Taking a page from Jeff Foxworthy...
You might be loser when you've exhausted all the episodes of Battlestar Gallactica rented through your six disc subscription to Netflix (yeah, three DVD's at a time just isn't enough) so you sit and read blogs while you wait for a few more episodes to download through Amazon Unbox.
The words stung. I knew they were coming and they were well deserved but they still stung. A pail of water on an already drowning woman, I forced a few deep breaths in an effort to calm myself lest I start balling in front of the 22 y.o. young man now seated directly outside my office.
This certainly wasn't where I expected to be but I've been ignoring the inevitable for so long and the inevitable hasn't taken kindly to being ignored. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
From the surface to my core, I'm a seriously flawed individual. For the most part I keep my shit to myself - my blog being my only real outlet for the abundance of insecurity, self-loathing/doubt/reflection that riddles my mind. I don't like sharing it with people. Sure, I recognize that we all share some sort of common experience but well-intended wonderful people come back to me with advice and relation tales that just don't ring of relation - I'm left feeling even more isolated and alone than I felt before I shared the problem or feeling. So, I just don't share.
Add it to my list of serious flaws.
Here's another - over the years, I've learned not to expect anything from people. You expect things from people and they just disappoint you. What I've failed to recognize is that this doesn't absolve you from the expectations of others.
This month marks three years in New York. It's the longest I've been in any one place since law school. My life has been transient since I left home for college fifteen years ago. Fifteen years, seven different cities and an address book full of wonderful friends from one coast to the other. I've been there for the weddings, called off weddings, the divorces, the birth of babies, the death of a husband, cancer, surgeries, house sitting, cat sitting, dog walking - I've been there. I've racked up more frequent flier miles to spend time with my friends, bachelorette parties, funerals, weddings, showers. I've been there.
Husbands, new last names, babies...the onus always resting squarely on me. To pick up the phone, make the travel reservation, buy the bridesmaid dress, send the gift be it shower, wedding, baby...most at times when Ted and I were struggling. We've always been struggling.
I always found a way to make it all work without a second though. The love I have for each one of these people overshadowed any material cost. They were worth the struggle. So, I incurred the debt - I've never been a stranger to debt. I was happy to incur it even.
There were also times when I just couldn't do it. I simply couldn't put the Williams and Sonoma Salt and Pepper shakers or the certificate to Baby Gap on the card for friends already living in McMansions, driving luxury cars and carrying handbags I could only covet.
With each gift left unpurchased, with births missed, birthday cards unacknowledged I gave myself fifty lashings. I wish I only gave myself fifty. I felt (feel) absolutely overridden with guilt because I carried each one of these indiscretion on my conscience. I failed them. I retreated. I failed them again. For the first time in my life, I found myself absolutely unable to be the friend that I had prided myself in being.
I became absolutely overwhelmed and burdened by the guilt I was feeling. When I did "man up" and reach out to friends, I plied them with the mea culpas I felt I owed them. Never once thinking it was okay to forgive myself for having limits. I made easily forgivable situations a million times worse by promising to make it up to them. I over promised and then buried myself and tarnished my image by under delivering. Promising to make it up to someone with a trip. Promising a trip when I'd used all my vacation time for my own wedding. Sure, I'd committed the horrible act of missing a birthday but now I was making promises I couldn't keep. The friend who misses birthdays was bad. The friend who makes promises she can't keep - not as easily forgiven.
Here's where I stop and insert a point of clarification. I am fully aware that I did this to myself. No one did this to me. I got myself to this place with absolutely no pushing. I am not blaming anyone else for this. I'm not bitter with anyone. I'm only disappointed in myself. First, for getting myself to this place. This place where I find myself now...so far gone. Second, I'm deeply saddened by the fact that I let people down by promising more of myself than I had to give. I never should have done that. Third, I'm disappointed that I've never learned to say "no" to things. I shouldn't have been in some of the weddings I was in but I wanted to be. I want to be included in everything. Not only is it more than a little sad and pathetic, frankly, I couldn't afford it. I had no business trying to do all these things. I didn't have the time, money, vacation time to plan bachelorette parties, showers, etc.
