The "Third-Person" Pieces 2: Nostalgic

Of late, Holly has fallen victim to a nostalgic mind set triggered by a therapeutic mental reliving of her childhood. She guesses that the bad old days seem good when your present is in limbo. She reached out to two friends from elementary school which resulted in two fun, long conversations but no returned texts. She has developed a social media crush on a guy she went to middle school with. She likes to pretend that high school never happened. 

Holly is not one of those people that wastes time wishing she could go back in time; however, she would like it if her past had grown and morphed into a present that wasn't so tragic. 

Holly listens to podcasts where positive people talk about taking charge and making changes in your life. Perhaps Holly would buy into this if change could be more strictly defined. For Holly has been open to change before, actually changed, then the horrors reappeared on time and ready to kick her 10 steps back. What is the point of change if you are just going to end up older in the same bad spot again? Wouldn't an unhappy stagnancy be the less painful choice? The solution would be to keep living to find out. Great. 

The "Third-Person" Pieces 1: Negative?

Holly has been told by an array of people that she is negative, but Holly disagrees. Just yesterday her best friend P told her he thinks she's incapable of real change. Who needs enemies when you've got friends who think you suck? Not Holly! That's for sure! 

If anything, Holly is a card-carrying member of that retired class of people that can tell the sh$t from the sunshine, and she doesn't want to toot her own horn, but she is intellectual enough to know that sometimes there is no difference. This clear- eyed view of life seems to annoy people. This would annoy Holly if she believed you could please everybody. 

Now, with that being said, Holly is somber. Yes, it's true. She often falls victim to a whoa-is-me attitude, but that is only because life is unbearable. Again, not negativity. There are cold hard facts to back this feeling. People die. Children starve. Friends don't return phone calls. Food burns on the stove while you are taking a nap. This is all sound evidence that lead Holly to  continual questions. Why go on? What is to become of her? Will things ever get better? Unfortunately, the honest answers to these questions may be a touch negative, but these answers should not be mistaken with Holly herself. 

The Hunter Attitude

When I worked at a daycare years ago, there was this sweet kid named Hunter that had a HORRIFIC behavior problem. He would have these big fits and tear up the classroom, and eventually ended up expelled from daycare if you can believe it. But, before he was given the boot, one of the teachers asked him if he got spankings at home. He said that he did. The teacher asked him what he said to his parents when he got spanked. He yelled, "I SAY, 'I DON'T CARE!' "

The other day, I was telling a friend a traumatic story that ended with her trying to psychoanalyze me regarding my weight. It dawned on me during this conversation that a dear friend of mine that I speak to daily kind of sees me as a fat slob that is doing nothing to better her situation. I had to let her know the conversation was irking me and we needed to move on because I felt myself about to crank dat Hunter towards someone I really care about. 

I believe that you can get so overwhelmed, like the way I feel when I get one of those You Suck letters in my email when I don't get a job, your nervous system turns into wet trash. Your mental health then has to hit Level Hunter so you can survive and not tear up the classroom of your life. It just a smooth level of I don't care designed to give us a break. 

Something is going on with me that I have had to Hunterize the issue because I don't have the wherewithall to deal with it. Thank God for the small favors. If I cared as much as I need to, I'd probably combust. 

B- Day

Yesterday was my mom's birthday and I was so busy feeling sorry for myself that I didn't even mourn her like I usually do on this day. I tried to keep myself busy. We didn't do cake this year. I've been feeling so overwhelmed that I didn't even remember to get a cake. 

My good girlfriend texted me that her dad is dying. I feel badly for her because I know the anvil of pain that is about to fall on her head. It's going to feel unbearable and there is no way to prep her. Dizzle's mom and grandma died and I watched her go through it, and even seeing her devastated did nothing to ease the specific devastation that was coming for me. It's just something you have to feel, there is no way around it. 

A guy I went to college with just got married and had a baby. The baby many be an only child and will have to deal with this loss twice on her own. I don't think people consider that enough before they have kids, which is cruel. 

Anyway, happy b-day Mommy. 

