My name is Erika, and I'm a 30-something single social worker living in the DC area. I fall down a lot, which i blame on my big feet, I'm terrified of clowns and bugs, I'm not entirely sure how to use twitter, and I tend to have a lot of bad luck, which other people find entertaining. I say yall, love baseball probably on the level of obsession, have a gay best friend that everyone thinks is my boyfriend, and I love drama that's not my own. This is my story.
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I (mostly) grew up in the Northern Virginia area. Despite spending most of my formative years in the pseudo North, I'm a Southern girl at heart and I dream of one day moving to the country.
I was that girl in high school that was in all the honors and AP classes, simply because that's where I was told to be. I was unsure of college plans until one day sitting in an info session RE time tables for PSATs and SATs, it just hit me like a ton of bricks. I want to go to UVA. For no particular reason, either. It's just suddenly what I wanted more than I'd ever wanted anything else. Good thing I was in all those honors and AP classes already. I chugged along and continued doing what I was doing, and eventually shared with my guidance counselor that I had UVA aspirations. She basically told me that there was no way I was going to get in. This I didn't so much understand. I had their average GPA and SAT scores, worked an almost full time job while maintaining those grades, and sort of dabbled in extra curricular activities. While I didn't think I was a shoe-in, I felt her lack of faith was a little misplaced. I applied early decision, and
WAHOOWA
I became a Hoo. My guidance counselor was not exactly high on my priority list to share my joy, so she ended up tracking me down in the hall one day to confront me about not letting her in on my good news. I kind of blankly stared at her and reminded her that she didn't think I could get in, so why would I choose to celebrate with her? (I did celebrate with a friend, when I ran to her place of employment after opening my acceptance letter, jumped on her, and proceeded to hit her with the letter while screaming for about 10 minutes. In front of people. Good times.)
I loved every second I spent at UVA, although, admittedly, I didn't appreciate it on a level I should have. The history and immense awesomeness was kind of lost of me at the time. Instead, I strolled around the historic grounds like it was any old day, went to class, joined a sorority, and took advantage of a lot of free sports. One of my sisters taught me the ins and outs of basketball (which I'd never watched until going to a game with my then-boyfriend and immediately falling in love) using a poster that I hung up by my bed and studied every day when I woke up and before going to sleep. The day I graduated was one of the saddest days of my life.
I did stick around Charlottesville for another year-ish. I found a job working with kids aging out of the foster care system. That job was extremely challenging, but fun and rewarding. Eventually, however, I made the sad decision to move back to the Northern Virginia area, and here I am today.
I finally found a job doing support services for adults with serious mental illness after moving back up here. It was a combination of what I had been doing with my foster kids (skill teaching) with what I had studied in school (psychology and mental illness). Interesting doesn't even begin to cover it. That job led me to my current case manager position, which I've had since 2008. My job is challenging, difficult, hysterical, frustrating, and sometimes extremely rewarding. No two days are the same, that's for sure. Definitely keeps me on my toes, and I get to wear jeans and a tshirt, so what's not to love?
I grew up a sports fan, mostly loving football and counting down the days between seasons. At UVA, I discovered the joys of college basketball, as well as lacrosse (at my first lax game, I asked the friend sitting next to me if you were allowed to hit the other team with your stick. He looked at me and said "why would you give a man a stick if he wasn't allowed to use it?" I instantly knew this sport was made for me). I also attended numerous other sporting events bc I generally love sports, it was free, and UVA is pretty good at most things. This is where my love of baseball started to grow. Growing up, I HATED baseball. Thought it was the most boring thing around. Going to games at UVA was fun, though (outside in the sun, guys in baseball pants... what's not to love?). I slowly began watching some post season MLB games (starting with the world series, and working my way backwards). The Nats moved to DC in 2005, and I moved back up here, giving me a home team to cheer for. I went to a game here and there, and bam! 10 years later, I'm a partial plan holder and I'm always bugging my friends to go to games with me. I keep score like a huge dork, and I love it. I've seen two no hitters (and one was one out shy of a perfect game) and a 20 strikeout game, and I consider myself extremely fortunate to be able to say that.
Through all of this, I haven't managed to find THE guy. I'm a serial monogamist, and I'd never been on a real first date until a few years ago.... just always managed to meet guys and get to know them in other ways without going out on a real "first date." Now, I feel like I've racked up a million first dates, and have been on more than my fair share of terrible ones. I'm convinced people get married just so they can stop dating.
This is my story... a collection of current happenings and throw back stories that my friends can't seem to get enough of (and I can't believe actually happened to me). Please, laugh at my hardship. Goodness knows everyone else does.
