I'm back you guys. Remember me? The girl who within six months, lost her job, broke up with her boyfriend, lost a cousin in an accident and Mom went bat shit crazy bananas.
Yeah, that's me.
The one who got under the covers of her cozy bed and did not get out for a looooooooooong time. Who, once she did and decided to face the holy mess of her life and SWORE, once she was out of the many months... okay, year, funk she was in, would never, ever, never, never go back?
Still me?
So why does my life suck so bad?
And why am I talking about myself in third person?
The regular readers know I started this blog because I swore I would not meet another year anniversary of the death of my cousin without doing something about it. The "it" was getting out of bed. I was so down - as a lot of women get after a break-up, a divorce, losing a job - that I had succumed to the covers, laying here, stairing down the abyss that was my life.
It became so overwhelming, all those bad things - happening at once - that I didn't know what to do.
So I did nothing.
If you're new, you can read the posts here that document how I got out of that. Once I couldn't take it anymore, once I had grown hair on my legs that I could braid, and grew a second ass (getting out of bed to pee is not exercise), and many months of roots were showing, and I missed the sunshine and I missed the old me and I knew if my cousin, mother, ex, anyone, saw me this way that I would be even more deeply ashamed...
I came up with a plan.
One day a week, do something totally fun. Completely exciting. That would make me giggle and feel reckless, and get me out of my comfort zone and get back to the me that was the me before everything came crashing down.
I would pool crash, I would steal from the dessert station from the Four Seasons, I would test drive a Porsche, I would sky dive, I would rock repel, I would crowd surf at a concert.
Week after week, I pulled one thing out of my "Adventure Bowl" and I did it - no turning back, no being to scared, no "I'll just pick something else."
It changed my life.
I got out of bed.
I came back to myself. My life massively improved.
Massively.
Everything was chugging along great. But it was so great that I didn't have to possibly do these adventures anymore. Right? My life was full now. Great job, friends, great everything.
The Bowl gathered dust.
I got cocky.
Like when you lose ten pounds because you exercised and ate five servings of vegetables everyday just like a good American following that food pyramid and all of a sudden, you start to slip and slide and soon, you are not packing lunch anymore and "I guess I could have a few fries" and why have a diet soda when you could have beer and pretty soon a sensible breakfast isn't egg whites but a cheese and onion bagel with cream cheese.
(Which is currently what I am eating right now. And even the server didn't get it. Why would I want cream cheese when I'm already eating a cheese bagel? Skinny people don't understand me.)
Anyway, I slipped and then I slided.
And then one day, I found myself at the bottom of a hill, bloodied and unconscious, after a fall. Being lifted out by fire men. And after being bedridden for over a month, I wondered, maybe if I didn't give up those adventures and maybe if I had stayed connected to myself, maybe I would know how to deal with a life blow like this.
Only I didn't.
To Be Continued in the Next Post...
I promise to update this story tomorrow - with full details about how I fell down a hill, broke my shoulder, found out my cousin has brain cancer and my Mom got sick again and how I am going to rededicate myself to the big ol' Bowl of Adventure and get my life back on track again.
