The Accidental Olympian

CHRISTMAS LESSONS

I really hope your Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanza/Boxing Day/WinterSolstice/You Have The Whole Weekend Off Anyway From Work So Why Don’t You Have Another Drink weekend was fantabulous. Mine was brought to you by twenty degree weather, amazing cocktails, reading, light snow, hot tub soaks, sleeping in, midday naps, walks with puppies, afternoon movies, and FOOD.

I went into this weekend terrified, filled with grief, and excited out of my mind.

I know, conflicted much?

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In the end I learned a lot of odd things about myself as a result of being a total douche canoe and canceling Christmas with my family some 20 odd days before they were supposed to arrive on my doorstep. One of which being that I might not be as strong as I would like to believe.

When I lost my job last December everyone was so confident in me and my abilities. Hell, so was I at first. Over drinks a week or so into my job search friends joked about how I should be thrilled I was laid off in December because now I had a month long Christmas break, and by February I would be back in the workforce dreaming of those glorious days of unemployment.

We all clinked glasses to my sudden fortune.

When things seemed unlikely to get better any time soon the positivity regarding my ability to handle this life hurdle continued to pour in.

"You'll find something. I have faith in you."
"They would be idiots not to hire you."
"Think of the adventure! You can start a new career!"
"I'm proud of how mature you're being with this whole sudden change. I would be losing my mind."
“Think of all the free time. Cherish this.”


And in most respects I WAS being mature and strong, and I was wearing fucking rose colored glasses about the fact that one day I was headed on a very specific career path, and then all of a sudden I wasn't, and suddenly I was moving to a city I had never visited, to buy a house, and get a dog, and try to find a new job/career, and OMG I HAVE NO FRIENDS, and hello boyfriend, nice to live with you all of a sudden!

God, when I write it all out it really has been the longest mind fuck year, ever.



BUT, I have done it. And yes there have been some serious meltdowns, and confusion, and soul sucking disappointment, and days where I curse this whole roller coaster I went on unwillingly. But I also have these moments where I'm like,  “Look at me, finally finding a job, making new friends, buying a house, raising a puppy, pushing myself to try new scary things like roller derby, loving living with my boyfriend, and being a strong healthy ADULT! Gold Star!”

Yet as much as I want to pat myself on the back for handling what at times feels like a mess of epic proportions, I am also finding that I am so very fragile inside. A friend of mine remarked recently that she has never in her life known me to be so damn tearful. I cry constantly, I require propping up and excessive amounts of coddling, my feelings are hurt so very easily, and the confidence that I once carried around proudly slung over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes is now this tiny lump of coal I casually store in my back pocket.

I wanted so badly to continue to be this strong amazing adult woman through this year like everyone believes I am. The sort of woman who buys a home like it's no big deal, has people at her house for Thanksgiving without batting an eyelash, who invites her family for lengthy Christmas breaks, and the kind of woman who looks at life and all its struggles and fucking laughs in its face.

I did. I wanted to be her so much.

But, I don't think I am.

Just yet.


This year I messed up because I realized I wasn't that strong woman far too late in the game. I revealed to my family the reality of my weaknesses and my desire to be coddled and cared for too close to their visit. I cut them so very deeply because no one had time to process the things I was admitting, the reality that I didn't have the strength to be the center piece, and until I said it out loud they might not have even guessed I was struggling. For that I will always be so very sorry.

When it was all said and done and I was sitting in Bend, OR decompressing after the longest year of my life with Adam's family, two states away from my own family, I finally realized something.

No matter how sorry I may be for hurting them, I don't have to be sorry for being weak.

Not this year.

HURRY! I HAVE GOOD NEWS!

So back in March when I started this blog the only thing I thought would come of it was that it would be a fantastic way to kill some of the 40+ hours a week I was spending at home alone being pathetic and unemployed. I knew my mom would read it, hoped maybe a friend or two might glance at it, but really that’s about as far as my imagination carried me.

