Sparkles & Spite...

Why Use 100 Words When You Can Use 12,874?

Confession - my oldest and bestest friend in the world helped me come up with the name for this blog. It speaks volumes that these are the words she immediately came up with when I asked her to describe me, but we can unpack that another day. I asked her why and she goes, "Duh, you like diamonds and are a perfect balance of awesome and bitchy." Ummm, thanks? Also, who doesn't love a good alliteration? It makes sentences catchy and funny, like rhyming. Why is rhyming inherently hilarious? I digress.

As I mentioned in my introduction, I am starting this blog because I love to write and have the tendency to write incredibly (obnoxiously?) long emails and texts. In all seriousness, I find the human condition to be fascinating and love connecting with people through writing. To me, there is nothing quite like reading words that make me feel less alone, less crazy, and more at peace. It is such a gift to read a book or an article or even an email/text from a friend that makes you feel nostalgic, or happier in times of sadness, or even like you are not the only person struggling with a certain issue or demon. I have always wanted to write a blog, but there has always been a voice in my head saying, "What on earth could YOU possibly have to share that anyone else would care about?" Funny how my fingers don't stop flying when I'm writing to someone else, but now, staring at this screen, my mind has gone completely blank. #tabularasa Soooo, perhaps a little stream of consciousness about myself to start things off and get acquainted? Shall we?

I am not that woman/mom. I'm not the one who is constantly put together or volunteering at the kids' school. In fact, I either delete emails from the school asking for volunteers (and pretend even to myself to have never seen them) or, if put on the spot, blatantly lie and say that I have important meetings or doctor's appointments. How could I possibly commit to something every Friday morning when it coincides with my strength & cardio class??? Heavens to Betsy!!! #priorities I curl my eyelashes while operating a moving vehicle. I keep a jar of some sort of nut butter in my car to eat with a spoon (often while crying and driving simultaneously - what can I say, I am a multitasking beast). I wear a full face of makeup. All. The. Time. I am the opposite of most everyone else. When you run into someone from the gym at the grocery store and they have their hair done/makeup on, they look so good, right? I look WORSE when I am NOT working out. People see me in real clothes and blown out hair and are literally like, "Oh my gosh!!!!! Are you ok??? Have you been taken ill???!?" lol. Someone once actually pointed a finger about 2 inches away from my face and exclaimed, "My GOSH, you have REALLY dark circles under your eyes! They are almost purple!" I actually laughed, because really what else can you do in that situation? My full face of makeup is accompanied by workout clothes. I can't even try to call what I wear "athleisure." It's not. I am permanently at the ready to bust out into plyometrics or to kill a surprise burpee or squat jacks quiz. It looks like I should be lunge jumping my way through life (sung internally to the tune of "Dancing Through Life" from Wicked, obviously). Sometimes I will sit in my car, listen to Sarah McLachlan, cry (ahem, sob), and eat all of my kids' snacks that I can get my hands on. I am extra thrilled when Cool Ranch Doritos are involved. One time, during an especially emotionally unhinged moment, I turned to my right and made direct eye contact with a poor guy who was just hanging out at a red light. I looked like Courtney Love circa late 90's/early 2000's...with Dorito dust all over my face. #awkward Then I cleaned myself up, applied my 18th layer of black eyeliner, and kept on moving. I tried keeping a gratitude journal once. It lasted one day, after which point it turned into a "why I hate everything and everyone" journal. I have a severe case of misophonia. If you don't know what that is, Google it, please. It is VERY REAL and deserves its own post. I write down menial tasks/chores that I have already done simply so I can experience the satisfaction of crossing them out. Take chicken out of freezer to thaw. "Three cheers for meeeeee! I am operating on all cylinders, a veritable paragon of efficiency and productivity, and totally deserve a 45 minute Google break." I practice life avoidance by focusing on things such as working out, baking/cooking, perfecting my relationship with active dry yeast, and organizing all the socks in the house. I also have a love/hate relationship with my magnifying mirror and tweezers. I recently went to brush a stray hair off my forehead when, horror of horrors, I realized it was ATTACHED TO my skin! In the center of my forehead. Via follicle. I swear it was nearly 2 inches long, which begged the question, how did I not catch this growth at, I don't know, 1 inch? Even half an inch! I told a friend who said maybe it was good luck, like a unicorn. Ummm, thanks for the positive vibes, but pretty sure I have a hairy genome and/or a hormone imbalance...not magical powers. #agirlcanwish

