the same room  until the Grige graduated from school.
Photo: Summer Jean Photography

I'm sure I don't have to tell you other liberal arts flunkies the laundry list of things I would be doing instead of attending an optional guest lecture if I hadn't slept in 2 days, had barely seen my new wife in 8 weeks and could smell that amazing pie wafting from the kitchen. Duh.

But no, I married an architect. So here it is ladies - these dudes deserve the same warning stickers that lawyers, doctors and future presidents receive: Do not date unless you love spending time alone and being supportive in the face of the sheer madness that is expected of them at work.* 

*note - I aimed this at the ladies, or gentlemen, considering dating an architect instead of aspiring architects themselves, because I'm sure they already know how hard it will be. The rest of us need to catch up.  

Marriage and the Six Week Pause

The Grige and I lived apart for the first 6 weeks of our marriage, and tomorrow I am finally going to St. Louis, to him, to the life that we’re going to have. For us, living apart absolutely sucked. It was like taking the huge plunge of our wedding, which was filled with joy, and then being forced to hold our collective breath for 6 weeks while we tried to figure out what the marriage would be. Well, it is impossible to figure out what your marriage is going to be while one of you is living on a sleeper sofa with a newborn and a renegade pooping cat while working 15 hour days and the other one is diving into his first semester of graduate school 1000 miles away. And so, we held our breath.

I have learned something, from living with my tiny, brand-new niece for the last few weeks. Breathing for the first time is really scary, and upsetting and best dealt with by being swaddled up in a burrito wrap so you can’t flail around too much. And that is how I feel about moving into our new, married life. I’m terrified.

Ms. Emma, my housemate

Of course, I’m frustrated by all the normal challenges of moving – I have to find a new job, get used to a new city where I have to (gulp) drive a car sometimes, decorate and organize a new house, make new friends, find new running routes, introduce myself to the animals at the new zoo… But that’s not scary; it could potentially even be exciting. What I am afraid of is what our relationship is going to look like after all these changes. It’s not clear how much time the Grige will have for me, and six weeks of video chatting when we are both too exhausted to form full sentences has not made things any clearer.

So I get to sit here and listen to everyone tell me how excited I must be to finally see my husband again and get settled in our married life while I hold my breath and worry. the Grige is already so busy with school that he’s not even sure he can spend the whole evening with me when I arrive on Saturday, and that makes me feel so rejected and alone that I just want to scream, which does not make me feel like the good, supportive wife that I want to be. There aren’t many ways to express those feelings to a busy man over the phone, and I know he’s scared about what it will be like too, and how we’re going to manage our time. He’s also terrified that I’m never going to forgive him for picking up our east coast lives and moving them to the mid-west and then leaving my poor, introverted self alone all the time to figure out our lives – like getting food on the table - while he works his butt off at school.

This is what a perfect DC morning run looks like

Meg Keene has written beautifully about how no one asked us to be martyrs, over at A Practical Wedding and that will be my mantra in our new life. I’m giving up a lot, but think of what I’m gaining! I chose to marry him and I am so very proud of him. But I am sad to leave my job, and my friends, and my city that I love. I’ve spent the last six weeks in this terrible limbo where the end is looming and the vibrant color seems to have drained out of everything, even on perfect DC morning runs and at delicious dinners with best friends. So while I’m scared, I also feel like anything is better than the half-way place where I’m living without the piece that makes it all worth it – the Grige. Perhaps that is the greatest affirmation of our marriage I’ll ever get, and all before it’s even really started.

Photo: Summer Jean Photography

Now we are two, even if we had to wait six weeks after our wedding to get all the way here. I’m packing up my bags, my old name, and I’ll land in about 24 hours as EFF: Wife. And maybe we’ll only have an hour or two together before he has to go back to studio, and maybe I’ll cry and yell about that, but I’m hopeful that I can swaddle myself up in our love to keep from breaking anything while I flail around and learn to deal with it.

Because I Wasn't Busy Enough

On Monday, Mighty Girl wrote about dithering over decisions. To be fair, she wrote about it because O Magazine wrote about it, but I like the passage from The Bell Jar that Maggie quoted best:

“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”

I feel quite a bit like this right now, not that it isn’t typical of folks my age. To be fair to myself, I have made some decisions. When I met the Grige, three years ago, I pulled the plug on my Peace Corps application. I knew when I looked at him that I wanted to marry him and that was the fig I was going to focus on. Hopefully the others would follow. So here we are, planning a wedding and a life together, and some of the other figs are within reach – We’re moving west, not quite far enough for my taste, but it’s progress; It’s likely that we’ll spend a semester abroad next year; He supports my ambitions to run my own business and constantly challenges me intellectually. I don’t regret my choice to pursue the Grige fig first.

