I read somewhere last week that right before a snake sheds its skin, its vision becomes clouded. (I couldn’t remember where I read that so I googled it and it’s true.)
My last post set the mood, I’ve been frustrated and whiney all week. Can I blame Daylight Savings? I’ve been so sleepy. What’s the moon doing? That usually factors into my funks. Maybe I’ve had too much dairy? Caffeine? Sugar? Did I exercise enough? Scorpio Season?
Or.
Could it be possibly that I’m just a crabby person? Someone who is generally, kind of, sort of annoyed. When I asked Alan, “Do you think when I’m finally in a career that I’m happy with, I’ll stop being so goddamn bratty?” His answer, “No.”1 My mother seconded this opinion (imagine thick Southern accent), “I think being a brat is just part of who you are, it’s endearing, we love it.”2
Guys. What?
Famously, when I was 10 years old, we took a family bike ride through the woods. From what I remember, this was a treacherous mountain climb over boulders, through rivers and mud. There were bees that wouldn’t leave ME alone, they didn’t seem to be bothering anyone else. BUT ME! My bike was so heavy and my body was so husky, I literally almost died of heat exhaustion and over-exertion. From what my mother, brother and father recount, the only treacherous part of that hike, was how absolutely intolerable I was. My dad had to carry my bike AND HIS up and down the trail while I cried and complained about how hard and terrible my life was. I could not believe they’d done this to me. HOW COULD THEY??
This is my lore. The brat who made her dad carry her bike.
Before you begin to worry that I’m still in my self-deprecation era, let me assure you that I am also fully aware of all my great qualities. I’m a good listener, I very genuinely care about people, I’m funny, a hard worker and a generally good person but within me lives a whiney hellion and she is irresistible to me. I’m so sick of hearing myself complain. On the best day of my life, I will find at least 10 things with which to be crabby. And it’s all because I’m still enamored with a version of myself I created as a child based on who knows what movie I saw (Clueless) where the lead was a bratty, bossy little girl.
I can feel a change coming. In fact, it’s not coming, it’s here. There are aspects of myself I’d like to grow out of for good. With some regular journaling and meditation, I’m sure I could get ahold of it. I could dismantle the habitual whiney-ness. Go a day feeling only gratitude. I just don’t think I’m there yet. I’m not ready to let go.
My inner Cher Horowitz, the first version of Self I created at ten years old, the one who is mean to babysitters and smarter than her little brother and parents, makes straight A’s and, even though she’s taller and bigger than everyone in her grade and painfully, tearfully insecure about it, can still be a leader in Student Council because she’s funny and smart and bossy. That version isn’t ready to leave. But the wiser, grown-up in me, the elegant woman who is in a healthy and loving relationship, on her way to financial stability, not afraid to say ‘no’ and set boundaries (not in a bratty but in a classy way), my inner Mary Poppins, is ready to put the old me down for her nap. Not kill her off. This isn’t a Taylor Swift song. Just a little night night.
I’m in between these two versions of myself. My vision is cloudy. It’s not scary but it’s rather frustrating. To give myself a little credit, it is tough to live in a world that’s constantly telling you you don’t have enough. That you must work as hard as you can and strive to be rich and successful. Eggs are $11. Rent is unimaginable. The list of challenges to being alive in the world goes on. Seeking a version of myself who has nothing to complain about is very naive. But there is a balance I’m seeking. For now, the best I can do is find patience and grace in the midst of shedding my old skin.
Here’s the list:
READING
I looooooved this post by Kelly Oxford about how a mid-life crisis is just one final temper tantrum from your childhood before you become an actual adult. Very prevalent to this entry.
WATCHING
Parts Unknown with Anthony Bourdain. How did I forget about this show? I’ve seen so few episodes so catching up on them has been great. RIP Tony.
LISTENING
The 3rd season of The Dream. I have loved every season of this podcast. It’s been mind opening and illuminating and I can’t recommend it enough.
Thanks for reading!
There’s A Good Thing coming this Friday so look out for that. I’ve decided to do a little seasonal spruce up around here too so hopefully soon, this page will be prettier with a new logo and color scheme.
Have a spectacular week full of warm food and fun drinks. I’ll talk to you soon.
xoxo.
Alan would like you to know that he also told me that he loves me and that I’m beautiful and talented and that that was not exactly how that conversation went. I took some artistic license.
My mother would like you to know that this is not exactly how she remembers this conversation going but that she loves me and thinks I am perfect. I am surrounded by humans who love me (even if I am a brat.) They want to make sure you know that they are lovely and supportive and not telling me I’m a jerk all day. I took some artistic license.
"DAD, there's a BEE flying around me. GET IT OFF!!!" Love that we can still relive that 4 hours. (Reminds me, when can we talk about the trip to eN Zed and how we should be YouTube stars?) Love you, Boo!