the break up

Okay.

I admit it.

I am nothing if not predictable.

Sure, I may seem out of control – crazy, even (but, omg, don't even get me STARTED).  And sometimes I feel like I don’t even know what to expect from myself, but the reality is I’m just a creature of habits, good and bad.

It’s been a long time – four years, actually – since I’ve found myself here in The Break Up.  I was naïve enough the first time around to think I’d never be here again but, like clockwork, all my old ways and wanderings have returned like no time has passed whatsoever.

And I can’t decide if that’s depressing or amusing.



The Break Up: Health

Adopt a strict diet of Spaghettios, fudge brownies from the neighborhood 7-Eleven, and medium cheese pizzas ordered from the Domino’s located so close to your house that it might actually take less time to walk there as opposed to waiting for delivery, but walking anywhere would require that you get dressed and that’s just something you cannot be bothered with (see more under The Break Up: Fashion).  Keep a full bottle of Advil PM by your bed so, you know, should you get tired of being awake and wallowing, you can dream-wallow instead.  Weeeee!

The Break Up: Beauty

Stop showering (let’s be honest – how often did you really shower before?) and stop tweezing your eyebrows.  Don’t even bother pretending you have the energy to go out and get them waxed (again, this would require putting on real clothes, which is stupid).  Occasionally wash your face.  Occasionally brush your teeth.  Occasionally apply mascara in the dark before running down to check the mail.  Wear your hair in a ratty bun for seven days straight – briefly consider adding a headband, but then don’t.  Obviously.

The Break Up: Fashion

You’re clearly not working on your Post-Break Up Bod yet, so who gives a shit?  If you absolutely must get dressed, pull on fat jeans, a long-sleeved Nike dry-fit, plus those old, worn out Sperry’s that usually sit in the back of your closet.  If it’s cold, throw on that camo Columbia fleece you bought on sale at Academy in the little boys' section last Christmas – don’t obsess over the fact that you bought it in preparation for a trip to your ex’s friend’s ranch because you wanted to look like you in any way whatsoever belonged on a ranch around dirt and guns and nature (when you, in fact, don’t).  If it’s hot, trade the dry-fit and fleece for the gray and white striped Target v-neck.   You only wear it when you’re depressed, anyway.  Don’t bother with a real bra – rock the bright green racer-back because it’s more comfortable and no one’s looking at your boobs anyway.

Above all, avoid changing out of the oversized Mayde Creek Cross Country 2004 t-shirt.  Avoid putting on pants as well.

The Break Up: Lifestyle

Sleep late.  Sleep all day, if possible.  Think very seriously about exercising, but then don’t.  Finally feel guilty and fat enough to do some squats.  Alternate between napping on the couch and in your bed.  Contemplate hiring a maid so someone will wash your sheets and rinse out all those bowls of dried soup – they’re really starting to clutter up your kitchen counter.  Start making to-do lists.  Throw them away as opposed to actually completing them.  Google "cheap local therapists."  Wade through the disappointing results and accidentally end up with the most expensive option, then find a way to deal with it because she's awesome.

The Break Up: Entertainment

I know you’re not into How I Met Your Mother, but since you (for some ungodly reason) own seasons 1-4 on DVD, watch them.  DVR old episodes of Entourage.  Attempt to watch Khloé & Lamar, but turn it off if (okay, when) you find yourself crying during the opening credits because you’re too jealous of their love (wtf).  Clueless and Mean Girls are fail-safes.  No matter how much you want to, never watch The Last Kiss – it’ll make you cry even more than Khloé & Lamar.  Re-read teen novels you loved in high school.  Re-read The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants series (yes, all four of them).  Skip over all the parts with Bridget and Eric and Lena and Kostos.  Listen to any and every song by M.I.A. and dream about one day making an I’m Back, Baby playlist to celebrate your emersion from The Break Up.

In the meantime, give in and listen to Imogen Heap on repeat.

Okay, so maybe it’s slightly more amusing than depressing.

Here’s to hoping I make it through The Break Up this time around (no promises, though).

melancholia at its finest

Today is just one of those days.

