|to me: NOVEMBER 13, 2017|
So, I messaged three friends and asked them if they would be interested in what I am writing. Two have said yes and I am still waiting on the third. Maybe I will enjoy this more if I think someone is reading, maybe I won’t. Actually, I just don’t know anything anymore.
There are so many things running through my head that I think I need some type of order. I can’t find my path if I keep having my thoughts interrupted and going in a million directions. Some thoughts may have nothing to do with anything, maybe they are just complaints about life, people, whatever. But they are reoccurring which means they are affecting me, and mostly in negative ways.
After my first (last) email I decided to search Youtube for some videos regarding my crossroad situation. I tried to watch a few (in their entirety) but was so fucking bored that I only managed to skim through them. Then I stumbled across: Stop Searching for Your Passion presented by Terri Trespicio. It was on TedEx. They have some great videos, but some have had me wishing I never watched. At 4:10 (time into the video) she said exactly what my father said after I graduated college, was in between jobs and suffering with complete and utter depression. She basically said, take a job and have a reason to get up and go somewhere. You can watch it for yourself and I am not really good at being exact in my quotes, especially with my shitty memory. But the message resonated with me and it is actually excellent advice. Keep moving or as my dad always said, “hustle while you wait.” Well, I have been moving since 18 and I am still lost. She also says, stop searching for your passion. I liked those words because the journey to find my passion has led me absolutely nowhere in over 30 years. What really hit a chord with me was when she said, “look for problems that need solving” and passion is, ” where your energy and effort meet someone else’s need.” So this gave me something to think about which I am forever grateful because the broken record in my head is seriously driving me insane.
I was driving back from getting botox, yep, botox. Should I address the botox issue or what I thought about first? Alright, the botox. I get botox because I think aging is ugly. Just plain ugly. Menopause slammed me. It fucked up what was already damaged. My full face got thin as did my thick hair. Sweating is bullshit. Sweating for hours and days and fucking years is just torture. My brain was completely fucked up and is only now beginning to think a little clearer. Everything a woman goes through is just difficult. But I am not writing about the “change” as they call it, which is by the way, a stupid fucking term to describe going through puberty all over again and with a viciousness one could have never imagined. If you happen to read this and think that it wasn’t that bad, the “change” or you had an easy “labor” then just keep quiet please. In the name of sisterhood, just shut your mouth for those of us who have suffered in both arenas. Botox. Back to botox. I think most of my new found “vanity” has sprung from being single, but I have no other side to compare with. I am not married; I do not have a spouse growing old with me. I just look in the mirror and literally say, “what the fuck happened? Where is she? Where is the person I knew and recognized?” Fuck! As I am writing, I just forgot what my other thought was. I got all wrapped up in botox. Damn. Another diversion. So aging is also fucking me up. I see younger, pretty women with shiny, young hair. They have nice features. They have… what I used to have. Of course I never realized I had those things… until I looked back at photos and said, ” my gosh, you looked pretty good back then.” Those days are over. So I try to balance this thought with, “I bet the 75 year old woman wished she looked like 53 years and 10 months again.” So I try to be grateful, but there is obviously still a twinge that shakes me to the core. I don’t want to look old. Sometimes I think I am close to death and that my life is almost over. Let’s say the average life expectancy is, (hold on and I will google it actually)…
Ok, the average life expectancy of an American woman is: 81.2 years. For an American man, it is 76.4. I always said women live about 5 years longer to get a fucking break. Let’s say I have about 28.1 years left. Of course my parents and others will point out that I smoke and drink so I should subtract some years. To which I think and sometimes reply, “but I eat healthy and work out 3 times a week.” My dad’s dream has always been to live to be 100. That is most definitely NOT my dream. Shit, 28.1 more years seems too long as far as I am concerned, especially if I continue to remain stuck in this fucking crossroad in my life. I have told my kids that about 79-80 is perfect for me. So, as it turns out, that’s about the time I am supposed to die. I don’t need surgery for anything in my even older years. At this point I am alone and have been for so long, remember? Thirteen years since my divorce. I have done literally everything fucking alone. I am not interested in being my own nurse to my invalid self nor am I interested in going into some old people, drooling home. God, just shoot me please. Botox to shoot me. How did that happen? Maybe this is why I have no clarity about anything. I have completely forgotten the thought I had while driving home from my botox appointment. By the way, I like the botox.
I remembered. I was thinking about what I wrote in my first “email to self.” It was that we need maps in life and not just destinations. Then I was thinking about maps. Maps are awesome. They take you from point A to point B in the most efficient way. God only knows how anyone got anywhere before google maps. I kept thinking about maps. They didn’t happen perfectly. Someone, actually, many people took a million wrong turns before they found the most direct path between two places. All we see in the end if the perfect path between two points. It’s kinda like those stupid ass summaries of how someone got from their state of confusion to their state of clarity. I wish someone would record all of their wrong turns before they arrived at their intended destination. In my case, I don’t know the destination, only an idea of what it might me. So I am creating a map to go somewhere, but I don’t know where the hell I am going. It is already the recipe for disaster. Or maybe, with a million wrong attempts in the wrong direction, a clear, direct map will be produced. Who fucking knows? I don’t.