June 15, 2018

I bought over $500 worth of clothes today. Did I need them? No. Hardly anyone ever needs new clothes. But I bought them anyway because what feels better than a little retail therapy – especially when you can do it from THE COUCH??? Seriously, I can’t think of anything better other than a perfect chocolate chip cookie. I know I should be supporting local. I know I should only be buying one thing that I absolutely can use all the time that’s on sale and then donate something from my closet in exchange. Should.

I know I am doing it all wrong, constantly, every time. But when I open up my computer and within a few clicks find a dress I like, a coupon code, and put in the credit card number I’ve memorized from doing this so many times, and I’m in my pajamas with a TV show on in the background, well, Heaven may not be so far away after all.

I realize that 99.9% of what I’ve said that I’m doing is TV/food/shopping related, which is interesting because I define myself as much more well-rounded and far less shallow than that implies, but it seems like I am wrong. It’s possible, highly likely even, that I spend most of my time on the three things I listed above. Hmmm.

Well, I think food makes sense. We have to eat to live. Granted, I live to eat, but potato-potahto, right? Some people consider themselves foodies, but I’m far too picky and lazy to be a foodie. So, I just really love it? My pants tell me that’s true. The food wrappers on my coffee table tell me that’s true. (Sometimes, I realize that I must have eaten a lot due to the amount of food wrappers I’m surrounded by a la an entire frat house of boys, but then instead of adjusting my behavior, I just clean them up and throw them out so it doesn’t look like I ate anything at all. I feel like that solves the problem.)

Television is a real issue. I love it. It helps me get through the day. I mean, we did coin the term “Netflix and Chill,” so I’m obviously not alone. But maybe those people Netflix and Chill after work, instead of at noon with a Trader Joe’s cauliflower pizza cooking in the oven so they can pretend to be healthy while they snack on Milanos as they wait. I don’t know anyone who would do that, it’s clearly just a fictional story, but…

Shopping… I don’t do it often. I don’t even really like it all that much. If I’m in a store with someone, I get instantly bored and want to leave. I’d rather be anywhere else in the world. But if I’m at home…in my pajamas…and there’s a sale…and I hate all my clothes in my closet because I do and they suck and I’ve had most of them forever and I wish I could burn them all and start over (not to be too dramatic about it but for real I hate them all)…and there’s a really pretty model who looks nothing like me rocking a dress that probably won’t fit over my chest, well, then, I’m already on the “checkout” screen. The fun thing about credit cards is you get to pay them off later, when the bill comes and you nearly fall over dead at the amount you managed to spend on brunch and t-shirts and Postmates delivery and that cute necklace you just had to have.

Day Five of grieving is costing me a lot of money. I don’t think I’m doing this right.

June 13, 2018

 

Well, I watched a lot of Parks and Rec today. I seriously love that show. I know some people don’t like it, and that’s fine; you’re wrong. Just kidding… But it really is so good.

I miss the characters when I’m not watching it. I wonder what they’re up to after a series ends. I cry at their failures and successes, losses and wins. I can’t wait to turn the show back on and see how they’re doing. That’s real. I do that with Gilmore Girls, Parenthood, The Office, Friends, Burn Notice… And when I’ve finished re-watching the whole show, sometimes I start it over again right away because it’s too heartbreaking to think that it’s actually over. I want to live in Stars Hollow with Lorelai and Rory. I want to be in the Braverman family. I want to be best friends with Jim and Pam and Dwight and Michael. I want to live in NYC and hang out at Central Perk and drink coffee with the whole Friends gang. I want to be a badass CIA agent with Michael, Fiona, Sam, and Jesse (and I kind of want to date Jesse/be with him forever and ever and have his babies). I want to work with Leslie Knope and watch her take over the world. They’re not characters to me. They’re friends. I DON’T NEED YOUR JUDGMENT.

Anyone else? Just me? As long as there are a few other people who do the weird things I do, I feel slightly less crazy. Strength in numbers, I guess.

I also walked around outside today. And I met with that friend I mentioned yesterday. The one I haven’t seen in a while. We hung out for two and a half hours; we talked about her for two hours and 22 minutes. I consider that a win. I love asking the questions and I hate answering them.