You know the ones I'm talking about. The frustrating, dead-end days where everything seems fuzzy and clear at the same time, where your whole future flashes before your eyes and it's blank blank blank.

I've always been a big proponent of everything happens for a reason, a believer in fate and God's perfect timing and everything in between. But in the year since graduating, I've found it harder and harder to have faith that things work out the way they're supposed to. God's going to take care of me, right? That's what everyone says.

To be frank, I don't feel very taken care of and, yes, I'm aware of how ungrateful and selfish that sounds.

I'm sorry, y'all. I really am. I know I have so much and the majority of the world has so little. Not being employed is really nothing in comparison to contaminated water sources and going hungry for days, etc. And I know this is just me getting caught up in my own silly little world, but I'm indulging myself this afternoon. Sometimes you just have to give yourself permission to rest with your head in your hands. And wallow. And just be sad. So that's what I'm doing today. Womp womppp.

But, all the same, here's to Fridays, being home alone, sleeping puppy dogs, and tragically terrible sorority sister thrillers. :)

sicky

Greetings! I think I'm getting sick.

Hot apple cider, I need you.
My head is all fuzzy and my throat is all scratchy and, as a result, I'm all whiney. You're welcome, parents. But hey, the silver lining is that tomorrow I get to spend ten hours with pre-teens!

I think I'll cough on them.

Kudos and love to my mom, though, for making me cider since it's the only thing that makes my throat happy. And kudos and love to Clark Kent for being a wonderful snuggle buddy.

This is my current view. Jealous?
Hugs and kisses, y'all.

mismash: october

I have been having a very terrible, no-good, oh-poor-me two weeks.

People have turned out to be selfish, inconsiderate, and flat-out rude, and I don't take too kindly to being treated so poorly. Rejection sucks, yes, and I've been throwing myself plenty of pity parties, but I need to be a big girl and move the hell on. I'm not great at endings. I guess I'll just have to get better.

Work has slowed down considerably since picture day season is officially over (boo), and I'm quite bored (not to mention purposeless-feeling). I'm already fighting off the wintertime blues, and it's only October (and lately the weather has been so bi-polar and consequently so have i rings too true).

Sooooo today I ordered these earrings from this super adorable Etsy shop to cheer myself up.


Seeing as how I've had all this free time, I've finally been able to finish up a few books I'd been working my way through. For the record, Nabokov's Lolita is a. slow, b. longgg, and c. one of the creepiest, most uncomfortable books ever. I'd heard people and my professors make references to this novel for years, so I finally bought it and thought I'd give it a go. In a nutshell, it's the story of (and narrated by) an imprisoned child molester who had fallen in love with his landlady's twelve-year old daughter, etc. It's so awkward and I keep accidentally bringing it with me to middle school sports shoots. That's not okay.

I did, however, recently finish an incredible book called Thin is the New Happy by Valerie Frankel.

Amazing.

I know it sounds silly and cliche, but this memoir has literally changed my life. Val had spent her entire life (since she was 11!) as a chronic-dieter, completely obsessed with her weight and suffering from bad body image issues (story of my life). Anyway, she decides to give up dieting and decides to deal with her emotional baggage, confront the demons in her past, eat when hungry, stop when full, and simply work out to remain healthy instead of focusing on dropping a dress size. Ummm...totally inspiring. And, okay, those may seem like the most obvious things in the world to do, but something about this book and her words clicked with me and changed the way I look at myself. I'm psyched to be on day 4 in a row of working out simply because of the good I know it'll bring to the one body (and mind!) I'm ever going to get. Val, I repeat, you're an inspiration.

I'm not even kidding, read this book.

Now that it's (already) Friday (afternoon), I'm (begrudgingly) off to tackle production and shipping (ie. the parts I don't enjoy about my job...I would much rather be out at shoots all day). But here's to a happy weekend?

mishmash: september

So, I'm currently on my way to yet another fall picture day at yet another middle school. And while I basically enjoy what I do, this morning I am in the grumpiest mood ever and totally dreading it. Once I get there and see all the kids, hopefully I'll perk up...but so far all I want to do is crawl back into bed. Calling in sick doesn't exactly work, though, when you live with AND work for your parents. How would that even work? "Sorry, Dad, I won't be coming downstairs today." Yea. Right.

