Letter to Past Me

Approximately one year ago, inspired by a blog challenge by Bubbles & Beebots, I wrote a letter to my future self. Which is now my current self. Back then, I was pretty certain that I would forget about the letter and never remember to write a response back, but somehow that memory managed to claw its way into my consciousness.

High-five, memory! I forgive you for all the things you’ve lost over the years. Minus the time you left Grandma at the airport. That’s unforgivable.

Anyway, it’d probably make much more sense for you to read my 2016 letter first. But if you don’t want it to make sense, then you don’t have to read it. Perhaps you prefer to live dangerously. I like that.

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Dear 2016 version of me,

Hey look – we’re still alive! Well, mostly. Up until this point, you have tested a whopping twenty-two different queso dishes. That’s a lot of dairy and dead animals. Medical professionals might call it excessive, but I call it sensible. This gal ain’t gettin’ no osteoporosis.

Back then, you wondered whether Sazón would still in the lead, and it is, BUT it’s now sharing the cheese crown with your beloved Mamacita’s. Sadly, my friend and fellow cheese-tester and I have not gone on a quest in a few months. You see, we got into a fight over which flavor of cheese is the best. Things got heated, and then I accidentally whacked her on the head with a block of aged gouda.

It happens.

So, 2016 self, I know you were hoping that I would use this year to become older, wiser, and fancier. Listen up, because I have good news and bad news. The good news is – you’re indeed a fully-licensed professional counselor, and you’re now in private practice. Never saw THAT coming, did ya? Your biggest fear is uncertainty, and you frequently thought about sticking with what you know for the sake of security, but something inside kept pushing and poking you to do more.

And it was not a food baby.

Okay, now for the bad news. I know you were really hoping that you’d be cooking more well-balanced meals by now. You’re nearing thirty, after all. But it turns out, 2017 You still really likes eating ham cubes straight out of the package. If it makes you feel any better, you’re still paying bills, doing laundry, and even vacuuming – which you loathe more than corgis loathe large vegetables.

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You’re clearly not lazy. But you seem to have been born without the part of the brain that enables you to plan normal meals and follow through on them. Instead, you stand in front of the open fridge and stare at the plentitude of foodstuffs that you bought with the ignorant hopes that they’d inspire you to change. Then, you start thinking about how many steps are involved in making those meals, and suddenly you feel a little less inspired and a little more apathetic. Pretty soon, you’re gnawing on a cold hot dog while you stand there – still staring. Still waiting.

And then you give up on the idea of dinner, like the sad, cold-hot-dog-eating pretend-grown-up that you are.

It’s okay. It’s a disease. You can’t help yourself.

Let’s see, what else did you want to know about me? Oh, right. You’ll be amazed to know that you’re typing this letter on a decrepit 11-year-old laptop. That’s right, IT’S STILL ALIVE TOO! Mwahahahha!!! (Sorry, that was the laptop laughing.) At least you purchased a cuter and smaller one to use strictly for work purposes. You’re convinced the old laptop knows you’re cheating on it with the younger model, and will soon have its revenge, but you’ll cross that bridge when you come to it.

So, 2016 self, a lot has changed, but a lot has stayed the same. You still have weird eating habits, but your arteries haven’t give up yet. You’re not sure why you’ve become a nursing home for elderly laptops, because even your father thinks you should get rid of this one – and he owns a robe that’s older than you are. Hopefully, maybe, these charming oddities are balanced out by all of your successes, such as your impressive vacuuming, your big job change, and the fact that you washed your car the other day.

Just as you suspected, 2017 You is doing just fine. Okay…maybe even more than fine 🙂

With love,

2017, Still-a-work-in-Progress, Me

 

 

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September Remembered

It seems like September is a hard month for a lot of people. Green Day hates the month so much, they want to sleep through the whole thing and not wake up until it’s over.

But in my little neck of the woods, September is (mostly) splendid. Rather than simply telling you about it, I think the photos and screenshots I’ve taken on my phone over the past 30 (well, 28) days will paint a pretty good picture.

