Last night I went to an archery event with coworkers after work to celebrate our End Of Quarter (actually just a welcoming party for new people). I did not drink but I had a couple slices of pizza. I enjoyed learning how to shoot arrows poorly. I was friendly and gregarious and chit-chatty and everyone loved me. In high spirits, I left the work event and on the way home I saw that I had received 4 missed calls from various numbers.
Missed call 1: Spencer @ my 401k planning service. Back in October he was going to help me roll over my IRA from my old job into my new job's IRA plan. He was really attentive and good and friendly, and I reflexively immediately ghosted him. He has tried to reach me probably 8 times. At one point I told him that I had a death in the family (half true), and he became very sensitive about contacting me but no less insistent. A few weeks ago he said "I'll call you again in two weeks, and if I don't hear from you, I'll close your case number."
Missed call 2: spam.
Jumping over 3, to get to Missed call 4: My friend Juana spent yesterday walking around the park, high as hell off shrooms, crying to a very sad record called Less by Chilldeath (she capital L, Likes music). Her relationship with a girlfriend of 5 or so years fell apart last fall, but they've still been living together in a somewhat fraught entanglement. Apparently she got high enough that she forgot the keys to Jesse's apartment where she was crashing, and was calling me for the spare.
Back to missed call 3: My friend Fox and I had a dinner on the calendar that I missed and they were worried that I had gotten hit by a bus.
So I called Juana and I was like "hey what's going on" and she was like "I've been crying about my ex all day, and I locked myself out and all my stuff is in Jesse's apartment right now", and I was like "I have leftover pizza from a work thing, I'll meet you at the park and get it sorted". Then I called Fox and I was like "hey, sorry I missed our thing. I'm not dead. Do you wanna come hang out with my friend who I think might have just gotten kicked out of her apartment?" and Fox was like "Nope! That doesn't sound fun!" in the most diplomatic way possible. I think their exact wording was "Hmm, I think someone in that kind of sensitive moment might be looking for 1 on 1 time."
Juana and I caught up in clark park and hollered about how bad her ex sucked for like 2 hours, and then we went to Gojjo for 1 Drink apiece (a peeber for me and a g&t for her), and spent another 2 hours talking about how her ex sucked. At the haunting hour of 11:45pm, I was like "Okay well I have work in the morning, let's go home." and she was like "Bet."
We got home, she showed me another 45 minutes of bizarre transcendental music (I can now proudly say that I know about Alexander Gregory Kent, the frontman of Sprain and Shearling, and his new song that lasts 1 hour and 20 minutes Motherfucker, I am Both; "Amen" and "Hallelujah"). Then I dragged my sorry ass to bed, and fell dead asleep.
So needless to say that my body revolted this morning. I had the kind of hangover this morning that I couldn't dream of as a teenager. A busy night as a teenager had me drinking half a handle of vodka, an unknown number of beers, and certainly a couple jello shots. I might wake up with a mild headache. Last night I had one beer, and a couple slices of pizza, and today all of my joints are so pissed at me.
It feels strange to have my body feeling so frail in my 30s. I think that I am on the frailer side of the bell curve for a person my age - I thought it was the hormones or the bottom surgery, so I had my levels checked and my T is actually a touch high for a woman, which don't ask me how that's possible when I don't have testes, I couldn't tell you. When I try to exercise more, I run up against limited energy reserves and long stints of rest and recuperation that also feel out of place for people my age. I'm only 32!
And when I complain about these things, the common refrain is "welcome to your 30s". Dear reader, I don't know if you've heard me wail about my depression and suicidality before, but here's one to be familiar with: "Holy fuck, if everyone else is going through this, how does everyone else not kill themselves?"
Today, I say it with good humor. I don't mind being a little achy and weak today. But in the back of my mind it is the reminder of a looming truth: I can't do the things I used to do. When I was younger, I was able to do all sorts of things, and those things are being taken away from me by time, a sedentary career, and an endless fiddling with my hormonal profile. I cannot practice parkour the way I once did, nor can I drink more than one or two beers without very, very careful attention to my hydration.
In January, I had an incredibly magical weekend with a person I love dearly, and as part of that weekend we went on a date to a speakeasy. I had two or three cocktails, and I was Toasted. Absolutely cooked. That event carried the magic of having fun with someone I'm in love with, so maybe I was overlooking it a bit, but today it feels stark. I'm so old. I'm in my 30s. I'm clankety.
But I also feel like I'm just starting to really figure out who I am and the things I want (I think this is normal. I think every day, people are on the cusp of figuring themselves out, regardless of their age.) And so I guess in that way, I am still persisting, pleasantly, smiling, hanging out, chilling, etc.