I realllllly need to begin all my applications to substitute teach, but I'm having a hard time getting motivated (surprise, surprise).

My "new" medicine makes me SICK AS A DOG and I hate whoever created it.

It's becoming rapidly apparent that the last three months of a long distance relationship are the hardest. Now that we're so close to Mitch moving only an hour away, it feels like the days are dragging by. And I'm getting increasingly impatient. I miss him so much. C'mon, December!

Yes, I realize this is just a mishmash of information and complaints, but I started the morning off with nausea, a bad hair day and burnt toast. If this any indication for how the rest of the day is going to go, I'm screwed.

Oh, and my father is possibly the most annoying driver in the world. You served in two wars, Dad. Can't you drive a little faster?

the cave

and after the stormi run & run as the rains comeand i look up
i look up, i look upon my knees and out of luck, i look up

Life has been a struggle lately. I'm not sure I've stated it explicitly on this blog, but two years ago I was diagnosed with clinical depression. It was situationally-triggered during a particularly difficult period in my life, and unfortunately it has been something I've had to manage ever since. I've been on and off a variety of medications, which I hate, but have yet to find exactly what works for me. I know that may seem small, trivial even, but it's a constant source of frustration and, yes, despair.

night has always pushed up day
you must know life to see decay
but i won't rot, i won't rot
not this mind & not this heart
i won't rot

i took you by the hand
and we stood tall
and remembered our own land, what we lived for

I realize "despair" must seem like such an overly dramatic word to use in this instance. And I sincerely wish I was exaggerating for effect, but I'm not. Clinical depression isn't just feeling down or sad, or the product of one bad day. Clinical depression is a serious medical condition which affects every aspect of my day to day life. God, I hate that. It's overwhelming to face stressful situations and feel positively daunted by them, to feel like I'll never be able to rise above or find a solution for my depression. To feel like life will always, always be this way... Suddenly being down on your luck becomes a death sentence, a dark cloud looming over everything I see, do, touch.

there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears

and love will not break your heart but dismiss your fears

get over your hill

and see what you find there

with grace in your heart & flowers in your hair

Since graduating in December, I've searched for employment in education. As August has come and almost gone, I've watched people all over become hired at this school or that school. It's been tough to take because it makes me wonder...what is so wrong with me? Anyway, I'm able to do contract work for a company that does school photography in the DFW area, a bittersweet gig. It's such a blessing to be in schools four days a week, meeting teachers and interacting with students. But as I stand behind the camera, focusing staff pictures, all I can think of is how on the fringe I feel. I'm in schools, but I'm not a part of them. I suppose it makes me feel as if I'm not good enough, that no one could ever think I am.

now i cling to what i knewi saw exactly what was true, but oh no morethat's why i holdoh, that's why i hold with all i have
i will die alone and be left therewell, i guess i'll just go home (oh, God knows where)because death is just so fulland man so small

well, i'm scared of what's behind and what's before

I'm so grateful to have work, to have a reason to get up in the morning, to have places to go. And, of course, I'm grateful for the money. But at night I lay in bed and my mind races. I wonder, what will become of me? What will I do when the school photography season ends in November? What will I do if I don't get hired by next August? It's enough to drive even a sane person insane. And trust me, there's nothing worse than feeling crazy.

but there will come a time, you'll see
with no more tears
and love will not break your heart but dismiss your fears
get over your hill and see what you find there
with grace in your heart
and flowers in your hair

Mitchell told me something last summer that I don't think I'll ever forget. After a particularly hard day full of tears and extreme lows, I sobbed how sorry I was for him having to deal with me and my mess. He halfway laughed and said, "Andrea, your depression isn't you; it's something separate that we work at together because I love you." He's probably the only person in the world who makes me feel pretty when I'm ugly, happy when I'm sad, peaceful when I'm panicked. And because of that one little comment, I try to remind myself that my depression doesn't define me. My faults, my worst moments don't define me, and I'm able to recognize a flash of hope when I remember to take that to heart.

