Life Update: Musings on Stress, Love, Career, and More Stress
Some interesting things have happened to me since moving to Spain. Unplanned things. Like the fact that after a few months here I sat down in a cafe with a notebook and decided that I want to become a lawyer. The fact that after a few weeks here I met a wonderful man and fell in love with him shortly after. It turns out a few "interesting things" have completely shaken my life up. For the better, of course!
About stress:
Many people think I lead a low-stress life here in Spain. Which is a fair assumption. I post photos of my travels, which include monumental architectural works, blue skies, and palm trees for days. This is because I like to maintain a positive outlook, and I like spreading blue skies and palm trees. What you don't see is me, sitting on my bed at 1:30pm, still un-showered hours after a run, rushing to meet a deadline for one of the websites I work for before I start my second job at 2. You don't see me having a breakdown over visa requirements or worrying about student loan payments since working as a nanny and blogger. You don't see me budgeting, worrying about my savings account, or feeling homesick for my family. I left my job and changed my lifestyle because I was unhappy. Not because I was stressed. Life will always be stressful. You simply have to decide whether or not the stress is worth it. And I've finally found some things worth stressing over!
About love:
I met Leo in February, and we have been inseparable ever since. We are two vegetarians who adore cats. I am the sassiest, and he is never sassy. He puts up with me when I take literally an hour to choose a breakfast joint. He traveled with me and brought me water, grapefruit, and Frosted Flakes to my first race in Spain. He is thoughtful, loving, overly cautious, and sometimes reminds me of my Mamaw. And I mean that in the best way hahaha. I'm not even a romantic person, but I have to admit, that when I'm with him, my heart feels like it's full of glitter, cake, and confetti.
About career:
My entire life I have always felt pulled in a million different directions, and I have accepted that that is me, and I will always be that way. I often feel conflicted by creativity and productivity. (NOT that creativity is not productive!!!) I want to write novels and screenplays and a million different blogs. But I also want a tangible, dependable career. Freelancing is so hard. My income depends 100% on my creativity and originality, and while it can be thrilling, it's also absolutely terrifying. I've been considering law school since I was eleven years old. I don't know what has been holding me back; my refusal to "work for the man," my reluctance to go back to school, or an utter lack of self confidence. But my drive is back. I realized that as an attorney, I can actually work for the people (not the man!). I'm excited to apply to school. I can go anywhere. I can do anything.
About more stress:
I often realize how old I actually am. 25. Somehow, at heart, I feel young and old at the same time. I feel like a child, full of vitality and endless amounts of energy. But also like a 90-year-old in a young person's body. I realize that in five years I will be thirty, and every time this thought hits me, I almost vomit. Not because of the number. I don't worry about that one bit. (Life is a gift!) But rather, the rate at which life flies. I feel myself being pressured to take it slowly but also do everything that I can every single day. I know what I want, and I am getting there, no matter how long it takes. I run, I write, I work, and I love. And that is enough.
Finally, about living for the weekend.
A few months ago when I was horribly lonely in Columbus, I counted down every minute of every day, and then some. 10 minutes til lunch. 25 minutes til I'm done with work. 3 days until the weekend. It was truly a terrible way to live, and if you are in this position, I urge you to rethink how you are living your life. Now, I will admit, I still count down, but for the best things. Plus I enjoy the crap out of my weekdays. Yes, I love weekends because I spend my time with Leo. Sometimes we travel, and sometimes we just hang out and eat at an unlimited sushi buffet. My time with him fills my heart with a joy and wholeness that I've never quite felt before. I don't depend on him for happiness, but being with him is like a surplus of rainbows and unicorns, that kind of shit. But in the meantime, during those darn 5 weekdays between Sunday and Saturday, I am still thrilled about life. That is the biggest difference between myself now and myself six months ago.
At the end of the day I feel excited because I have new goals. Yes, lots of stress, but stress that is totally worth my time. I'm excited to eventually go back to school and I'm happy to have Leo as a co-pilot. I'm happy.