Warning: this post contains some vague and confusing nudity.    

September 3
While watching Silver Linings Playbook, I realized that young Bradley Cooper bares a strikingly creepy resemblance to a person I used to be quite close with, but now haven’t spoken to in 6 years. That guy’s probably in prison by now. Not even kidding.  Just to clarify, it’s the former friend who’s probably in prison –  not Bradley Cooper. I mean, Bradley Cooper COULD be in prison right now, I don’t really know.

How much do ANY of us know about him, really?

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September 4
Celebrated my mom’s birthday weekend with lots of mother-daughter shenanigans. Happy Birthday, Cheese Mom! Sorry for any blog-related shame I’ve brought you, and will continue to bring you, for an indefinite period of time!

Also, thank you for providing such good material.

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Yes, her shirt does say “Nope.” I like to to think she takes after me.

September 9
I completed all of my clinical hours for FULL licensure as a professional counselor (as opposed to a lowly counselor intern). First, I celebrated in my office with a mini dance party,  which was witnessed by a bewildered handyman walking by.

Later, I celebrated with potatoes and pretty drinks, just like our forefathers would have wanted.

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September 10
I began a new and weird research project about personality disorders. It was a slow start.

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September 11
I admitted that I am powerless against the mighty Cheeto.

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September 12
Happy Birthday to one of my best friends, who will always and forever be 12 days older than I am, which I will hold over her until the day I die. Or until the day she dies, since she’s so much older and wrinklier.

Rather than putting up a picture of her, I have included this drawing that I made of her when we were 10. She’s the only one with hair.

I don’t know who all the bald people are, or why everyone’s naked. I’m now a little concerned about my 10-year-old self.

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September 16
Celebrated my birthday (early) at an outdoor bar. Bacon-covered cheese and alcoholic beverages were involved. So were dogs. Lots and lots of dogs.

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September 22
These birthday presents from mah cheese wife and her kids do a pretty good job of demonstrating my personality. You’re looking at a dolphin nightshirt and a tortilla warmer with a chicken on it. In the past, I’ve used foil to keep my tortillas warm, like some kind of miserable peasant. Now, not only will my carb vehicles be kept toasty, they will look good while doing it. This festive feathery bastard is really going to liven things up in my kitchen.

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A note to my friends and family:  please refrain from buying me chicken-themed  items in the future. The fact that I like this particular chicken does not mean I wish to start hoarding them.

September 24
At last, my birthday! I went shopping, ate too many treats, and petted some more dogs. Needless to say, it was a pretty excellent day.

It’s been a whirlwind 30 (okay, 28) days of festivities, food, and fur babies! It hasn’t been perfect, but it’s been just nice enough to make me forget about that whole persistent eyelid infection thing. Which I still have, you guys. I’m going to need some more Cheetos.

Not the Brightest Bulb in the Box

One lit bulb among unlit ones

I can be a strange grown up sometimes.

There are some duties that I can carry out on a consistent basis, and with little complaint. I’ll gallivant around, adulting like a fricken champion, with “You’re Gonna Make it After All” playing triumphantly in my head.

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And then, I’ll hit a wall. Suddenly, the simplest of tasks will seem like a huge mountain to climb. A burden to shoulder. An obstacle to cross. An – never mind, you get it.

An indefinite number of weeks ago, a light bulb in one of my living room lamps went out. No problemo. I always keep “extras” of certain items around, and I quickly replaced it. Since this was the last of my extra light bulbs, I put the item on my grocery list, figuring I could pick some up the next time I went to the store.

And this, my friends, is where things got weird.

I’ve gone to the store numerous times since running out of bulbs, and each time, I leave without them. I see the word on my grocery list – and then disregard it with a hint of apathy.

“Eh, the lightbulbs are all the way on the other side of the store, and I just…I don’t know. I don’t want to.”