I don’t always want to talk only about someone else. Like with the Lyft driver the other night who spoke nonstop (I swear he didn’t even breathe) from the time he picked me up at the airport to the time he dropped me off about VIDEO GAMES. Now some people – women included – enjoy video games. The fine art is lost on me so I hated Every. Single. Second. I didn’t even know how to respond to him as he rambled on about E3 (gaming convention), his streaming channel, the games he plays, the games his friends play, and then made me watch a live video of someone AS HE DROVE AND WATCHED AS WELL. It was a whole new level of Hell that Dante didn’t anticipate.

Today, when I wasn’t watching TV, I had to re-order a Rent the Runway dress (if you don’t know what that is, it’s a site where you can rent dresses for events instead of having to buy them…could be a rip off. Unsure.). I ordered it two months ago for this formal wedding I’m going to in a week and got a text message – A TEXT MESSAGE – from the company (why do they text now? I feel like that’s weird. Do I text you? No.) saying the dress is now unavailable. How does a pre-ordered, reserved dress suddenly become unavailable? The customer service rep I spoke to had no answers. “Maybe some of the beading came off” was the best she could come up with. Well, shockingly, one week before the date, there really aren’t very many dresses left. In fact, there are only a few and definitely none in my size. Surprise, surprise. My mom always told me that if I didn’t have bad luck, I’d have no luck at all. Well, after four hours of my day was spent trying to find a dress that would fit my body, my chest, my height (I’m 5’11”), and my sense of style, we landed on a dress that I didn’t like very much that was over $100 less than the original dress I chose. When I pointed that out, she said, “I see what you mean” and didn’t say anything else. It would have been cheaper to cancel the order and re-order it at the new price. I would’ve saved $115. But I didn’t do the smart thing, which is shocking to no one who knows me.

After that debacle, I obviously needed a nap. And food. And then the walk in the park with my friend who spoke about her life. Why do other people’s lives always sound so much more amazing than mine? She just got engaged (it’s fine, I’m happy for her) to the guy she’s been traveling the world with for the past year (it’s fine, I’m happy for her) and stopped by LA for a summer vacation (it’s fine, I’m happy for her) before they move to Boston to live rent-free with a friend, plan their wedding, and start jobs they managed to secure while traveling (it’s fine, but I’m becoming less happy for her). She looks amazing and happy and carefree.

I remember being carefree, or as carefree as someone who is constantly wracked with crippling anxiety can possibly be. Does anyone else have this problem? From the time I get up in the morning until I finally manage to momentarily defeat my insomnia for a few hours, I feel a general anxiety about everything. I think they make a pill for that, but I’m just so (wrongly) convinced that I can beat it myself through binge watching Parks and Rec or eating cookies or thinking about – but not actually – exercising that I have refused to take anything for it so I continue to suffer from the anxiety.

I spoke with my mom today, but we didn’t talk about IT. Weeks have passed since I last talked to her. Somewhat by design, but somewhat because she’s busy. I just hate talking about it, you know? I hate living it. I hate that IT exists. I hate that it’s happened. I hate that this is the new normal. I hate that I feel like I don’t belong in other people’s normal. I hate that every time something funny happens, I feel like I have to stop myself from laughing, because that’s not fair that I get to laugh and enjoy things.

I bought an overpriced chai tea latte today to make myself feel better. It didn’t work. I donated stuff to a school in need today to make myself feel better. That didn’t work. I told myself that if I make an “easy” to-do list and cross off at least one thing (“make a list” is what I crossed off), I’d feel better. That didn’t work either. So I’m obviously still hoping food and Netflix are the answers, but I just don’t know anymore because the sadness keeps creeping in. And then it ends up in the background like white noise. And then I feel bad for not thinking about it and it comes to the forefront again and then I want it to go away. What do people do when they’re actually dealing with their grief? I don’t like any of this at all.

I ate a fudge brownie and three Milano cookies (double dark chocolate) for dinner. I wore my pajamas all day until I had to meet my friend, and then I put on the same outfit as yesterday because she hadn’t seen it yet. I didn’t realize it had dirt and stains on it until I got home. The stress from that realization led to a nap.

And I wonder why my mom thinks I haven’t lived up to my potential… It’s a mystery.