The Time I Went Crazy: Future

Nothing like ending your week with the last of a three part installment, right? You have read about my break down and then about my cousin who very well taught me more than any college course all by being herself. But now I am here, mending shambles with nothing much more to do. 

And that is where the future comes in, and where I give myself a little pep talk:

"Life is a funny little thing, full of wonder and magic. It is also full of crap and hard times. You take the good with the bad. You are allowed to cry, though I advise you do it alone (much more therapeutic and less awkward that way). And you are going to encounter times where nothing seems to be working. Where you feel like everything you do is wrong. 

That happens. It's there to help you learn. 

You are not alone in thinking these things, and you are not alone in wanting to try harder. But you have to remember that you are trying. If you aren't, then there is a problem. 

People out there really believe in you. Maybe only one or two, but those are people. You have got to take more pride in your work and in yourself. The only way you will succeed in this world is to do so. 

You are going to fail, time and time again. If you aren't failing you are being too safe. And if you are fearing failure you are setting yourself up for disaster. This is a part of life, it does not mean you have to stop living. You can count every dollar three times and wait for the exact right opportunity to present itself or you can make opportunity happen. 

If you are going to say you are bound for glory, find it. No one won by sitting on their butt.  

And for goodness sakes get over your fear of putting yourself out there. It is cramping your style and people are calling you a grandma... You are young. You are inventive. You are here. Be here all the time."

The Time I Went Crazy: Past

If you read the last Chic in Shambles blog you were introduced to a week of crazy. It was, for the most part, the epitome of shambles. We left off with me U-Turning around the highway finally deciding to take the trip to Houston. 

It was there that I spent the first night watching my high school cousin (who's name I will withhold) cheer at the football game. Much like me, she took the road most traveled. The painstaking, terrible road of cheerleading. 

For me, high school was four years of forgetful memories. I never really fit in and things were not as awesome as they were always said to be. Though it is cliche, to the person who said these are the best years of your life, they were insanely wrong. In every way, shape and form. I spent my years avoiding group activities while faking a "popular" persona. It was all together a mute point. 

And this, was what I saw again. My cousins, someone I have always looked up too even in her younger years, was just like me. Though much smarter, and thinner. 

None the less, she was right where I was all those years ago. She doesn't really fit in, and right now it seems kind of shitty. She might not get asked to homecoming, but those guys wouldn't know what to do with her even if they did ask. My cousins doesn't go to all the awesome parties, but instead spend her nights studying. 

So as I sat there watching her live life, I felt the anxiety lift off my shoulders. It made sense. I was reminded of my true passion, of the people who feel alone and those who want to strive for something more. 

To my cousin I have these words: One day you will graduate from those moldy walls and fill your life with things better than high school. I dream of the day you walk a college lawn, making small talk with intellectual men who dabble on your level, and find peace in knowing you are more. You are one of the few who will move on, and become something big. Your future is so bright, and your opportunity endless. Be your best self, and love every minute of it. There are people like me who look up to everything you do. 

The Time I Went Crazy: Present

Know those weeks when everything seems to be fighting against you? when nothing seems to be going right and you can't really catch a break? This was my past week in a nut shell. As I hyperventilated in my car, lacking even enough energy to produce tears, I couldn't help but think things would never look up again. Quite the melodramatic statement isn't it? 

See, on the outside things were going great. I had a few new client meetings scheduled, was confident in my work for once, and even had plans to watch the Tech game at a bar. With people. I had a social gathering planned. This was a crazy turn of events.

But, one by one things began to pile up. I had a bad review. Woke up two hours late, throwing the days schedule into total shock. And my car battery died. Luckily my family keeps this old Pontiac around for times just like this...

Pillows stacked so I could see over the steering wheel, a problem caused by depleted seat cushioning, I stumbled on my way to meeting after meeting. This concocted with only five minutes to shove an entire large Thunder Cloud sandwich and big pickle down my throat, as one of my only meals that week, was just the breaking point I needed. 

As the Tech game rolled around my stomach began to churn. Confident that things were slowing down and my anxiety would pass I proceeded to attend regardless. Only to sit at the bar clinching my stomach and slouching over in pain the whole time. The one awesome thing I had done in quite some time and not even that could work out for me. Leaving the bar I felt defeated, even though my team was on their way to an exciting win. 

Stomach pain resolved the next morning, I was off to Houston to see family and research some small business options. And this. The one thing that had been planned for weeks, was the thing that set me over the edge. Leaving town was a feat in itself. Stopping to get gas and bawling hysterically about having to make a two hour drive. I really wanted to go, but my body was screaming for me to throw the covers over my head and say goodnight. 

