It was the freakin weekin...weekend?...

I think I've got to just come right out and say it. It's not something I've been looking forward to but I don't think I could help it if I tried. I'm moving past denial, and gently easing myself down the winding road of acceptance. 

Lo and behold, against all efforts to the contrary, I am my mother's daughter. Shocker, I know. 

In many ways, I am grateful. I mean, my mom rocks. She really does. But she also really lives the life of a crazy person, packing in 48 hours worth of stuff into every 24 hour period, making lists of lists and constantly flitting from project to project. That woman is a force to be reckoned with. And heck, who doesn't want to be known as a force to be reckoned with? That is pretty rad. 

But it is also pretty exhausting some days. Like woah. And sometimes I get up the druthers to say ENOUGH! And, then, of course, I apologize to myself because, seriously, how rude!

This weekend was an attempt at an "enough" weekend. And I loved it. And it exhausted me. But still I loved it. Although it was a complete and utter "enough" failure.

I had finally finished with my class on Wednesday night and was ecstatic to have the weight of schoolwork off my shoulders for the weekend. Even when I am procrastinating, it looms heavy and large and full of Catholic guilt. So this weekend, the vapors vanished and I could make plans free of any real obligations. So I filled up every hour possible. Crazy person, that's me. 

We started the weekend right with an amazing dinner of oysters and sashimi and all other delights I hope to not eat for the better part of 2013. It's like my binge before the diet. It was heaven. And a horrible idea. I mean, if life doesn't work out as planned, I could get really fat from all this binging! Oh and did I mention  my light-weight drinking status has evolved to a no-weight status? I had a glass of reisling, foolishly ordered another, and then realized before starting glass #2, that I was drunk. Not crazy drunk, let's be real here. But tipsy funny drunk. Oh lordy. Family Christmas will be an experience!

We spent the rest of the weekend happily Christmas shopping, seeing two of Chris's groomsmen who came in town and their fabulous families/significant others, and spending time on the couch. But before all that, I made us walk around the city for 2 hours running 9 different errands and feeling more and more excited with each one that was crossed off the list. Afterwards, we really needed naps. 

Peace so often eludes me. Or rather, I elude peace. At this time of being anxious about so many things, from the daily chores to be done, to the holidays to prepare for, to the question of what life looks like for us next year, I need peace more than ever. I keep waiting for it to come to me, but maybe that's just not who I am. Maybe I need to embrace my mother's genes and take pride in my reckoning force, in my ability to accomplish, to busy my body in order to rest my mind. To say enough....but not really mean it. And love life anyways. 

Praying for Boobs.

I have always wanted to be a woman. I couldn't wait to wear high heels, have boobs to fill out something other than a training bra, and I would even pray to the divine Lord above for him to send me my period. Seriously, He must have gotten a good laugh outta that one. 

I would steal away to my mom's closet when she wasn't in town, trying on her high heels, dressing up in these ridiculous fur coats from my great-grandmother, and putting on "big girl bras" to see if I'd gotten any closer to filling them out (I hadn't). I would imagine the parties I would throw, wearing pearls and saying "oh daaaaahling, so divine of you to come" and giggling while swirling a glass of white zinfandel. I would imagine reminding my husband to pick up the dry cleaning, picking children up from school in the back of my '69 orange firebird convertible, and generally living the good life. 

I had

no idea

what I was in for.

I still don't. 

I still find myself craving these same desires of what I define as womanhood. The marital bliss, the brood of children, the high heels, and yes, swirling glasses of wine (though thankfully I've upgraded from white zin!) with "daaaaaahling" girlfriends. But now I know it doesn't come so easy. It's not a rite of passage, not an automatic punch in your card of life experiences when age X comes around. I knew at that young age that some day I'd be allowed to wear high heels, that my period would come, that boobs more or less would grow, and eventually I could drink wine if I wanted to. I never knew that the rest wouldn't work out that way, too.