Dream On

I woke up from a dream yesterday evening where I took hundreds of my Xavier sisters on an exclusive overseas trip then realized, past checking into the hotel, I had nothing planned for the weekend. I checked my bags and all I had was candles for the bathrooms. I had ideas about doing morning prayer and yoga, but had no instructors. I couldn't believe I forgot to actually plan the weekend! 

Doesn't take rocket science to interpret this dream: I'm feeling utterly unprepared. I have no idea where I'm going or what I'm doing. I don't know which end is up! I'm jealous that dream Holly had candles. I love candles. Why don't I have any candles? 

Honestly, it's going to take more than candles to correct the course my life is going down. Perhaps if I can sleep tonight, dream Holly will have some answers. I doubt it though. When has dream or awake Holly EVER had the answers?

The Poopy Diaper Theory

Again, a friend is accusing me of being negative. This time it's Lisha and this time I was simply telling her about my day. And to be clear, my day was sh&t on a hot tin roof! Whenever this accusation arises I am left baffled because I am simply discussing how something went or how I am feeling. Perhaps someone should define for me what positive means, because it sounds like it means the act of using your pointer finger to draw a happy face in a poopy diaper. I don't want to do that. I don't know how to do that. I won't do that. For me, there is a line so thin between positivity and pretending that the two are almost synonymous, and pretending makes me incredibly tired. I gotta tell ya, I'm tired of being tired. 

No Need Necessary

Chocolate called me and asked how I was doing. I told him that honestly, I was feeling a little down for one of the same reasons I have been feeling down for years: I don't feel like my friends have time for me. I asked him how he handles it when he feels this way. He said he never does. He doesn't need anyone. 

On top of being completely self-sufficient and self-reliant, he is so excited about the amazing things happening in his field of tech that he doesn't have time to think about the homies. He's got to stay at the top of his field. He's got interviews to do and professional trainings to take. If I would focus on my job hunt, fitness, writing, and professional training, I wouldn't have time to remember I had friends. 

This idea excited me. I thought of myself moving and shaking, making moves, making money. I'd be so high on my own supply that I wouldn't need a soul ...until I slowed down to look both ways and see that no one who cared was around or cared to be around. It sounds like that would be fun until it wasn't and would end up feeling very empty. I mean, I feel empty now! 

I admire how he needs no one, but I am not built that way. I need to talk and laugh and feel heard. This sucks, because when these things aren't happening, I end up feeling pretty sad. See the circle here? However, I think my life would probably be 1000% better if I tried to be more like him, making it so my need for friends was not necessarily. 

The Tough Questions

The other day, I got a particularly horrible Dear John letter from a company I applied to work at. It was hella harsh. I would have much rather they would have knocked on my door then shot me in the foot. 

"Damn!" Lisha exclaimed after I read her the email. "That was... direct." That is a cute way of describing it. I'm not exaggerating when I say that this letter was the written equivalent of giving someone the middle finger. 

It is times like this where I am AGAIN reminded of Penis Man. I wonder about what happened to this guy quite often, especially during my job search. Years ago, I was listening to the news on the radio and the newscaster did a report on a man who had applied to hundreds of jobs and could not get a call back. So, in a desperate state of mind, he began to send in pictures of his junk with his resume. He was arrested for indecent exposure. Too bad I wasn't working in HR back then. That kind of on-your-feet thinking would have gotten him an interview from my company. 

Can I just ask one question: what are we doing? The nation is at war, the aliens are coming, the vegetables are giving folks explosive diarrhea. What are we doing? Applying for jobs? Looking for work? Trying to make a living? Shouldn't we be dancing in the street naked before a record breaking hurricane comes and wipes us out? Am I going to be surfing Indeed when the comet hits? I guess I will ponder these questions later as I edit my resume. 

The Big Picture

The other day, I found some pics of me from high school and a pic of me at the 8th grade dance. I was cute but didn't know it. As excited as I was to share these pics, I doubled down on the promise I made myself years ago: I'm not going to be that old chick that keeps pics at the ready of herself when she was young. Have you seen people's faces when they are cornered by women like this? It's like they want to say, Sure, you were cute then, but look at you now sis! It's pretty embarrassing for the lady shoving her phone in everyone's face to see a 20 year old picture. I knew a picture shover once. It was very uncomfortable because she didn't look like young her at. all. 

