Detour From A Diatribe

I just deleted two paragraphs worth of veiled complaints. Why? I don't want to be that person. I sat in therapy and spoke about formative moments. My therapist called me out on why I might be so sensitive to people deemed "complainers," and why that might be a trigger for me. Not today, complaints, not today.

Staying grateful can feel really intense. Life can be incredibly wobbly at times. It doesn't, however, warrant bitter diatribes and forgetfulness of how lucky we are to be in it, here and now.

It started with something simple, and kinda stupid. Vans emailed me that the full Nightmare Before Christmas collection was available. I've been a Tim Burton fan as long as I can remember. I loved Edward Scissorhands and Big Fish, Beetlejuice, and everything about his directing. I found it all darkly beautiful. Nightmare Before Christmas has lived in infamy on this list. My make-up bag is Jack Skellington. I have watches and jewelry with Jack and Sally. I have the soundtrack on vinyl. Our version of Elf On The Shelf is "Sandy Klaws" aka, Jack Skellington dressed as Santa.

Anyway, it's a beautiful but extremely expensive collection and Vans have always been my coveted and go to shoes since I can remember. All of mine have since been destroyed by wear but I loved them all literally to pieces. I'd love a pair, but they are completely out of the budget and I'm sure they'll sell fast.

At first this really got to me. I never really buy myself non-essential items that aren't coffee and I rarely spend more than $30 on myself for anything. I get a pair of running or gym shoes a year, and occasionally a re-up on clothes but I do so with as little money as possible. I am frugal to a flaw almost, aka cheap. 

So I had my whiny moments. I was trying to "math out" how to get them, but alas, nope. Plus I knew I would buyer's remorse them if I walked out of the store with a bag and receipt. I can't handle spending that kind of money on something so non-essential and I get upset when I spend money on myself.

I'm sure this all sounds overly dramatic but this is part of my anxiety. And definitely a struggle when it comes to my depression. I used to shop when I was sad often. Sometimes with no care for the fiscal consequences. Well, since baby and job changes, I have put myself last-er than last and shop no more. My mom has no concept of living within your means and pushes "new" stuff on me and it's just a heavier reminder of "don't do that."

I get all my weird rationality quirks from my dad. My dad will wear the same jeans, shirts and underpants for a decade but will drive a brand new car and never miss an event deemed worth doing. My dad also never goes on the cheap when it comes to FOOD. My dad used to literally repeat "Just because it's on sale doesn't mean you NEED it."

Last year was the first Black Friday I've ever shopped in my life, and I just got presents for the kid and stocked up on shoes for her to go through because they were super cheap. On average my husband gets about 3 to 4 times the "whatever money" I do weekly. I always put my "luxury" wants on the back burner and always will.

I had started this whole bitter diatribe of why shouldn't I get to have the damned shoes and thought, WHOA WHOA WHOA. You gotta stay grateful and in the moment. So many people don't have what we have and I'll be damned if I take it for granted.

Because life is hilarious, it's not even actually about the shoes. That's the thing. The shoes are just a metaphor for me feeling completely overwhelmed and trying to keep it all together. If I'm being completely honest about current situations in life, I'm feeling as though things are about to get more complicated and I'm extremely stressed.

It's all coming to the surface in my obsession with the having of the shoes. Let me explain. In my youth I worked hard to get what I wanted and I've carried this into my growth. So if I were 20 and I wanted those shoes, I'd pick up 3 extra shifts and go get them, wearing them proudly until they disintegrated off of my feet. In my adulthood, I don't have time for such frivolous things. I'm a salaried gal and I have important financial goals I need to achieve for my sanity and those shoes don't fit into the mix.

Mostly all of this is a big ass mourning session for the loss of my youth. I've got a 6 year old, almost 7 year old daughter, a mortgage, car payments, credit card debt to pay off and responsibilities out the ass. I'm pining over old concert shirts, old mix cds and Tim Burton shoes. Part of me thinks if I can dress the part I can be 22 year old Alison again. I miss adventures and being carefree and fearless. I miss napping when I wanted and watching 6 hours of Netflix drinking cheap wine and having Chinese Food delivered.

So deep down I think if I spoil myself with some custom Vans, that pre-soon-to-be-soccer-mom self, will arise and come back to keep growing, transitioning, struggling Alison company as she figures out all her shit. It's a beautifully painful realization. 

I took a detour from the diatribe because I wanted to be better than that. I endured a recent negative social session or "bitch sesh" if you will and it completely ripped me apart. I've been distracted and obsessing about unanswered texts and planning play dates to take away from all the adulting I must do. 

Complaining is the easy part. It's the easiest coping mechanism on the planet. Often we don't even have to think about it. Riding out the waves after are wipe-out is considerably harder. Staying positive when you're wobbling and feeling as though life is murky? That's difficult. So I took a detour from the diatribe and ended up here, possibly enlightened? I'm a bit unsure. The beauty of it is, I'm happy to be unsure about where I am and what to do next because I'm positive it is part of the process. Somehow there is less stress and more gratefulness in knowing that I don't have to have anything figured out, but instead just enjoy my Friday and push through.