Then before I knew it, ALL YOU FABULOUS PEOPLE SHOWED UP and I was like, “Um excuse me? Are you lost?” But no, turns out you aren’t lost, which is amazing and delightful. Please, come over to my house, I shall cook you something and get you drunk in appreciation.

Even more wild than knowing that there are real live people who read this blog is having a great company like Cookware.com contact me to see if I would be interested in giving something back to the people. They actually allowed ME, crazy o’l me look around on their site and pick something out to give to YOU my fantabulous readers!

SO, I was instantly drawn to the Rachael Ray Cookware section, because no matter what you say about her voice, I LOVE her food, but then something even more scrumptious caught my eye.  Not sure if you know this about me, but I am obsessed with Le Creuset. I frequently get distracted by the Le Creuset section of my grocery store and stop to pet the tea pots which I am fully aware is weird and creepy behavior. Seeing as I can’t actually afford to own any of their items, I immediately headed over to the Le Creusset section of the website to pick something out for YOU. I wanted to give a lucky reader a kitchen full of this stuff, but alas I had limits. BUT, even with my limitations I was able to find an ADORABLE little serving dish with a snazzy lid in their price range.

One lucky reader will win the Le Creuset 12oz Petite Oval Casserole Dish. If you actually know how to bake adorable miniature casseroles, more power to you. I would probably use this for things like salsa or dip at parties, but hey, some of us are classy, and some of us just aren’t. I can live with that.

So, if you want a chance to win this lovely little dish of adorableness, write ANYTHING in the comments. What you’d make with it if it was yours, a funny story, hell just introduce yourself if you’ve been reading in the shadows. HI! NICE TO MEET YOU! WOULD YOU LIKE A TINY CASSEROLE DISH? I ain't picky. I’ll use a random generator to pick a number, and then POOF! This Friday I’ll close the comments at 5, and after that I'll contact the winner to get their info and ask what color they want!

People, it doesn’t get any easier than that.

So go, comment away, and if you’re lucky this little guy might just come home with you.*

*disclaimer, only US and Canadian readers please. I know, I know, sorry I don’t make the rules.

WELL BEND ME OVER, SPANK MY ASS AND CALL ME SHIRLEY

On December 5th, 2008 I lost my job. By Jan 1st 2009 I had also lost my health insurance. When you lose your job most companies kindly hand you a little packet on signing up for unemployment health insurance through COBRA. Which sounds nice and all, until you read it and see the part where it says that COBRA health insurance will cost you $385 bucks a MONTH.

Um. I just lost my job. Where in the HELL am I supposed to get $385 bucks a month to let alone feed myself? I’ll wear a helmet when I cross the street from now on, but thanks for the offer!

I honestly thought I would find another job by the end of Jan, and have health insurance through a company by the end of March at the latest. I figured I would be careful as I could, stock up on birth control through Planned Parenthood, and cross my fingers. Yeah… about that whole job by the end of January thing, turns out it wasn’t that easy.

Most people would just wait out the whole no health insurance thing and hope for the best. Me, I happen to be one of those people who finds a way to become dangerously ill or tragically injured when I lose my health insurance. Like when I was a freshman in college, recently dumped off my folks California HMO and in the middle of trying to figure out how to get myself covered again, SURPRISE! I got tonsillitis. And not the run of the mill tonsillitis either, I got the I’M GOING TO FUCKING DIE I CAN’T SWALLOW, BREATHE, OR EVEN SLEEP version of tonsillitis. Have you ever tried to home treat yourself from an illness like this? Because I did. With everclear. Yeah. It helps with the pain, but surprisingly enough it does nothing for the infection. Who knew? So when Everclear wasn’t clearing up my condition, there I was, one of those statistics you read about, walking my broke ass into the ER to receive much needed medical attention.