Then, I stare wistfully at the other side of the store, as though I really WISH I could get to the bulbs, if only they weren’t so far away. If only there weren’t so many obstacles in between us. I picture this journey to The Other Side as something akin to Oregon Trail – complete with oxen to yoke and rivers to ford.

I’d be desperate, tired,  and hungry. I’d probably catch cholera.

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Especially if I’m at Walmart.

It’s now been weeks, no, months, since I used that last bulb, and I still haven’t bought new ones.

What is this? Is this just simple laziness? If so, then why can I run 53 errands, unload the dishwasher, clean the bathroom, and still have energy left over to bake a cake, but getting light bulbs is just slightly beyond my abilities?

 

Each time I stand in the store and make the decision to forgo the bulbs yet again, I get a mischievous thrill. Like a high schooler plotting to skip class. Or, like an adult who can refuse to do simple tasks, because there are no other adults around to punish me.

Screw the patriarchy! They can’t tell me when to buy light bulbs!

But when I leave the store empty-light-bulb-handed, I feel a bit guilty and weirded out by myself. Unfortunately, the guilt’s not enough to change my mind the next time around.

I’ve come to terms with the idea that there will eventually be a consequence for my behavior. At some point, another bulb will go out in my apartment, and I’ll be plunged into an inconvenient darkness until I can get new ones.

Who knows how long this’ll go on – maybe I’ll never get new ones! Maybe my light bulb laziness will go on for years until I have no lights in my apartment and people refuse to visit me because I’ve become a stubborn, darkness-dwelling, fang-less vampire.

That’s right, I’ve now reached the point where I would rather just accept my future punishment for not doing the thing that I need to do, rather than just DOING the thing that I need to do.

NOTE: I originally wrote the above post FOUR freaking months ago, but ultimately decided not to post it. Why did I publish it today? You guessed it. The first lightbulb has gone out.

And so it begins.

Has anyone else found themselves completely unmotivated to do a simple task? What chore challenged you? Did you eventually give in and do it, or did you endure some type of consequence?

 

Ten Truths Behind the Lie

If you were to call or text me on a Sunday morning and ask what I’m up to, the answer would probably be, “Oh, not much.” Or, “Just watching TV.” But that response would usually be a lie.

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I’m often doing something somewhat more riveting, but I fear that the truth would frighten you away, so I give a generic and bland response.  The downside of answering this way is that you might think I’m dull and uneventful, but at least you don’t question my mental stability. I call that a win.

In the interest of being more honest, I will now come clean to you all about my Sunday morning lie. If I were to answer your question about my activities more truthfully, my response could look like any one of these:

  1. “Eating cinnamon toast in my underwear.”
  1. “Lying in bed, looking at Twitter, and making eagle noises.”
  1. “Trying to get pancake syrup out of my pajama top.”
  1. “Singing ‘She’ll be Coming ‘Round the Mountain’ with a gravelly, Louis-Armstrong-like warble.”
  1. “Facebook-stalking myself. I’m really quite fascinating.”
  1. “Meowing to the tune of the ‘The Waltz of the Sugar Plum Fairy.’”
  1. “Reading a book in a British accent.”
  1. “Making up a song about chickens.”
  1. “Watching a Youtube video of a golden retriever playing the drums. He’s better on the cow bell.”
  1. “Trying to get pancake syrup out of my sock. Don’t ask.”

You may have noticed that most of my Sunday morning festivities involve either food, or making some sort of obnoxious sound. That observation is completely accurate. Pigging out and being annoying are two of the many perks of living alone.

Anyway, if I were to text YOU on a Sunday morning and ask what you were up to, what kind of reply would I get? Do you spend time with family? Go on an early-morning jog? Eat foods drenched in syrup?

6 Sort-of-Smart Things I Do Sometimes

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In the past few months of running this blog, I think I’ve done a pretty good job of poking fun at myself and the not-so-smart decisions I occasionally make. Think of my blog as an exercise in humility.

