Quick recap: 2008 ended with me feeling really sad, overwhelmed, and directionless. I don’t remember all the details, but I do remember the feeling. I was desperate to make a change, but I had no idea what to do.
I am generally not someone who sits in her discomfort for too long. I have a much lower tolerance for it now than I did, but even then, when something didn’t feel right, I ultimately started thinking about what I could do about it.
Sure, I’d feel bad about things for a while and wallow in my sadness. I drank way too much and spent way too many nights crying at the bar because I was so unhappy, and very, very anxious about working in the PICU. And I never sat back and thought, well, this is my life now. Guess I’m just going to be sad.
I knew I needed to change something. I knew that how I was feeling was a direct result of my choices, but I also knew that I could make different choices and turn things around.
I just had no idea what that meant yet.
One of the most notable things that I did in 2009 was start taking Lexapro. And it’s obvious. My posts from the beginning of the year were much, much different from the end.
In January 2009, I was still plagued by insomnia and spending nearly every free evening (and some mornings) off at Jack’s, a dive bar on East Carson Street in the South Side where I spent way too much time and cried way too many tears. I remember one night (afternoon, who am I kidding), I arrived at least 2 hours before I was supposed to meet my friends, so I just hung out with some of the other regulars. Who bought me drinks. So, before my friends even showed up, I was cut off because I was already crying. And it wasn’t, like, 2 am or anything. I was at, like, 7 pm. The night was still young, and I was an emotional mess.
In July, I was posting about going to my PCP to pick up prescriptions for my happy pills and stopped hanging out in the South Side as much.
On July 24, I posted… “is at Jacks. It’s sort of like going home. I love it, but it reminds me of how much I love not being there.”
I didn’t quit drinking or going out. I just changed venues. It wasn’t Jack’s fault. It was mine.
I picked different bars along Carson for a while, but eventually, I shifted to hanging out in Shadyside as much as possible, for two reasons. One, I lived there, so I didn’t have to drive. And two, I was full of hope that changing my environment and drinking with a different crowd would be enough of a change to make me feel better.
On November 25, after a long few months of complaining about my job and desperately trying to put myself back together again after a breakup, I posted, “…Damn thankful for the Lexapro.”
And I was, too.
The Lexapro was 100% a game changer for me, but the biggest and best decision I made in 2009 was to get a new job. I took 17 days off in October of that year (I know this because I was really excited about it and posted the length of my vacation more than once), and my goal was to have a new job before I went back to work.
By the end of that month, I was posting about getting welcome emails and counting down how many shifts I had left.
Maybe I wouldn’t have been in the right frame of mind to look for a new job had I not been on the Lexapro. But I didn’t stay on it for that long, and the new job was definitely one reason I was able to wean off of it and stay sane.
I’d add more posts from that time, but the truth is they were all pretty repetitive and focused on the same three things: going to the bar, going to work, and complaining about how much I hated going to work and would rather be at the bar.
I know it probably sounds like I had a drinking problem. I mean, I didn’t think I did at the time, but looking back, I’m thinking, wow, girl, you drank a lot.
Well, often. I drank often.
Did I have a problem? Maybe. I definitely used alcohol to cope with how unsatisfied I was with my life and to feel normal in social situations.
The truth is, I don’t like crowds or making small talk. Masking my unconfirmed-but-strongly-suspected neurodivergent tendencies is exhausting. Today, for better or worse, when I do have downtime, nine times out of ten, I choose to spend it at home. The tenth time, I go to Panera alone with my laptop and earbuds, drink a Diet Pepsi the size of my head, and work on my laptop.
I cut back on booze significantly after having kids and stopped drinking completely at the beginning of 2025.
In 2009, though, I was trying to be “normal,” trying to be the person who had her shit together and desperately wanting to find someone to share my life with because I was so tired and bored. I wanted so much more than what I had, and I didn’t think I was going to find it sitting at home or at work. So, I went out, and I drank. Often. And a lot.
People talk a lot about how being a middle-aged woman is so freeing, and, oh my goodness, it is. I don’t know what causes that feeling, but I think about it a lot.
Is it just a natural consequence of living a life that has smacked me across the face so many times, I’m forced to enjoy the little things as much as I can before things fall apart again?
On good days, might it be finding my way back to myself? Getting back to hobbies that I used to love (for me, it’s drawing), revisiting the books I read a hundred times in middle school (Just as Long as We’re Together), or rewatching movies that my friends and I watched every time we had a sleepover (That Thing You Do!).
And when shit is really hard, is it a way of reminding myself that I have survived so much already, I will probably survive whatever this is, too?
Back in 2009, I was really focused on meaning rather than action. Everything had an explanation; actions, behaviors, and consequences could all be explained. I thought that if I could pinpoint the moment I fucked up, the moment I made the choice that led to the result that still wasn’t making me happy, I would never make that mistake again.
At the end of 2009, I promised myself that a new job meant a new start, and I was going to start making different choices.
Then, I met my now-husband in the most boring way: online while I was at work.
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