I’m a big believer in fresh starts. New days, new weeks, new months and new years. I will admit to a fervent hate of Mondays though, which has leaked into Sunday nights. They bring me untold anxiety and apprehension regarding the upcoming week. Which is more a testament to my mindset and less a reflection on themselves. Truth be told, they aren’t a bad couple of days. Monday gets the worst of it, what with those mean girls Sat & Sun Days [twins wouldn't you know it] spreading lies about how uptight and controlling she is. In reality, she’s just one of those bright and cheery morning people. The ones you openly despise, but yet also secretly envy. What’s her secret? How does she get up so early after two days of leisurely play time? WHY IS SHE ALWAYS SMILING SO MANICALLY?
Excuse me, I seem to have gotten off track. New starts, I love ya, Mondays.. we’re working on it. So with the fresh new laundry smell of 2013 still enveloping us with it’s promises of a shiny, yet to be tarnished new beginning, you’d think I would be literally vibrating with plans and hopes and dreams and ideas. And boy howdy am I ever. Though there was a lot of truly lovely occurrences that took place with Oah’12 [my first full year in the city I can enthusiastically and finally call home, beginning my journey as an
eco terrorist eco stylist, joining creative forces by sharing a studio with my sailor mouthed barbie mannequin Karyn, meeting this guy, and countless others] it was also rife with controversy and heartache. One of the biggest issues I suffer from while being a self employed creative is creating a division and establishing discipline between my personal and professional life. When something negative happens in the personal, it directly affects my professional. When I am angry or depressed, I cannot function in work mode. I can’t process new orders or clients, and forget about tackling that to-do list. It was different when I had someone else dictating my duties. I could show up and enter auto-pilot mode to get through the day. I wasn’t at my most efficient level, but I could still function. Now that I’m my own boss and the sole employee, I suffer greatly from the absence of outside leadership during times of distress.
Because of the highly tumultuous nature of 2012, I feel a bit shaken and a bit lost entering 2013. It’s lead me to question a lot about myself and lean towards focusing on the negative. What I am not, what I don’t have, what I haven’t achieved. Comparing myself to others. Jealousy. I feel defeated before I even start. I have so many dreams, ideas, plans, hopes, wants. Sometimes I can even devise actual ways to achieve them. But something keeps getting in the way.. and that something is Me [insert evil cackle from my devil twin Nallirrem].
I don’t have a self destructive nature, but I will grudgingly admit I gravitate towards the guilty pity party mode. I get down on myself for not doing/being/trying everything that I can possibly do to be the best ME -whether it be in regards to my career, my health, my mental well being, etc- which then leads unerringly towards the quicksand of guiltville. I have the opportunity to really create a change for the better in people’s lives, but I feel glued to the TV broadcasting one staticky channel of my failures on repeat, like a poorly made blooper reel minus the laugh track. No one’s perfect dammit, so why am I so transfixed on my lack-there-of’s and not more on the I’m-all-that-and-a-bag-o-chips? Then I realized I’ve wasted countless hours focusing on the can’ts, haven’ts, don’t know how the fuck to’s while others are fantazing about having my freedom to make those mistakes. Further into the quicksand I go. There will be days that I miraculously find footing amongst the sinking sand and gulp the sweet, sweet air of purpose and self righteousness. I have plans, you hear me?! I am going to change the world! I might even grasp the seemingly nonexistent olive branch in an attempt to finally free myself from the depth of despair. Then something makes my hand slip. It could be an unbidden thought from within.. “you can’t do that. who do you think you are? no expert that’s for sure.” It could be an emotional stab wound from my personal life. It could be a slow sales week. My hand loses it’s grip and I sink back into the quicksand that is slowly, depressingly feeling more and more familiar and sickeningly comfortable. And when I slide lower and lower, the more energy it seems to take just to think of escaping, let alone actualizing the retreat plan. I almost want to dunk my head to hide my shame of letting it get this bad. I evade queries about life and business. Slap on that happy face. Never let them see the stark terror and uncertainty that plague my waking minutes not consumed by cat youtube videos.
Whoa. Deep huh? Depressing as well, no doubt. Not your typical “year in review!’ and definitely not the person I want to be. But with Nall, Guilt and Self Doubt taking turns jumping on my shoulders, it’s hard to find the silver lining, the ray of hope, the light at the end of the tunnel. The speedy escalator out of that fucking quicksand. It’s high time I sew some spikes on my sweaters. Apply some rubber on my hats. Reach out for a friendly bitchslap to the psyche [though a lovingly gentle one.. I am a redhead after all, and possess a lower pain threshold]. I’m hoping that this blog post will be the kick off point [I would insert some witty relation to football here, but that sport will never really make sense to me] and will inspire me to be more honest with myself and with yous kittens, but in a supportive and forgiving way. No one is perfect. Normal is a myth. Everyone has bad days. I am not alone.
Change of any sort takes time, so a promise of immediate turn around and a full roster of blog posts is not only unrealistic, but rude to you guys. There is an awful lot I hope to accomplish by learning how to view myself differently, not the least of which is breathing new life into my career, but first and foremost: I want to learn how to wholeheartedly love myself again. Faults, scars and all. I hope that anyone else suffering from the quicksand knows they also aren’t alone. We can tread sand together while our loved ones carefully bitchslap us with branches til we claw our way out onto shaky, but solid ground. Who’s with me?