Wonder Woman loves food

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The other morning, when I walked into work, I felt like a superhero.

Not in the saving the world kind of way, but in the I’m-so-powerful-and-a-goddess kind of way.

In the mother of dragons, creator of worlds, working-at-my-dream-job-I-got-this-shit kind of way.

As I made my way toward the elevators, my superhero theme song ‘Blood in the Cut’ playing in my earbuds, I surveyed the lobby of the beautiful building I work in … and I had this feeling of, damn, I created this.

No, not the building or the lobby, but I created this very life I am living. I manifested every detail.

I wanted to live and work in Dallas and now I am here, working smack dab in the center of downtown. I wanted a solid, long-term career in graphic design and I have it. I wanted a boss who would allow me to be me, late start time and all, and I’m so grateful to have just that … while working at a place I once dreamed of working.

I manifested this.

I am Wonder Woman.

Or, rather, my modern-day version of her. But … like… instead of saving the universe and fighting world wars, I sing karaoke and travel the world and work in a downtown office with a view.

Ok … maybe not the same. But … close. Very close.

Seriously … the first dream I achieved was becoming a full time graphic artist. I wasn’t sure it was possible since I didn’t have a degree, but it was. I believe the universe helped out in this BIG time, but still, I had a dream and I manifested it. I hoped it was possible, I sought it out and I made it happen.

Since then, I’ve continued to manifest things. Moving to Dallas, living in a beautiful loft in downtown (that I couldn’t even afford when I put the deposit down on it), traveling the world solo and with friends, working in the city with a window view. All of this and more.

I felt so powerful that day when I recognized that I was right where I had always wanted to be. Look at me, I’m a freaking superhero. I’m a woman in full, creating my destiny, manifesting the impossible.

A woman totally in charge of my life, creator of worlds, vanquisher of foe–– wait. Wait

What’s that I smell, with my powerful, god-like senses, wafting up from the basement food court?

Is it … CINNABON?

Mother of dragons, it IS.

You see, every superhero has a weakness. A downfall. Their kryptonite.

Mine is food.

Continue reading “Wonder Woman loves food”

LATE: a story about alcohol, adulting and a happy ending

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My god, I am too old for this shit…, I thought as I stared at my red, splotchy face in the bathroom mirror.

It was then that I noticed one of my fake eyelashes from the night before had made it’s way to the center of my forehead and was now stuck.

Perfect.

I was still in my fancy black dress and sweater too. Apparently I had come home after a night of dancing and drinking, scarfed down two lean cuisine meals and then promptly passed out fully clothed on top of my comforter. With all the lights in the house still on.

I was hurting. I was sleep-deprived. I was going to be late for work.

I’m 36. I’m too old for this shit.

Or … am I?

This is the question I ask myself often. I’ve been warring with this idea of what version of an adult I should be at this age for quite some time now. I’m 36, I’ve been married and divorced. I don’t have any kids. I don’t own a house. I’m single. And I enjoy vodka. A lot.

I’ve written about it before, but my timid life as a child in the church was further compounded by an 8-year relationship where I never felt free to grow or discover who I was. After I ended my marriage, my previously sheltered life changed dramatically. I moved to Dallas and started making friends. I found karaoke and dancing and all the bars. And I have loved it.

These last 5 years have been complete freedom and fun. So fun. But also … quite exhausting. Physically and emotionally.

I thought I would’ve been out of this ‘phase’ by now. I figured I would eventually tire of it. Actually, if I’m being completely transparent and honest …  I naively assumed I would’ve met someone by now. I figured on one of these happy nights out I’d see him, across the bar, twinkle in his eye and he’d come over, kiss me and change my life forever. And then my lifestyle would naturally shift to complement his. I figured we’d ‘grow up’ together.

Ugh, I know … how upsettingly old-fashioned of me to wait on a fictitious significant other to inspire change in my life. I’m an independent woman who prides myself on being this way. But still, I’m pretty sure that’s what I’ve been waiting on. The next chapter, the beginning of my future … signified by the person I hope to build a life with.

The happy ending.

Continue reading “LATE: a story about alcohol, adulting and a happy ending”

All signs point to maybe

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I am dating … someone.

It’s new, very new. Like a handful of great dates new. And I almost don’t want to write about it for fear that mentioning it might cause it to spontaneously dissolve into mist and what if’s. These things are so damn fragile in the beginning.

Side note: I kinda feel like writing this is setting me up to be that meme where the girl announces she’s met someone and so excited … only to announce 6 hours later that never mind, disregard, he’s been cancelled.

So I am dating and it’s new and there is no telling where it could lead. And this not knowing is exactly what I wanted to write about.

Continue reading “All signs point to maybe”

Whip it good: All about that time I was a dom

An older friend once told me that during the course of a lifetime, most people end up leading at least 5 very different lives.

He mentioned this while we were sitting at a karaoke bar after having already danced earlier that night. It was one of those fun, spontaneous evenings where we just bar hopped and met up with various friends at random places, dancing and singing and laughing and sharing stories.

I was relaying to him how it seemed crazy to me how radically different my life was from just a few short years ago, when I was married with a house and a yard and I never sang or danced or went out ever. It was so different in fact that I often wondered … who am I? Am I the same person? And of course, the answer to that question was both yes and no.

I used to really worry that something was wrong with me to have had such a change in direction in my 30s. So I found his advice to be quite comforting. And also very, very true. I was indeed living a very different life, hopefully one of many still to come.

