It’s been one of those weeks of self-doubt, frustration, stress, unprofessional idiots, regrets, and dealing with a lot of back & forth about what to do & where to go from here. This piece by Rudyard Kipling (it’s for us daughters too!) is exactly what I needed to feel like Aaliyah..and dust myself off & try again.
“If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master; If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools
If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!”
-Rudyard Kipling, If: A Father’s Advice to His Son
So, it’s been quite a while since I’ve written a post & that’s mostly due to the fact that life caught up to me & I was too busy making a list of observations to actually have a chance to sit down & write about ’em.
Jobs. We all either have them, need them, or are retired from them. We either love them, hate them, or are apathetic towards them. For some, they’re a means to an end; for some, they’re the only consistent things in life; for some, they’re the greatest love affairs; and for some, they’re the bane of their existence. So, what’s my input? They suck. Unless of course, you’ve known what you want to do your whole life & were afforded the opportunities to strive for success in your chosen field from a very young age. Below, you’ll find my unsolicited, but in my humility-laden opinion, spectacular and priceless, advice to the classes of whatever year you did/will graduate, be they from elementary, junior high, high school, college, grad school, or some other institution. Read & heed, my friends!
DO WHAT YOU WANT. That’s all. Simple. If you have an inkling of what you want to do your whole life at whatever age you are, GO FOR IT. Don’t allow doubts, fears, or pesky little things like crippling anxiety overshadow your passion and desire for a specific route for your life. Live for yourself. It’s always nice to be selfless, but sometimes, you need to be selfish. I found out the hard way. I drastically changed my career path at the ripe young age of 30. I dropped out of medical school, I launched my own fashion line, and I continued to look for odd jobs to support my business. IT SUCKED. I wish I had gone to FIT or Parson’s right out of high school. I wish I had interned for Valentino or Marchesa or Rodarte. I wish I had apprenticed in Bombay with a designer I know. I wish I had done a lot of things, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. So, at the age of 33 with a graduate level education, a creatively obsessive background, and a small business, I worked (until a week ago) at a daycare center. I wiped other people’s children’s poop and noses (not with the same wipe, don’t worry), I cut up hot dogs for toddler lunches, I woke up at the crack of dawn (NOT ideal for an insomniac/nocturnal creature), I stood for 8 hours a day, and I dealt with the worst boss known to mankind. Lucky for me, I adore children and teaching both, so I made the best of what it was. A measly job with minor pay, but it allowed me to go to LA and go to Bombay and teach dance classes 3 days a week. It allowed me time to design & sketch at home, it allowed me time to spend QT with my nephew, and it allowed me time to go back to seriously building my business.
Unfortunately, I was forced to quit last week because that aforementioned “Horrible Boss” (without an ounce of the attractiveness of Jennifer Aniston), did not allow me a day off to attend a family funeral. Bitches be trippin’, yo, and karma isn’t always kind. Anyhow, so now here I am, back on the job hunt while working 20 hours a day on this and what do I find? I’m too overqualified for jobs like a cashier at Target or a counter person at a bakery, but too underqualified for the jobs relevant to my field. Do I have 2-4 years of retail experience if I want to apply as a Fashion Assistant at DKNY? No. I was at a science research program at Marymount. Do I have 1-2 years of previous mailroom experience in order to apply for a MAIL SORTER position at Armani? Nah. I was in medical school in Antigua.
I’m noticing that there are more and more people out there experiencing this kind of rock and a hard place situation when it comes to gainful employment (especially after a career shift), no matter what area it’s in. There are articles upon articles out there about what “experience” really even means in the social media obsessed, Vine celebrity, hired-from-Twitter-feed-to-become-a-TV-writer world (hello, Harvard Business Review!?!), but nothing actually being done about the seemingly ubiquitous situation. So my point of this rant is, until there is some evolution with today’s times, take my advice: START YOUNG. Yes, everyone will tell you it’s never too late. I mean, for the sake of full disclosure of my hypocrisy, one of my favorite quotes is “It’s never too late to be what you might have been” by George Eliot. HOWEVER, if you want to be who you might have been with a little more ease and comfort and a slightly quicker success rate, be who you might have been…..NOW.