I chose this path

However, it’s a little challenging to do everything on his schedule. I feel a bit more like a piece of complaining luggage than an equal partner given the way his career plans are driving every bit of our lives right now. We’re having the wedding on a tight schedule and skipping the honeymoon to accommodate his grad school start date, we’re moving to a city that was last on my wish list because a great architecture school is there, where and when we live abroad will be determined by his school requirements – I’m constantly molding my life and expectations to accommodate his and frankly, I’m fed up. Even if it is fairly in line with my goals as well, I’m sick and tired of not having any control (and doing all the dishes).

There it is....

Which brings me to a decision I may soon regret: I’m going to run a marathon. Let me correct that – I’m going to try to run a marathon. I’ve chosen the Grand Rapids Marathon (www.grandrapidsmarathon.com) on Sunday, October 21. The timing coincides perfectly with my plans to leave my job and move, while giving me 18 weeks to train. I’ll be attending a memorial for my Grandfather in MI the weekend before and was then planning to officially take up residence in St. Louis. I’ll spend the week after the memorial with my parents, run the race, and then hop on the train with a few bags of ice to begin my new life as a marathoner.

So, I’m sure you’re thinking that I’m nuts and wondering how on earth I ever convinced myself that this was even do-able, let alone a good idea. I’ll walk you through it:

1.       You have your own wedding, a move and another wedding that you are a bridesmaid in during training. You will have no time for this:

Fair points. However, I specifically set up my “step back” weeks to fall on big events. I’ll be stepping back during my bachelorette party, my wedding week, and moving week as well as several big work weekends. I’ll be tapering by the time Jess’ wedding rolls around. My longer runs will be a great way to say goodbye to DC and get to know St. Louis during the move.

2.       The whole reason you are staying in DC is to work through the busy season. Won’t you be too busy for marathon training?

Possibly, but I don’t think so. My weekday runs are definitely short enough to fit in before work, and will probably even ease my commute by getting me out the door early. We have a nice gym in the basement of my office building, so it will be possible to fit my runs in at other times as well. I won’t have the Grige to run home to, and it will be nice to have something else to look forward to. Also, I find that having physical goals to focus on helps me deal with mental stress. Zoning out on a 15 mile long run is a great way to leave work stress behind.

3.       Wait – Aren’t you always talking about how you don’t really like running and how you aren’t very good at it?

Yes! The thing is, I’ve always dreamed of doing a marathon, precisely because it seems so impossible. It’s the ultimate way to boost my self-confidence and break down my mental barriers. Also, marathon training isn’t about speed. The marathon I signed up for doesn’t have a time-limit, and even offers an early start for anyone who is worried about needing more than 6 hours. Training will be all about “time on my feet”, and running slowly, but steadily. Walking breaks will be part of the deal on all my long runs, and my overall goal is to finish the marathon on my own two legs with a smile on my face.

4.       How is training for a marathon going to help you feel more in control of your life?

First of all, running a marathon is on my life list, so it signifies progress for me personally. Second of all, it’s something that is only about me, nobody else. Meeting that weekly physical goal should keep me motivated and confident, since every single week of training will be a personal distance record (PDR) for me, so it will be hard to get down on myself if I have a bad run – I won’t have anything to compare to. Finally, The marathon I’ve chosen is pretty laid back about dropping down to the ½ marathon if I change my mind. Even a ½ would still be a huge accomplishment for me, but since I have time I’m going to go for the full.

So I’ll be sure to keep you updated as training goes along. Wish me luck!

Reality Strikes: The Acceptances Are Arriving

So here we are. I knew all along that the hellacious application process would lead to acceptance letters followed by campus visits, followed by loan applications, followed by leaving my job and moving heaven knows where. It just wasn’t real until those letters showed up with their fancy seals and horrifying tuition estimations.

Meanwhile, I am hemorrhaging money for our wedding and trying to be as honest and helpful as possible with my bosses about my now-inevitable departure. Right now, it looks pretty likely that instead of a honeymoon, I’ll be putting the Grige on a plane to a new life in a city over 1,000 miles away two days after we say “I do”. I’ll then hang my head and trudge back to D.C. to plow through the insanely busy season at my job while living in my cousin’s basement and helping her and her husband with their newborn. Alone.

