Courtesy of Max Ehrmann…
Category Archives: Lessons Learned
Plan B
“I have woven a parachute out of everything broken.” ~William Stafford
I’m not saying anything new here but always, always, ALWAYS have a Plan B. One day you could be going about your life, minding your own business, enjoying your new boots that fit your fat calves and the next day you get stabbed in the back and everything that you thought was going up is headed right back down.
Or not.
Yesterday…God…I can’t even begin to describe. I spent the entire day so stressed out that there was no eating but there were seven klonopin and five cups of coffee. Come 10 PM, when I was on my third glass of Maker’s Mark, I finally enjoyed a perfectly marinated chicken breast. There was a lot of pacing and marching up then back down my street thinking of the What If’s. All of the very bad things that might happen over the next six months. Those things that you never think would happen but are always there, ready to pop out of a closet saying BOO, bitch! I’m still here! Be prepared for doom! Then it goes slithering back into its corner while you sit on your (disgusting) kitchen floor sobbing.
And that’s how things are right now. But to focus on the Very Bad would literally drive me crazy. Let’s face it, I’m already heavily medicated for a psychological disorder, I don’t think my neurons could take the extra pressure. I was on the phone with my mother explaining Plan B and she kept telling me that things would be OK. I would get through This Thing, so why worry? And I told her that it wasn’t worry so much as the sheer fear that if I continued to think about The Thing then there’s a very high building somewhere that I could just fly off of. Oh yes, I went there. I have to think about anything else but this, so that is what I am doing.
I have a book proposal to finish and photos to process and Project XX to work on and a body that cannot withstand another public panic attack.
This wasn’t the post I had planned. Actually I was going to write about how well things are going and I could finally breathe again. Then this Thing happened. An elephant sat on my chest and everything that was now isn’t. And now I’m the only one who can fix it…it is my life after all. So, I will.
Also posted in That's Life 5 Comments
What they don’t tell you
“As a teenager you are at the last stage in your life when you will be happy to hear that the phone is for you.” ~Fran Lebowitz
I’m eight and my mother denies me the single joy of a McDonald’s cheeseburger. I ask why and she gives me a succinct, “Because I said so”. I huff and tell her that when I grow up I am going to eat cheeseburgers everyday. And for dessert strawberry ice cream with crushed Oreos on top. I’ll drive everywhere and never shower or wash my face. No one will be able to turn the lights on early in the morning and greet me with a, “Rise and shine!” and force me to go to school. I’ll stay in bed all day but eventually I will get married and have babies. When I’m 24 years old. No matter because my kids will think I’m a rock star because I will never yell or make them get up in the morning. My kids will get milkshakes for breakfast and we’ll all watch The Real World all day long. We will sit close to the television and experience superfluous nudity courtesy of MTV. Speaking of, MTV will always play music videos. The raunchy kind that I’m not allowed to watch. But that’s ok because when I grow up I’ll be able to watch as many scantily clad people as I’d like.
I hate to break it to you but that’s not how it happened. No one tells you that if you decide to eat Big Macs everyday for a week, you probably won’t shit for a week either. No one tells you that seven Oreos a day will make your ass fat. Milkshakes will give you something better than child-birthing hips, try heifer-hips. No one says that if you don’t wash your face for days, Exxon will will be able to build an oil derrick on your T-zone. Technically no one can physically force you to rise each morning. And God help the person who suggests shining. Despite that technicality, no one tells you of the gut wrenching, stomach churning, I need a handful of klonopin and a shot of Jack, type guilt that you will be riddled with if you decide not to get up in the morning. No one tells you that you’ll sometimes have to give up your vacations, make tough choices and deal with people you really can’t stand without that nice feeling of knowing that (for you) college somewhere far far away is coming up (the only proper place for them is a penitentiary). No one tells you that you just have to deal. That you’ll have to suck it up and move on.
And sad to say, MTV won’t play music forever. And not only will you not want to see anyone else naked but you sure as hell won’t want to see yourself naked (see also: Oreos, consumption of). You won’t sit right next to the television because you’ll probably go blind. Hell, you probably won’t even watch TV. You’ll ignore what’s going on out there and be all “Who is Justin Beiber?!” and you really won’t care.
They won’t tell you that 24 isn’t old. Neither is 26. They won’t tell you that your plan is bullshit and very few things will go accordingly.
They’ll tell you that you shouldn’t be in a hurry to grow up. They’ll tell you to go forth and enjoy this spring day. Enjoy lounging and mandatory naps and someone telling you to just go to bed now. They’ll tell you to enjoy someone else doing the cooking and the cleaning and the laundry and the motherfucking bill paying. They will tell you all of these things. One day you’ll grow up and finally heed their words. You’ll wish you had listened. You will make a mental note to share this secret with the world because somewhere, out there is another eight year old who won’t listen. They will tell you that someday you’ll learn and you will. Trust me you will.
Posted in Lessons Learned 14 Comments
The Bright Side
“In childhood, we yearn to be grown-ups. In old age, we yearn to be kids. It just seems that all would be wonderful if we didn’t have to celebrate our birthdays in chronological order.” ~Robert Brault
On Friday I took the scenic route home from Manhattan and stopped at Alana’s house to make an already long drive even longer. She asked me how old I would be turning on my upcoming birthday. I told her 26 and without skipping a beat she announced, “That’s the dark side of your twenties you know…” And then I got up and left and hoped to get hit by a large truck on the thruway. The end.
