Guffaw

Cccc-changes.

Does the act of writing about improving one’s life lead to the actual improvement of one’s life? The way eating lots of shrimp turns a flamingo pink? If so, I’d ingest prodigious amounts of glitters in hopes of becoming the remarkable unicorn I know myself to truly be.

During the last few months of my life, I’ve found myself wondering how to change one’s nature. Ugh. Stop. When authors write about themselves in the abstract third person, I found myself doing a huge inner eyeball roll. As if the author speaks for all of mankind by using the word “one’s self.” Perhaps I’m just not a truly great literary writer (except when it comes to capturing the art of farting), but I’ve found that when I use the word “one” to describe anything except the only number in our number system which is neither a prime nor a composite number (!), that I’m simply trying to write about my own experiences without exposing my own vulnerability within them. Or in other words, that my coping mechanism to my own fears and anxieties is to write about them as known universal experiences, rather than my own deeply personal process. Not too dissimilar to my coping mechanism for social nervousness, which is to laugh at inappropriate times. (List including, but not limited to, job interviews, first, second, and often fifteenth dates, 3 hour college lectures, and funerals.) Regardless, the point is that if I am truly to be as honest as one… No, I mean, I. If I am to be truly as honest as I can be with myself, or at least enough to warrant a blog following of 7 but not enough so to get fired immediately from my job and/or extinguish any possible chance of being associated with normalcy, then I cannot undermine my own emotions and experiences by separating myself from them. So let me begin again.

During the last few months of my life, I’ve found myself trying to change myself, trying to transform myself, basically to embark on what has always been mankind’s greatest challenge. On the most surface level (and this is where I am not ready to be completely open), this year has been the most personally difficult year of my life. There have been no extenuating life circumstances, no huge career move, no existential crisis, no sick family members (knock on wood!), no devastating breakup, no really anything different. Despite the not really anything change, I’ve discovered inside myself a terrible ocean storm. Not a cloud in sight to foresee what was to come, and then suddenly without warning, a complete torrential mental and spiritual downpour. And this is where fear began to truly grip my heart. If nothing, or at least nothing that I can immediately see, is wrong, yet everything is wrong, then I do not know where to begin to look for a solution. And if I have no idea how to begin to formulate a solution, then there’s nothing I can do. And if there is nothing I can do, then I am not in control, and therefore, actually completely out of control. And if I am out of control, then I am going to lose it. And here, my friends, is where the truly terrible crazy begins.

When a complete shit storm of the spirit begins, you stay put and assume that it, like many terrible things in life, will pass. Meanwhile, there are options to help pass the time: A) You start buying wine bottles for yourself every night. You are pissed when you wake up and find that your roommates have consumed what should have been your breakfast. B) You believe that going down 2 dress sizes will be the solution to all your problems because after all, your small patch of extra arm fat has always been the root of all evil in your life. C) Find a boyfriend.

Here is how I size up to all of the above options:

A) I make it through one cup of wine before complete exhaustion overrides me and I wake up at 6 am, to find myself cradling a copy of Game of Thrones. Alcohol as self-medicated therapy = fail.

B) I start to walk to the gym but get distracted by the newly opened pudding shop on my street. I convince myself that raising a plastic spoon is just as rigorous as a workout as the class I was going to attend (“EXXXTREME BODY WORKOUT- Get J. Lo’s post-twin babies body by dangling from exxxtreme ropes!”).

C) I attempt to flirt with men at bars, but find myself opening every conversation with, “So, have you read Game of Thrones? You remind me a lot of Tyrion Lannister.” When I wake up the next morning, I wonder what went so wrong with my game.

However, when shit really hits the spiritual fan, in the most jolting way possible, there  are no real ways to cope besides to escape, or to investigate. Since teaching is one of the few occupations where a two-week notice doesn’t really exist, escape was not really an option. Although I did attempt to scheme up ways to get myself fired- pull the fire alarm in my school building everyday until they had no choice but to let me go, steal other people’s belongings, provide answer keys to my students for every Interim Assessment, show up at work an hour late everyday… blacked out, etc.- I did what was second best- rented a cabin in Vermont for a weekend and attempted to get a regular yoga routine going. And at that time, more by necessity than by choice, began to investigate what was going on. (Insert me circling my hand around my head in rapid circles to indicate complete mental craziness.) What was going on? And what changes do I have to make to feel balanced again?

But here’s the thing about change. There will always be many times in life during which I will suddenly be seized by the sudden desire to change, the instantaneous belief that there is a better me out there and today is the day to begin to finding it. Sometimes it happens when the first bit of sunlight comes pouring through the sky after a long and dreary winter season. Other times it hits when I’m listening to a song by The Shins (or Spice girls, whatever). Then there are times when it strikes when I’m doing something as normal as walking. Whenever or whatever it may be, change is something that I want (and I am sure the whole world’s population wants), but that is, more often than not, unattainable. True transformation, the kind of change that alters my spirit, my mindset, my daily actions, my immediate responses, is one of the single most difficult acts in life. Precisely for the reason that is not actually just an act. Although it’s verb form may indicate otherwise, change is a shift in one’s nature (sorry, had to use “one” there), and not a simple re-ordering of physical actions. If that were a case, I could change my whole life simply by taking a different route to work, signing up for German classes (silly sounding language), and/or committing to only buying seasonal produce. Change, the kind which involves self-forgiveness, forgiveness of others, being rooted in the present, finding glory in every expression of life, is rarely long-term or sustainable.

So here begins my new blogging journey on how to evolve, how to reflect, how to be honest, and how to kick ass at life (although I would ignore any advice I attempt to give about enriching your dating life). A ploy to become an Oprah-esque internet sensation or self-therapy for an audience of one (me included)? I’m not totally sure. Witty, sexy, and sassy? Absolutely.

Signing out. Gossip Girl.

Just kidding. I’ve just always wanted to write that because it’s the only thing I know about the show.

Signing out. Awkward Girl.