Question. Have you ever been in such pain, wishing for a doctor but unable to go to one because you weren’t covered? Have you ever been forced to self medicate until your condition got so bad you could finally go to the ER for treatment? If you haven’t then I am honestly happy for you. But there are those of us who have been there and it’s a lonely feeling knowing that there is no one to help you. You feel sick for resorting to those measures, being a statistic people spit out of their mouth like bile, but there comes a time when you honestly have no other choice. Reminder, this is AMERICA. The birth land of Starbucks, Apple, PBR, and Burt and Ernie. So why are we not all covered again?

Sorry a little off track there. So yeah, then there was the ER visit I mentioned before that nearly forced me to drop out of college to pay off the huge bill. FUN TIMES! Years gone by without an eye exam, oh and the dentist? When it comes to the dentist, there is nothing quite as lovely as volunteering your mouth as a 'human class room' so city college students can practice procedures on you. Going to the dentist is never fun. Going to the dentist for 6-8 hours and having not one, but TWO people in your mouth moving at a snails pace detailing out loud each and every move is damn right EVIL.

The things I have done to ensure that my body wouldn’t crumble into a million little pieces…

SO, the moral of this story is that today, November 2st 2009 I FINALLY HAVE MOTHER FUCKING HEALTH INSURANCE through my work. Anyone else pick up on the fact that it took me nearly a year to get employee covered insurance again? A YEAR. In AMERICA. Around March of last year my mother was scared enough for my life to offer to pay for individual coverage at a price that made me ill. Each month that went by with her covering my health insurance out of pocket made me feel like a pathetic excuse for an adult. Being able to call her and thank her for being able to step in, thank her for protecting me, thank her for being willing to make that sacrifice, and then tell her I’ve finally got my own coverage and she no longer needs to help MADE MY YEAR.

My coverage is lame at best. Fucked up copays, deductibles I don’t even want to think about, and you best believe I’ll never fill a prescription at these prices, but just knowing I have something to fall back on if my health decides to slip finally enables me sleep better at night.

BLINDERS

I’m finding it hard to be grateful these days.

There was a point in my unemployment struggle, right after moving to Olympia where a certain calm washed over me. I looked around at this new life I’d made in the middle of so much turmoil and I was shockingly grateful. Grateful for my beautiful new home, grateful for the love and support of Adam, grateful for my family, eternally grateful for my friends who supported me through all the crap, and mostly grateful for this life of mine. It was one big cheesy pile of grateful.

Sure, I had bad days. Like the one where I got the news that I’d been skipped over for TWO great jobs I had really wanted all in the same day. Lets be honest, that day, not so grateful. And yeah, making nearly nothing an hour could seriously tear at all that gratefulness when you sat down to try to pay bills, but still, through all the shit, more often than not I walked around feeling happy to be where I was. I took walks with my puppy and smiled for days. Waving to neighbors, grinning and saying weird crap out loud to my dog like, “Oly do you see this day? It’s AMAZING! Dog, do you realize how lucky we are to be alive? Glorious!” I was proud to show Adam what three straight hours of cleaning the house could produce, or wax on about how I found this beautiful new park, or spout nonsense for hours about some flower I took a picture of that afternoon.

The kicker, all that shit was back when I was JOBLESS. So how is it that now that I have a job, a job where ever so slowly I accumulate more hours, a job where I am slowly stealing away more responsibility, a job where I am even working towards things like MEDICAL BENEFITS, I am no where near as grateful as I was when I had nothing? I know there is a painfully obvious lesson tucked in here, BE GRATEFUL FOR WHAT YOU HAVE, so why can’t I seem to do it? Why is it that finally getting something resembling an income only turned on my ‘I’m fucking miserable’ light?

On a long walk with Oly on a chilly, but sunny fall day recently I forced myself to focus on all the things I currently love about my life, that particular walk landing very high on the list. I returned home feeling refreshed, rejuvenated, as if with practice I might once again be able to return to a land where I look for the good instead of focusing constantly on what I feel I am missing. Yet all it took was the sound of my morning alarm that next day to spiral my mood right back into that place of despair, anger, and resentment.