Photo: Jeanine Finch

Every time I think about this eventuality I want to burst into tears. (Not because I don't love babies, I totally do!) So I’m writing about it, which is only marginally better and still makes me want to throw things.

The facts are these: The Grige is going to grad school, which makes me the primary wage earner for our baby family. I make a great deal of overtime pay during the busy season at work, which makes it financially irresponsible for me to leave as he begins accruing mountains of debt. Also, I like the people I work with quite a bit. I think it would be just plain mean to take off at the beginning of crazy, busy, there-is-no-time-to-go-to-the-bathroom season. The wedding itself is already ill-timed (to say the least).

Sure, I’ve sort of known this was coming. But now that the letters are here, it’s real. We also thought we’d have at least a week or two before he had to go to just be newlyweds and say goodbye to our home. Instead, he’ll probably be in a 2-week intensive orientation program that will turn him from human man to super-duper architect dude (no sleep or spare-time included). I’ll join him in time to celebrate our first Thanksgiving together. It’s likely to feel a little empty after last year. On the bright side, we’ll probably have tons of fun wedding gifts to cook with/serve on.

Photo: Jeanine Finch

Growing up is not easy, and I’m sure this is the first of many expectations about married life (you know, the part where we live together) that will be challenged in the name of financial security and “being responsible”. It’s sad, but I’m hopeful for un-expected good things as well. Stay tuned…

Gimme Shelter

So last week in Business Week, I read a depressing article. Let me be clear, the news that student debt is getting in the way of many of my highly educated peers ability to buy their own homes is not surprising to me. In fact, I’m a little confused as to where anyone got the idea that $100,000 in debt wouldn’t stand in the way of another giant loan. This is simple economics – you got a loan to invest in your education. You got your education and you were lucky enough to use it to get a high paying job. Your first priority should be paying off that loan with the additional income you are gaining from you investment, not making another huge (and probably worthless) investment.

Photo: Chad Fisk
We could live here...

I would equate this to my mother’s simple rules about playtime when I was growing up. If I finished my chores and homework, I could have the rest of my time to play or read or do whatever I wanted. It was a simple rule, and it’s stuck with me into adulthood, right along with “eat your vegetables before you can have dessert”. However, it’s becoming clear that I might be more alone in this thinking than I thought…

The Grige is constantly amazed at my imperative that we must get all of our cleaning and laundry done on Saturday morning before we can enjoy the rest of the weekend. I am militant about this rule, and it’s nearly impossible for me to enjoy a fun activity if I know that chores are at home waiting for me. Sometimes I try to disguise my obsession with the excuse that “well, people might come over unexpectedly and I want the house to look nice”, but the Grige is not buying it. I will completely lose my s*** if we have plans for breakfast on a Saturday morning and don’t get all the chores done on Friday night and he just has to deal with that as gallantly as he can.

Cleaning is waaaay more important than sleep.

His ability to push important tasks to the back burner and focus on the present has made me wonder if I might be missing something. Like maybe, if I keep playing by the rules like this, I will miss out on important opportunities. This weekend, I might miss out on a bike ride with friends. But down the road, we might miss out on owning a home or having kids because I’m obsessed with paying off our student debt first. It’s kind of a scary thought when we live in a society where debt is a necessity for “normal” life.

Photo: Me
Looking over this cliff is essentially how I feel about debt.

The counter-argument to my “finish your chores” rule is that if you make enough money to make your student loan payments (whatever they may be) and also your projected home payments, there is no reason that you should not be eligible for a home loan. It doesn’t sound totally crazy, but you can see why it makes banks nervous. Student loans are essentially impossible to default on. They will follow you through bankruptcy all the way to your grave and probably beyond. Home loans are much easier to get rid of by comparison, so if a financially strapped person is in the unfortunate position of choosing which bill to pay, the student loan is probably going to win. The bank just ends up with a home that has probably lost value since it was purchased instead of the cold, hard cash they love so dearly.

It will be interesting to see where we land on this, because young people are going to continue furthering their education to try to get ahead, successfully or not. It’s interesting to think that this very endeavor may be hindering us from having the same things our newfound educationand accompanying affluence were supposed to get us. For now, I’m going to keep eating my vegetables, dream about dessert and play it safe. But stay tuned, because I just bought some GRE books of my own…

Double E