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Today’s Interlude:“Everybody’s Free To Wear Sunscreen” by Baz Luhrmann
Today’s Mood Ingredients: Contemplative, Introspective, Grateful. Hi! It’s been a while. Life suddenly leaped out at me & bit me in the rear. However, in the time that pretty much everything was happening all at once, I did realize a few things. I live a pretty good life. It’s not perfect by any means (& obviously no one’s lives are), it’s absurdly stressful, I’m ridiculously worried 20/7 (which is a spectacular upwards movement from 26/7, congrats to me), I want to do 9 million things with the time to do only 30, and I get frustrated that all of the above is occurring. I do, however, have working (albeit mildly arthritic-sadly, not a joke) legs, mobile arms (wing span situation notwithstanding), a functioning brain (up for debate), and a plenitude of opportunity (which I abashedly admit to not taking advantage of enough).
Ok, so don’t close this blog yet! I promise it’s not a preachy post on how we should all be thankful for what we have (even though we should) & how what we have in this life is enough (even though it is). This is a post about how I realized that the words “average” & “normal” have two different meanings and depths with respect to my life. I was always the person who would get incredibly annoyed when people would tell me to think of those less fortunate than me when I was having a bad day. I mean..I am aware that there are people who have no food & no water & no families, & no one feels for them more than me & my over-empathetic self does, but sometimes, I just wanted to wallow in my own misery. COULD I LIVE!? Over time though, I realized that as much as my most terrifying fear was to be “normal” or “average” in the achievement sense, I have never been more grateful to be “average” & “normal” in the life sense. I have an immediate family of 11 that loves me unconditionally & whom I love obsessively back. I have amazing friends who have seen me through some morose times and some euphoric times. I have my health, my family (even through everything as of late) has theirs, we have a roof over our heads, we have food on our tables, and although we are wanting in many other ways, the most important thing is that we have a support system that people would literally kill for (seriously, they’ve creepily told me so). So although I want my business to succeed more, my dreams to be fulfilled more, my worries to be calmed more..I’m truly grateful that on my way to hopefully being able to realize all of those things, I have the ability and the resources that allow me to excel..& all I have to put in is the work.
If you follow this blog, you’ve heard me say this plenty of times, & I’m clearly still going through some form of PTSD from it, but I will never ever be more grateful to whomever, wherever, whatever, that my parents are still with me. To have my greatest fear nearly realized within a short span of 7 months, & to have us all restored to an almost normal (for us, anyway) level is something that I will never be able to express enough thanks for. And for better or for worse, that heavy emotional trauma was the catalyst for me to realize that I have enough. In fact, I have a lot. In fact, I have the most. I know I said this wouldn’t be a preachy post, but honestly, I just wanted you to keep reading because if a self-admitted, everyone-proclaimed pessimistic wallower can find a way to revel in all that she has, you guys can do it eeeaaasily! The point is, sometimes, shit is gonna suck. A lot. And sometimes, things are going to be so amazing, you can’t imagine them getting any better..& then they do. But if you want to get through the roller coaster labrynth & come out unscathed on the other side, find ways to be appreciative of the things you have, and even of the things that you don’t. A new perspective never hurt anybody!
**For those who want some ideas on how to get the ball rolling, check out these two links below which have helped me become less of a negative person.
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband & a happy home & children, & another fig was a famous poet & another fig was a brilliant professor, & another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, & another fig was Europe & Africa & South America, & another fig was Constantin & Socrates & Attila & a pack of other lovers with queer names & offbeat professions, & another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, & beyond & above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each & every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle & go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
I’ve been single for 7 years. SEVEN. I haven’t been lonely for any of them, & it’s not for lack of interested parties or for lack of halfhearted attempts. I always figured I was single for this long because I was making a lot of changes in my life, switching careers, getting life in order, reconnecting with friends, etc. It was only a few months ago (apparently I’m slow on the uptake) that I realized the real reason why I’m single & never ready to mingle. Fear. It’s not a fear of commitment because I’m the most freakishly committed girlfriend you could ever have. Definitely not a fear of monogamy because cheaters makes me homicidal (in a good way?). Somehow, unbeknownst to me, I’ve developed a fear of intimacy (of all kinds) & a fear of loss of freedom. So, as a 32 year old woman who likes relationships & wants children, how do I make this work? Obviously by making my fears public to the world, thereby forcing me to make changes..or at least start by writing about making changes (everything’s a process, guys).