It’s as if the taste of something, a tiny taste of financial stability, a sip of regularity, a nibble of normalcy has reopened my eyes to the staggering distance I still have to climb to reclaim my life, my career, and my financial situation. Unemployment allowed me to forget, to put on hold, and mostly to accept stagnation because there simply was no other alternative. Just as the carriage horses of Central Park, I walked my course wearing blinders, conveniently blocking out everything in my peripheral, leaving only what lie directly in front of me. And I was surprisingly content to walk through life nearly blind.

The saddest thing? Some days I really miss those blinders.

PIMP MY BLOG

On December 6th, 2008, while driving south on our way to the Washington coast Adam turned to me and told me that he thought I should start a blog. Although it seemed I was alone in this fresh and terrifying unemployment hell, he spewed words of encouragement and proclaimed that there were thousands like me, people who might feel relieved to hear my story, and if nothing else I might find a single other person out there who understood what I was feeling. I told him I didn't want to, it wasn't for me. Really though, it wasn't that I didn't want to, it was just that I was scared.

Scared no one would like it.

Scared that no one but my mother would read it.

Scared that my pages would be filled with comments from others who despised my outlook on life, or who hated my writing. 

Scared of rejection. Again.

I didn't think I could handle any more rejection.

Now when I look back TEN MONTHS after losing my job I am so elated that someone believed in me when I couldn't. Maybe it's chicken shit of me for being unable to do it all on my own, but I needed those people in the beginning to push me forward. My mother and sister in my brand new living room telling me I had something to say, asking me to once again realize my self worth. A friend telling me that I was a talented writer and that if nothing else SHE would read my posts. Adam with his persistence that I could do something great. I needed these people back then. At that moment in my life I barely had enough self esteem left to decide what to wear out the front door. I was a shattered soul who needing much propping up.

I never knew how this whole blogging thing would turn out. All I knew was that I needed a voice again. I needed to be open, creative, vent, rejoice, laugh, and connect with others in the middle of a situation that seemed to be tearing down every model and expectation I had created for myself. I needed to be me again.

Today might seem to be simply another baby step, yet when I look at where I started it feels like a truly significant victory. This morning I unleash my new header, and my new 'look' to all you amazing people who take the time to read my musings.

Much thanks to Katie at motherbumper, my lovely and talented blog designer from Sweet Blog Design. The two of us are currently petitioning the Olympic committee to include 'Biggest Smart Ass' in the official games. I am still convinced I'll kick her ass hands down, but if she's willing to give it a shot I wont try to stop her or anything. All I can say is may the best woman win.

Seriously though, this whole blogging thing has been a fucking hoot. You have no idea how much happiness and sanity this little spot on the internet has brought me. Please continue to check in and see if I ever figure out this whole art of keeping my head above water thing. My bet is there will be much floundering still to come.

SOME DAYS I FEEL AS IF I AM DROWNING

The first blogger I ever fell in love with was the hilarious Laurie of Crazy Aunt Purl. I was originally pulled into her archives by her humor, but quickly became hooked by the way she hung out her dirty laundry for the entire world to see; read at your own risk. Her blog started as a way to cope with her painful divorce, and as she took stock in her life she realized she had been dealing with an unhappy marriage by racking up a nice pile of debt. Scary, bone crushing, swallow you whole, DEBT.

She publicly proclaimed that to dig herself out of this mountain of debt she would be taking a stand against meaningless shopping. If it wasn’t a necessity she would no longer be buying. Desires be dammed. I read these words via her archive in the early portion of 2008. The very same year where each paycheck of mine seemed to barely stretch through that first weekend. The same year where I was living a life way beyond my means simply because this is what I thought being a college graduate was supposed to look like.

