All You Need is....

There is a superstition I have on road trips of making a wish when I cross over a state line.  For added measure, I will also kiss my hand and tap the ceiling of the car.  I am not entirely sure where this superstition came from, maybe from watching a friend or family member do something similar, but it is something that my daughter now does too.  I cannot speak to her wish, but mine is always the same: “Health, Wealth, Happiness, Love.” 

Lest you worry that these things won’t come true if I share this wish with you, don’t.  After all, they haven’t yet.  But as we are in a period of reflection at the start of a new year, maybe this is the perfect time to re-evaluate this wish. 

HEALTH

Although I have managed thus far to stave off any major illnesses or injuries, there is a certain level of physical and mental disintegration that I have endured within this last year (and by year, I really mean decade).  Anxiety, depression, physical and mental exhaustion…these are my normal states of being now—so much so that I find it difficult to even sit and write. I need to recharge my battery, fill my cup, whatever it is that will help.  And I have no idea what will help.  It’s certainly not the hormonal imbalances that have started to affect this “woman of a certain age”. 

WEALTH

We've heard it said that “money is the root of all evil”…but not having it doesn’t bode well either.  I will tell you something that not many people know:  I have never been so effing broke in my entire life.  Perhaps it just seems that way because I am working multiple (low-paying) jobs, the creditors (and bankruptcy) are hounding me, rent has doubled in the last three years and I am a single mom to a teenaged daughter.  Due to unfortunate circumstances, what was supposed to be a second job, has become the first job.  Ain’t no one can live on minimum wage, my friend.  Yes, I traveled to England this past August, but was only able to do so because my ex gave me airline miles to go pick my daughter up from camp (which he also paid for) and an angel of a friend let us stay with her.  In reality, I only had $700 at the time, garnered from the meager tips I’d collected for months of working as a barista at Starbucks…and I was stressed out the entire trip that I wouldn’t have enough to make it back home.

HAPPINESS

Not gonna lie…working as a barista is the worst job I’ve ever had.  Oh, I suppose the job itself is fine, but I have never seen such awful, entitled people in my entire life (and I’ve worked A LOT of customer service jobs).  It’s like dealing with a bunch of toddlers who have been deprived of snacks and naps. 

But there is one advantage to working at Starbucks:  tuition reimbursement.  Even with all of the school I’ve attended, I’d never completed my bachelor’s degree (just an associate degree).  Strangely, I really love going to school and this job will help pay for it.  If I can just keep it together for a little while longer, I will have a nice shiny degree to show for it.  Not sure why I need this degree so much, other than knowing I can allegedly get a higher paying job because of it.  If nothing else, hey, I love going to school.  Lol. 

LOVE

Um…I got nothing.  OK, not nothing.  I theoretically have my daughter, friends, and family.  But I also have an overwhelming sense of loneliness—which probably explains all of those online streaming services (like Netflix, not porn, people), my two cats (crazy cat lady here I come!) and the cocoon-like piles of laundry on my bed (who needs a boyfriend pillow or a weighted blanket?  Not me!).  Most of my close friends are married or in committed relationships so I rarely see them.  Instead, I’ve resorted to crawling into my hobbit hole rather than seeking out companionship (romantic or otherwise) because it’s, well, easier.  The older I get, the more I understand that I am no longer an extrovert.  I don’t prefer to be around people—especially after slinging coffee for the assholes of the world.  It also becomes harder and harder for me to reach out to others for fear that I am bothering them.  I am exhausted by trying to live my best life and not feeling that I have the resources to do so.

Le big sigh. 

So, where does that leave me for 2020?  Finding a new wish?  Not taking any more road trips.  No, of course not.  But perhaps the way to achieving what I want isn’t just in wishing for these four things for myself, but for others as well.  I resolve, therefore, to endeavor to spread the positivity this year. 

May you find Health, Wealth, Happiness and Love, fellow humans.  Don’t forget to spread it around.

Until next time, my Lovelies….

On the Eighth Day of Christmas...

ON THE EIGHTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME...A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

It’s the first day of 2019 and my Facebook feed is (not surprisingly) filled with reflections of the past year.  So many people hoping for a better year than the last.  

The realist in me, however, wonders whether we aren’t putting too much pressure on ourselves—and on the end of the year.  Although it is a convenient, seemingly monumental changing of the date, there really is no reason to wait for the rollover of the year.  Change can happen any day. 

I am a big proponent of making change happen.  Although there is always the question of whether certain things are meant to happen (i.e. destiny), I still like to believe that we have control over our futures.  Even amidst the chaos in which we sometimes find ourselves, we can still better our lives and our situations.  Maybe we have to wait a little longer to see the results, but don’t we at least have to try?