For whatever reason (exes, circumstances, experiences), over the years I’ve begun shying away from emotional & physical contact with people who may be potential mates. I don’t feel like re-telling my life story on a date (I mean, how many times can you go over your own life? I literally started boring myself), I run away like Phoebe Buffay in Central Park (you so remember that episode) at the first sign of someone trying to hold my hand or anything remotely physical (my aversion to PDAs are a long-standing thing so this isn’t really so surprising, but I suppose to recoil from a hand like it’s a mutant tarantula is a little much). Past relationships haven’t turned out for the best for a variety of reasons (infidelities-them, overanalysis/need to prove myself correct when Sherlocking the aforementioned infidelities-me, insecurities-us); & though I’m civil/friends with those little culprits now (which is something fabulous that I think everyone should do if feasible, because it removes a LOT..not all, but still..of emotional cargo & has lightened the load in my life significantly), they clearly impacted the relationship issues I face now. Currently, the thought of a boyfriend makes me break out into hives because I think of all of the weekends/evenings that would have to go into dinners and family meetings at some point and struggling to find my alone time which I so treasure right now. I worry that all of the grandiose dreams I have for myself & my life will end up playing second fiddle to my relationship & at my age, the problem (supposedly) is that I don’t have the luxury of time to delay either my life’s goal or my relationship future.
So, how does a person re-learn romantic love? I mean, I don’t have to start all over in the general love department because I love my friends in the adore kinda way & I love my family in the obsessed/don’t mess with them/they can never leave me kinda way (that’s an unhealthiness best explained in another post) & I love my dog in the you’re the best thing with 4 legs and a tongue ever created kinda way. But how do you re-learn the I’m-in-love-with-you-you’re-really-attractive-let’s-hang-out-a-lot-and-maybe-make-out kind of love? Trial and error. Perhaps being less cocooned will help, perhaps letting my guard down (SLOWLY) will help people to believe that I’m not, in fact, some intimidating unfeeling ice queen, but rather a vulnerable person with concerns and fears and aspirations and dreams. I’ve also learned that taking all of the pressures coming from other people around me & placing them on myself and the people I meet is not about to help make me open and available, it basically just overwhelms & drives you into a scared turtle state. I’ve also realized that though I have standards, and I refuse to compromise on some of them because I am well aware of what type of individual and what type of relationship I deserve, that some of them may be impossible for anyone to meet & maybe that’s the sole reason why I put them there; so I can say, “Oh well, you don’t meet this requirement of being a chest hair-less dancer who chews with his mouth closed and is sarcastic and doesn’t have a certain last name” & consequently not have to get to know those who don’t fit those standards. I suppose these “realizations” or epiphanies or whatever you want to call them are the first step to moving towards a life that I’m actually willing to share with someone else outside of my carefully & meticulously maintained world of weirdos. That, combined with a strange cocktail of minor narcissism/obsession with genetics/hyper-maternal instinct that makes me want to see more little me’s in the world, will hopefully be the propellors that catapult me into the arena of companionship and romantical love & stabilize me there while allowing me to revel with my own individual identity intact.
There’s no definitive answer on how to feel romantic love again, but there are definitive methods to the madness, and at this moment in time, in the melodic words of Alicia Keys, if you ask me, I’m ready.
Today’s Interlude(s): “Back In The High Life Again,” by Steve Winwood & “Not A Bad Thing” by Justin Timberlake
This is probably my most personal post yet & I’m hoping I actually hit “publish” before deleting the whole thing. I don’t know about you, but over the past decade or so, I’ve been hearing much more about “anxiety” than I ever have before, or maybe I’ve just gotten older and have had way more experience with it than I’d like. Most of us use the word “anxious” as a substitute for “nervous,” & although they have many overlaps, trust me when I say they’re completely different things. I was nervous before launching my own company, I am anxious all the time.