Simple concept right? If you don’t NEED it, DON'T buy it. Yet people flooded her inbox with proclamations of disgust. "HOW COULD YOU????" they raged. Not buying yourself something because you want it? How un-American.

Personally, I thought she was a GENIUS. Then and there I decided to join Laurie on her spending freeze. Together we would rule the world, and our finances.

I had a goal. Eliminate ALL credit card dept, open a savings account, and if I wanted something I would need to wait until the money was there. Money would be direct deposited from each paycheck in increments of $50 to my savings account, and if something I wanted was $100, I would need to wait until I had $150, take out the $100 and leave $50. My rule was to always leave my savings account $50 heavier than when I started, thereby ensuring that I could eventually purchase what I wanted, while also slowly building a safety net.

I felt so damn empowered. Strong, determined. And honestly, sometimes like a poor sack of shit. Yet sacrifices had to be made and I was learning to deal with that sometimes cold reality. Honestly, from the looks of my current designer jean collection you’d have no clue I was a poor sonofabitch. Thinking like that HAD to change. I no longer allowed myself to run out and drop $600 on my credit card to shop for clothes, because although I loved them, wanted them, and knew I would cherish and appreciate each item, I DIDN’T HAVE THE MONEY. Ashley, welcome to living within your means. Pain is money.

Eventually one card was completely paid off. I felt like a fucking super hero. Living by the savings account was hard, but working! It might have taken me two months to save for that new vacuum I needed, but when I paid for it in cash I had saved instead of putting it on my credit card, I loved that damn vacuum as if I birthed it myself. Before I knew it I could see the end of the finish line with my second card. Only $220 to go before I was free of huge credit card payments and ready to dedicate more precious funding into my savings account where it belonged.

Then on December 5th, 2008 I lost my job.

All my plans, all my hard work, and all that sacrifice was lost. Savings wiped out. Dept climbing with each week. The sticker, “DO NOT USE ME! I AM EVIL!” that once graced the front of my last credit card was subsequently removed and the spending just to remain above water began. I would try to assure myself that this was all temporary. Once I found a job I could return to my plan with vigor, I could again work tirelessly and finish what I was once so close to accomplishing. I kept telling myself that once I had a job I would be ok.

So what happens when you finally find that job, and you’re so thankful to be able to simply pay your bills again, so thankful to be able to see any income, but truly living within your means is still physically impossible? I want so badly to return to the land of debt reduction, to a place where each sacrifice I make also gives me joy in knowing that I’m accomplishing something bigger, but I honestly can’t yet live my life even in the barest sense without that piece of shinny plastic.

Adam and I try to remind each other to ‘live within our means’ so often I am sure I mumble it in my sleep. But how do you live within your means when your means aren’t even enough to get you through? If the money is gone three days after payday, do I just stop buying groceries? If I run out of gas do I simply stop driving? If Oly runs out of dog food do I revert to feeding her scraps? When we discovered that the support beam on our porch was rotted out and hosting an ant farm, were we supposed to just shrug and look the other way? I know what sacrifice feels like, but we also have to have some limits.

I still smile, and laugh, and spend time with friends. I still make vows to stop being such a scrooge always chanting, 'next time', and instead allow myself to spend for the right reasons. I still take pictures, and snuggle up to watch good movies. I still look forward to making new memories, and think of ways to brighten the lives of people close to me. I still find myself amazed by the beauty in nature. But in those same moments I’m also really scared. Because this time I can’t see the end. I can’t manage to work towards a goal right now because no matter how hard I try I can’t even manage to wrap my mind around what needs to be done to fix this. This inability to line out a game plan scares me more than I want to admit because it makes me feel helpless. And more than anything, most days I’m petrified that I’ve lost control.

How many of us live under the shadow of bone crushing debt and say nothing? How many of us feel pressure to live above our means, only to come home and quake at the site of our bank statements? Why does no one talk about this?

