Whew

It would appear, that despite all attempts at heart failure via anxiety, that Saturday’s excursion proved a success.

The pressure was on.  I half prayed on Friday night to wake up to torrential rain heavy enough as to provide legitimate excuse for cancellation.  I fiddled around with my back pack, packed up extra snacks, speculated as to the type of person our one signed up participant would be.

There were panicked moments.  Being only a threesome, she’d have to carpool with us.  That meant extra talking…performing.

There were tenth and eleventh thoughts…why had I chosen a hike so far away? What if it’s too long for her fitness level?  What if it’s too short and easy for her fitness level?

In the end, I did what I always do.  I ignored my misgivings and kept marching stalwartly on.  That’s what happens in my head, you see.  There are two warring factions:  One, a neurotic, shell-shocked harbinger of certain, thundering doom and the other, a pink-cheeked optimist believing unwaveringly in the possibility of beauty around each corner.  They’re both of equal size and brawn, and evenly matched in tenacity and conviction.  Predicting the winner in any given week or day or even second is a crap shoot, the odds stacked squarely at 50/50.

We saw our third the moment we pulled into the fresh market parking lot.  No turning back then, so I got out of the truck, shook her hand and invited her to drive with us.  No sense in stepping in one toe at a time right?  She piled her things into the back seat, gave a good-natured shrug to the idea that we had now heat and that our dog is a whiny mess (she takes after her mom….), and we were off.  On the road to adventure.

The rest of the car ride was well-deserving of my sigh of relief.  Conversation was easy and plentiful, and my liberal use of The Eff Word seemed not to offend.  Within a half an hour, I was able to begin congratulating myself on a smooth embarkation, and to allow for the slightest loosening of tension at the very edges of my nerves.  I breathed out slightly, and gave way to what the day wanted to be.  In skydiving, the hardest part is stepping out of the plane.  I find that to be mostly true of most other adventures I subject myself to as well.

There was a moment or two–when we were driving around, unable to find the trailhead–when I began to mourn as fleeting the success of the trip, but, thanks to some cow farmers going about their daily business, we were soon back on track and “a pied”, hiking toward Towell Falls.

The rest of the day passed pleasantly and in the best way I could have imagined it.  Everyone moved at a similar pace and the conversation wove in and out unprompted by foreign fertilizers.  At a mile in, my anxiety was at its lowest drone, and I reached my eyes around, taking in the day.

I fight endlessly and everyday against dark clouds and demons.  I feel, and deeply, the worst of each of my days.  But sometimes–and this is what keeps me from giving in to that neurotic dissenter–I manage to beat my own expectations, and prove the existence of ease and okay-ness.  This Too Shall Pass.  Sometimes, I repeat it enough that it’s true.

Future Self

The Prompt:

Imagine yourself five years from now. What advice would you give your current self for the year ahead? (Bonus: Write a note to yourself 10 years ago. What would you tell your younger self?) (Author: Jenny Blake)

Okay.  What?  Is my future self giving my current self advice?  Or is my future self giving my future self advice for the upcoming sixth year?  I’m confused.  How did I just get caught in an episode of Sliders? Further, this prompt also assumes that I would take advice from myself.  Which I might not.  Basically, I’m digging in my heels here.  I can’t fathom how to give myself advice from a standpoint of having experienced experiences that I haven’t experienced yet.  I’m just not that astute and fiction isn’t really my thing.  So instead, I’ll take the bonus question for $1000, Alex.

Dear 21 year old Jen:

Oh for crying out loud, are you drunk?  No, no, nothing.  I didn’t mean anything. Huh?  I’m laughing because you crack me up.  Yes you.  I haven’t changed at all.  Pour me one, wouldja?  What?!  Carlo Rossi?  Chablis?  You can’t be serious….shit, I forgot you drank that crap.  Yes, of course I’ll have a pint.  Hand it over.  Yeah, a straw too.  And pack that bowl.  We need to have a chat.

You, my girl, are currently in the midst of what you’ll later be inclined to label as the most carefree and happy time of your life.  With the benefit of hindsight at my disposal, I’m going to make a couple of suggestions that could serve you very well in the upcoming years and perhaps save us both quite a bit of angst.

(Pardon?  No.  Uh-uh.  NO!  Your mother did NOT send me.  I really am your 31 year old self.  Yes, yes, I know that it’s graying.  Yes.  I see that line every day.  Well then quit smoking.  No?  I didn’t think so.  I’m still struggling with that so, shut up.  Can I continue now?  Yeah?  Thanks.)

1.  You hate your hotel major.  I’ve got news for you, kid, you’re going to continue to hate it.  So drop it.  Bite the bullet, stay another year, take a minor in Women’s Studies and make your second major Journalism.  You need to start RIGHT NOW to listen to your gut on things like this.  It’s not going to get better, so get rid of the romantic ideas of what COULD BE, and move on to something you’ll actually love.