***
I tend to become introspective as my birthday approaches. Though I’m finding that most people think about where their lives are and where their lives are going around the time of their birthdays. I’m finally at an age where I’m noticing that birthdays are coming very quickly. Yet I’m still young enough to remember thinking that my birthday couldn’t come soon enough. Why oh why was it only July? Why couldn’t it be mid-October? Why is 10 soooo far away? Why can’t I be an ADULT NOW NOW NOW? Here I am an adult and 16 years past 10.
Why can’t I slow things down a bit?
***
26 isn’t a big deal at least that’s how I felt up until two days ago when I had a massive panic attack after doing something so very un-adult like. Now six days until my birthday and I’m feeling rather itchy about the entire thing. I personally do not think I should be turning 26. Not that 20-25 were anything to throw confetti at but 26 feels different. I remember writing a post a few years ago about my then roommate who was being a douche and saying that at 26 he was ‘damn near 30′. I remember the comments and the emails after that statement because 26 is nowhere near 30. Here I am almost 26 and feeling dangerously close to 30. That’s why this is the ‘dark side’; I’m now on that downhill slope to 30. I’m torn between how arbitrary 30 is and who though of that and also OMFG 30.
I was going to have kids by 30. I was going to be married. I have neither. Am I happy with that? I think so.
***
I was around a two year old, a four year old and an eight year old respectively this weekend. Suddenly I can think of 76 other things I’d rather do than have children right now including, but not limited to, cleaning my kitchen floor with a toothbrush. Children are lovely. They really are. But I don’t think I could handle the having to repeat myself 27 times due to selective hearing. Of course when I say, “We’re having pie for dessert!” it’s a god damn miracle to see how quickly a kid responds to that.
***
I’m going to be 26 and I have at least one parent who likes me.
I’m going to be 26 and I’m having a mini-party on Tuesday night.
I’m going to be 26 on the 26th: My champagne birthday. I’m making pumpkin bread and mimosas to celebrate.
I’m going to be 26 after having 24 and 25 being so terrible and mistake laden.
I’m going to be 26 and I have this feeling – this deep seeded, all encompassing, feel it in my heart type feeling – that this year is going to be really, really good.
I’m going to be 26. I can’t wait.
Posted in Lessons Learned 9 Comments
Some Confidence to Go With That Swimsuit
“Sex appeal is fifty percent what you’ve got and fifty percent what people think you’ve got.” ~Sophia Loren
I am so embarrassed to admit that last week I lost my shit and sounded exactly someone’s hysterical parent as I threatened to ‘turn this God Damn car around’ and I did. After telling the person on the other end of the phone to fuck off of course. Because if anything when faced with mounting stress, I am one classy woman. So there I was on the side of the road in the middle of the Green Mountains of Vermont, clutching my pearls and saying ‘motherfucker’ between every breath. I survived the ordeal or I should say that we, the person who I offended and I both survived the ordeal to tell the tale but I have hit that crucial moment where people look at me and say “Damn, girl, you could use a break”. In a few weeks I will be taking that break on a Delaware beach sporting this:
Nice, right?
While I am the last woman to show off my swimsuit confidence courtesy of Lands’ End I knew that this was a project that I had to be a part of. You see, many years ago, like 17, I had no swimsuit confidence. I was a chubby 10 year old who constantly found herself in a t-shirt over her swimsuit. This was something I had actually put in the far away corners of my mind but at 27 to look back at my 10 year old self, a still forming little girl, and knowing how embarrassed that little girl was to be seen in a suit in front of her bikini clad friends…well…it’s sad. My heart breaks for that child knowing that eventually her baby fat would be less baby fat and would turn into hips and breasts and curves. Those beautiful things that make women, women. At the time I was also attending Girl Scout camp – for more years than I care to admit – but I was surrounded by these confident counselors and other girls. At first we tried to hide behind towels and to remove our suits from under our clothing. Hoping that no one caught even the slightest glimpse of our bodies. I’d hold a towel in my teeth, my backside in a corner, while maneuvering the straps practically dislocating a shoulder in the process. But at least no one saw my nipple!
And then I stopped caring. I can’t remember when exactly but it just happened. One minute I was giggling at the slightest view of some other campers ass and the next I was regularly changing while carrying out a conversation on the days activities. “We’re going to take the girls to lunch now”, I’d say, hands on my hips and bra less. It was a body and everyone has a body so let’s just roll with it.
That’s how I’ve been ever since. I know my flaws and openly discuss them but when it comes to wearing a bathing suit, I shrug. Yeah, I’ve got cellulite and my hips don’t lie but I never claimed to be Gisele. The beaches I frequent over the summer represent women of all shapes and sizes. Larger, older women, with little skirts do polar bear swims at 7 AM. They’re out there in the cold with the fog rolling across the Nantucket Sound but they look and feel so free. Then there’s brunch on the beach where they’re all out there doing their thing over a plate of quiche. It’s a sight to see but as I see it, they don’t care what they look like so why should I?
Every woman has their hang ups but being in a swimsuit isn’t one of mine. Now if I could get life/work/relationship confidence? That would be awesome. I wonder if Lands End sells any of that.
*Disclaimer: Lands End provided me with this swimsuit as part of their Swimsuit Confidence program. All words and obsession with how awesome my swimsuit looks on me are of my own. But seriously, the ruching makes me happy and they didn’t make me say that*