Money

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Prompt for December 6: Money: where did you spend your money this year? Did you save it instead? What, if anything, would you like to do differently with your finances in the coming year?

I bought a car.

A very silly little light blue Korean-made car with a manual transmission and an impractically pale interior. It looks suspiciously like an Easter egg.

I love it.

And my father didn't get to make this decision for me.

The day my sister and I spent in the local high school parking lot and surrounding neighborhood learning to drive TheEgg was priceless. If I damaged the clutch learning to drive it on all of these damned hills, well, then I'll replace the clutch.

And you know what? My father was wrong. Girls can drive a stick shift. I love mine so much I'll probably never buy an automatic again.

Six months later, I still love the pale blue color. It makes me happy. If I get a ticket because of the silly color, who cares? It is my car; I will pay my ticket and no one can say a damned word about it.

This car is like me: fun, dependable, a little frivolous, and smells of coffee and Burberry perfume.

Things

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Prompt for December 5: Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens... what were your favourite things that you discovered this year?

1- Dream by Pure Romance: I went to a coworker's Pure Romance "party" earlier this year- mostly out of guilt. I am NOT into group sex talk. However, when the woman running the event said that she uses this to soothe her son, who has ADHD, at bedtime, I was curious. I have a lot of sleepless nights. I've tried lot of cures and tricks and medications. Nothing has really worked. This spray isn't a miracle, but it helps. It smells nice and it helps me settle down on the night that I'm feeling a little anxious or panicky. It has also helped cut down on restless sleep- Falling asleep and staying asleep is pretty awesome.

2- Victoria's Secret Daily Leggings: I am a fan of stretchy pants. I own an immense number. Almost all of them are Victoria's Secret, but I have bought stretchy pants everywhere. $5 Target leggings to an embarrassingly pricey pair that I got at the Juicy Couture store of all places; stretchy pants are my most common impulse purchase. I own two pairs of gray and black animal print, but the rest are black. I wear them always: travelling, yoga class, under long sweaters and dresses, with boots and flats. The best is when I wear them with my pink pumps.

3- Americanos: I've been a coffee drinker for years, but I never really loved coffee until this year. I was introduced to the deliciousness of espresso by BestFriend and my life was instantly changed for the better. I am obsessed with Americanos. Obsessed. I love the taste. And I love the way they give me a caffeine boost without giving me a coffee stomachache the way lattes and mochas and all of the whipped-flavored-foamy creations always did.

4- Tervis Tumblers: I impulse-bought one with a red lid and Razorback on it at Dillard's in Fayetteville. I love it. It lived up to all of the Tervis hype. It keeps my cold drinks super cold and it keeps my Americanos piping hot. I bought another one with my monogram on it a few weeks later. It is amazing!

Leap

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Prompt for December 4: Leap: What leap of faith did you take this year? Did you hold your nose and jump off the end of the diving board, or did you look before you leapt? Were you scared, or was it a relief?

I'm not one for leaping. I don't leap. I don't even hop. Not even a little bit.

I am a feet-firmly-on-the-ground kind of girl. And not always in a level-headed way. I'm usually planted somewhere between level-headed and paralyzed by fear.

But I've realized that this fear is ridiculous. It comes from my parents. All my life I've been told all of the things I'm NOT: capable, smart, strong, brave, pretty, thin, worthy.

And that's bullshit. Every word of it.

So I didn't leap. Not really. But I took baby steps. A lot of baby steps.

-I learned to drive a stick shift (actually, I bought a new car with a standard transmission, then I learned to drive a stick) because my father always said that women can't drive a stick.

-I ended toxic friendship(s!) because I deserve better than people who make me feel guilty for being exactly who I am.

-I went back to Arkansas because I deserved closure. Because I missed my friends. Because I wanted to bid that life good bye. Because I didn't do anything wrong.

-I came to terms with my mother. She'll never love me best. It is time for me to stop expecting things she can't give me.

-I quit smoking. I don't need a crutch to get through the day anymore.

-I forced myself to be honest. Always. Even when it hurt. Even when it made me look bad. Because lies and betrayal hurt.

... and lots of other, less significant steps.

Maybe, hopefully, if I keep placing one foot in front of the other, I can do the rest. I can come to terms with the rest of the soul sucking muck that bogs me down. I can let go and be successful and happy and anything but my father's daughter.

Maybe next year I can leap. Maybe. Hopefully. I don't know, but I think so.

Celebration

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Prompt for December 3: Celebration: What did you celebrate this year? What do you hope to celebrate next year? (I know, I know, I'm days behind!)

Things I celebrated: old friends, new friends, family, love, victories, closure, new adventures, over coming challenges and facing demons.

As for next year? All I can ask for is more of the same.

Live for Moments

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Prompt for December 2:

Live for Moments: pick a vivid memory from this year- maybe one when you felt most alive; or when you felt most wounded, happiest, fulfilled. Tell us about it in the most vivid detail you can- sights, sounds, smells, feelings.

It was windy outside. The wind was crazy: whistling and whining and flinging things through the valley. I had struggled to keep my tiny EasterEgg on the road and was relieved to have made it to work safely.