I love all things fitness, yet I will drink a diet Sunkist soda while riding the Peloton. Yep, I said it. Furthermore, I freeze it for 90 minutes (the optimal amount of time, which I determined empirically) beforehand so it becomes almost like a slushie. I am Invisalign NON-compliant. I consume more Splenda than I should. I am not shy and love my inner circle of people, but generally speaking, being out and about exhausts me. Total homebody. I believe I am what is called a "social introvert." I recently had to leave my house for a face-to-face meeting that lasted 1.5 hours. For the rest of the day I had to take Excedrin Migraine and lie down in a dark room, with a cold washcloth on my forehead, while diffusing lavender and peppermint essential oils almost directly into my nostrils.

Corner Office Dreams, Low Cubicle Reality

I struggle with feeling that life is immensely unfair vs. maintaining perspective and gratitude for all the blessings I do have. Some days I simply cannot act my age and of course feel like a huge ass when I hear of a TRUE tragedy. My life has not always been a walk in the park, but I often feel like I don't have the right to complain because so many other people experience real, life-altering trauma/sadness. I grew up in a house with yelling and screaming. Addiction. Verbal abuse. Instability. And yet, I never wanted for anything and still have some fond childhood memories. I did well in high school and went to a good college. There are kids who go hungry, so who am I to say that my childhood was traumatic? My best friend in the world lost her father and younger brother in less than a year. How can I complain about anything? And yet...

I was ambitious in high school, with big dreams and goals. I lost my footing in college and never fully recovered. I married the first guy I ever dated. My first real job out of college was with a big company where I sat in a small cubicle and resisted the urge to gouge my eyeballs out every single day. I will never forget the day when an older colleague knocked on my cube (No joke, people used to knock on your cube wall...they were low cubes so you could see anyone coming towards you....and they would wait for you to respond. I never knew what to say. "Come in!!!" "Speak!" "Door's open!!" Ha!) and started talking about vacation time and how generous the company was. She continued to say how after working at the company for 25 years, she finally got 5 weeks of vacation. 25 years. 5 weeks. I'm going to let you marinate on that for a minute. This ended up being a defining moment in my life - in that moment I knew I could not work a corporate cubicle job for much longer, let alone the rest of my working life. This woman was so happy about her vacation time and my face looked like I had just taken a huge swig of curdled milk....or inadvertently ate gorgonzola cheese, thinking it was ricotta (has that happened to anyone else with white pizza???) #Duped

Got married on the younger side, had kids, and stayed home with them when they were little. Staying home was the best decision and also the worst decision. I loved being home with them and am still so grateful for that time. I was good at it and good at maintaining a household. Fast forward several years and I am now divorced, scared, and working really hard to find my way in the world. When I was married, my ex worked and I took care of the kids/house. I have zero bitterness or resentment; that was the deal and it worked for us. Men who work and travel as much as he does either have the resources to pay for a ton of outside help or a wife at home. Despite what he would say now, I do feel like I contributed to his professional success. Work always came first and I was always more than okay with that. I knew that he was working hard to build something and it afforded me the luxury of staying home with my boys.

My ex and I currently live 10 minutes from one another and share equal custody of the kids. We have never put the kids in the middle of our personal issues and have a wonderful coparenting relationship, both of which I am extremely proud. My boyfriend (why do I cringe every single time I use this word? At 40 it just feels wrong!) and I just spent nearly 6 hours at my ex and his new wife's house yesterday, at a pre-season party for one of the kid's sports teams. Things did not start off this idyllic/friendly, and if you had told me even 2 years ago that we would be invited over for a party, I would have laughed in your face. Hard. Likely with snorting involved. Is it ideal? No. But something a therapist once told me absolutely rings true. She told me that it isn't divorce itself that hurts kids, it's the fighting and animosity. Am I saying that my kids haven't been affected? Of course not. Have we dealt with hard questions? Surely. But we deal with issues as they arise and, overall, the kids are well-adjusted and happy. They feel safe, cared for, and loved at both homes and have wonderful relationships with both of our new partners and their kids. I always tell them that there is always enough love in the world to go around and how fortunate they are to have so many people who love and care for them.

Don't You Know What a Hospital Corner Is???