"I'm going to show my old pics whenever the opportunity presents itself, I don't care!" Risky exclaimed. "In college, I was in great shape!"

I wasn't, but I didn't look as sad. In current pictures, I feel like I look grumpy and annoyed which makes since because I am! If I had any dignity I'd just stop smiling all together and be honest in a photo or two. We all know I won't do that. 

For now, I think the solution is to avoid pictures altogether. I used to love taking them. Now I need a three month notice just to hide in the back of a pic and frown. Although I won't do it, I see why people rather show off a pic of themselves at 17. 

Nunning Up

When it comes to anything regarding men or dating or coupling or whatever, I feel a great sense of dread and disappointment. I don't want to talk to any guys romantically. Maybe I should rearrange some things and label partnership or being married as a secret desire of my heart and move forward with focusing on working, friends, and family. At least in that arena I can better see the fruits of my labor. I think. H$ll if I know, I'm old! Shouldn't I have more things figured out? I wish I could go back in time when I thought love would make things better, slap myself, then redirect my attention to taking better care of my hair. I need to take better care of my hair. P suggested I'm "nunning up". All I know is that men make me feel sad and tired. When I told my therapist I was over men she suggested I was depressed. Maybe. I mean, isn't anyone looking for the warmth of love in this cold, hard world depressed? How many naps do I need to have enough energy to even chat with a guy? I will let you know when I wake up. 

Trauma Drama

I honestly didn't think it was possible for me to become more reflective and emotional than I already am, but apparently I can. I find that when I think about my childhood or even my young adult years, I end up in tears. I just heard a song that was popular when I was in like the 5th grade, and started weeping. 

Millennials like to throw the word "trauma" at everything. Something traumatic must have happened when I was a kid that I haven't addressed. Now, I get triggered and have these big reactions. I mean, maybe, but I don't think so. I didn't have a lot growing up but I grew up in an area where no one did. I got a bike in elementary school. I was a Girl Scout. I spent a lot of time with my beloved grandma. As far a childhoods go, there have definitely been worse. 

If I had to guess, I think the bigger issue is the passage of time. My being a tween is so vivid in my mind, yet, in present time, I find myself looking down the barrel of being elderly and admittedly, I'm unprepared and scared. I will never be younger than I am this second, and I'm already 300-years-old! I believe that living in a fashion where you marinate on regrets is a recipe for disaster; a recipe for failure. But boy, do I have some. Again tears. 

Apparently, looking back at the past causes me some sort of something, but it's also difficult to be present, especially when things aren't going my way. A part of me wants to wade in a time where old opportunities are still available, but that's impossible. 

I guess the solution is to just to keep living; to keep pushing until I find a space I'm at least sort of cozy in. Until then, que the tears. 

Risky Go Night- Night (Another Risky Business Story)

I haven't been able to talk to Risky lately because she has been unrealistically tired. She has been donating a lot of plasma at a variety of different donation centers, which I am not sure is okay. To do so, she has to constantly make sure her iron levels are up, which is very stressful and takes a lot of work. Because of this, whenever I call, she is always asleep. The last time we spoke, I told her that this was just for the short term and to power through. She then told me she is treating this like a real job. 

First off, I just don't see plasma donation as a long-term solution to financial problems. But to hear her say that it is was disheartening because it means she is giving up on her goal of getting into another residency program. I mean, this is her dream and she is already an M.D. Is she going to hang that up to become a full-time plasma pusher??

We are both 41. I guess it is time to get real. We are either going to be on course to retire comfortably in nearly 30 years, so we should be preparing to collect cans, dumpster dive, and donate plasma for the rest of our existences. If the dream stages of our lives are not outright over, the buzzer going off is dangerously close. 

Honestly, if I had any sense I'd be thinking like Risky. I don't like anything having to do with blood, but I could see myself dancing on a street corner for change as long as the weather was good. At least then I could afford snacks. But I'm stubborn. My desire to be a writer is literally like a book I can't put down. If they eventually find me dead from old age in a tent city, please believe I will laying on top of my backpack full of short stories. 