Now that I’ve thoroughly described some massively poor choices, I feel the need to list some of my good decisions in order to balance things out.

That’s how life works, right?

You can make as many bad decisions as you want, as long as you make an equal number of good decisions. For example, it’s fine if you smuggle cocaine across the Canadian border – IF you follow it up by helping an old woman cross the street.

The bad decision is just… erased.

And if you help two old ladies cross the street? Well, then, you’re basically a saint.

However, you have to be careful about the number of smart choices you make. Too many will make you seem like an overachiever or a martyr – like someone who wants to make everyone else look bad. No one wants that, so keep on doing dumb stuff! And then redeem yourself again by doing good stuff. The cycle continues.

As an example, here are some decently intelligent things that I do. Think of it as an exercise in redemption:

  • I pay my bills as soon as they come in.
  • I’ve never once kidnapped an animal, no matter how cute it was, or how much I wanted to.
  • I replace the toilet paper when it runs out at work.
  • I always eat a sensible dinner before I plan to devour an entire chocolate cake.
  • I always call 911 to report dangerous grass fires. I’ve technically only seen one, but that’s still a perfect record.
  • Sometimes I eat vegetables.

That’s it. That’s all I can think of. I’m convinced that I do other smart stuff, but this is all I can come up with for now.

What weird decisions have you made in the past? What good choices have helped redeem you? Let us know in a comment, or if you’re a blogger and you’ve made a post about a good or bad decision before, feel free to leave a link to it! 🙂

Karate Belts of Adulthood

I’ve never taken classes in karate, or tae kwon do, or… jujube, but one thing I know about these courses is that the participants grunt a lot, and are generally quite noisy.

Another, and possibly more relevant, thing I know is that these classes have a ranking/award system in the way of colorful belts. The newest of newbies wear white belts with their uniforms, and when they accomplish a specific task or test, they move on to a yellow belt, then orange, and so on. Moving on to the next color is something to work toward, a real point of pride.

And by golly, I think adulthood should have a similar system.

If you think about it, karate is sort of a metaphor for adulthood. Like karate, adulthood requires great discipline. Like karate, adulthood is made easier with some flexibility. And like karate, adulthood sometimes involves getting kicked in the face.

With all these similarities, I think we can agree that there should be colorful accessories to award grown-ups when we complete small tasks. When we learn how to get chocolate stains out of white rayon, this effort should be acknowledged. When we figure out how to make a meal out of leftover chicken and day-old orange juice, because it’s all we have left in the fridge and we can’t afford more groceries until Thursday – we should move up a level.

Now, I could spend time trying to come up with an original award system of my own, but the colorful belts are a tried-and-true method, and like the late, great Socrates said – if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

I picture the Adulthood Belt System looking a little something like this:

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How I earned my orange belt

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How I earned my blue belt
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Note: not having access to a baby’s or animal’s feces doesn’t necessarily disqualify you from getting a brown belt – as long as you’re theoretically willing to clean it up.

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What other tasks do you think should be considered in the Adulthood Belt System? Have you arrived at Black Belt status, or do you still struggle with the whole bran-muffin-over-donut thing?

A Kidney and Free HBO

I accomplished a huge victory today that I need you all to know about. I cancelled my subscription to Directv.

No applause necessary. Feel free to send congratulatory gifts, however.

About three weeks ago, my receiver went out, and a technician was supposed to come last night in order to fix it. Long story short, he didn’t show, and my attempt to schedule another appointment was much more complicated and dramatic than it should’ve been. I spent close to an hour on the phone, just being transferred from department to department, and having to repeat the problem to each new person.

I got really frustrated, and ended up texting a friend a message that contained no words – just emojis of knives and bombs.

It’s the contemporary way to express your anger.