His words came to mind again recently while I was cleaning out the trunk of my car and ran across a very long, very serious leather whip and a smaller riding crop. And I remembered, ahhhhh yes … I was a dom once.

Talk about a different life, eh?

Continue reading “Whip it good: All about that time I was a dom”

Welcome to the shit show

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“I thought you were a shit show the first night we hung out,” he laughed.

‘He’ was a guy I’d met while out drinking with friends probably three years ago. ‘He’ (let’s call him Baxter) was also someone I hadn’t seen in well over a year and had ran into while out listening to a band recently.

Not going to lie, it stung to hear him say that. But then … I reflected.

Last year I was in an affair and had my heart very publicly broken. I was also banned from a bar, along with my friends. I gave my friend a black eye (self defense .. have I told that story?). I lost all my belongings to bed bugs. And then found out my dog was dying. Shit. Show.

The night ‘Baxter’ first met me I was out with a group of my girlfriends. We met him on lower Greenville then drug him to our next bar to keep chatting him up and during the midst of that, I decided to sneak away to see the guy I was falling for … THE guy who later broke my heart and banned me from his bar. The guy I’ve written more than a few blog posts about. The guy who I was later in an affair with. Ugh. However, that fateful night, three years ago, we were only just … talking really. I was dumbly and naively crushing on him, thinking it was all very harmless.

While talking to this tall, bearded total RED FLAG, my friends came in to drag me out.  One friend in particular … the one who I later had the *cough* altercation with … was being incredibly bossy and in my drunk state I got upset with her and decided to just go home. I’m sure it looked like I was being a brat (I was). I’m sure it also looked like I was being a terrible woman talking to this guy in general and I’m definitely sure it looked like I was a total shit show.

So… fair statement, Baxter.

I have been/can be/might continue to be a bit of a shit show. But I don’t see that as a bad thing.

 

Continue reading “Welcome to the shit show”

Good right now: Or how I found my bench in the sun

It is amazing what can happen in a month.

At the end of March, I moved to a new home, started a new job and embarked on a new chapter in my life. I saw these moves as really positive … and a way to start cultivating better habits. Out with the old, in with the new, right?

What I didn’t take into account was how much the change would actually have on my emotional state. Though the new place was bigger and in a better neighborhood, though my new job is exactly like something I would’ve killed to have been in for the past few years, all this change was draining on my heart. My routine was different, my patterns all off. Most of this was for my good. But even though I might know that on a head level, it didn’t stop my heart from silently panicking and getting overwhelmed. I forget that change … even good change … is really hard for me to handle.

Recently all this change came to a head while I was on a trip in Mexico. I had one of those ‘dark nights of the soul’. Are you familiar? Maybe you’ve had them too. It was, of course, spurred on by alcohol. But every fearful, anxious thought I’ve been trying to squash with talk of positivity and how great and promising this new chapter in my life would be, finally came rushing to the surface. And it brought me to my knees in anguish and tears and a feeling of utter hopelessness.

Memories of my ex, guilt over every loss that was my fault, deep feelings of loneliness and unworthiness, fears that every new good thing will also be taken because so much has, heart ache over unrequited love. A deep pervasive sadness in my soul that seemed too unbearable to overcome. A weight in my chest so heavy it was hard to breathe.

When these dark nights happen (and they don’t happen all that often), they are quite terrifying. I know it’s an emotional response. I know it’s likely sheer emotional exhaustion. It’s temporary. I know this truth on a deep level and yet when I’m in the middle of it it feels as if there is a wall between my heart and this truth. And all there is is swirling darkness and an abyss so deep I can’t fathom ever being able to climb out. And nothing I can do or say seems to soothe me. My only choice is to survive it.

And I did.

Continue reading “Good right now: Or how I found my bench in the sun”

The Big D: Dating (Part 2) – Cheers to all the ones who weren’t ‘the one’

 

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I had kind of an a-ha moment the other day.

It came after a friend asked me if I’d ever been to Uchi, this really amazing sushi restaurant. I was like, yes, I had a really great date there and the food was to die for. Then in the same day the same friend asked me if I had ever been to Meddlesome Moth and I was like, yeah, another great date, different guy. Then it hit me … a lot of the really amazing experiences I’ve had in my life have come while dating different men at different times … and I’m starting to think that’s not a bad thing.

I’ve said it before in my posts, but I have quite literally dated almost all of Dallas. It might seem like an exaggeration but I’m not so sure it is. One of the purposes of this project for me, though, is to write it all down, every good memory, every bad one. Part of that is so that I can unburden myself, put the bad parts and the baggage into words and set it free. Another reason is I want to remember the good, in detail, because this checkered past is a beautiful mess that deserves to be remembered.

When I look back at my record, sometimes I can get really discouraged. So many dates, so few true connections and even fewer have turned into anything more than a 2-3 date situation.

However, like I said, I recently had an a-ha moment.

What if all the guys I’ve dated who weren’t ‘it’, who didn’t last, who got off on the wrong foot, who had terrible timing, who for whatever reason just didn’t work out … what if they weren’t failures.

What if they were all meant to give me a unique experience that was completely necessary and special, but also singular and temporary.

So with that, I want to pay homage to the men in my single, dating experience that gave great ‘date’. The men that came in, even if just briefly, and through contact with them I learned something else about me. I grew a little bit stronger, a little more self aware and whole lot ballsier. They may have been short-lived, but man were they fun while they lasted.

Continue reading “The Big D: Dating (Part 2) – Cheers to all the ones who weren’t ‘the one’”