Carnal Zen

No one’s here and I fall into myself. This truth drives me

Driving home from a long weekend of condo repairs and tenant wrangling, this lyric from an Evanescence song hit me in the gut. HARD.

The truth that drives me, if I’m honest, is that it all rests on my head. If I don’t do it - it will not get done right, on time, or at all. It doesn’t matter what it is. Unfortunately this flawed thinking has been reinforced at work for some time. This weekend was a perfect example. I was in the city where most of my best friends live, friends who love me and welcome me with open arms no matter what and would do anything for me.

I was overwhelmed with the surprise vacancy and all the work I had to do in 48 short hours while showing the condo. So instead of asking for help painting, putting in flooring, hanging blinds, or even the convenience of a bed and shower. I packed a sleeping bag and pillow. Slept in the vacant apartment on the floor for two nights and didn’t ask a soul for help.

My excuses were pretty fantastic “I’ll get started earlier if I wake up there”, “these guys did enough when they helped me move out 6 years ago - it wouldn’t be right to ask for more” or my favorite “it’s easier on the dog if we just stay at one place”. Wow.

So the first step is admitting you have a problem. Fine. I admit it. Lynn called me out on it when she came over to see me, and astonished at the workload I had given myself, picked up a paintbrush..

A few months ago - Mate asked if he could come over. At that moment I was brimming with tears overwhelmed and exhausted by work. I pushed it off, told him I wouldn’t be good company and I planned to get home and get straight to bed after my conference. He wasn’t having it and showed up anyway. That night he took care of me. I let him. We weren’t even dating at the time. It was HUGE for me. Dad called me out on it just a few weeks ago for “taking on” the responsibility of his troubled relationship with my sister.

I’ve got to stop saying “thanks, but…..” or “I can manage”. Worse yet I have to stop thinking it’s all on my shoulders. It’s too much to carry the load alone - especially the stuff that isn’t even mine. I’m not a control freak per se. I don’t really think it’s a martyr thing either. Kat calls it my stupidly independent streak. (She has one too).

I might actually credit Mom for this one. For better or worse she wanted me to be strong and independent. The do-not-ask-for-help rule makes sense in that context, but I KNOW IT IS NOT SERVING ME WELL. I knew it in Europe. Disconnecting for two weeks lessened the load. I get it, I hear it, and in this very poorly written post the point is I’m trying to find a way to stop it. A real way.

This post does not have a teachable moment. It has a request for ideas - for help - for advice on how to break this pattern. This is me, paying attention to the note on my dresser mirror that says it’s ok to ask for help, and actually ASKING.

Baby steps.

It happened in a vinyasa flow hot yoga class - ironically while doing tree pose. I stretched, sweated and it came to me. I am still growing.

It does not yet appear what I shall be. I’m 33, happy and successful but yesterday does not define me. This is me saying I’m not done surprising you, them, or myself. There’s no script, no defined path and no measuring stick. I’m just going to become more me - whoever that is. I can’t achieve it with another degree, a dozen kids or being quoted in nine hundred more media articles. I don’t even no what “it” is. I just know that although I am already proud of who I am and what I have accomplished, the potential is there for me to be more.

I don’t know where I’m going but I am growing. That’s all I really need to know.

I’m back from my journey across the pond. I picked up many sayings and lots of local knowledge. Mostly, I was reminded that sometimes you have to travel really far to find yourself. My first words were “Ello Luv” with a British accent. I wasn’t super campy as an infant. Dad used to greet me that way when he peeked his head into my crib first thing in the morning. It’s one of those things that stuck.

My trip was full of adventure, laughter, lager and friendship. Stonehenge, roman baths, football games and the most delicious gourmet food market ever. The weather reminded me of Fall in NY and only a few grey days were had, which added to the authenticity.

There were other moments too. The kind that come when I am out of my element, in unfamiliar territory, where I question myself. I hold my purse a little too tight. I start doubting my ability to navigate an unfamiliar mass transit system or seem at ease eating at a table for one. Notice I said SEEM at ease. BEING at ease is totally out of the question at times like that. Except, this time, in a tea house in Brighton I made the leap from seeming to being. I stopped resenting the empty seat across from me and made the experience my own.

It was a simple thing really. Such an obvious thought. So overdue.

I don’t have to get stuck in what could have been or should have been. My life is pretty fucking amazing RIGHT NOW and I’d be an idiot to spend another moment unhappy.

(I will post pics as soon as I figure out why the photo feature isn’t working on here).

It’s time for my great escape, a little bit of laughter and a lot adventure in the Uk & Scotland for the next two weeks. I want to will be unplugged. It’s funny how that idea gives me comfort and anxiety. My inner control freak is convinced the world will not turn in my absence, that work will fall into complete chaos and the internet will crash. It goes without saying that I need to get over myself.

After months of too many balls in the air for way too long it’s time to take care of me. I’ve a new tenant moving in, repairs are done, taxes are filed, dog is washed, bills are paid. I hope to re-learn to breathe - all the way to my belly which I haven’t done in ages. Maybe even dare to dream happy dreams again. It’s time. I need it and moreover I deserve it. So my internet friends - I’ll see you on the otherside of this furrowed brow. Wish me luck and laughter across the pond XXOO

Well technically it is a condo - so I’m lord of the walls but only interior and not so much actual dirt. Nevertheless it’s mine and it’s hard to rent because people won’t love it like I do. This weekend it was time to clean house - shoo out the old tenants, ready the place for the new and give the place some long overdue elbow grease. I don’t mind the work. It’s a labor of love. I miss nesting. That said, the disgusting oven and fridge, the filthy everything and the departing tenant’s sense of entitlement are a little less pleasant.

I am trying to be patient. I am biting my tongue. I am counting down the minutes till I leave the country so I don’t unleash the raving bitch I’m keeping under wraps right now. Tomorrow he will be a memory. The new tenant seems lovely. I hope he is. I dislike drama. I’m not a huge fan of being a landlord. I’d rather be Goddess of the grass.