Anyway, you’d think I would’ve been eager to channel all those negative feelings into a cancellation phone call. Alas, that is not how Amanda’s brain works

There’s an episode of Friends where Chandler is tired of paying fees for a gym membership that he never uses – however, he knows that there’s no way he’ll be strong enough to cancel on his own, so he enlists Ross’s help for some assertiveness training. They even role-play the interaction for practice:

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Unfortunately for Chandler, the gym employees don’t let him off that easily. They remind the poor guy that he’ll lose out on Swedish spa services, call him a quitter, throw in a little body-shaming, and then convince Ross to join the gym.

Most people probably see that scene and think that Chandler is pathetic, or hilarious, or maybe hilariously pathetic. But I see it and think, “This is it. I’m Chandler.” I can feel the man trying to be confident, but losing his resolve. I can feel his sheer discomfort.

The problem is, I for some reason equate being firm and assertive with being rigid and mean.  I can talk myself into making a difficult phone call to a company, but then the customer service reps are nice and apologetic, and it suddenly feels as though I’m personally offending them by complaining about their product or service. I’m used to being kind and helpful, and standing up for myself doesn’t feel kind or helpful.

Did you hear that? I think Freud just rolled over in his grave.

Today, I was genuinely fed up with Directv, and I was determined to not be a Chandler. (Only with me, the problem is not a flabby gut, but a flabby resolve.) In order to push past that overwhelming urge to be nice, I had to purposely keep myself in a frustrated and impatient state, or else I’d give in.

And just like in that episode of Friends, they pulled out all the stops.

The following is a summary of a conversation with Directv that may or may not have happened:

Employee: “I’m so sorry to hear that you’ve experienced these inconveniences. Instead of cancelling, would you be interested in six months of free HBO?”

Me: “Erm…um. No.”

Employee: “Okay. How about $20 off your bill for six months, AND you still get the free HBO?”

Me: “Nah, home slice.”

Employee: “I can see that you’re quite serious about this. I’m now prepared to offer you one of my kidneys, as well as the promise that I will name my firstborn child after you.”

Me: pauses to consider… “No, that’s okay.”

Employee: “The kidney and firstborn child are of course in addition to the HBO and reduced bill.”

Me: “I still just want to cancel.”

Employee: “Of course, ma’am. But before I transfer you to that department, you do need to understand that  if you cancel, we will be forced to rain down a plague of cockroaches on your home.”

Me: shudders.  “I’ll just… stay inside forever, then. That’s fine. But I still don’t want Directv anymore.”

I did it. I stuck with it until the rep was done offering a variety of bribes and vague threats. While my memory of that interaction might be slightly exaggerated, I’m still childishly proud of myself for sticking to the plan to cancel services.

Again, feel free to send gifts. I like chocolate, cheese, wine, and the color purple.

Does anyone else have trouble being assertive about certain things? What do you do to maintain your resolve? How do you balance politeness with firmness?

 

How to Be Unemployed

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A couple of summers ago, after finishing grad school, I went through a three-month period of unemployment, where it felt like every day was a battle to maintain my sanity.

I soon found myself maintaining a particular routine, just to try to keep some structure in an otherwise long, purposeless day. If you ever find yourself unemployed, I highly recommend following a similar schedule. May the Job Force be with you

10:00–10:30 – Wake up and force self to get out of bed. Whine and moan a lot.

10:30–11:00 – Eat breakfast. Chew cereal angrily.

11:00–12:00 – Swim laps in the apartment pool for no other reason but to kill time. Pretend THIS guy is in the water with you to make things more interesting:

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12:00 – Try to convince yourself to shower, so that you can get the chlorine out of your hair. Decide that you don’t care if your hair turns green. You’re THAT hardcore.

12:05-12:30 – Shower.

12:30-1:00 – Get dressed, but not in real clothes. When you don’t have a job, you can wear any stupid thing you want and it doesn’t matter. You should take advantage of that!

1:00 – Sit down to the computer to start job-searching for the first time that day. Pray to the Gods of Employment to show a little mercy on you. Consider performing some sort of séance or animal sacrifice to please the gods and increase your luck.

