Stuck, Unstuck

Ingrid Michaelson played on Wednesday night at Lupo's. I dragged my feet about going, of course. A school night, too tired, crazy St Patrick's Day crowds, possible cover fees at any bar we went to, smaller bank account balance than I like. One of my strengths is finding reasons not to do things. Except it's not a strength.

As I listened to Ingrid's ethereal voice, I thought about how the evening rolled out. I ran through all the things that had happened to go RIGHT, and all in a row, no less. I found a parking spot, there was no cover, the guinness was cold and delicious, I had some moments to people watch by myself while Emily and Becky arrived. When Becky came, she came bearing gifts, a shamrock bracelet. We had some beers, some laughs, ran into an old aquaintance from BofA, and then met the weatherman, R.J. Heim. At first, we simply asked to take a picture with him. What then unfolded was a running joke about setting Becky up and the guys escorting us to Lupo's at the pace of a gazelle chasing its dinner.

We arrived just on time, walked right in, no trouble with the tickets at Will Call. Got some cheap beers, listened to Angel something. She didn't suck. She actually was reminiscent of Jewel's early years, and we all know how I love Jewel.

Now that you've gotten a look at the longest consecutive string of events that went right for me since my wedding day, you can see that my luck, of late, has not been great. My previous entries are somewhat evident of this. So I'm listening to how beautiful her voice is. I'm watching her dance so comfortably on stage. I'm standing 15 feet from the stage so the music is overwhelming my eardrums. And I felt happy. Free. Like I was no longer stuck. The flash.

I set up this regimented schedule for myself. Wake up at 5:45, get ready (the routine is timed to the minute). Go to school (another timed to the minute part of my day that rarely allows for any "downtime), come home, have a snack, clean up or pay bills or run errands or watch a bit of tv, make dinner, make lunch, make coffee, iron or wash clothes or search for discounts or shop for whomever's birthday or revise the budget or...or...or... Shocking revelation for this evening's post?

I don't have to do any of that shit. I can drink on a school night and spend $30 on a concert ticket. I can go to school and call it in, if I need to. I don't have to work at this crumbling school for the rest of my life. I can switch schools if I want to. I don't need to weigh so much. I don't need to feel guilty about my family's problems. I also don't have to solve them all. I don't have to concede what I really want and base my own needs on other's expectations of what I need or on what someone else wants. I can enjoy the sun and the rain, or not. I can rant about life not being fair and then, then I can let. it. go.

People always say to change what you don't like about your life. Most of the time, it's something that can't be changed by one person with one decision. I got so bogged down by all the things I could do nothing about. All the injustices and the crappy luck that makes life barely bearable. But there ARE things you can change, even if it's as small as sleeping 5 minutes later or singing off key at a concert and pretending to dance like Jermaine.

Mental Health Day

Isn't it strange how we neglect the health of our mind and only allow for "sick days" to be taken for physical ailments. The exhaustion and depression of the mind can be much more detriment to our daily activity that a stuffy nose or even a migraine. When did society stop caring about the whole person?
I suppose since the age of manufacturing.

Yesterday, I learned that taking a mental health day can help you to reset your entire attitude. Refraining from the day to day minutae can relieve your stress. And stress, my friends, is a killer. Just because it doesn't show up on an x-ray or evidence itself in a blood test doesn't mean it doesn't exist. And, lemme tell you. A mental health day, when you need it, when planned well, can turn that frown upside down.

Also, Alice in Wonderland is dark and delightful. I didn't think I would be impressed. As it is, I believe it was...fantastical and marvelous.

Pieces of You

These last months have been fraught with agonizing introspection and exhausting realization. So much of who I was has disappeared as I have molded myself into this rigid vision of what a "married woman" is and should be. Why I feel the need to "define" myself is just another element of my OCD that has become my entire adult psyche. And yet, illuminating these parts of myself makes me feel a little like Sybil and a little more like a human being. However, ignoring the legos that built my adolescent and young adult life has created a bit of a Jenga tower that recently became very tipsy.

I am still organized and responsible. I take risks, but only after they are ultimately calculated to the nth degree. "I don't tie my shoes without a backup plan." While this used to be endearing it has become more of a compulsion than a quirk. This structure and conformity helps me to lead a manageable life where the dishes get done and the bills get paid and the credit score improves and the "American Dream" can flutter just out of grasp for another month, the ultimate carrot that pulls away as I push closer. I know where my paycheck is coming from and how much it will be for. I have health insurance and car insurance and life insurance. I pay for things that I will need in "an emergency" and I invest in my retirement fund. My day to day is functioning in a way that seems typical to those on the outside. The status quo is maintained no matter what's thrown our way and of course, I can handle it. It=anything and everything. I'll come back to this in a moment.

So what's missing?

I realized that there are a few pieces of me that have absented themselves in the last five years. Perhaps even longer than that. As I reflect on the woman, well, the girl I used to be, I notice that there is a vastly different level of optimism and energy. I see the world differently. I see conflict differently. I even see myself differently.

There are parts of me that have become so much more angry and bitter, disillusioned with humanity. I am actively losing confidence in some friends and family, old and new. The doldrums strike for longer and I notice that I throw my hands in the air with defeat more often. I laugh less and I'm developing permanent frown lines and bags under my eyes. When a person snaps, I snap back. I find I've got so much to say that I have a hard time listening. My opinions have become much less accepting and my righteousness is rampant. I just CAN'T take the time to understand why people act the way they do. My curiousity about the human spirit and mind makes choices is pushed aside as I roll my eyes in snap judgement.

The irony is that I am the most self loathing person I know. I judge myself the most harshly. Between my weight and my attitude I am ashamed at what I've become. The exterior facade has become nothing to be proud of. Instead of being a strong, independent, 'roll with the punches' woman I am cold, rigid, and lack sponteneity. It's unattractive, depressing, and repels others. People used to enjoy being around me. I was the life of the party and now I have become the "friend" who doesn't find out about the party. Rightfully so. Noone wants to be around the negativity that has become my little black soul.

There's also a little person in me. One that craves the wonder that comes with discovery and just doesn't understand why the world can be so unfair. She's a little girl that wants to live on Prince Edward Island in a castle like the Tower of London and play with Teddy Ruxpin, her must favoritest friend in the universe. A little girl who wants to be able to cry without feeling embarassed and who can spin around in a dress without telling herself to grow up, be an adult, and double check her makeup and hair to assure that it wasn't mussed.

There are more pieces. More emotions. More traumatic neurological pathways to exhaust. I thought bravery was stoicism. It's not. There's a lot of backtracking I have to do to allow myself to feel what I should have felt all that time ago. And I think the hardest part is asking for people to see that side of me. My expectation is lack of acceptance. Surprise me, please.
Self-actualization has to allow each of these pieces of me to