FORCED TO DO HARD LABOR AGAINST MY WILL

This past weekend forced me to sit down and have a little talk with myself. And after much chatting and bickering with the voices in my head I think I'm finally starting to understand the reason behind all this anger.

I've always had issues with change, and so when I lost my job it was like someone picked up my life, dumped it all over the floor, and then stomped on it. Eventually I learned to cope, I relocated, I stopped fighting the changes, I bought a home with Adam, found a new job, and I settled into this life that seemed to have been chosen for me against my will. Looking back it felt like I had coped quite well. A lot of the tale-tell signs of my control issues seemed to be melting away, and it even felt like I was adapting for a change. I was poor, but I stuck with it, there were people to help me, and slowly things seemed to be getting better. There actually was a light at the end of that long tunnel. But then a weekend like this past one pops up, and suddenly the reality of how different life is, how much life has completely changed slaps me in the face. And it stings. 

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My wonderful friend was quickly going to be leaving Seattle after what felt like WAY TOO SHORT of a summer home, and Saturday would be her last night out with everyone. Throughout the summer, time and time again I had put off visits, vacations, drinks, and simple interaction because of a general lack of funding. But I told myself there was always next week, next weekend, tomorrow. She wasn't gone yet, I could make up for my absence, I hadn't missed my chance I'd repeat to myself. Then suddenly there were no more chances. Her last weekend in town was upon me and I had a decision to make.

Adam and I lay there on Saturday morning and I asked yet again, "So, do you think we can go to the picnic, then stay for the night and go out with everyone?" He gave me this look, this look that said, I am going to break your heart right now, and it's the last thing in the world I want to do. We couldn't. There was no financial way that we could board Oly, use half a tank of gas, contribute food and drinks to the picnic, possibly eat out for dinner, and then enjoy ourselves out for a night of drinking in Seattle. No matter how we spin it, we would spend money. And lots of it. I sobbed, "I'll put it on my credit cards, I'll take money out of my emergency savings, I just want to see my best friend ONE LAST TIME!" But he wasn't stopping me from going, he wasn't laying down the law, or twisting my arm, he was simply asking me to accept the reality I so desperately wanted to bottle up and throw under the bed. No matter how much I wanted to be there, it wasn't possible.

It was as if all the changes in my life hit me in a split second. I had new responsibilities. And these weren't things forced upon me, these were responsibilities I had ASKED for, things I CHOSE and had wanted so badly. Such as this home. This home that needs a new fence, this home that needs to be recaulked before winter, this home that I couldn't pretend wasn't a priority.

So we worked. For eight hours I moved concrete blocks, Adam cut lumber and we repaired that damn fence as if our lives depended on it. If I was going to be a slave to this investment, if it was going to alter the way I needed to prioritize my life then GOD DAMN IT IT WOULD LOOK GOOD WHEN WE WERE DONE. Over the course of eight back breaking hours we moved 118 pavers off the fence and replaced the gap with boards. At this point in the picture below we'd finished 2/3 of the fence, and the only thing standing between me and relaxation were those remaining pavers. I can't even begin to tell you how much I hate those pavers. 

 

At the end of the day I was frustrated because it felt as if the house had won, had kept me from having a normal social life, had reminded me of all the changes I've made this year as well as how much we've given up to own this property. Yet in that same moment I gazed at our new fence and was filled with genuine pride that WE had done that. We didn't call someone else to fix our problem, we certainly didn't ignore the issue, we simply bucked up and made it happen. Even through all those messy tears.

Yet when Sunday arrived and once again we had to turn down an invitation for a social life, turn down a chance to go sailing on the Puget Sound with friends so we could stay home and RECAULK THE MOTHER FUCKING HOUSE, the anger I thought I'd pushed aside from Saturday returned with a vengeance.