It was here, making U Turn after U Turn trying to decide, that I had to ask myself what I wanted? Was I reluctant to make this trip because I wanted to do something at home? Or was I worried that leaving at a peak time for my business would mean miserable failure? Was I even worthy of giving myself a two day break with little work mixed in? 

This is our problem. We put emphasis on the things that hardly matter. We refuse to give ourselves breaks when breaks are needed. Jobs are restricted to 40 hours a week for a reason. They are made to start and stop at specific times so your mind and body can rest. So you can have a social life. I'm all about getting ahead, but every once in a while we need to breathe. My final U Turn lead me in the direction of Houston, where I had a weekend that calmed me down, and changed my mind. 

Parental Living

This morning began with a 6 am alarm. Then a 6:15 buzz. A 6:30 thought. And a final 8:20 freak out. I had committed the worst crime of all... I over slept. No matter how hard you try to shake this, your day is ruined from the start. Nothing seems to work and none of your time is valuable until your eyes are closed again. 

I stumbled into the hall in a gasping manner, coming face-to-face with my mom and letting out a shrill peep "I'm late!" 

And just as I decided to write a blog about the funny and ever daunting task of living at home after graduation I was reminded that I am in the exact right place, at the exact right time. 

Unlike most, I have never been opposed to living with my parents. It is a great way to have clean clothes and cut expenses. More than that, my parents are at my speed. I don't party and bars give me the anxious sweats, so it only makes sense. Sitting home  watching nightly cable TV line ups is right where I want to be. 

Sure, my parents comments of being welcome to live with them forever does tug at scary heart strings. But you have to look at moving in as just a big growing step as moving out. There is a point where you build your own life, and make your own choices, but until then take the ride for what it is. Sure it's a prideful thing to say you make enough money to live on your own. Especially when you start like me with a free internship and a dream. 

Though as I grow up and move on, it will not be forgotten that my frantic morning was much calmed by the daunting task my mother has of knowing me. I was fed and coffeed before stumbling on my way to a day full of meetings. Never forget all your parents do, they give you the fuel to carry on, and turn back your bed at night... even when you are 22. I wouldn't be where I am without them. And to those who say they can't handle living at home after graduation, I think you should reevaluate. 

By all means, if you can move out do it. Living in your own place is great. But if you can't, don't spend every minute filling your mind with taunting thoughts. After all, as we get older our parents become pretty legit. 

Why is it That Orange is The New Black?

Through a week binge, my computer has been surrendered to the sound of Netflix's new series Orange is The New Black. I have watched as the main (yet under-bearing) character, Piper Chapman, weaves her way through a year in prison. Of course at the time my more-than-friend man urged me to watch, he was most likely unaware of the effect it would have. Not only do I want to spend a year in lock up to see what exactly the experience would bring, but this show is changing my life.

For those struck queasy by the scenes of lesbian interaction, I am telling you now, it is natural and the smallest part of this web series' large picture. Once you look past that you are confronted with the thoughts of life, love, and how we are all the same. 

During a visitation day Piper is talking with her upper class, overly dressed mother and makes the comment "I am no different than anyone else in here." This show has done a fantastic job of  explaining that these women are locked up because they made choices, and in life we all make choices. Many of them are very real: The track star who got caught in a robbery, the woman who killed a rapist, even the yogi who accidentally shot a child in mistake for a deer ransacking her farm.

We make the choice to get an education or we make the choice to forego it. We chose to be solid in our faith, or to stray from a higher power. To walk the path of straight and narrow or do what we must to survive. 

I do believe we have the choice to make our future, but I am starting to see that perhaps there is a part left to fait. These women, they are a server case of what can happen when you are left to fight on your own. But the whole reason this series exist is because a middle class blonde got herself wrapped up in young love in the form of a money smuggling transport. 

She is no different than the other inmates, and we are no different than them. Sure there is an obvious divide, we are not behind bars and they are, but frankly that is where it ends. In the end we are all pushing for a dream, some of us just have a taller step stool to start out on. 

Life is spent justifying things. Finding the true meaning behind things. Understanding why you are in the situation you are in. But what if it was more about seeing and less about being? If we eliminated the harsh thoughts of being better than someone and started living as one. If we put chasing our dreams at the forefront, and the critique of others at the back of the line.

We are all fighting for the same thing. We are all fighting to survive. 

If We Could Really Chose

Fumbling around on Tumbler the other day I was confronted with this quote. Unlike most of my halfhearted personal social media surfing, this image was not one I simply scrolled past. It's words are true, and they hit me instantly. 