Sooooo, this was a bit long-winded and disjointed, but I think it gets us started. I know the word "authentic" is overused lately (which seems ironic to me given the prevalence of social media and the "perfect" images that so many people want so badly to portray to the world), but it really does resonate with me and it is a quality that I truly admire and respect in others. Raw might be a more appropriate word. I love the people who say the things that everyone else is thinking. I love people who make no apologies about who they are and what they enjoy. I have immense respect for people who choose love and to live a life that brings them fulfillment and contentment, even if it means disappointing others. I admire courage and taking risks. I admire being scared and doing it anyway. I value failure. I want my kids to fail. How else can they learn to be resilient? There is a reason that "gut instinct" is a common phrase. So many people, especially women, don't listen to that nagging, gnawing feeling they have in their stomachs. So many people know that there is a large part of their life that is wrong or no longer serves them, but it feels too overwhelming, too late, or too big to do anything about it. So many people live their lives for others, when the reality is that true selflessness, as trite as this will sound, is saving yourself first.

How disgustingly pompous do I sound? Scale of 1-10? 7-ish? If I haven't driven this point home, I have got the "raw" and the "messy" down pat. I could do it with one arm tied behind my back, standing on the big toe of my left foot. In my old house (ahem, the marital home), I remember sitting on the floor in my laundry room, sobbing into a dirty onesie for the better part of an hour. I don't always (often?) emanate grace, forgiveness, or patience. My divorce washed away a large part of my judgmental side, but I silently criticize other people's grammar and in group fitness settings I am absolutely judging your form. Bending your knees slightly and then plummeting your face towards Mother Earth while bending at the hip does not a squat make! I am patient until I am not - there is no middle ground. During Covid I literally lost my ever-loving mind because my then boyfriend dared to take a midday nap and messed up my perfectly made bed (more on my bed making obsession another time). I was yelling at him like I had come all the way unraveled. No makeup, gross workout clothes, wearing my apron and rubber gloves (what, nobody else walks around wearing latex gloves???), and I remember my hair was so dirty and stringy that I bore a striking resemblance to Gollum. #smeagol #lotr "If you're going to LIIIIEEEEEE DOWN in the MIDDLE OF THE DAY, you could at least have the decency to FIX THE BED!!!!!!! At least TRY to hide the fact that you were NAPPING!!!" Then I started violently shoving the sheets under the mattress, screaming, "Do you see this???? DO YOU SEE WHAT I AM DOING?? THESE are called HOSPITAL CORNERS!" Caaaaa-rrraaazzzyyy!

I will go to the ends of the earth for my family and people I love. I boil chickens to make homemade stock for soup when someone is sick. I keep a running list of gift ideas for everyone important to me. I send small presents to friends who could use a pick-me-up. I send handwritten notecards. And yet... I can be a huge jerk. I like things done my way. I am so noise-sensitive that I snap if the tv is one notch too loud. If you scrape your teeth on your fork, smack your lips and/or make that horrible back-of-the-throat-clucking noise while you eat, I cannot be at the same table. If you snap your gum or lick your fingers after a meal, I will hate you forever and a day. MISOPHONIA. Google it. It's real, people. I cannot start my day with an unmade bed. A therapist recently told me that I have a "touch of undiagnosed OCD." (Ummm, ya think?!?) I often count the pool as bathing time for my kids during the summer. At times I have acted like a defiant, tantrum-throwing child when my routine gets disrupted. Try interrupting my workout! I dare you! I like to say that I'm organized or scheduled, but let's be real - rigid.

I have hurt people I care for. I have made TERRIBLE decisions...so. many. times. I feel things very deeply and can be quite sensitive and protective of those I love. (When my little guy was younger, another kid slammed his head against a wall at hockey practice...on purpose. This is not a proud moment, but I got in the face of this 5 or 6 year old little snot and whisper-yelled through his face shield.) There were things that happened in my childhood that made me close myself off completely. I spent YEARS not shedding a single tear. Now? One of my boys scored a goal during a scrimmage in a summer camp clinic and immediately turned to smile and wave at me; I proceeded to ugly cry for the next 30 minutes. When I decide to do something, I am all in. When I let someone into my heart, I love hard. This also means that I take disappointment hard and feel it very acutely. I am goofy and weird and truly believe that there are few things better and more cathartic than laughing so hard that you cry....or pee a little. My brother and I have the same sense of humor and nobody can make me laugh quite like he can. We used to have laughing fits in church and, unfortunately, lost it at one of our grandparent's funerals and had to pretend that we were shaking from uncontrollable sobs. Before you judge, sometimes emotional signals get crossed and expressed incorrectly. I swear!

"I am Going to Lick Her Mailbox and Pray She Gets Covid!"