(Oh, enough.  Enough of the what-ifs.  No.  No, that isn’t going to happen.  You’ll spend three years working for way too little money while other people take credit for your work.  AND you’ll drink way too much because you loathe what you do so badly.  I don’t know.  Well, it certainly can’t be worse.  Okay, fine.  A bottle of vodka says that Journalism is a better decision.  No, I can do WAY better than Stoli.)

2.  Follow through with the opportunity to get certified as a group fitness instructor and personal trainer through the gym.  You’ll never regret it.  It’s something you’re going to forever wish you’d done.

(Because I said so.  Really?  Okay, What size are your jeans?  You wanna know what mine are?  Yeah.  Sorry, that waist isn’t going to stay that way forever.  Huh?  Yeah?  Oh.  Thanks.  Well, I work at it.  You should start now.)

3.  Put half of everything you make at the bar away.  Don’t touch it.  EVER.  I’m FUCKING SERIOUS.

(Because you already should have traveled more than you have.  Ha.  No smart-ass comment I see.  Good.  Start now.)

That’s it.  Yes, really.  What?  Yes I remember him.  Oh, don’t put too much stock in it.  He’s got a big dick, but he’s fucking crazy….AND he writes terrible poetry.  Plus, you’re going to have an amazing New Year’s Eve.  Just don’t get too drunk….Trust me, it’ll be worth it.  No.  No hints.  Okay, just one:  when you think you ought to take the chance and call someone, do it.  No.  You get nothing else.  You’ll overthink it.  No.  You’ll overthink it and then make an ass of yourself.  As it is, you handled it just fine.

Okay.  I’m going.  I love you.  You’re doing fine.

Me

Wisdom

The Prompt:

Wisdom Wisdom. What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out? (Author: Susannah Conway)

Oh sugar, please; wise decisions are generally not my forte.  I cross streets without looking, insist on wearing flip-flops into November, make lefts on red arrows and have even been talked into running a half-marathon (which I did, just to prove I could).  I’m ruled by instinct and whim (and sheer bull-headedness), and while I will replay a situation over and over AFTER it’s happened, thinking it through BEFORE disaster strikes never crosses my mind.  This past year, though, gave me an opportunity to change a pattern.

2010 threw a lot of bullshit my way, but perhaps the largest, and most consequential, was the near-failing of my five-year marriage.  My wisest decision, looking in from the outside, COULD have been staying married.  But it wasn’t.  Time and further reflection proved that without another, WAY more important decision, remaining a couple would have been the stupidest thing I’d done out of stubbornness in a long time.  There was something else remaining, that, unexamined and unresolved, would have rendered my resolution to remain hitched futile at best.

By the time the big D became a viable option, I’d just about worn out my resolve and strength to keep going.  I had a vision of what I wanted my life to look like, and it was time for me to get around to making that happen.  I was weather-beaten and tired and just plain weary of constantly getting shoved backwards.  In the end though, (and after a pretty big transgression on my part) we remained firmly, and officially entangled.

As I said, though, deciding to stay married, and having it work out are two mutually exclusive concepts.  I still resented him, I still hated living here and I was still regularly getting mad about things that had happened BEFORE.  And there we were: it was make or break time, and I had yet ANOTHER decision to make.  THE decision.  And I did.  I held my breath, squinched my eyes, and jumped in, feet first:

I decided to forgive.  And for real this time.

I thought I’d forgiven before.  But forgiveness is a tricky thing, you know?  It’s slippery and elusive.  You may think you’ve done it, but then he’s asked for something, and you’re mad.  Not mad at what he’s asked you to do, but mad at the fact that YOU’D asked HIM to do that SO MANY times in the past only to be ignored.  So FUCK THAT!  Why should you?  Or he complains constructively about something you’ve done.  It’s a valid complaint, it’s something you can work on, but WHY?  Why when LAST YEAR, if you had asked the same, he would have laughed in your face?  It’s then, that you realize, you haven’t forgiven at all.

And it’s standing in the way.

But not anymore.   Instead of replaying old hurts over and over again, I forgave.  For real this time.  Once more, and for the record, I clearly and precisely gave vent to what I hated about before; the things that hurt me, the Deal-Breakers, the stuff that I’d no longer tolerate, the aggression that WILL NOT STAND, MAN!  I enumerated the things that I wanted, needed, HAD TO HAVE in my life.  I listened to the same things from the other side (this may be MY blog, but the marriage is OURS).  And then I forgave.

And so far, that was the wisest decision that I could have made.  I laugh more now.  WE laugh more now.  I’m not so despairing about our future.  There’s a light there now that I thought had burned out.  It flickered at first, but it’s turning into a warming blaze.  I still click “Place Bid Now” without knowing that I’m bidding in British pounds, and I’m frequently found outside the house with clothes too light for the weather, but I’m pretty sure that when it comes to the big ones, my decisions can be counted on as sound.  Especially this one.