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I don't know any other way to say it, I'm angry about being so fucking broke all the damn time. I know it's selfish, and petty, and 'shhhhh don't talk about money,' but it's true. I hate that we feel so broke, and it gets hard after a while when the little money we do have goes immediately into the house. I try to remind myself that we are investing time and money into the house because the house is a priority, it's our investment, but at the end of the day it is hard to teach yourself to think of something fun, and then immediately train yourself to say, "No thanks. I don't want/need/can't come." In making the house a priority I have to give up things like having the social life I want, or buying quality groceries, or taking real vacations, or ever being able to buy something frivolous for myself like new clothes.

So after a week of wallowing in self pity I just have to accept that this life I live today is hard. No one will deny that. It is much harder to balance finances today than I ever assumed it would be, but I must stop dragging my feet, and I have to stop feeling sorry for myself. Because when I look around there are still a lot of positives, a million things about this life I truly love, so many things I would never give up, and things I've learned to appreciate deeply, struggle and all.

If my life had never been turned upside down I would not have been given the chance to own a home period, and that is something I should celebrate no matter how excruciating all these changes might feel at times. Had it not been for unemployment I would not live in this beautiful house with a man who when I feel like my life is crumbling around me will simply hold me and tell me everything will get better someday. How can I be angry about that?

And lets be honest, does screaming obscenities at the world for my misfortunes change anything? No. All that does is put me on the fast track to being that angry old bitch on the block that small children are frightened of who stands in her front yard in a bathrobe screaming, "GET OFF MY LAWN YOU PUNKS!"

I'm so not ready to be that woman. Yet.

HOARDERS

Already a fan of the A&E program Intervention, it only seemed natural that sooner or later I would find myself recording an episode of another A&E classic, Hoarders. Myself being such an OCD neat freak the concept of living in an utter state of disaster shocks, and amazes me. Yet my fascination transformed to true empathy after watching a recent episode.

This episode stuck with me because of a woman named Jill. On the surface her condition seems absolutely deplorable, and yes of course is, I can see it as well as you can, but the root of her compulsion to hoard food hit me. Jill suffered at one time from EXTREME poverty, where the simple task of feeding herself and her son was nearly impossible. As a result of living on the brink of starvation for as long as she did, Jill now is physically incapable of parting with food. If there is a sale she buys in bulk, and even if something has passed its expiation date by YEARS she is unable to part with it. Even rotting pumpkins on the floor of her living room can be salvaged, seeds harvested, planted at another time to bring again the gift of sustenance.

I say that I empathize with her sensitivity to food because while I was unemployed food was one of the biggest sources of fear and anxiety plaguing my daily life. I dreaded going to the grocery store because I knew the moment I walked in the door I would be hit with the compulsion to BUY. FEED YOURSELF. STOP DEPRIVING YOURSELF OF FOOD NOW! Yet, there was no money. My unemployment checks didn’t allow for me to pay my bills let alone eat in a healthy manner. My grocery lists were pitiful, and more times than I care to admit I walked out of the store and cried. Cried because all I wanted was to make a normal meal. One with a protein, a veggie, and maybe if I was lucky a carb. I had attempted to give up lunch entirely, and I would continue to eat items that were expired as long as the taste ‘remained.’ The amount of times I had popcorn for dinner can’t have been healthy, and I knew this, but I literally had no other options.

Once Adam and I moved in together the strain of rent was removed from my unemployed worries, but to keep from being total dead weight I asked if I might carry our food costs. It felt like the least I could do seeing as I wasn’t working, or contributing to hardly anything in our lives. Here I was, living with my boyfriend for the first time and I wanted to make him fabulous meals, bake, spend my free time creating dinners that would show my appreciation for all he had done, thank him for helping me. Yet as I wandered the aisles it was still just as desolate as before. In the beginning I depleted huge chucks of my emergency savings to simply provide us with decent meals. It was one thing to ask myself to go without lunch, it was one thing to eat popcorn and crackers for dinner, but how could I ask him to come along on this journey with me? I felt that wasn’t what he signed up for when he asked me to move in.