I apologize for the melancholia of this post, but my heart has been heavy and troubled these past several weeks. I feel lost, you know? Completely unsure of how to be well and successful, unsure of where to go from here.

...

but i will hold on hope

and i won't let you choke on the noose around your neck

and i'll find strength in pain

and i will change my ways

and i'll know my name when it's called again

- "the cave", mumford & sons

...

*first lyrics were mumford & son's "after the storm"

grownup problems and other nonsense

Job hunting is a major drag.

I had a meeting on Tuesday with the bigshot HR director of a the school district I currently live in (a friend of a family member called in a favor, no shame), and it went splendidly. But there are no jobs. This country is just overrun with teachers, and I'm, let's be honest, starting to panic. I sat there for an hour, answered all the interview questions as honestly and intelligently as a I could and received amazing feedback. She said I was spot on. She said it was clear I have raw talent, that I'm intuitive, that I have what makes the difference between a good teacher and a great teacher. And while all this should encourage me, it frustrates me instead.

If I'm "born to be a teacher," if I'm doing everything right...

...then what's wrong?

Seriously, Universe?

SERIOUSLY?

You know, if it was just small, annoying problems, that would be one thing. But it's not. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh it's so not.

I can't even find the words to write or speak anymore. It's like I'm in complete shock over the seemingly never-ending waves of bad luck that are crashing over me. The final straw for me? The thing that really sent me over the edge after I'd been trying to handle all the big things?

My Aggie ring went missing last night.




You win, Universe. You motherfucking win.

from thomas rayfiel's colony girl

"me, i was just getting carried this way and that, bashing into things, making these sudden spurts that felt like action but only seemed to carry me further and further from everything i wanted."


It doesn't matter what I do or don't do, the world keeps caving in.

admittedly

Admittedly this hasn't been one of my best weeks.

That's not to say, however, that in the grand scheme of things it's been one of my worst. Definitely not. It's just been an off week, one of those weeks where you can't stop waking up late and can't seem to do anything right. It all started with my Tuesday breakdown-cryfest over finances, prompted by my realization that not only can I not afford to move out (EVER) but I also can't afford to make half the weekend visits I planned on over the next three months. So long, Elizabeth's wedding. Maybe next year, Houston pub crawl. Sigh. Gas is just too expensive and I was going to be buying up to ELEVEN TANKS in May alone. If I want to save up any money at all, it's just not feasible.

All week I've been cranky short, restless and sad. Worried. Exhausted.

Part of my exhaustion stems from the amount of work I'm actually doing at work now. I'm the accounts receivable coordinator, yes, so I handle collections, payments, data entry, etc. However, lately my boss has been bringing me payments for our biggest account, which I suppose I could take as a compliment on my job performance...or he's just tired of doing it himself. On Wednesday he brought me everythinggg for one of our more difficult accounts and said, "Yea, I haven't had time to deal with this... Can you sort it out and get everything taken care of? Thanks." Neat-o.

I also asked our CFO for more work so I'll have a reason to work overtime (god, the adult world sucks so bad) and bam, now I'm taking care of a bunch of HR business. New hire paperwork, benefits registry, employment verification, drug screenings... The works. I feel like the stack of papers on my desk is consistently growing higher and higher, and I can't seem to make a dent.

Work is tiring, sure, but it's become physically and mentally exhausting. I'm here early every morning, I work through lunch, and I stay late. I need rest.

Of course, me sitting here typing this up when I've got payments right in front of me that absolutely have to get applied this morning isn't helping. I know. But I needed just a minuted to download, to release some of my ever-growing tension and perhaps gain a little perspective. It's just work. It's just payments and benefits and emails and Excel spreadsheets and Friday transfers. It'll be okay.

Plus, it's Friday and I leave for Austin right after work. There's something to certainly be grateful for. :)

You know it's going to be a good day when you start by spending twenty minutes crying in your car.

but isn't it nice to know that the lining is silver?

Today is just such a cranky, cranky day.

But I don't know why. Ugh.