That’s not to say I haven’t been struck down mid-stride with what seems like a pile of shitty situations.  Of course I have.  If I know one thing about myself, however, it’s I am a fighter.  I know I’ve survived before.  I will do so again.  And yes, I am writing that as a reminder to myself as well. 

And so, here we are at the start of the New Year.  Although the pragmatist knows there may be rough times ahead, the optimist knows we will all get through whatever is thrown our way.  She also wishes everyone the best as they strive for what they deem as “better”.  We’ll be OK, my darlings. 

Until Next Time, Lovelies…

On the Second Day of Christmas....

ON THE SECOND DAY OF CHRISTMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME...HALLMARK MOVIES.

Right around Thanksgiving, there is an onslaught of romantic Holiday movies (most of which were made popular on the Hallmark Channel).  Almost every woman I know (and some guys too) will binge-watch these movies,  maybe until their eyes bleed, like an addict phening for Love and Hope.

The premises and character archetypes are almost always the same, almost as if the creators were pulling plotlines from some Holiday Movie Generator:  Plucky young women, often bakers or workaholics or single moms with a precocious kid, who may not believe in love or are in the wrong relationship or down on their luck romantically;  Hot, single men, often carmudgeons who don’t believe in Christmas (or love), but who have hearts of gold—and sometimes a precocious child.  Sometimes they are old friends who have history…or maybe they are strangers shoved together due to dire circumstances.  My favorites films also tend to have a mystical element (a magic calendar, an angel, a ghost, the real Santa!), because how else will these stories be more believable?   Oh, and there is almost always someone who either teaches (often a toothy little rube or an elderly gentleman) or learns (our main characters) about the true meaning of Christmas.  And a happy ending.  OF COURSE, there is a happy ending.   

Predictable or schlocky these movies may be, however, we gobble these movies up like  platefuls of baked goods.  Their syrupy content is like a complete sugar rush, but without the caloric intake.  A fact which brings us back to them, over and over.  I’ve had numerous conversations this season alone about the intrinsic value of these films and how much we enjoy them.  Easy to digest, they offer repast from the stresses of our own Holiday reality.  And that is hardly a bad thing.

It is only when we actually do return to our reality, of course, that we are challenged.  My love life is no Hallmark Holiday Movie, that is for sure.  Too bad, I think a sassy single mom (of a teenaged goth daughter)/divorcee in her 40s who finds love in spite of financial troubles, a messy apartment and a fat, grumpy cat would make for a wonderful plot.  Guess I’d better go write it now.  Watch for it soon, will you?

Until next time, my Lovelies….

On the First Day of Christmas...

On the First day of Christmas my True Love gave to me…Oh, who are we kidding?  I am my own True Love.  Not in an egotistical way, of course, but I am responsible for creating my own holiday cheer, after all.  No easy task, by the way.  Honestly, I find even leaving the house to participate in holiday festivities a bit of a challenge.  I am frazzled, stressed, exhausted by the season.  There is no Hallmark movie style romance for me.  Christmas music sometimes makes me homicidal.  If there were presents under the tree this year, they were likely put there by me (with the notable exception of an awesome twelve-pack of Star Wars socks that one of my best friends gave me).   And people wonder why I am a self-proclaimed Grinch. 

But I’ve decided to try and be a bit kinder to myself this season and give myself the ultimate gift.  No, not therapy. 

It has long been assumed that the “Twelve days of Christmas” refers to the twelve days prior to Christmas.  Historically, however, it actually refers to the twelve days after Christmas (Christmas Day until January 5^th).  There are celebrations throughout various countries focused on this time period  (Fun fact:  Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, draws its title from such festivities, but never refers to Christmas.).    

In light of these Twelve Days, I have decided to challenge myself to write one blog entry per day, hopefully focusing on something positive for the season.  The benefits of this are twofold:  I will not only add to my blog content (something which I have been remiss to do this year), but open myself up to more positivity as well.  Because a Grinch needs all the help she can get. 

And so for the First Day of Christmas, my True Love (me), gave to myself…the Gift of Writing.  Although I have not written/published as many blog entries this year, I give myself permission to realize that I have still written material for various projects—and I can always write more.  I am grateful that I occasionally have the ability to string semi-cohesive thoughts together.  I am happy to be able to share that ability with you (the benefit of which will be even greater if you actually enjoy my ramblings…I mean, writings). 

Happy Holidays, my Lovelies.  Until next time….

Things Never Better Left Unsaid

On Saturday, January 21, 2017 there was a local Women's March in the city in which I currently live.  A peaceable protest of over 10,000 local residents and visitors...and  I didn't go.  I could have.  I certainly feel I should have.  I absolutely wanted to be there.  I just didn't go.