If I can catch Risky while she is awake, I will try to give her a friendly push back in the direction of a residency again. We all have to do things we don't want to do when we are desperate for cash, but the idea that she would give up on her calling to donate plasma is bloody insanity! 

Slow

I think I may be losing my smart. I find that I am beginning to drift when I am watching a movie or talking to someone. I have to rewind what I just saw or ask a friend to repeat themselves. I don't have the attention span to get through conversations that I initiate! I don't know if I am preoccupied or tired. I don't know if this is just another symptom of being a woman in her 40s. I honestly can't tell you what is going on. I just feel bored and annoyed and over it with everything. It's like I can't be bothered with anything and I am bothered by everything. 

Big No Talk

It has been on my mind to do something I have wanted to do the last ten years. I think I am going to go on a phone fast. My definition of this is not calling anyone or texting anyone and only communicating with people who text or call me. I have been hesitant to do this because I am pretty sure I am going to be saddened by the results. The past decade has been about me coming to terms with loving people who either don't love me back or don't have time for me. My spirit has already told me who these people are, but I feel like I have to put my own intuition to the test. On the low end, I think that this is a sad exercise in self-abuse, but on the high end, I think it will give me the face-slapping clarity I need to move forward into the abyss of middle age. I think that a month is a good amount of time to conduct this experiment; however, I am dragging my feet on when to start. Confirming that no one cares is going to be a hard and bitter pill to swallow. 

Angry and Awake

Today I woke up pissed, again. Is this going to be life in my 40s? Waking up upset? I was full of agitation and nervous energy. I didn't sleep well. I tried to go back to sleep and start over, but that doesn't work anymore. The thought of applying to more jobs just to get a Dear John letter in a week or so made me want to cry. I had so much to do today that I had no idea where to start. My phone didn't charge during the night. My skin is dry. My brain is toast. The good news is that I was able to get up and get in the shower before the downer mood took over and my whole day was shot. With these types of moods, if you don't act fast, there is a point of no return, and you might as well throw the whole day in the trash. I'm trying to learn how to be more optimistic. Perhaps tomorrow I will wake up in a better mood. 

All The Really Small Things

The world seems to be going loco. I find that when I get stressed about how crazy everything is, I try to focus on the small things. I'm finding that as the cray-cray gets bigger, I'm discovering joy in even the really small things. Thus is the case when you are grasping at straws. 

I got really excited to hear that Tiesha and Lisha got their hair braided. A friend of mine called me from church. I had a chili cheese potato from Wendy's. I received some mail I'd been waiting on. YAY! As life seems to be more and more unfamiliar, it is critical that you keep your eye on the ball...even if the ball seems to be shrinking. 

My grandpa died of a massive heart attack in the mid- to- late '80s at the height of the AIDS and crack crisis. My grandma had to sell her home and prepare to move across the country while having to deal with her moody and emotional grandchild (me!). During this time I recall her being stoked about her soap operas and the song "Don't Worry, Be Happy" by Bobby McFerrin. In our current state of uncertainty, I find myself watching tacky Tubi movies and listening to "North Memphis" by Project Pat. Isn't it beautiful when traditions span generations? 

If you are like me and you are feeling the crush of the times, I encourage you to get big happy about tiny victories. Do a cartwheel when you discover there is one dryer sheet left. Praise God when you see that the milk isn't yet expired. In this day and age, even the mini victories are enormous! 

The Price of Greatness

Coffee considers himself a great, "elite" man, and as I get to know him, I have to say that I agree. He is very good at his job and at getting things done. He is really good at identifying a problem and coming up with a "program" to address it and guarantee success. Needless to say, he is a workaholic. He doesn't take vacations and has very little free time. I suppose this is the price of being great. 

Man, when I was a kid, I used to fantasize about how great I would be. I was going to be amazing! Even now, I think about how great it would be if I were great. I think of how much more independent I would be and how much money I would have. One thing I don't want to think about is the amount of work and sacrifice that would go into it. Years ago, I saw a documentary on Kobe Bryant that he did while he was still alive. He said that at night, he would go to the local college campus and see all the kids his age hanging out and having a good time. He thought about how cool it would be not to be famous, and what a time he could be having if he had decided to go to college instead of the NBA. However, he would snap out of this thinking, saying that not being a free and fun college boy was the price he paid for greatness. Hm. 