I'm also not trying to suggest that I was a martyr. Lord knows, I've been far from the perfect friend. What I did was try to pretend that I was and that I could be. I don't know why I ever thought I could be so many things to so many people. I can't. I never could. I'm not cut from that cloth. I have a finite amount of energy. I'm horribly selfish. YET, I desperately wanted to be that person to these friends and I tried to pretended that I could be. Over extending myself, I tried to be the best friend to too many people.
My performance? Spotty at best. I'd get a card out early and a gift in the mail one year but the next I'd realize I missed it two or three weeks after the date and embarrased by the prospect of more mea culpas, I'd hide. AVOIDANCE was my coping mechanism. That and alcohol.
It needs to be said, that through this, I also failed the most important person in my life, my boyfriend-now-husband, Ted. My very best friend, the person who gets me and asks nothing of me but my time and I've spent so much time failing others and obsessing about how I'm failing all these people I've failed the singular most important person in my life.
Cause here is the other truth. My friends have failed me too. I just got finished saying that they hold no blame and I stand by that. That said, had I not spent all this time apologize for being human and for the mistakes I've made - I might have a leg to stand on with this next point but sadly but being the always apologetic one, I've hacked away at the leg and knocked my own ass to the ground.
As I've said, I don't expect much from people but a few years ago I realized something...the only person over committing herself, spending money she didn't have and hopping on planes for weekends cross country was me. I was getting calls when people needed to talk to me about their problems - I've made myself a great listener but no one was calling me to tell me how much they miss and love me. How they can't believe it's been so long since they've seen me and how desperately the want to spend time with me. No one else was getting on the fucking plane. Fuck, they weren't even EMAILING!
This is particularly tough to face in light of something that happened right around the time I moved to New York. Around this time, I began to battle the worst depression I have ever faced in my life. I was in a constant battle with thoughts I never ever wanted to entertain. I might not have been sharing but it didn't take a rocket scientist to see that I was in desperate need of help. When I got right, I mentioned my disappointment to a few people and I got answers. They weren't the answers I needed nor the ones I deserved.
In spite of all this, I was still killing myself because I felt like I was letting everyone down without taking a moment to realize, no admit to myself, that they were letting me down too. It's taken me years to acknowledge and truly recognize this fact, but there is no question I was aware of it's truth. As a result, I was constantly seeking the friendships of others. Needing new friends as the others rightfully lived their own lives - giving their attentions to their new husbands and subsequent children. My life was far from resembling the direction my friends' lives were taking them. I kept scrambling. Trying to add more people.
I don't know exactly when friendship became more about quantity over quality but you don't get more misguided than that. I suppose it was when I was packing my third bridesmaid dress into a cardboard box as I vacated our Boston apartment for Minnesota. All I know is here I sit feeling more alone than ever before. In a nutshell, whatever I've been doing hasn't been working. I've let more people down than I care to count but the person I've hurt the most is me.
So, here we are back to the beginning. A friend, one of the few who will get on the phone and tell me that they value me and they love me and they want to spend time with me, was telling me that she'd had enough of my bullshit.
The levies gave way. In that moment I realized how long I've been treading just barely keeping my head above water. Now I was choking on it.
As she told me she was tired of my bullshit, I realized that if I had any hopes of salvaging this friendship, I needed to let go of the bullshit too. So, here is my attempt to put it all out before me.
It's clear I've got to get my priorities in line. I've also got to stop apologizing for the fact that I can only give so much. I started this out by saying I'm flawed and I'm flawed.
My number one priority is my husband. I never see my husband. He works insane hours and I miss him terribly. I've got to stop pretending I have a lot time on the weekends because I want to spend my time with him. I've officially become that woman but I guess I've got to realize that there's a reason everyone before me became that woman too. Even with this, I still only get him half a weekend.
Next, I need to put more value and respect into the friendships that I do have. It's true, I can't maintain them all and it's inevitable that friendships will be lost. This is going to immeasurably difficult for me but its simply the way it has to be. Somehow, I'm going to have to accept that it's okay.
I bitch about my job but I'm still in an incredibly demanding, professional position. It's a job I still need. I'm also habitually overworked and underpaid. This is particularly true right now. I'm absolutely overwhelmed. I need to go home after work and mentally check out. I need this for both my mental and physical health. I'm fucking BUSY. I need to be realistic about the plans I make during the week. That said, my door is always open. I just can't make promises I can get to you.
