Uncategorized

women in advertising.

in





i'm gonna tell you a secret. i often look at the blogs of other women and think: i wish i could be more like them. i wish i could post more photos. i wish i could just present the happy image of myself. i wish i always looked good and put-together and vibrant.

and then, i remember that that's only part of their truth. the truth they wish to share. and i don't begrudge them that, not at all. it is everyone's right to put into their space that which they want to.

and thank goodness for that.

while it's often that truth that i wish to share, it's not the truth i know how to share. and probably, even if i was able, i'd get bored of it in no time.

i sometimes wish i didn't post stuff like this--stuff that seems more soapbox than anything else. but then, a part of me reals and goes, yeah soapbox but... still deserving of a platform--still needing to be heard. still important. 


and because this is my space, and because i want to remember what i was thinking and feeling and being shaped by in my twenties, i am gonna post soapbox stuff. and write about goldfish filled purses. and not post pictures for months at a time because i'm feeling not terribly pretty. it's all a work in progress. nothing's perfect. no one's perfect. and no one blog, no one post, no one essay, or even collection of writings is the whole truth.

a wasteland.

in


you should see the bottom of my purse right now. for anyone who thinks i have my life together--or ever, at any point in time, had my life together--you should see the bottom of my purse. goldfish. cracked and smashed and week-old, forgotten goldfish. of the cheddar persuasion--you know, the kind eight year olds eat?  yes, week-old goldfish that i haven't had the energy or time to take care of just sitting there, mucking up my purse and everything in it.

muck feels like a good word for my life right now.

stuck in the muck. the mud. (actually, i got a few other choice words for it, but i'll refrain).

tom, i'm in it right now, i said this morning when i saw him.

you are?

yes, look, i said pulling out my purse and brandishing its contents like a...like a something. i don't know.

life made manifest in the form of a littered purse.

you should see my room. my apartment.

shambles.

tom took a good look at it, looked at me, you know everyone should have some weeks when the bottom of their purse is little more than littered goldfish.

i sure as hell hope he's right. he usually is.

conversation with my mom yesterday:

in


mom: why did everyone think you were depressed after yesterday's post?

me: i'm not sure. i'm not.

mom. yeah, i know.

me: i'm just really stressed.

mom. yeah. i know.


(though, to be fair,  i'm extremely thankful for the concern and support. it is a gentle and good reminder for me that what i post here is such a particular sliver of the story that of course we as readers tend to extrapolate and interpret and fill in blanks and we don't always get it right--i certainly do it in reading the blogs of others. reading what someone chooses to present online does not mean we know them--for better or for worse). 

where i'm at.

in


i was at work on thursday when i felt like i suffered a minor psychotic break. i was looking at something and was convinced it was (stand-in-example to follow) red when it was clearly blue. but i couldn't see it was blue. i saw red. and then the moment passed. and yes, well, okay, maybe it was blue. maybe it was somewhere between red and blue, it wasn't red, that much i could see.

i felt, in that moment, like i had lost my mind. it was deeply embarrassing and even more unsettling.

and i realized what must be so hard for those who really are losing their mental facilities are the moments everything is clear and right and they are aware of the breaks--the absences--the mistakes and the total control to reign those things in.

the awareness of the crazy. the awareness of the loss. it's...i can only imagine it's utterly devastating.

yesterday i missed the train by a mere ten seconds. and so i began to cry. that was the morning. and then in the evening when someone told me something unkind i cried again. crumpled on the floor of a coat-check closet, i lost it.

i spent a good portion of work on saturday night trying to figure out if a particular man, sitting at a particular table, was a man i had dated for nearly three months. and by the night's end. the jury was still out. it very well could have been him. but i couldn't be sure. how can you not know? everyone asked me. i know, i know i dated him for long enough that it should have been clear. but, well, we weren't particularly kind to each other, so, it turns out you can date a guy for nearly three months and two years later know nothing about him, recognize very little about him.

i'm not losing my mind, i'm not. but it feels a little bit right now (a lot, actually) like i'm losing something.

a part of myself, a group of friends, or some vital organ that once kept me afloat. something has been lost. and the unkind, not good, too proud part of me wants to etch-a-sketch the whole thing and say fine, blank-slate, i never needed that thing anyway. 


but this is an opportunity for growth, i suppose. to be better. and let go of the cruelty of others. to let go of of my own unkindness, to relinquish that part of me that bristles and reacts to no end.

i'm really not perfect. and sometimes i'm not good. but i am honest, and that's what i'd like in return. the use of fear to manipulate, the going to someone else to suss out a situation, as opposed to facing the problem directly, denotes a lack of courage that is wearing me thin.

to live honestly, that's all i'd like. well, that and true love, and wild success, and some money to keep things moving...but that'll come i suppose.






“I actually attack the concept of happiness. I don’t mind people being happy - but the idea that everything we do is part of the pursuit of happiness seems to me a really dangerous idea and has led to a contemporary disease in Western society, which is fear of sadness. It’s a really odd thing that we’re now seeing people saying 'write down 3 things that made you happy today before you go to sleep', and 'cheer up' and 'happiness is our birthright' and so on. We’re kind of teaching our kids that happiness is the default position - it’s rubbish. Wholeness is what we ought to be striving for and part of that is sadness, disappointment, frustration, failure; all of those things which make us who we are. Happiness and victory and fulfillment are nice little things that also happen to us, but they don’t teach us much. Everyone says we grow through pain and then as soon as they experience pain they say 'Quick! Move on! Cheer up!' I’d like just for a year to have a moratorium on the word 'happiness' and to replace it with the word 'wholeness'. Ask yourself 'is this contributing to my wholeness?' and if you’re having a bad day, it is.” 

Hugh Mackay, psychologist and social researcher