Coming Home to Bravery: Sarah James

Sarah James and I know each other from our college days. On the cusp of 30 herself, she has been an enthusiastic supporter of this project--even giving it a shout out on her fantastic blog Yum & Yuk. Sarah is currently a legal services attorney in Oregon.
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A year ago I was still reeling from having failed the MA Bar on my first go (by only two points, my pride requires me to tell you). I was working part time for the Census in Boston, going door-to-door bugging people for personal demographic information, and spending my downtime drinking.  My diet consisted of a rotation between Chinese food, frozen potato skins, and pizza. This was not how I imagined my first year after law school. Don’t get me wrong, there were some great things too – a supportive family, a loving boyfriend, wonderful friends (many of whom were sharing the same struggles as me), my health.  But I was broke, jobless, out of shape, uninsured, and pretty despondent about my future.

I am 3 months short of 30. 

When I hit 29 my best friend (the one I count on for everything, including keeping me up to date on my astrological forecast), sent me info about the “Saturn Return.”  The main thing I remember, the thing that has stuck with me, was something that explained your Saturn Return as a time in your life where, if you weren’t living in line with your core beliefs and values, your life would go into upheaval to get you re-aligned.  To me, this is what turning 30 is all about.

Last May, after an impulsive, in-my-underwear swim in Walden Pond and a powerful pang of longing for small town life, I casually called a friend in Oregon.  He told me about a job opening at legal services in the town where I grew up, at the organization I volunteered for in high school.  Within 24 hours, I applied, interviewed for, was offered, and accepted the position. A week later my boyfriend and I started the drive cross-country.

To summarize the 9 months since then, the thoughts I’ve had, the choices I’ve made, would be impossible without boring you to tears. But, in short: the first thing I did was quit drinking (a backlash against having spent much of the previous year in a bar). Living with my parents (temporarily!), having no money (legal services), and being sober (for the most part), my social life was….real quiet. I decided to take this extra time to work towards a long-term goal I never thought I would reach: completing a marathon and a half Ironman triathlon. I began running, for the first time in my life. My now-long-distance relationship ended, tearfully and sadly. During the day, I struggled to try to learn a job for which I’d received no training, working with clients who couldn’t afford to have me f*ck up. I fell in love with a woman who shared my name, and a few months later she broke my heart.

And then I began the celibacy quest. When people hear that I decided to be celibate for 6 months, they mainly just think about the sex aspect of it, which is understandable. But more than just not having sex, it’s meant taking a break from the relentless quest to get approval from other people, the endless search for someone who would make me feel like enough. And then one weekend I decided to go to church (the church I found by Googling “gay friendly churches Oregon” – a modern spiritual quest for sure), and this past week, after 7 months of attendance, I formally became a member, with the blessing of our lesbian minister.

There is so much more to say about all of this and I, obviously, could ramble forever. This past year has been an exercise in both stretching my boundaries and returning to a place in myself that feels like home, returning to the “me” I spent my 20s battling. And that’s what excites me so much about turning 30, and the coming decade – coming home to bravery.

Am I always this positive? Hell no. Every day I worry my ovaries are drying up, that I will be “alone forever,” that my savings account will never be sufficient enough to stop this constant anxiety, that I am failing at my job every day, that I will never live in the same place as all my scattered, wonderful friends. But if I could survive my 20's – that dark, scary, insecure, brittle, self-doubting time – I’m ready for the 30's. One year later, I live in a small Oregon town where I work as a legal services attorney. I live with two friends, two dogs, and my first garden. I’m training for my first marathon and triathlon. I don’t drink or do drugs. I cut out most processed foods. I’m celibate, church-going, and sugar-free. Yep.