I entered the building juggling my too-big purse and too-big Americano while trying to untangle my too-big sunglasses from my too-big hair. I could barely see through the red-blond cloud the wind had wrapped firmly around my face. My Americano had splashed over the lip of my cup and scalded an angry red blotch from the web of my hand past my wrist.

I set my coffee and my bag down on a counter and tried to shake it off- first the coffee on my arm, and then the I-blew-out-my-hair-with-a-cyclone look I was rocking.

My coworker, Tigerlilly, a particular favorite of mine, popped up out of nowhere. She grinned at me from underneath her inky black never-a-strand-out-of-place hair and said, "I'm glad you're here! I didn't know you would be in today!" I smiled at her as I tucked my sunglasses into my bag and gulped my coffee. "Your little brother just walked in, too!" she continued.

And, just like that, with a flash of her adult braces and a flip of her hair, I was devastated.

Every cliche about being metaphorically sucker punched happened in the next millisecond. My heart stopped. My breath stopped. Everything was quiet.

"What do you mean?" I forced the words out.

"You know, Lames. Your little brother." She was still smiling. A distant part of my brain realized she was making a joke about a coworker with whom I've become close friends.

I could see where the joke was coming from. He's a few years younger than me; we bicker like kids; we have silly inside jokes and nicknames.

I managed to hold on to my smile and say something flip in response- I have no idea what.

I walked away feeling nauseous, dizzy, breathless. The worst part? She had no idea that she'd just punched me in the throat.

The irony of Lames being the next person I encountered was not lost on me.

He drank my Americano and listened with sympathetic eyes as I told the story. It came rushing out in disjointed sentences and fragmented thoughts. I was sucking in deep choking gasps of air and fighting back the looming panic attack.

His silence was perfect.

"She didn't know" and "Its going to be okay" or any of those other things people say in situations like this one weren't what I needed. I knew that Tigerlilly didn't know.

I knew that she had no idea how much the loss of my brother still colored every day; that the pain festers and bubbles because I can't talk about it. Probably she had no idea that I have a dead brother at all. I also knew that it wasn't going to be okay. I'm never going to be okay with my brother's death. I'm never not going to feel the emptiness of the LittleBrother sized hole in my life.

This is the worst part of grieving- the unexpected reminders. I can steal myself for birthdays, holidays, specific places and people. But these reminders that pop up when least expected and sucker punch you? There is no way to prepare for them.

Humble Beginnings

I've decided to join Reverb11.

I've been neglecting my blog and thus my mental health lately- two things that are infinitely tangled to together. I've been looking for a way back, and so here I am. Reverb11.

Prompt for December 1:

Humble beginnings: where did 2011 begin for you? Describe where you were- be it physically, emotionally or otherwise.

I rang in the New Year at a party with work friends. We had these parties fairly often to celebrate- milestones or Saturdays- it didn't matter what. The house was packed with coworkers in fancy dresses and sparkly ties. My tiara fell off and was trampled when I got caught under the mistletoe that was still up from Christmas. I used a sharpie to scrawl my signature on "my side" of the beer pong table. We consumed dozens of bottles of champagne. It was a giddy, sparkly mess.

I was bored. I was tired of drinking. Tired of these people. I felt a deep down restlessness that I didn't know how to name. I didn't know at the time that this giddy mess was the last in the long line of giddy messes. Our era had ended.

A few days later I received a promotion at work. I was put in charge of the largest department with the most personnel. I'd taken a chance in applying. I was technically under-qualified, but I knew I was up for the challenge. This department had not had a leader for a few months, and the previous department head had been beloved. I had been promoted from outside of the department. Most of the people who now worked for me did not know me. They did not care that I was smart and capable and hard working and funny. I was an outsider.

I had to grow a stronger spine and thicker skin. FAST.

It became clear that huge and immediate changes were necessary for the department to remain productive. The place was in shambles. The procedures were outdated and directly conflicted with company policy. Important files had been misplaced. The filing cabinets hadn't been touched in over five years. Unethical practices were the norm. Beloved or not, the previous supervisor had not been very good at his job.

I had thought that I would be able to rely on the people who had worked with me previously for support. No dice. On top of that, the individuals who were supposed to be my assistants had been my competition for the position. Some of them had been counted among my friends before my promotion. Some of them were part of the giddy mess. I couldn't look to them for anything more than the barest civility, let alone support. I was met with opposition and insubordination at every turn. Every small procedural change was a battle. I thought that if I heard "Well, that isn't how Joe did it" one more time I would scream. I had fantasies of just throwing myself on the floor in front of everyone and throwing full-blown kicking-and-screaming toddler tantrum. Thankfully, sanity prevailed

My boss wasn't able to be very much help to during this transition, but I didn't want to be in the habit of relying on him. I knew that if I was going to command the respect of my department and be an effective leader I would have to do it alone. I needed to make the tough calls and have the awkward conversations without someone holding my hand or standing behind me like an enforcer. I had to find the support I needed outside of my department and outside of my branch of the company.

I was lucky. There were plenty of people who were willing and able to help me find the answers I sought and institute the changes I needed to make. I actually found allies where I least expected them, and developed friendships with the unlikeliest of colleagues.

