Walt and I are getting ready to go to Ireland for three whole months, which has me feeling vaguely hysterical. You want to see my all-or-nothing mindset kick in, my NOW, NOW, NOW or the world explodes mode switch on? Come on over and sit on my couch. You may even want to take some notes as you witness me flailing my arms and frothing at the mouth. What-not-to-do notes.
I’ve got a few days left to button down the hatches, get all the stuff done that promises to go to shit if I’m not here to watch. You know, close up the pool, sign off on my taxes, buy coffee filters and high-powered rifle ammunition for the SWAT team we’ve hired to guard the house while we’re away. (You’d think Walmart would carry that sort of thing, what with the let’s-arm-disturbed-bears gun laws we have here in the United States.)
That being said, I’m not going to get into a long drawn out lesson on how to say no, or cut the nice girl shit, or draw good boundaries because I probably need to be medicated.
But, I would like to share with you some awfully good tid-bits I ran into this week in my wanderings. If you surf the net when you’re highly anxious, you may have run into one or two of these yourself. I think they merit sharing.
1. Know that existential hole you’ve been trying to fill with food, or alcohol, or shopping, or 17-hour stints at work? Yah, that one. Well listen to this comedian as he discusses connection in the age of technology, and sitting still with those feelings that make us want to run away. Pretty astounding, I’d say.
2. Check out this Huffington Post article: How to Get Flat Abs, Have Amazing Sex and Rule the World in 8 Easy Steps. Tell me you wouldn’t click on that. But here’s what it’s really about:
We keep buying this lie that these things will make us happy. I’ve had washboard abs (past tense) and I’ve had some pretty phenomenal sex. Neither one made me a better person. Neither one completed me or made my life more fulfilling.
We chase this idea of “I will be happy when… “
3. OK. A little brag. One of my articles got published in Thought Catalog, an on-line magazine I tripped over on my niece’s Facebook page a million years ago. They cater to the college crowd, the newly graduated. I’m here to tell you, some of their articles a parent just does NOT want to read. Anyway, here’s a link.
Here’s a little excerpt:
Somewhere early on, all by myself, I had decided that my feelings were never as credible or important as those of my husband. So attuned to small shifts in his mood, in his body language, in his tone, I could sense what he wanted, what he felt, long before he came out with it himself. Long before I could figure out what was going on inside my heart.
4. And finally, I was down in D.C. with Walt at a conference about health and fitness and, get this, EMOTIONAL WELL-BEING. (I feel like I should give those nice people their money back.) Anyway, while I was browsing at this FABULOUS bookstore, I ran into this little number: Nice is Just a Place in France. The title had me at hello. (A little caveat: this was written by and for the 20-something crowd. Some of this–very tongue and cheek tho it is– made me cringe. Especially the drug and alcohol bits)
The nicegirl plays by the rules without every questioning them. She’s dull, lacks depth, lets people walk all over her, yet brings nothing to the table. If she disappeared, you wouldn’t even notice. She’s the girl who rarely colors outside the lines of her life, and even then only in baby pink. She’s the kind of girl who uses a real bookmark. In other words, she’s boring as fuck.
OK. So I’m off. I’ve got to fit a 10 X 9 rug into a duffel bag. Not promising! Wish me luck.
