If you've been reading my crap for a while, you know I've gone through a transformation of late.
It seems to have started with my Asshole Depression last year - which taught me to get a grip, take care of myself, and acknowledge reality.
I also found some dark humour that I didn't know I had. And my dear friend LB describes me as a recovering people pleaser. I don't really give a shit anymore. I have less shame, more strength, and I'm more comfortable in my own skin - even if my skin is fatter than it once was.
All of these new things can be attributed, in a twisted sort of way, to losing my path and then having to find a new one - essentially, it all goes back to failing.
That, and, that normal process of growing. the. fuck. up. Age and wisdom and all that jazz.
Let's be clear. I've always been a 40 year old at heart. I go to bed early. I've had Hubby since I was 17 and we've had a house in the suburbs since we were 24. I like Fleetwood Mac. I take stay-cations.
But the last couple of years have been a growing process for me. An improvement, I think. A new paradigm altogether, in which I see, act, and face my life differently than I used to. And I like this new me.
Which is why I ADORE that my aunt, uncle, and young cousins saw this book and immediately thought of me.
|Fuck! I'm in my twenties.|
By Emma Koenig.
Buy it here.
This book is a perfect representation of the shift in my world view.
For example, cursing -slash- hating things:
I still take this approach. Although maybe you could add a "this" and "that" and "you" to follow each of those fucks.
Biting off more than I can chew:
Ugh. I was SO like this in my teens and twenties. I was a superhero. Not anymore. My Asshole Depression fixed that RIGHT up. Now? Weekends and evenings are precious, I don't always feel like leaving the house, and work can wait.
Extremely applicable in my 20s. Now, at 28, I've chilled out a bit. Or at least I'm able to acknowledge when I'm freaking out, so I can fucking DO SOMETHING about it.
This one I'm working on. It does seem rather impossible, doesn't it? To hate so many things about yourself and your choices so early in life? Although I have lightened up on the self-judgement, it's still there. Lingering...
Oh, hysterical meltdowns are aplenty:
This is more like me NOW. I used to ignore the potential for a breakdown, whereas now I not only anticipate and expect a breakdown, but I plan my lunches around it.
The classic "waiting for life to start" syndrome:
I'm still figuring this out. Am I encroaching on THIRTY YEARS OLD?! That CANNOT be. I'm still such a childish asshole.
And the related "David After the Dentist Confusion" syndrome:
I've been known to have some less than lucid moments of "where the fuck am I, what the fuck happened, and how the fuck did I get here." Haven't we all?
And finally, people are pretending:
This took me a while to figure out, but I've got it covered now. It's no longer a question. The 28-year-old me knows that, yes, people are pretending. Everyone is confused, annoyed, self-conscious, and messed the eff up.
And if your response to that is "No, not me! Everything is great!" then you're in denial.
The trick is knowing that just because you're confused, annoyed, self-conscious, and messed the eff up, this doesn't make you UNHAPPY, necessarily.
Just own it. Face your crap, be honest with yourself and others, never assume you know everything, and it'll be a lot easier to live. Promise.