1:05-2:30 – Apply for stupid bullshit jobs that you have no desire to do, but you’re running out of money and people keep asking you if you’ve found a job yet, and every time they do, a little part of you dies, and you can feel yourself losing your grip on sanity and you just want a fucking job, so you just keep searching, and you keep editing your resume until you hardly recognize it anymore, and you keep applying for shitty ass jobs you don’t want to do. Because that’s what grown-ups do.

2:30-3:00 – Weep all over your fancy-framed diplomas.

3:00-4:00 – Watch a little daytime TV on one of your three channels, because you can’t afford Netflix or cable. But you refuse to watch that Dr. Phil pseudo-psych bullshit, because he’s the worst. Even while unemployed, you still have your standards.

4:00-4:05 – Groan some more. Try groaning in different areas of your house to see how the acoustics change.

4:05-5:30 – Throw on the stained t-shirt that you’ve worn for three days in a row, and go out to run your daily errand. (Even if you have multiple errands to run, you can only allow yourself to go to ONE place. Gotta spread things out.) Go to Target and spend an hour staring at the pretty stationery, and then leave without buying anything but a single banana.

5:30-6:30 – Prepare ramen or instant mac & cheese.  Eat your Target banana for dessert.

6:30-6:35 – Take deep breaths as you check your email. Try to convince yourself that if you think positively, you can MAKE a response appear from a prospective employer. Perform another séance for luck.

6:35 – Discover that there are no new emails. Decide it is your computer’s fault that you’re unemployed. Punish the computer with your thoughts.

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6:37 – Receive a text from a family member or friend, asking if you’ve found a job yet. Consider murdering them.

6:45-7:00 – Lay on the carpet and cry some more. You’re going to miss having a place to live.

7:00-8:00 – Watch Grey’s Anatomy. Find yourself hoping that the entire hospital explodes into a huge fireball, and that everybody gets mangled. Especially Meredith.

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8:00-10:00 – Begin the second round of job-searching, because for some crock of shit reason, employers have started posting new jobs at night, and if you wait until the next day to apply for them, you’re probably coming behind some overachieving assholes who are even more anal than you are, so in order to keep up with everyone, you’re going to have to up your level of anal, and you never thought you’d say that phrase in your life, but you’ve lost perspective, and you don’t know what to believe anymore.

10:00-10:30 – Consider taking up a new fun hobby, like smoking crack.

10:30-12:00 – Come up with an idea for a children’s TV show about a clog-dancing gremlin named Elvis. Write and illustrate the first 15 pages of the script.

12:00 – Check your email again. Discover that an employer wants to set up an interview with you!!!!!!!

12:00-12:07 – Run around your apartment like a madwoman, waving your arms in the air and making pterodactyl noises.

12:07-1:00 – Try on different outfits to wear to the interview, because even though it’s after midnight, and the interview is still three days away, you need time to prepare, and you’re not sure whether that pencil skirt still fits, and you briefly wonder whether a pencil skirt is perhaps too fancy for an interview at a nonprofit agency, but you don’t exactly have a lot of choices, and it seems like a better option than the dress pants with the hole in the crotch.

1:00 – Feel thankful that you showered earlier. Green hair really wouldn’t go with this blouse.

1:00-1:30 – Research interview tips. You’re going to interview harder than anyone has ever interviewed in the history of interviews.

1:30 – Fall into a twitchy sleep.

For those who have endured periods of unemployment or (other difficult periods), what kind of routine did you develop? What other strategies helped you through?

 

Grocery Bag Confessions

Have you ever been on Postsecret? The website is a bit amazing. People make and submit anonymous postcards divulging their most personal secrets and confessions. Some of the “baggage” is heavy and sad, like those big travel trunks, or giant suitcases. Other secrets on the website are more lighthearted, like….grocery bags.

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That was a rough metaphor, but you get what I’m saying. Hopefully.

You know what? Just go take a quick look at the site to get a better idea of the immense awesomeness of it. I’ll be here when you get back. I probably will have eaten all of the chocolate, though. Sorry about that.