After many tearful conversations I agreed to fight the urge to feed us well. That wonderful man told me that Mac-n-Cheese would do, that hot dog sandwiches would be ok until we got to a better place. I loved him all the more for not shaming me for my inadequacies. 

Even now that I finally have a job again, the grocery store is still a very dangerous place, but for a different reason. I always have a list, a very strict list, with preplanned meals and notes to myself, including things like, “DO NOT DEVIATE FROM THE PLAN!” Without fail items will call to me from the shelf. Items I don’t even want, meals I have no intention to make, things we’ll never be able to eat before they go bad, and before I know it I’ve hoarded. I’ve walked out of the grocery store with twice as much food as Adam and I could EVER eat in a single week all because I finally COULD.

The only difference between myself and Jill is that I still have the know-how to throw the rotten food we don’t eat away. I’m no where near her magnitude of course, and I doubt I would ever become like Jill, but I understand her panic. I knew that fear in her eyes, I know all too well the impulse to buy so you know you’ll never again have to go without.

IT FEELS GOOD TO BE HOME

Last night was an English major nerd milestone for me.

In High School my nerd-factor was way up there seeing as I was the girl who ALWAYS had a book in her bag. If I finished a test early I’d whip out a book. Waiting for the bus, whip out a book. Feeling insecure in a social situation, whip out a book. I’m surprised boys didn’t fight over me. A girl with her nose buried in a book 70% of the day, come on, it just screams SEX.

In college I upped the anti by becoming an English major. By that time though I was surrounded by other book nerds, so the stigma has sluffed off a bit. I was in my element finally, sitting around in a room with other lovers of the written word. Together we considered it a productive class if we’d fully dissected plot lines, character development and author motivations in a single hour. Obviously we were the EXPERTS on this particular book, and knew EVERYTHING the author had hoped to convey in their work. We not only knew what the author was trying to achieve with their book, but we also knew how WE could have done it better. Not pretentious in the least bit.

Then last night I hit a milestone in English-nerdom. I went to my first book club meeting! Most of you will roll your eyes at me, but it was everything I expected and more. A group of women who come together once a month to eat food, drink wine, and talk about a book they all made time in their crazy lives to sit down and read. Half the time conversation flows around the book, and the other half you find yourself off on random tangents such as the beauty of Johnny Dep’s face. Seriously why is that man so pretty?

I walked into book group timid, nervous about being accepted into a group of women who have been meeting, sharing, and experiencing together every month for the past FIVE years. When I left the group a few hours later I felt like I was one giant step closer to feeling like I truly belong in this new city of mine. The girl who first moved to Olympia spent her unemployed days alone, wondering if she’s made the right decision to throw it all away and take a chance in this new city. Yet even if I never attend again (which of course I wouldn't do), it makes me feel safe to have found people like me amongst this large city of strangers.

It feels good to be home.

A CONVERSATION I WAS SURE WOULD NEVER HAPPEN

"You know, after being alone all day today I started to realize how absolutely boring being unemployed must have been."

"YOU THINK!?!?!?"

"This morning I picked up our room, put away all the clothes, made the bed, cleaned the kitchen, and then I was like, 'What the hell do I do now?'"

"Sucked didn't it?"

"Yeah. I was so bored I didn't even have enough energy to run errands."

"You mean you felt so bored that the boredom had actually soaked into the very core of your being disabling you from performing the most basic of tasks? Boredom so complete you simply wandered from quiet room to even more bone chilling quiet room looking for something to do?"

"Exactly."

"You thought I was just over exaggerating when I wrote that post about jumping out of my skin each day before you'd come home from work didn't you?"

"Completely. I thought you were just being dramatic as usual."

"Take your day today, multiply it by 6 months, and you've got my unemployment."

(shivers)

"I feel fulfilled in ways I never knew existed..." 

"Please don't go to work tomorrow."