I've got to establish boundaries. I can be an ear but I can't take on all the drama. This novella should prove that I've created enough drama of my own.
I've got to stop apologizing. Hopefully, if I get my priorities back on track, I won't feel the need to apologize any more. Even then, it's okay to make mistakes. It's not okay for repeated bad behavior but I'm hoping that if I can learn to make only the promises I won't have to apologize. I can be the friend I can be. The friends my friends deserve.
That's all I'm going to outline because this has taken a self-helpy stance that's getting hard for me to stomach. I may be turning over a new leaf but even I have limits! And I'm nothing if I'm not me. Deeply flawed and constantly mucking things up. Hopefully, I still have enough people who will love me unconditionally. Flaws and all.
I've you've made it here. Thank you for reading.
I was sucked into the tumblverse.
Once the hype died down, I asked Ari to go see Sex And The City with me. Along with my sister, the three of us made plans to meet at the theater last Friday. As Ari and I waited for Katie (undoubtedly both surprised that we both made it on time), three young girls approached and asked if we would take their picture.
Maybe it's still too soon, I thought.
My sister finally arrived and the three of us made our way into the theater just in time for the previews.
The previews.
I suppose we more than ask for it going to this sort of film but as Ari wisely stated, couldn't they have just shown us eight tampon commercials and been done with it? (As an unrelated note, sometimes I tell myself I should clean/class this blog up a bit and sadly, I find myself right back in the gutter).
Hollywood has got a formula for us gals and I know three gals that found it pretty hard to swallow.
Which left us with the film. Which left me horribly depressed. The writers of the show seemingly had it SO right. Three years later, they've completely lost touch and with that any cleverness and wit that made the series so relatable.
I'm sorting through wedding proofs (Unfortunately, I can't share them just yet) and there are quite a few things I wish I knew before photographing my big day.
That messy hair that you thought would be appropriate for a 90+ degree beach wedding will not be beautiful and ethereal like you had planned. Instead it will just look messy (and kind of like a bad prom updo).
I really should have taken the opportunity to check my hair and make-up post ceremony.
Be careful where you tie your sash and how it cuts you off at the waist. You may end up looking pregnant in your wedding photos and then people will have new opinions on why you eloped.
Eating that fork full of cake - not a good look.
Make sure your dress is on symmetrically. Those pictures of your back with your zipper slightly askew will make you insane.
I make a lot of goofy facial expressions.
Also, wearing your dearly departed Grandmother's engagement ring is a sweet touch but you may end up looking like Liberace.
Abandon the vanity. It was the happiest day of my life. There are enough pictures that reflect that. The rest don't matter.
I'm a little bit better today. Sometimes, I need to manage my own expectations and take things day by day. Other times, I need to feel sorry for myself and stop my feet and wonder why it hasn't just fallen into my lap.
People often tell me that my blog reads as though I am a depressed person which is actually pretty far from the truth. As a person, I'm pretty happy but I often find myself unhappy with the state of my affairs. The life that I have created for myself.
Let me start by saying that the once exception I have to this general dissatisfaction is my relationship with Ted. Even though we disagree on just about everything - we make each other pretty damn happy. If only one person could make someone else happy with their life.
I think most of my general dissatisfaction stems from the fact that I hate my job. It's no real surprise, I spend a good part of my blogging bemoaning this fact.
Of course, there is a really simple solution for this and there is nothing I wouldn't rather do more than turn in my two weeks. Unfortunately, that doesn't offer me much of a solution. I'm old and pigeon-holed. And even though he is my husband, I don't want to rely on Ted financially. It just creates way too much friction than I can handle. Maybe it shouldn't. Maybe in other marriages it doesn't but it does. AND I DON'T WANT THAT.
I just sent in my resume for a position just like mine which sent me into an even deeper depression. Another job just like this is not going to be the answer to my problem. It might solve a lot of the issues I have with my current employer but despite these problems the real issue lies within the fact that I am not cut out for this traditional kind of work.
Part of me hates myself for even writing that. Part of me wonders if I'm just another spoiled brat who fancies herself a creative type simply to avoid the doldrums of the typical 9-5 day that millions of Americans are suffering through at this very moment. And to a certain extent, this is absolutely true.