All of those things mean nothing to me now when compared with the desires that don't come as easily. I know now that not all of us find our soul mates at the age the media and movies and the little girl inside have us expecting, if ever. And when we do, sometimes it isn't all bliss. I know now that having children is hard work and not something that happens easily without a lot of praying, planning, and quiet dreams that are only whispered for fear of how many pieces our hearts will break into if they aren't fulfilled.  And this isn't even talking about the work that comes after they are actually born!

But the quiet recesses of my mind are full. No longer do I desire to steal away to my mother's closet, to keep my longings secret and hidden. I am wiser, if not more scared, by my knowledge of the lack of fairytale endings. And in all my wisdom, I know that to share this fear is the only way to endure it. To be there for each other, no matter what battle the other is facing, and to do so with love, compassion, and okay a big bottle of wine, too!, is the ultimate stamp of what it means to be a woman. To endure together, lovingly, with acceptance, humility, and faith.

I am so thankful for my sisters, for their love and their willingness to listen to my fears and share their own. Now I just pray that I have them by my side and I by theirs. The boobs can wait.

Deleted Text Messages

I am a planner. Life, to me, is one big adventure that's best experienced via an organized list of bullet points, including, but not limited to, detailed notes on priorities, deadlines, and important numbers. I can go on and on. Try me. Oh sure, sometimes I try to pretend that I love to go with the flow and let the wind take me where she blows and oh, this little ol' thing? Oh, I just threw it together.

It's not. It never is. I am a bold faced liar. And now you know.

But last night, I was asked to go on an adventure where no list was provided. No details on what to expect, whom to expect, and whether I'd be fed! All I got was "gym clothes are fine! I'm wearing rainboots!" And oh I already had the text message written out with a (true!) excuse about feeling woozy from giving blood, only having an hour sleep the night before, yada yada yada. And oh the Catholic guilt that was setting in about flaking on my friend, my dear sweet friend who I love so much, who I haven't seen in so long, and who I won't see again until the new year! But oh I was hungry!

And so I deleted the text and said instead, I'm on my way.

Who was that girl? Seriously!

Sometimes, though, you really do just have to let go. Whether it's out of obligation, exhaustion, or a momentary lapse in judgment due to voluntary blood loss. And I am so glad I did. It felt so good to be with my friend. Something about her makes things inside me go siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh and relax in the comfort of being with another soul who loves you for who you are and doesn't care what's hidden under the bed. And she introduced me to two of her new friends who made my belly ache from laughter and who I enjoyed more and more with every second that went by.  And so many seconds went by! Oh and did I mention side ponytails were involved?

I came home more exhausted than when I left, but with a renewed vigor and spirit whispering inside me that it was all going to be okay. Because sometimes I over-analyze my life. And I judge myself on the number and quality of friends I have. And I feel so down about it that it is hard to want to go on and try to make things better. I shy away from new friendships because if my current friends don't even seem like they want to have a connection with me, why should strangers? And if we're thinking of leaving the city in a year, what's the point? I can make it through another year without friends. And on and on it goes until I am saddened and resigned to live a life half fulfilled.

But last night reminded me that filling up that other half was possible. That life and love awaits me if I'm willing to give it a chance. But I just might have to let go of some plans and be open to some new ones.

Okay, world. I'm on my way.

Scared of the Awesome

Image credit: Google Image Search

Do you ever find that when you get so close to something you want so badly and have worked hard for, you suddenly start to PaNiC? And question all your past judgments and reasons for working hard towards this goal?

I do.

Oh, I do.

We are on the cusp of an exciting adventure. The culmination of twenty-nine years of living, loving, and learning to get to this point. Of manifesting what I know in my soul to be my true purpose for living. Of something I think I will pretty darn good at, if I do say so myself.

Except for one little thing.

I
am
terrified.

I am so scared of my life not matching up with my dreamlike expectations. I am so scared of failure. Of misjudging the right time for this or for that. That there will be struggles and hardships and regrets. That I will not be strong enough to survive and will instead become someone I don't want to be. Someone bitter and mean and pessimistic.

But, if I am honest with myself, there's no way I can't leap. No way to not move forward and trust in all God's wisdom that everything will work out in His time. Not in my time. But in His. And it will be glorious and good. Even the parts that are trying on my patience, my need to plan, plan, plan and control, control, control.

It will be good.