While I adamantly wish I had gone (especially after seeing all of the pictures and hearing the positive stories), I had instead spent the day with my eleven-year-old daughter doing "ordinary" things.  I watched my daughter develop her physical strength by kicking ass in her martial arts class.  I listened as she then honed her voice at her singing lesson.  I worked on costumes for a show and thereby helped a female friend of mine create her art.  I crocheted pink kitty hats for others who wanted to attend the march but couldn't.  I led a rehearsal of Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues, as I do every January and February to raise awareness about Violence Against Women.

But I didn't go to the Women's March.

When I later expressed my frustration to my daughter about not attending (and my disappointment that she hadn't even wanted to go), my daughter responded in a very flip manner, "Well it's too late now."

To which I replied, "No, it most certainly isn't."

It was then that I realized that even without attending the public display of solidarity, I was already right there in the middle of it, acting and speaking as one of thousands, even millions.  It is never "too late" to take a stand, to have a voice, to speak up.

And I have been speaking up a lot lately.

I am speaking out against all of the ugliness I have seen from people I did not expect to see.  I am calling out rude behaviors or hateful statements, especially those that clearly come from "us and them" mentality.  I am reminding others that opinions are individual, but respect should be universal.  I am also prompting everyone to remember that any change in legislation has the potential to affect society as a whole--even if it doesn't affect or isn't supported personally--and to be sensitive to that.  I am questioning others about their thoughts, actions and statements, but I absolutely will not engage in a futile "I'm right, you're wrong" line of thinking. I am encouraging everyone to have his/her feelings, but I will not tolerate anyone attempting to dictate or invalidate the feelings of others (or mine), especially in a hateful, generalized manner.  I am speaking up, even if no one listens.  Even if no one agrees.  I am speaking up.  It may not always be loud.  It may not always be overtly public.  It will always be honest.  

This is how I will empower myself.  This is how I hope to empower others.  How we empower our society doesn't always have to be in huge, historical, highly visible ways.  Sometimes, we can empower ourselves (and others) through the ordinary little things, the "every day" occurrences and actions, through love and kindness and respect.  But, for all of our empowerment, we still have to SPEAK UP.

Only then can we hope to assuage our fears, alleviate the chaos and instill our faith in humanity once again.  Or maybe that's just my hope?

Until next time, my Lovelies....

The Dangers of Stagnancy

There is a quote in the film Jerry Maguire that has stuck with me throughout the years.  Heck, it was even the keystone of my valedictorian speech from college:  "That is how you become great, man.  Hang your balls out there."

This a principle in which I strongly believe.  Take a risk.  Do something.  Seek forward motion.  Why then did it seem as if there had been so little advancement in my life lately?

If you've read any of my previous blog entries, you might have noticed that many of them have dealt with my crippling malaise from this lack of change and improvement.  Although I had actively tried to make positive changes, I just felt stuck.  As if I were spinning my wheels, but staying in exactly the same place.  In reality, yes, there were baby steps, but internal baby steps that yielded only minimal external results.  I am not OK with feeling trapped by my own stagnancy.

It became apparent that a change in my perception wasn't going to be enough to feel an improvement. The malaise wasn't even about anything specific anymore.  It was just affecting everything.  Every day, I felt tearful, exhausted, impatient...lost.

I began drawing into myself.  The crux, of course, is I am not, nor have I ever been, that person.  I am generally optimistic, ambitious and social, but I was quickly becoming the opposite.  I abused my friends' patience with my misery and complaints.  Hell, I abused my own.  I was wasting away.   Worse, I was losing hope.

It's a terrible thing to lose hope.  If you've never felt hopeless, consider yourself lucky.  To not feel any sense of accomplishment no matter what I did...well, it just effing sucks.  I couldn't keep going that route.  I needed to find my path.  I was going to have to do something drastic to instigate the positive change I craved.

And so, I decided to return to school.  No, this decision wasn't anything that would change the world...but I really only needed it to change my life, didn't I?  Almost twenty years since last I attended school, I'd been feeling the need to immerse myself in learning again.  It wasn't enough to just be on a journey of self-discovery, I wanted to be adding knowledge and skills...and opportunities.

Therefore, upon careful reflection (and ad nauseam conversations with my nearest and dearest), I have taken the semester off from teaching and will now shift my focus to learning instead.  Of course, this is a decision that scares me.  Could I afford not to work (especially since I am hardly rolling in the dough as it is)?  Was this the right choice?  Would this really be the change I desire?  How would this affect my daughter?

In the words of The Doors:  "The time to hesitate is through."

Wish me luck!

Until next time, Lovelies....