But if I just wanted out, I could get out. BUT I want, and more importantly, I need more.
And it isn't about money or prestige - I would fetch water if I was working for something I believed in. If I was learning. While I'm not in a financial position where I don't have to work, I am in a financial position where I can work for a lot less than I currently make. I'm in a place where I could take a leap of faith but I don't know where to look for the opportunity. I don't know who to ask for help.
Additionally, I'm exhausted. I'm exhausted by the apathy and the general malaise that I face each morning when I wake up. I'm exhausted by the sour grapes I have as I watch much BRAVER individuals pursue the lives and careers that bring them mirth. I'm scared that I've missed my chance because I'm terrified that no one will take a chance on a 33 year old apathetic sour grape. I'm terrified that I've squandered what little talent I have through inaction.
So, yes, I'm the problem. Now, I just have to figure out how I become the solution.
(Conversation overheard in the elevator during my lunch break).
White Middle-Aged Man #1: Did you see Hillary last night?
White Middle-Aged Man #2: (mumble, mumble)
White Middle-Aged Man #1: Why didn't she concede? What's she waiting for? What do you think she wants?
White Middle-aged Man #2: :shrugs:
White Middle-aged Man #1: Does she want to be Vice-President?
White Middle-aged Man #2: ...
White Middle-aged Man #1: Is she waiting to be asked? She wants to be asked?
White Middle-aged Man #2: ...
White Middle-aged Man #1: Like most girls? She's just want to be asked?
Me - :Trying to cause man to spontaneous combust with my glare of death:
White Middle-aged Man #1: Exiting: She just wants her campaign debt erased.
Door closes.
Me: ASSHOLES.
I'm bring that phrase back. Because it's super cool.
I've had so much to share but then I got super busy at work.
SO, Obama. What's there to say that hasn't already been said? Right now I'm more intrigued by this billionaire dirty old mens club that our former President seems to be fraternizing with. Years ago, I was the only woman on a boys weekend in Vegas. The guy I was seeing at the time was the only "single" man on the trip decided that he wanted me to accompany him to Vegas. Oh LORDY, did I witness some shenanigans that weekend. These weren't good men in any sense of the imagination and give them a few thousand miles between them and their wives along with copious amounts of alcohol, strippers and legalized prostitution...
Some boys will always be boys.
Anyway, in the spirit of non sequitors, the woman who waxes her eyebrows pulled out her boob during my appointment last week. Yep. That's right.
I hadn't been into this particular salon (read dirty nail place) for awhile and upon seeing her I complimented her on her very dramatic and obvious weight loss. She started to tell me about her miraculous transformation courtesy of liposuction and a tummy tuck. She started explaining the procedure and as she spoke she lifted up her shirt to show me some sort of surgical girdle. During the explanation, I proceeded to lie down for the eyebrow waxing when the conversation moved from her abdomen to her breasts. At this point she pulled down the right side her bra and whipped out her boob.
Well, I have to admit I was shocked. SHOCKED!!!
Of course, I assumed after ripping that sucker out with such fervor she was waiting for compliments but in that moment I had no idea what she had done to it (them). Between her broken English and my melting brain, I was reserving all my strength to ensure that the expression on my face remained vacant. I mean, I got that she was very proud of them (proud enough to show them off) and from where I was lying it (they) didn't look half bad and so I started praising her right titty that was now dangling precariously close to my face. (Okay, it was neither dangling or anywhere near my face and I'm sure that the only "praise" I could actually muster was a very earnest "WOW").
Satisfied with my reaction, she reholstered the thing and began to drip hot wax on my face and I was left to ponder the etiquette surrounding boob job exposure. To be quite honest, I'm disappointed in my prudish reaction. I mean, I'm pretty sure I could have pulled off a rousing rendition of Kelis' Milkshakes. Unfortunately for me, my wicked rap skillz, Ruby and the rest of the salon's patrons -- moments like that, once lost, are lost forever. But I can promise you this won't happen to me again. Never will I be at a loss for the proper compliment in a moment of awkward boob job exposure. I am determined, now more than ever, to be well-versed in proper boob job compliments.
You bet your sweet bippy I am.
The state of television viewing is pretty bad when one finds herself watching a TV movie on A&E (Andromeda Strain) and The Bachelorette (and I thought the women were pathetic).
