12/28/18 part two

I never realize how much shit I have until I’m getting ready to move. And then all of a sudden, it becomes painfully obvious that I have a ton of shit. Every time I move, I clear it out. I donate the clothes I have no interest in wearing, I sell the things that are collecting dust in storage bins or closets. Yet every time I move, there’s always more. More shit. More clothes that I ordered online out of impulse and then didn’t love it as much in person as I thought it would, but didn’t return it because I might wear it for SOMETHING. I often complain that I don’t have the funds to travel, and yet I look at all this shit that I’ve purchased over the last year and a half and most of it I don’t actually use. How much money is hanging in this closet? In a moment, I felt that I needed it. In a moment, I felt that I would wear it. And I never did. Those moments that I thought would come never did, and that’s how I have a closet full of clothes and yet nothing to wear on some days. It’s batshit.

We’re basically programmed to shop. Advertising is everywhere. I’m slowly beginning to unplug from it. Working in luxury retail hasn’t helped me much. I begin to catch myself thinking about everything that I need for my work wardrobe. Not necessarily the brands that we sell at work, but just things I can buy to make myself look better. Constantly upgrading. Constantly buying new outfits so that I don’t become the girl who wears the same 5 outfits every week. I had to stop. I had to stop online shopping with a glass of wine after work, and I had to remind myself that even though my coworkers see me wear the same outfits every week, the customers don’t necessarily see that.

Plus, it doesn’t matter. I make $20/hour and because of where I work, it’s easy to try on the Gucci belt or the Jimmy Choo’s and think, “After my discount, I could pay this off with a couple of paychecks.” It’s stupid. It’s SO stupid. I make $20/hour! Why in the world should I be stretching the leftover money I have into designer shit that I would only wear to work — because I feel like a fraud wearing it anywhere else — when I could be throwing the few hundred into my savings account??

I’m currently planning a trip to Iceland with one of my best friends and her husband, and that’s helped keep me in check. I’m so excited for this trip. We’re tentatively going January 2020, and probably booking the flights and everything this summer. I’m so excited to see the northern lights and hike the ice caverns and yes, even take some swimsuit photos in Blue Lagoon for good ol’ instagram, that now when I look at something I want, I think, Does this matter more than a horseback tour? Or a whale-watching trip? Or eating at a nice restaurant in Reykjavik? Nine times out of ten, no. My wanderlust is much stronger than my materialism.

My materialism continues to diminish the older I get. My teenage self would be so obsessed with where I’m at right now, but I’m just like, Get me out of here. I want to move to Colorado like everybody else my age, and spend some goddamn time outside. I want to laugh. I want to not start my day with three cups of coffee and a pound of makeup. I want to set all the high heels that I own on fire. I want a job that doesn’t make me think about jumping off the roof every hour.

Sometimes I think taking a hiatus from social media would be good for me, but at the same time, I like creating content. I like messing around with new photo filter apps and posting to instagram. I like plugging my writing. (Although there hasn’t been much this year to plug). Yet at the same time, I hate how fucking shallow it all is. Everything revolves around it. We’re all just keeping up with the Jones’. Betty posted about her engagement so Erica has to take pictures with her left hand in front of everything to remind the world that she too is engaged. Meanwhile there’s single people (like myself) rolling their eyes whenever another cheesy engagement posts pops up on their news feed. So excited to spend the rest of my life with my best friend and love of my life! I’m so blessed that this man found his way into my life!! If I had a dollar for every time I sigh heavily and tell my dog that I’m going to die alone, I wouldn’t be stressed about my budget for my upcoming Iceland trip. 

On an older, now deceased, version of this blog, I once wrote that my priorities changed after I attempted suicide. And they did. I still stand by that. As I slowly rose out of my depression,  I realized that there is a lot more to being alive than just what people think of you. It’s one of those cliche moments. It took a near-death experience to make me wake the fuck up, but it kind of did. I have a strong faith in the power of the universe and existence but I’m not big on believing in miracles, but the reason I’m still alive was almost an act of god. The person that showed up at my apartment had absolutely no reason to, he just had a feeling. I’m supposed to be here. I have no fucking clue why, but I am.

So I’m trusting my gut. Listening to my heart. Trying to spend more time with the people I find fascinating who set my soul on fire and want to travel the world with me. Meanwhile, I really need to start cleaning out my closets again so that when I finally pull the trigger on this move, I’m ready to go.

Rain is my second favorite scent.

I love severe weather. I think it puts us in our place as human beings. We’re too cocky of a species. We think we’ve removed ourselves from the food chain and everything that exists on the planet is for our taking. Weather does a good job of reminding us how minuscule we are.

Insanely powerful storms leave us trembling in closets or basements. Torrential downpours flood our streets and land. Straight line winds uproot giant trees and blow roofs off houses. Frigid ice storms forbid us from leaving our homes. I love it. After all, as I wrote last time, I’m a big fan of finding the magic in reality.

Rain is probably my favorite. I am a double water sign, after all. Pisces sun, Scorpio moon. Two of the most intuitive and powerful water signs. Water connects me to something else. I wish I could explain it, although if I could, you would all probably think I was insane. Perhaps I am. I’ve always felt connected to something higher. Not necessarily God, but… something.

I’m not a religious person. I’ve had a bad taste in my mouth for organized religion since I was a child. But there’s something about nature and energy that I can get behind. Severe storms always recharge me in a weird way, and they always seem to come around when I need the energy.

My world turned upside down when I finished school. I’ve been running this insane marathon and I finally finished. I’m job hunting, but I’m quickly learning that my degree means a lot less than most middle aged adults led me to believe. I feel that I no longer have a place. A purpose. I’m not depressed, I’m just a little lost. Getting back in a gym has helped a little, although I’m wildly disappointed by how much strength I’ve lost over the years. It’ll come back. It’s just hard to remember the weights that I used to be able to bench and squat and I can’t even come close to that right now.  Also my arms feel like they could just melt off my body.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I just stood outside and watched the storm for a few minutes and felt like writing, but I don’t really have anything specific to write about because I spend most of my days alone.  It’s not a bad thing. I’d rather have a small circle that I can depend on than countless friends that don’t care for me much. I learned that lesson awhile ago.

Anyway, listening to this storm is like listening to a lullaby for me, so I’m going to lay in bed and cuddle my dog (who is deathly afraid of thunder) and doze off. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll have something more interesting to write about.