Eff That S!

Hellooooooo readers! I know I’ve been absent for awhile. If I’ve left a big, gaping void in your lives that can only be filled by my snarky, mediocre-at-best ramblings, then you have my sincerest apologies. (Also, maybe it’s time to review your life choices and priorities? Just sayin’…) At any rate, I’m back and I’m going to make a sincere effort not to disappear again for months at a time. But no promises. I’m not going to set myself up for failure or anything.

For those of you who have been wondering what I’ve been up to and why I haven’t written, I’m going to attempt to explain myself. The answer to the latter question is a very simple one: I didn’t write because I couldn’t write. I’m sure there are writers out there who can whip out a piece on a whim, any old time, regardless of circumstances or their emotional state. I’m not one of them. Perhaps that means I’m not a real writer, and if so, so be it. But for me, writer’s block isn’t just a speed bump or a hurdle, it’s a fucking mountain and sometimes it takes me awhile to get over it. Which leads me to the answer to the first question: What have I been up to?

To say I’ve had a lot going on these past few months is an understatement and, quite frankly, a euphemism. March, in particular, put me through the wringer. I started the month off by getting so sick that I missed several days of work. Of course, when it rains, it pours, so my dog Buddy also got extremely ill during that time, prompting a very expensive trip to the vet. (He’s fine now, thank goodness!) Upon returning to work, I had what can quite accurately (and without hyperbole) be described as the worst week ever of my professional career. Which sucked. A lot. But on the upside, it forced me to confront the fact that I was working a job that really wasn’t for me. I had spent the few months I had worked at that company feeling miserable but fairly comfortable because I worked with my best friend. Once it became uncomfortable, I knew a difficult decision had to be made. While I was contemplating my next move, the following week I received the charming news that my ex of 5 years, who I had broken up with only 13 months prior, had gotten married. Now, this is not someone I want back. It was a bad relationship and a bad situation, and not a day goes by that I’m not happy to be done with it. HOWEVER, his lightening-fast marriage really cast a spotlight on just how much I wasted 5 years of my life that I’ll never get back. I thought I had reached this awesome place of acceptance and closure, but that news got me pissed off all over again. Oh, and I found out on FACEBOOK. While at my horrible job. On the day I had planned to tender my resignation. So, yeah… I pretty much felt like this:

After all that, I went home and took a long hard look at my life. Well, first I got drunk. (I’d like to take a moment to thank the makers of Don Julio Blanco Tequila. You guys have really gotten me through some shit, and for that I am eternally grateful.) But after the tequila wore off, I honestly did do some soul searching. I knew I had to quit my job. I knew I needed to figure out what to do with my life, and I knew I needed to get my proverbial “house” in order. (As well as my literal house! I still had boxes laying around that I hadn’t unpacked since I moved to my place in November. Shameful, I know.) Part of the problem I had been experiencing was that I was so focused on all of the negative aspects of my life, that I wasn’t able to fully enjoy the positive ones. And let me tell you, despite all the fuckery that March threw my way, there were some really GREAT things happening in my life. For one thing, due to some really crazy circumstances, I found myself in the best financial position that I’ve ever been in. (No, I didn’t rob a bank, but I’m flattered that you think I could pull that off!) This allowed me the freedom to be able to quit my job and take this time to get my life back on track. But more significantly, I found myself in an actually healthy relationship *Gasp!* with a wonderful man who, I swear, I fall more in love with every time I’m with him. Gag all you want, but it’s MY blog and I can get all schmoopy if I want to. So there! (And for those of you who might be wondering, yes it is 90’s Music Guy from my first post. For all my bashing on OkCupid, it actually worked. Whodathunkit?!)

Once I quit my job, which was a big deal for me because I’ve always been a worker bee, I got down to the business of trying to figure out what I want. You guys I shit you not, for me, figuring out what I want out of life is the hardest thing in the world. Without going into detail, I had a terrible childhood and upbringing due in large part to my narcissistic (and possibly sociopathic) heroin addict mother who was as emotionally abusive when she was sober as she was when she was high. There’s only so many times, day after day, that you can be told you’re not good enough before you start to believe it, and so I believed it. I truly believed that my life was difficult because I deserved to struggle. This manifested itself in just about everything I did. I was constantly putting stumbling blocks in my own way. I was my own worst enemy and a master of self-sabotage. I consistently entered into relationships with emotionally unavailable men because I thought I only deserved to be with someone who was (and I quote myself here) “as fucked up as I am.” I dropped out of college. I stopped making plans. And honestly, I stayed in that place of stagnation and self-flagellation until 2013, when I finally decided to remove myself from my comfort zone and make some changes. But even then, I was still just surviving. The fear of the unknown was so great, the pressure to answer the question “What am I doing with my life?” was so crushing, that I decided to try and fill my life with as many distractions as possible to avoid having to think about it. I was wildly successful in that endeavor. Until the end of March.

Without knowing exactly how to find the answer to that question on my own, I sought out help. I’m extremely lucky that a very good friend of mine happens to be an amazing healer. She’s an acupuncturist, an ordained minister, a psychic medium, a life coach, and an all-around awesome human being who has experienced more than her own fair share of struggles. With her guidance, I started meditating regularly, as well as taking other steps to enrich my life and suss out my true calling. I’ve never considered myself a spiritual person, (20 years of having organized religion shoved down my throat soured me on the concept of God) but lately, I’m starting to feel like perhaps there is a bigger purpose for my life, and that’s exciting. With my time off, not only have I had a chance to start getting myself in better shape, but I’ve also had to time to really cultivate my relationships with the people who matter most to me. I feel like I’ve been able to really be there for my friends. I’ve also been able to spend more time with my cousin (who is more like my sister) and to become the kind of aunt to her son that I’d always wanted to be. On dates with my boyfriend, I’m able to thoroughly enjoy my time with him without feeling distracted by all the stress in my life. And most importantly, I’ve learned to focus on and appreciate the positive, rather than dwelling on the negative.

I’m still not entirely sure what my purpose is, but I feel like I’m getting closer. I don’t know exactly what will make me happy, but I know that I’m a much happier person now than I was three months ago. And so, the next time someone asks me “What are you doing with your life?” I’m going to tell them that I’m living it to the fullest. That I’m learning how to love myself for the first time in 31 years. That I’m building a foundation that will last a lifetime, so that when things do get stressful, when shit gets difficult again (and it will), I’ll know how to manage it better this time.

So, there you have it. That’s why I needed a break, and that’s why I haven’t been writing. I know it got a bit heavy, given the previous subject matter on this blog, and trust me, I don’t intend for this to be the new norm. I plan to get back to the usual sassy bullshit you’ve learned to expect from me. (Besides, I owe my friend Isabel a post dedicated entirely to boobs, and I intend to make good on that promise.) But I’d like to thank you all for reading. It helped me a lot just to write this all out, and who knows? Maybe it will resonate with some of you who are dealing with similar issues. I hope so. Because at the end of the day, we all deserve to be happy. Except clowns. Clowns deserve to suffer for all eternity for being so fucking creepy. And on that note, good night!