Clichéd
April 29, 2008 | Filed under: Mmhmm That's Right, Sucks like a vacuum
“If you’re going through hell, keep going. ~Winston Churchill”
You know things aren’t going well when after buying out Ann Taylor Loft you sit in your car listening to Kimya Dawson while inhaling Coldstone ice cream. Ice cream that you haven’t had in like three years and yet it’s made a strong comeback into your daily intake along with other liquid dairy products and excessive amounts of high fructose corn syrup, meanwhile every second sitting in that car, you can feel yourself about to cry and yet you don’t or can’t or perhaps you’re afraid that someone will see you and then question why you are sitting in your car crying in the middle of the afternoon. Because don’t you have a job or something to go to? So you sit and sit and feel like crying but you don’t cry and this process repeats itself for days until you finally find yourself moping at work and then eating your weight in naan and saag paneer while your mother sits across from you and wonders when you replaced with your mouth with a fantastic Dyson sucking mechanism. In between sips of root beer – which has also decided to make itself known once again – you say, “It’s personal” and look rather forlorn and she gets the menacing look like ‘who just fucked with my baby’ so you smile and say “I AM FINE” so that she doesn’t go around the eastern seaboard slashing tires.
From then on you decide to fake feeling just fine! And great! Even though on the inside you feel like someone has been kicking you with the business end of a golf shoe and my, when did spikes get so sharp and pointy? You quickly tire of hearing that things take time and distance and ice cream but this time and distance shit suck and ice cream only makes you bloated with a fat ass which makes you thankful for empire waists but still! Who will want you with a bloated and fat ass? This, you contemplate for days on end while simultaneously pretending to listen and pay attention and care and have normal conversations with dignitaries while your mind is far off and so you keep drinking wine and then spend two solid days inside until one day the voice of Carrie Bradshaw reverberates through your head via seven hours of Sex and the City and you realize that you’ve become a fucking cliché. More importantly you realize that you are not the first or last person to become desperately heartsick so you can either go back to your normal activities and stop eating your weight in dairy and Jack Daniels or you continue on with your sad and pathetic behavior even though others might not think it all sad and pathetic but rather normal even though one person has allowed you to “keep up with this shit” for a few more days. You mull this for a second and decide on normal. The next day you go to the gym and return to a diet of seaweed salad, sushi, soymilk and flavored seltzer. You have a conversation without crying, you make plans with several of your favorite ladies and to also log more airplane time.
And life moves on, as it should.
Angella says:
This makes me happy, for I don’t like it at all when you are sad.
It also makes me want to get sushi for lunch today
slynnro says:
Might I advise against listening to “I Can’t Make You Love Me” by Bonnie Raitt on repeat. Not that I’ve ever done that or anything.
Also you know, come to Dallas and meet up with that one girl you met that one time that made you sit on glass. That seems like a totally genius idea, doesn’t it?
Momo Fali says:
Stupid hormones.
She Likes Purple says:
I agree with Stara, come to Dallas but invite me along when you go out.
Assertagirl says:
I know that look…my mother gives me that same look, too. Only she’d be kickin’ some balls instead of slashin’ some tires.
elise says:
Man, this was a perfect description of the before and after. I find that almost always, I can’t think of anything but the present. When things are really bad, all I can think of is how horrible they are. And once I turn the corner, as you just did, I sort of forget how awful they all are, and only think about “normal” stuff. It’s pretty cool to see them both splayed out there next to each other.
Moose says:
I’ve started eating salad again too. We rule.
Camels & Chocolate says:
I’m sorry…what were you saying? I got distracted after the mention of Cold Stone and felt the need to look up where the nearest one is located from me at the moment (50.25 miles, in another state, sadly).
But you know what will cure your blues? MOVING TO SAN FRANCISCO. I promise. It did for me!
For serious, yo, I’m glad that, in the end, life moved on. But we all have those days/weeks/months, so you’re not alone.
Camels & Chocolate says:
P.S. I so thought I was the only 25 year old who bought out Ann Taylor Loft on a semi-regular basis (it’s seasonal). Alas, I have a soulmate!
Torrie says:
(((HUG)))
Angela says:
Hm, I eat your heartbreak diet on a regular basis! Good for you for whipping yourself into shape, and have fun jet setting!
Desha says:
May I advise that you get thee to a faraway, very sunny beach? I can reccomend some that are FANTASTIC for sitting/crying/drinking/GETTTING OVER (way over) people. Email me, I’m serious….worked for me!
gorillabuns says:
You could have your mother say something wickedly horrible to the person (it’s happened to me) and while it is both embarrassing and sweet (aww,at least there is someone who still loves me), it doesn’t change a damn thing. You’re still heartbroken.
I’m sorry.
ɹǝƃƃolquǝʞoʇ says:
“Just fake it,” is advice a long ago therapist gave me.
And it works, along with the little “half smile.”
brookem says:
Funks suck.
Amen to this one sister. I was in the thick of it for a while there myself, and could relate so much to this.
Glad you’re out and hope you’re feeling better with each day!
Katie says:
Rather than a cliché, I think it’s perfectly normal. My mother told me, “Try not to be so depressed” when she dropped me off at college after a summer of heartbreak. I think the mourning process is what makes us human.
Kristabella says:
I think it is normal too. If you didn’t get all sad and mopey, you’d just be a robot.
And robots can’t eat ice cream and drink Jack Daniels.