When I was at yoga (my favorite thing) last night, the teacher had a good little piece of advice for us. After pressing from crescent to warrior 3 directly after crescent twist and several rounds of chair, our legs and bodies were tired. Fatigued. And the teacher could see that, in our grimacing faces, in our shaking legs and torsos, and in our falling. But he told us (I’m paraphrasing), “If you fall, get back up, try again, so you can fall better.” In that spirit, I’m taking some time to reconsider, reexamine, reevaluate, re-everything my resolutions for 2015.

Allow me to preface this by acknowledging that hitting the sickness speedbump not even a week into the year would have been an easy way to give up, and tell myself that the fates, karma, kismet, and the universe writ large were simply not invested in my achieving my goals. But just as I believe that you don’t have to wait for the calendar to turn and January 1st to roll back around to change your habits, I believe that you don’t have to accept a January setback as a delay so insurmountable it can’t be conquered until the following January 1st. So I’m setting a new group of goals for 2015:

1. Get more focused on goals (Hey, something I can check off already!) Continue reading


Getting to the heart of it

Or as I like to call it, artichoking (teehee). Do you ever have a conversation with someone that you think will stay fairly superficial, but ends up getting ridiculously deep and ends up uncovering some tough truths? I had one of those talks (in multiple parts) the other day. I’m not the type to dwell on difficulties; I like to laugh off struggles, or make jokes to cut the tension. It’s a learned family idiosyncrasy.

So when a coworker and I discussed my relationship status (or lack thereof), and the chitchat turned from glib to serious, it wasn’t the easiest place for me to go. We went all the tough directions. Should I date the guy I’m going after right now? If not, who should I be going for? Why do I need to be dating someone, or anyone? Why don’t I have a boyfriend anyway? Why do I hate that question so much? (So many reasons.)

After all that, we hit on a difficult reality that I’d never faced before but have been thinking about a lot for the last 24+ hours. One that I’d joked about before but hadn’t seriously considered til now. Something to think about.

What tough truth do you need to face, or have you already faced?

When Life Gets in the Way

When I am aged, and spreading my wisdom to younger generations, I will tell them the following things:

* Work is good for the soul. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re working too much or too hard.
* Be careful sharing the family shortbread recipe. You never know when a friendship or marriage will end, and it is the best shortbread you’ve ever eaten. Before you know it, that massive family secret is going to end up on some cooking show, and then it’s just not as special.
* Be prepared to take care of yourself, whatever that means for you. Your life is your responsibility, and even having another person to support you doesn’t mean you can abdicate that responsibility. Be prepared financially, physically, mentally, etc.
* I stopped being young at 26.

The last one I’ve realized in the last few days. Through Sunday morning, I was totally dedicated to spending the beginning of this year getting back into a fitness routine. So what if I was sore walking up and down the stairs at work and all the push-ups and squats weren’t as easy as they were just six months ago? I was getting back to taking care of myself, and it was worth the struggle.

But while that worked when I was 21, or 25, it’s not working so well now I’m 27. Now, now that I am not young anymore, I get sick overnight, and I have bad reactions to over-the-counter cold medicine that make taking it worse than not taking it.

So the workouts take a backseat for a little bit. And the only food I find particularly appealing (other than soup) is frosted brown sugar cinnamon pop tarts. But I’ll get better, and I’ll get back to it.

It’s a new year

And it’s been awhile. I can’t say I’m terribly surprised; sticking with a blog/project is something I’ve failed at more than once. But what better time than the new year to acknowledge your failures so you can fail better?

So here are the things I feel I’ve failed at this year:
* Finding a job that provides any level of month-to-month income security or benefits
* Sticking with my fitness routine in a new locale and without my old support system
* Numerous attempts at establishing meaningful romantic relationships

And because I really love a bulleted list, here’s what I’m hoping for in 2015:
* More running and working out and less excuse-making
* More handling my problems and less ignoring them for my own mental peace
* More yoga and less insecurity
* More vegetables and less NYC junk food tourism
* More doing and less thinking about what could go wrong

Economizing vs. Depression

For one whole week, I’ve had my own apartment. The grown-up apartment, with multiple rooms to furnish, and a one-year lease. And monthly rent that is more than my parents have ever paid on a mortgage. And in that week, I’ve accomplished the following:
• Spent a ridiculous amount of my parents’ money at Ikea, Target, Best Buy, and WalMart, all towards properly furnishing this lovely little place
• Arranged/decorated most of that lovely little place, to rave reviews on Instagram and Facebook
• Decided on a television and internet provider
• Absolutely zero job hunting and close to zero writing, because the aforementioned internet won’t be set up until this Thursday (Is this the functional definition of a millennial, that they don’t know what to do or how to accomplish anything meaningful without high-speed internet access?)
• Had my car booted and then paid $150 to have it unbooted
• Halfway put together a final piece of furniture before I had to go to a party
• Been on the receiving end of a particularly vicious hangover, brought on not just by drinking but also by seriously questionable decisions (though that is what brought me to the modicum of writing I’ve done, so it’s clearly not that bad)
And, just today, slept til noon, when I got up, made a to-do list, watched some Property Brothers on my phone, and then went back to sleep. And apparently missed a delivery of something. I should really figure out my buzzer system and then label it appropriately.
I’ve struggled with depression before, and though I despise using such a cliché, struggle is really the only appropriate verb I think there is for it. I considered “dealt,” but that implies a following clause, as in “I dealt with the problem, and I moved on.” And that would be a complete misrepresentation of the situation that ignores the heft of what depression is, the way it sits heavily on every part of your life, making everything difficult and clarity impossible. It’s a thick smoke whose stink lingers, whether on a resume, explaining a long gap of unemployment, or on a bank statement, justifying debit card use that is clearly characterized by doing things alone. Single movie tickets, fast food meals for one, late night wine purchases – all of these populate my bills from years ago. I say all of this not to get on a soapbox and direct people not to use the word depressed lightly, but to preface the following: I’m afraid I’m a little depressed.
Admittedly, today was a rainy day, the kind the Mamas and the Papas sang about, and the kind that gets everyone a little down. I have to wonder just how many people in the NYC area booked late-summer beach vacations today out of sheer impulse to eventually escape today’s wet, dark doldrums. And also, one could easily call my behavior responsible. I have no job, and have taken on an enormous amount of financial burden in the last month, and have been cut off from my former means of support. In theory, putting as little money out when none is coming in is a good thing. But there are ways to minimize spending without sleeping through the day.
I eventually got up, put clothes on, and made it to a coffeeshop to use the internet. So I guess that’s a step.

I’m Scared

Like really scared. I’m sitting on my parents’ couch, drinking day-old sangria (yum) and watching hockey. In less than 36 hours, everything I own and want to keep will be packed into two cars to be driven 1200 miles to my first grown-up (read: way too expensive) apartment. Precisely none of my stuff is packed or in any way prepared for the move. But I have to move, and I have to move this weekend. Hotel rooms and plane tickets have been booked. There is no job waiting for me; there is no plan; I’m not sure what to do.

So I write. The only way I can soar is by jumping off this giant cliff and flapping like crazy. I hope you can join me on this journey. It’s my life, and there’re no rules (except to pay rent by the 1st of every month). Watch me fight to fly.