We do have two sides, and for the most part they are very different. Sure, as you grow older you come into your own. But even with a slightly more adjusted feeling of security in your skin, there are still going to be those traits you don't share with others. 

As a high schooler I spent most of the time trying to be someone I was not. Getting invited by the "popular crowd" but hardly speaking at any of the events. My hopes were always to find an in with the creative group, though my lack of artistic ability and knowledge of hip music always stood in the way. 

In college it became a bit easier, finding those who accepted me for the quirks and faults. Frankly, they lived with me, so like it or not they were stuck until our lease was over. But even then, there was a side not being shown. A personality that seemed hidden behind a wall of fear. 

See, I am not a very interesting person. Nor am I very difficult to figure out. If you know me at all you know that I am vegan but fantasize every day about eating a juicy chicken sandwich. And you know I will put my work before everything else. You know I have a problem with voicing strong opinions, holding grudges, and forgiving. You have experienced my out of control crying sessions that elapse from months of holding in all feeling. And you are fully aware that the word love scares me more than anything, to me long term commitment should be saved for your cell phone plans and avocado plants. 

But, some things you might not know are that I really do fear being alone. I deem myself to the inevitable as a coping mechanism. You might not know that I hold grudges and voice opinions because it hurts. It hurt to be left in the dust and it hurts to lose. And every time I say something it hurts even more knowing I let me feelings get the best of me. Work is only my every breath because I feel it is something that wont leave. I threw myself into a career because at the end of the day only I have the power to say goodbye. I wish I was more interesting, and could tell stories better. I wish that I liked to go out and meet new people but am socially awkward and can't muster the thought. I wish I called more, and didn't talk so loud. I think of weird things but fear saying them. I don't actually know all the much about music, and half the time when people ask if I know a movie or book I say yes and look it up afterwards. 

At the end of the day we are all the same. We are all fighting the battle of being our true selves. It is hard, and it is scary. But just think, what could go wrong? How terrible would it really be to say what you feel and be who you are? We can't be these awkward teenagers forever, one day we have to grow up. 

The Right Amount of Fuel in Your Dreams

This post is not about love. But, this is a cool picture so I'm running with it. This post is however, about dreams. From a young age we are told to manifest in the magic of our dreams. 

"You can be anything you want when you grow up. If you try hard enough all of your dreams will come true."

As time moves on those encouraging words transcend into talk of reality. 

"You have to make a living. You need to be more realistic. How many professional horseback riders are there really, Shelby?"

We take the comments and push our dreams to the back burner, leaving them to rot in an condemned dream hell. Unless you are like me. I never quite gave up on my dreams, and while most could see the unconstitutional backing their thoughts held, my mind shunned the idea. 

Instead of learning, over the years, that my dreams were perhaps better left on the book shelf I have spent my time making the perfect fuel concoction to keep them alive. Sure... I no longer want to be a horseback rider, but change or not my fire still burns. 

Here is the thing with dreaming, there are always going to be people who put you down. I can still remember the choir class where the teacher so blatantly pointed out that having recorded a demo did not mean you were going to be a singer. She looked straight at me because she knew I had gone to a booth in the mall and recorded a song on tape. I will never say sorry for trying to be Taylor Swift, and did not apologize to her for trying to become something. She may have not thought of that moment after it was done, she surely did not think of me after my time was up in her class. But I still think about it. I still think of all the people who tried to stand in the way of my dreams. That cheer coach, that boss, the choir teacher. It is unhealthy to fuel your fire with too much resentment, but three people seems to be just enough. 

And here is the other thing with dreaming, there are always going to be people who push you up. There are going to be people who want you to succeed no matter what the task is, let them encourage you and let them help you. A professor I had in college reached out recently and asked about my path. He was an amazing man so I felt comfortable telling him all these crazy dreams I had. He supported each and every one, even going as far to say he would "Read the hell" out of my book. These types of things, encouraging letters from professors and kinds text from friends, are what you need to hold onto. Let them fuel your fire even more. 

Of course, there is also your own passion for the dreams you have, but that should be a give in. If you aren't passionate about your dreams then chances are they aren't really your dreams. 

Now, of course none of my dreams have actually become a reality. But that doesn't mean I'm giving up. Then one day, when I'm talking about how I did achieve my life's greatest desires to Ellen Degeneres, they will be watching. My friends, family, and great professors will be proud. And my greatest critics, they will be in shock, rubbing their eyes at the sight of a girl who didn't give up. Oh, and yes, please feel free to call and apologize. 

*This blog does have some haste in its words... but this is life, and life has haste.