I’ve always been a relatively confident and logical human being. Yes, it’s possible that I’m more emotional than most & feel things very intensely, but I could always rationalize and understand situations without suddenly feeling like my world was crumbling. Over time however, I’ve realized that I started developing a real anxiety issue. I can attribute this to situations from my childhood & failed relationships & starting medical school and quitting medical school, and a plethora of other events that could cause anyone minor anxiety, but for me, it has ballooned into an unmanageable situation causing dysfunction and deflation. Add those events to the life of an already introverted, hyper self-aware, super-emotional, over-imaginative pessimist & there is only disaster.
Lately, I’ve started worrying about things that have only the most miniscule chance in hell of happening, but I worry about them constantly. My parents’ health woes took a huge toll on me & now I stalk them like a little creepy shadow daughter. The idea is that if I am always there with the people I worry about, then I can control the situation and in turn, the scary thing I fear will not occur. This is not logical because I have not yet been cloned (& I don’t think anyone who knows me would even allow that for the sake of their own sanity) & I obviously cannot be everywhere at once. This fact alone causes me great anguish because lack of control over something I feel deeply about is something that drives me completely nutty (currently, I’m only partially nutty). The lack of control over my negative thoughts (please see header image above..that’s literally me in cartoon form) sends me into an anxiety spiral that I usually need my inhaler to get out of. What’s also fun is that an anxiety attack can mimic symptoms of a heart attack & I usually end up sweating & short of breath, with chest pain & tingling limbs; a fantastic thing to watch in a notorious hypochondriac (someone should really take me on the road as a traveling one-woman emotional circus, might as well cash in on myself).
The problem with anxiety is that it’s sometimes overlooked & treated as though it’s a minor issue that an individual who suffers from it can get past by just changing their thoughts. “Just think positive! Control it! Count to 10!” Hello friends, if changing thoughts & inner processes were that simple, who out there wouldn’t be a perpetually happy, content, self-assured person!? I don’t even know that the worst-case scenario thought is coming before it’s already onto catastrophic proportions-case scenario! It’s an agonizing & literally physically and mentally exhausting condition when it gets too far (a la moi) & even more so when the individual refuses to ask for help and believes that they can sift through their irrational concerns on their own because that’s what they’ve always done (again, a la moi), because then there is an internal battle of why won’t this go away like it always has & will this get worse if I don’t explain it to someone else out there? I could go on & on about the stigma of such disorders that is out there, but honestly, you can just Google that and get more articulate & thorough information out there than I could provide for you. I’m not the biggest fan of therapy or drugs (I know that’s rich coming from an ex-medical student with a psychology major/sociology minor, but..sorry?), but it’s not because of any stigma. I’m an advocate of all of the above..for everyone else. I’m not a talker, I’m a thinker & the idea of having to go through my life story & delve into my past with someone who knows nothing about me is less comforting than it is terrifying. And the idea of them giving me a houseful of Xanax is even worse. But recently, even I have had to admit to the fact that something has to be done for me, & more importantly, it has to be done by me. The 7 years of insomnia, the daily “what ifs,” the negative terror-thought cycle, the improbable scenarios, the sudden dread at nightfall, and the immense need to control situations and people would be beautiful traits written for a character in reel life, but they don’t belong in my real life (but in case anyone in the industry is reading this, I can totally play myself if you decide to bring that character to life; Oscars, here I come!). 😛
What I can say is that I know that I’m not alone. I’m upset about that because I wish no one had to suffer through the constant crippling & paralysis that severe anxiety has on one’s day/goals/social life/entire life, but I’ve finally understood & come to terms with the fact that it can be managed. What we all can do & should do is be people who support one another, empathize with one another, & understand each other to the best of our abilities (this is true whether you suffer from it or not, btw).
In the words of Bastille, “But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all? And if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you’ve been here before? How am I gonna be an optimist about this?” The new & hopeful words of my inner self are just beginning to form an answer..I am gonna be an optimist about this. I have a fabulous life to live.
P.S. If you suffer from anxiety, there are apparently a million resources out there, check ’em out here.
Today’s Interlude(s): “Don’t Let Me Get Me,” Pink & “Happy,” Pharrell Williams (kind of a before & after thing)
champagne & cookiedough 