For today’s post, I thought it’d be interesting to make a few secretive postcards of my own. But not of the dark stuff! Heavens to Betsy, no. Although I’m often struck by the pluck (heehee that rhymes) of the people who submit to Postsecret, I’m personally a bit of a chicken, so I’ll just stick with my more lighthearted secrets.

Or, my grocery bag confessions, if you will:

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Anybody else guilty of these secrets? (Except for the Christmas tree one – I’m assuming I’m alone on that one.) What lighthearted confessions are you willing to make?

 

Thoughts I Have When Texts Go Unanswered

You know when you text one of your friends or family, and they don’t respond for awhile, and you spend those minutes or hours agonizing about the reason for their silence?

No? Just me?

Okay, I’ll admit that occasionally, when my texts or phone calls go unreturned, my brain goes a tiny bit haywire. Unanswered texts feel a tiny bit like rejection, and like most homo sapiens, the emotion center of my brain doesn’t like this feeling.

So what does it do?

It employs a number of strategies to decrease this icky reaction. First, it tries to distract itself. Then, it attempts to figure out the reason for the lack of response (and this guessing game can go on for quite a while.) If those techniques don’t work, my brain will devise a list of bullshit reasons for why I should try to make contact again.

Here’s an idea of what this internal dialogue looks like:

  1. They must be busy. No big!
  1. I HAVE been texting them a lot lately. Maybe I’m being too needy
  1. Nah, they’re probably just busy. Cooking dinner, maybe. They’ll text when they can.
  1. Unless they’re mad at me. Didn’t I say something weird to them four days ago? I probably upset them with my strangeness.
  1. Did they have some sort of big event or task to do tonight? I feel like a better friend would remember these things.
  1. Perhaps this is their gentle way of letting me know I text them too much. I’ll try to stop.
  1. Unless maybe I should text them again and ASK if I’m being too clingy? No, don’t do that.
  1. Just going to casually check to make sure my phone isn’t on silent. We’re good.
  1. OH MY GOD WHAT IF THEY’RE IN A DITCH SOMEWHERE?!
  1. They’re probably not in a ditch. There aren’t a lot of ditches around here, anyway. It’s mostly just hills and cliffs.
  1. Seriously, what if they’re mad at me? I shouldn’t have said that vaguely teasing thing a couple of weeks ago.
  1. Okay ya little narcissist – not everything is about you. There could be about 100 different reasons why they haven’t responded, and most of them don’t involve you.
  1. You know what, maybe they were in the bathroom when I texted and they just didn’t hear the phone go off! Maybe they desperately want someone to reach out to them tonight, and have no idea that I tried. I’ll just send another text…
  1. Wait, what if they’re with another group of friends, and they’re all sitting around laughing about me, and placing bets to see how many times I text them? Well, I won’t give in to that game!
  1. Dude, get a hold of yourself. They’re probably busy, or maybe they just don’t feel like talking right now. You understand that.
  1. Think of something else. Think of something else. Think of something else.
  1. Crocheting is FUN! I’m totally focused on learning this new stitch. In fact, I feel so fulfilled by this activity, I’ve completely forgotten that my loved one is ignoring me!
  1. You know what, I can’t blame them. This is what I get for being such a clingy weirdo. A clingster. A cling-meister.
  1. What if this is a test of my friendship? What if they’re feeling really sad, and the lack of response is a challenge to see how hard I’ll try to help them? A really good friend would keep texting until they got an answer, right? Or would they call? Maybe go over to the house?
  1. That’s it. I need new hobbies. I’m going to make myself SO busy that I don’t even have time to send text messages in the first place.
  1. Just going to casually check my phone to see if I missed a response. Totally don’t care if there’s not one.

unanswered

Anyone else occasionally feel this way when a loved one doesn’t answer your phone call or text? (Please tell me I’m not the only one!) What sorts of thoughts do you have when this happens? What do you say to yourself to gain control?