It probably has something to do with the fact that I'm completely out of clean clothes but sooo don't want to do laundry. Or the fact that I feel claustrophobic living in the guest room. Or that I've had to enter this silly payment into Quick Books three times this morning because it keeps messing up. Or that it's the Monday of yet another seemingly-never-ending work week. Blah.

Fingers crossed that April brings me many district interviews! I'm so nervous.

a litany

I woke up late this morning. I haven't done laundry in over two weeks so I have no clean work-appropriate clothes. I'm wearing a gray sorority t-shirt, jeans and my TOMs, bringing a whole new meaning to casual Friday. I've already had three Red Bulls this morning, so my tummy hurts and I've had to pee about every six and a half minutes. I forgot my lunch. I have no exciting evening or weekend plans. It's only 12:09 (a-whoop) pm.

But it's Friday! :)

to not losing sight

The past 24-hour period has been strange, to say the least.

First Mitchell and I saw a girl have a seizure while we were at lunch. And by "saw," I mean "the girl was laying on the ground at our feet while paramedics gave her CPR after she stopped breathing." It was scary and awkward. I just hate situations like that... Not just because they're awful, but also because I'm never sure how to react. We didn't want to be assholes and completely ignore what was happening, and at the same time, you don't want to be assholes and draw even more attention to the poor family who's scared and (possibly) embarrassed enough as it is. We compromised by sitting completely still and staring at each other, as opposed to eating or talking. Or breathing. Oh, and for the record, I think she was going to be just fine.

Later in the afternoon Mitch gets the terrible phone call letting him know his grandmother passed away. She'd been having some minor health problems in the past few months but nothing life-threatening, so her passing was a complete shock. Again...an awkward situation for me to be in... Tangent: I've always considered myself a very sensitive, deep girl who embraces personal intimacy with friends, family, etc., but in the past couple years I've realized how much deep, serious moments scare the fuck out of me. Turns out I don't handle them well in that, surprise surprise, I'm hella awkward. End tangent. So anyway, I had to wait with Mitch while he broke the news to his mom and sister, and it was just so sad.

The cherry on top of an already unlucky day was that I'd been feeling sick since right after lunch. Just general nausea... I assumed I ate to much since, well, I tend to do that. I love food. It's fine. However, this time around it wasn't fine and I've since spent the past day alternating between a. puking my guts up, b. enjoying my 101 degree fever, and c. fitfully dreaming about POs & invoice numbers. Loverrrly.

Needless to say, Sunday wasn't the best. And Monday hasn't been too swell either.

Besides just physical unrest, I'm not going to lie...the past couple weeks have been difficult ones. It's been a struggle to remain positive and remind myself of all I have to be grateful for (which is terrible sounding, I know, when my life really is truly blessed). I have fantastic parents who not only let me live at home rent-free (not my dream, but again...it's FREE) but also support me in whatever it is I find I want to do. I was fortunate enough to land a job after only three weeks of searching and, while it's not anything I'm remotely interested in pursuing, it's enabled me to completely pay off my credit card and begin putting money into savings. I have friends, more far than near; but regardless, people that love me and make me laugh. My dog kicks ass and never ceases to provide much-needed comfort at the end of stressful days. I'm young, I'm (moderately, ha) healthy, and I'm not living on the streets. It would be wrong to complain, and I am overcome with guilt whenever I've allowed myself to lapse into a wallowing pool of self-pity. Don't I realize my life could be exponentially worse?

The majority of my frustrations stem from my charming impatience. It's frustrating applying for jobs and hearing nothing back. It's frustrating living at home and having no idea when I'll be able to afford a place of my own. It's frustrating being in Dallas when all my friends are in Austin and Houston. It's frustrating doing a job I have no passion for. It's all so frustrating because life's not easy. But it's good. Life is so very good, friends.

I know the world is bigger than me, bigger than Grapevine, bigger than accounts receivable, bigger than living out of a suitcase, bigger than late fees, bigger than morning traffic. It's a constant battle to remind myself of that, but I can't lose hope and I can't lose sight of the beautiful things.


PS: Please keep the Baker family in your prayers during this sad time.