I had a very clear image of how I thought my life was going to turn out. Guess how much of that image has come to be? Nada! When I was younger I thought I was going to be one of those women in Lifetime movies - grey business suit (with a sexy pencil skirt and amazing heels, obvi), huge corner office, and a total business badass. My corporate career began and ended in a LOW cubicle. I didn't even make it to the point where I was worthy of a cubicle with HIGH siding so that I could, say, adjust my underwear, if necessary. Then I thought I was going to medical school. This was before I realized that my heart was not in it. That, plus every single time I stepped into a chemistry lab I had to fight the urge to shimmy UP the chemical fume hood and inhale all the toxic gases/fumes. Dread is not nearly a strong enough word. So, it appears that I have reached the ripe age of 40 and it feels as though these are my marketable skills: folding a fitted sheet, braising the heck out of any type of meat, getting stains out of laundry (I have yet to be defeated!), and wielding my steam cleaner like a weapon. Try to beat a resume with THOSE talents! Jelly? (On every single school assignment where my kids have to say something about their parents, it is some form of, "Mommy spends a lot of time in the kitchen and doing laundry. She is the best cooker and cleaner!" One time my oldest answered a question about what he loves about his mom. His response? "She makes me spaghetti for breakfast." So telling about both of our personalities.) Though, my final chapter is not written. Nobody's is, if you don't want it to be. It is empowering, terrifying, motivating, and paralyzing all at once to know that I can take steps towards living the life of my choosing. That I have control over the people I surround myself with and the goals I set for myself. That if I want to start a blog or go on a nudist yoga retreat (Does that exist?? Perhaps the more appropriate question is, should that exist?), I can! My mom always says, "You teach people how to treat you." and the truth is that I really suck at it. I am a people pleaser, have a hard time saying no, and will go above and beyond for people who don't necessarily even say thank you. When you grow up in a volatile, unpredictable house, you will pretty much do anything in your power to keep the peace. That is, until you snap and end up screaming horrible things at an evil woman during Covid when she tells you that you have "man arms." And then you end up screaming at the poor young man who works in the apartment complex when he comes to talk to you about said incident (because she reported you). He was super nice about it, but I lost it. We were in a space that had a ping pong table and I was with both of my kids. Awwwweeeeesome role model. Like, top class. After calling her every foul name I had in my vocabulary armory, I told this man (while waving a ping pong paddle in the air like it was a clarion call to arms) that I wanted to lick every inch of her mailbox and then have a prayer vigil for her to be infected with Covid. Yes, that happened, yes, I said that, and yes, that is likely why I have three therapists. Lick a mailbox??? I am also an over-apologizer. If someone runs THEIR cart into my ankles at the grocery store, I apologize for positioning my lower legs in such an intrusive manner. I've also never sent back a meal in a restaurant. Ever. The thought horrifies me. Even if I were to order a medium rare ribeye and they brought me boiled tofu, I would in all likelihood say nothing or something like, "Actually, you read my mind! Tofu is JUST what the doctor ordered!"

Birds - Rats of the Sky

I need to wrap this up, but I am unsure exactly how. I feel like I should end with something incredibly wise and poignant with just enough humor to show that I don't take myself too seriously. Unfortunately for all of us, I am sitting here listening to a BIRD chirp loudly. A bird that happens to be inside the house. Yes, it's in a cage, but it is still freaking me out that a winged beast is INSIDE my house. It is my boyfriend's son's bird and we are watching it while he is on vacation with his mom. I despise birds. They are the rats of the sky. I went in only once to throw a towel over the cage because I thought it would make him shut up, but he freaked the heck out and I bolted. I'm not proud of this, but I absolutely Googled "how to kill a parakeet and not get caught." I pulled back a little and am now just sitting here thinking about how I want to shove him in a preheated oven or stick him in the microwave and hit the popcorn button. Don't worry, I never would ACTUALLY do these things. So, I will end on this note and just say that I have so enjoyed writing this, even if absolutely nobody ends up reading it. I am not sure where any of this is headed and don't really have a roadmap in my head. Someone asked me if I wanted to write a lifestyle blog, but I'm pretty sure I don't lead a life that most women want to emulate. What I WOULD love is for people (person??) to read this blog and feel less alone, less evil, less guilty for consuming maybe one too many a Coke Zero, more normal for being 40 and still not owning "grown up furniture".......more accepted. My next post will be MUCH shorter and more focused, I promise. Until next time, friends!