I guess my price for greatness would be forgoing my never-ending depression and interacting in the world. So, I guess the question is: Is striving to be great a better move than just continuing to withdraw from life? I guess the answer is buried in how much I value money versus how much I love the concrete darkness of continually falling apart. Maybe I should take some more time to think about this. It would be easier to do if I had all the time in the world. Now that would be great. 

Moody

P had the nerve to tell me that lately I've been moody. Moody and rude. Well, I'm sorry, but I am beyond over it! Everything has been getting on my nerves of late. I've been beefin' with my brother. I'm always hungry yet losing no weight. Every time I get over one obstacle, I look ahead, and there are ten obstacles left. I'm sleepy. I've had a bad cough. I'm broke. I'm so exhausted and frustrated by my job search that I won't even go into it. I'm concerned about premature aging. I can't seem to drink enough water. I cry at the drop of a hat. I'm scared for the world. My niece now has tantrums that consist of endless screaming. Not crying, screaming. It's all just too much, so yes, I've been a touch snappy. Am I not allowed that? I guess not 🫤

Do Better Holly

One of my friends recently had a come-to-Jesus talk with me about how she feels that I am not there for her in the way that she is there for me. She feels that I am not present. Things have been so hectic lately that I forgot to wish my other friend a happy birthday. I can be so high and mighty about how my friends show up for me, yet lately, I have been the one clearly dropping the ball, big time. 

"Do better, Holly," my friend Cali said to me as I complained about this; a simple, obvious solution for a huge problem. She is right. I do need to do better. But how do you do better when you hardly have the energy to do anything? I am so exhausted that you'd think that I wake up every morning at the crack of dawn and sprint around my neighborhood. To be clear, I do not. I just lounge around like an obese house cat, groaning at the thought of all the work that I have to do to improve my life. When I was a kid, I used to fantasize about what it would be like to open my door and receive a huge million-dollar check from Ed McMahon. Although Ed went on to glory in 2009, it would be great if he could come back to life and to my door to bring me an energy drink and supplements. Maybe he could bring me a really strong coffee with two shots of confidence and a dollop of drive. 

Today, I have so much to do that I have nothing to do. But one thing I must do, other than get my life together, is check in on the people who care about me. No matter how broke, sad, depressed, alone, tired, aggravated, irritated, sleepy, and overwhelmed I am, I can not screw up my remaining friendships. I refuse to become the friend that I often complain about, and I am committed to being better...after I wake up from a nap. 

The Prom Post

 

If your social media timeline is anything like mine, you have been flooded with pics of family members and the children of friends going to the prom. These pics have made me nostalgic and a little sad, as everything does these days. I tell you, I think I have cried more this month than I have my whole life. I'm either in perimenopause or depressed, a conversation for another time. 

Anyway, my senior prom was shrouded in drama. My friends didn't want to go so I had to go with some other classmates, my date pulled out of the deal, my dress had to be tailored, I had drama with Lisha (which would later kickstart our friendship), and my big grown up night out ended in me and my friends falling asleep before midnight in a fancy hotel. What a night! 

I hated high school. I didn't have a lot of friends. However, for some reason, I was super stoked to go to my prom. I think I really wanted to get in a limo and wear a cute dress. But when I got to the prom at the Fox Theater, I just kind of swayed awkwardly and talked to folks. I was too shy to dance. 

Of late, I have thought a lot about what a me today would tell a younger me. Old Me would show up to my prom in the ratty old summer dress I am wearing as a night gown and scream at Young Me to dance. I'd tell her in a little over ten years our mom and grandma would be dead. DANCE! College would leave us in boatloads of debt. DANCE! Depression, loss, anxiety. DANCE! Knowing Young Me, I would have still wallflowered it, but Old Me would take the opportunity to shine. I see myself breakdancing, back flipping, and moonwalking while Young Me sulks in the corner. I always ease out of this fantasy with a smile on my face. It feels good to dance again.