I used to be a really obnoxious Pearl Jam fan. I know, you’re asking, what Pearl Jam fan isn’t obnoxious? Beside the fucking point, okay?
A little timeline, just for reference… their first record hit when I was a freshman in high school and that was the first time I liked rock music (I was raised on country music). By the fourth album I was pregnant with my first child. Their fifth record still stands as my favorite. A little while after that I “grew up” [snort, yeah, right] found other music and sort of grew out of Pearl Jam. I still kept up with them in a sort of detached way, but after 9/11 especially, things like Grievance didn’t seem very appropriate [to me].
But recently my favorite radio station ever started putting a song from 2002 into rotation. (Side note: 2002 was either 100 years ago or yesterday, I can’t decide.) Coincidentally, I also started counseling recently, which tends to bring up memories [shudder]. So I started digging into the old CD collection and my brain is suddenly a slide show of my high school age bedroom, pregnancy at 18, art class in college, concerts with friends, my first date with my husband, my first job. BAM, BAM, BAM, just like that.
It’s so weird to feel like your old self, but somehow different. To go from “I’m not having kids,” to “oh, shit, I’m pregnant,” to “one more,” to “no way, no how, no more.” Dreaming of growing up and being happy, and then finding out that for me, happy isn’t always easy. Swearing I wouldn’t be like my mom, hating her job every day, and then guess what? I only hate my job 99 out of 100 days. Living in a place that felt like home the first time I set foot there. I never thought I would be “here,” but I guess here ain’t too shabby.