Some of these challenges are ongoing, some took the better part of the second quarter to be resolved, but by the time Valentine's Day rolled around the worst was over. My friendships had been irreparably damaged, but things had turned around at work. New challenges were on the horizon.

I honestly don't know if I learned more about my new job, my old friends or myself during those first six weeks.

January 2011 was a lion fight and I won. Barely.

This Time Around

There is some old cliche about returning to the scene of the crime.

A couple of weeks ago I went back to Fayetteville. Tits was getting married and it was time for me to get it together and face my demons.

This wasn't the first time that I had seen my old friends and caught glimpses of my old life. I'd gone east for a Sister's big Texas wedding three years before and further East for a whirlwind weekend in Philly a year after that. Then Justin died and everything was so pear shaped that I didn't know how to respond to the Sisters who reached out to comfort me from thousands of miles away. My interactions with my former life had been limited to sporadic Facebook messages from Roommate (who is a happily married lady now, barely recognizable as the hell raiser I once knew) and postcards from the Globetrotter- the only one of us who always knew exactly who she was.

So I got Tits' black and red invitation (appropriate for two Razorback alums, no?) and I held it in my hands for awhile before I could bring myself to open the envelope. The invitation itself wasn't a surprise- Tits had sent me a message requesting a mailing address a few weeks before. The message had been a surprise, but I had dutifully responded with the requested information.

I rolled the idea around in my head for weeks before I decided to go. Skinny's lack of support and the doubt in my mother's eyes were part of the motivation to go. I needed to prove to myself that they weren't right, that it was a good idea, that I was strong enough to return to a place that represented the best and worst times of my life. So I made a flight reservation, announced to Facebook (and effectively the world) that I would be attending Tits' wedding.

The response was so positive. More positive than I expected- Tits was so excited; women I hadn't seen in years were happy to hear I would be in attendance, wanted to spend time with me while I was in town. I was a little overwhelmed, in the best way possible. Let me be clear- it was not the Sisters I lacked faith in, it was myself. The TexasJewess (who is not really very Jewish and no longer Texan) offered to fetch me from the airport and house me in her guest bedroom. I had planned a hotel and a rental car, but her gesture effectively knocked down all remaining hesitation.

Before I knew it, I was counting down to the trip. Then (after a trip down PCH to LAX spent fielding work calls on speaker phone and fighting Southern California traffic) I was boarding a plane. On the flight my iPod seemed to know that I was headed backwards in time. It played all of the songs I loved when I was nineteen and all of the songs with memories attached. Tenacious D, Jason Boland &The Stragglers, Lucero, Pat Green, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Cross Canadian Ragweed. I closed my eyes and let it all wash over me: giggling through "Fuck Her Gently" on the way to Tulsa, sitting on a makeshift stage thisclose to Jason Boland singing about pearl-snap shirts, learning to two-step in a champagne soaked foyer to "Fishin' in the Dark".

I was met at the airport by TJ who was exactly the same and completely different- still tall, bold, loud and lovely... but softer somehow. Her Texas twang was gone and she was happier than I'd ever seen her. She ushered me out into the cold air and I breathed in the Ozarks for the first time in five and half years.

We spent the morning of the wedding day walking around campus. It was absolutely deserted due to Fall Break, but I'm glad it was empty. There were things I needed to see, to come to terms with and hundred of writhing bodies in Polos and neon would've added to my anxiety. The only downside to the empty campus was that no one was around to let us into the sorority house. So many things were the same: Razorback Stadium, the "Pi Palace", my old dorm. And so many were different: Old Main was under construction, the fraternity house where I had spent so much time is now a parking lot, there is a mall on campus, new houses on fraternity row.

I had a momentary panic as I was seated waiting for the wedding to begin. I wasn't sure I could face the girls that I hadn't seen in years, answer the questions, smile in the face of all of the overwhelming memories.

The wedding turned out to be the sweetest little hometown wedding I've ever seen. It totally represented Tits & Mr. Tits. I actually got a chance to talk to the bride at the reception and she made me cry. I caught up with old friends and laughed and drank and even danced a little. After some hesitation on my part (and being paged over the loudspeaker) I participated in the sorority wedding ritual. I felt a little awkward about it, but I remembered more than I thought I would, and it meant a lot to me that my Sisters wanted me to participate.

I didn't escape the event unscathed, however. We went out to the bars after the reception. I fell on Dickson (like hundred of coeds before me) and ended up with two skinned knees and a sprained ankle. I should have known better than to wear the blue pumps that were a gift from Manonna. Such things have bad juju. I insisted that I was fine, but my sisters' husbands and boyfriends rushed to my aid anyway because as one of them put it "Honey, you're not fine. You're bleeding." I suppose that it was a fitting end to the evening. No reunion is complete without a little humiliation.

Before I left TJ told me that she was glad to see me doing so well, that I'm healthier and happier than I've been in years.

I was skeptical because I felt scraped raw by the whole weekend, but I guess she's right.

As angry and confused as I've been these last couple of months, the desperation is gone. I feel like I've won some kind of battle. The war may not be over, but for now this life is mine.