Monday, June 27, 2016
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
Phat Ass
This is what I think when I go shopping. "Shit." F***." "Ugh." "Not today, satan."
Don't get me wrong. I like shopping. I like looking at clothes, dreaming about the wardrobe I could have if my funds were unlimited and I was that gluttonous. I like touching the fabric, and gawking at colors and patterns. I have to touch everything. I remember doing this as a child too. I love fashion. I love clothes. I like the freedom that fashion gives me.
But. I hate trying clothes on. I hate the disappointment when something I love doesn't fit properly. I hate the panic and anxiety I get from worrying about sizes and whether or not I fit into this or that. I hate the feeling of my heart sinking when I have to... Cue the horror music... go up a size.
Summertime is hard. It's hot as hell, and I simultaneously want to go naked and hide the horror that is my body. In reality, shorts and a tank are probably a better option. But then in the shorts and tank, I think of how fat I must look to other people, and I am mortified. Shopping for shorts, swimsuits. A freakin' nightmare. And then my brain likes to say, "Run more. Eat less." And then my heart has to say, "F.U. It's 102 degrees here. Would you like me to give you a stroke?"
Then I have to step back and remind myself that I am not disgusting, that body dysmorphic disorder is a real asshole, and I have to kick it out. I have no time for that in my life.
Like almost every woman, I am sure, I try to wear clothing that doesn't exactly fit. Clothing that is a tad too small so that I can say I fit into an x instead of a y. Then I buy the too-small shorts, the too-short shirt, and I worry the whole time I'm wearing it. Then I engage in abusive language with myself. Is my ass hanging out? Is my fat hanging out of my shirt? Are my love handles visible? Am I disgusting? (If anyone else made these statements to me, I would probably physically attack lolz. So why do I say these to myself? Do better, self!)
I spend the whole time pulling the shorts down and stretching the shirt to cover my body when I could have easily gotten another size up and just dealt with the number. But it's the disorder in me that keeps me buying the smaller clothing. It's the shame and the guilt. So that I don't have to admit that my body is seemingly much bigger than it used to be. So that I don't have to admit that I don't engage in disordered eating. Because sometimes that is hard. Even when I am proud of my progress, sometimes I feel like I have failed my body by conquering the disorder. Isn't that messed up? I deserve better than that.
I feel like we have a false sense of our future selves. We make empty promises to ourselves about our appearance. "When I'm a: size 2, thin, my hair is long." "I will finally: get a boyfriend, have my dream job, be comfortable at the pool." Numbers change, weight fluctuates, hair changes. So why have we convinced ourselves that life will be better in the future, based on numbers and sizes? Why have we convinced ourselves we deserve love and happiness only when we have reached our "goal" looks? We have to accept and love ourselves as we are now. There is nothing wrong with a little self-improvement, but numbers are meaningless and we have to accept that. Apologizing or being sad about a size or a number is sort of like apologizing for having a body. Which is kind of bullshit. So don't!
Today I was buying shorts, and I tried something new. I picked up a new size in H&M, a store that is notorious for making tiny ass pants and shorts. I took the bigger, more realistic size first so that I could try it on and save myself from some disappointment of trying on a small size first and worrying about tightness or shortness. I tried the shorts on, and they were not only a perfect fit, but my phat ass looked great! And most importantly, I was comfortable wearing them.
There was a time that I was a size zero. And I was very sick and unhappy. I wish I could tell my 17 year old self that there will be a time that my shorts will be eight sizes bigger and I will be so happy with that body because I escaped from the rut of anorexia. I will be happy because of the things my body will do and the places it will take me. I would say, "Jamie, you will live in Spain and travel Europe with that body. You will run marathons and triathlons and train for big things in that body. And you won't give a single shit what size your shorts are."
<- exactly="" i="" nbsp="" p="" s="" say.="" that="" what="" would="">
Which is why I'm writing this today. I gave that up. Just like I gave up getting on the scale and worrying about THAT number.
So about this summer... We can do this. We can get through it together. I will do what I can with The Peace Mobile to project all the body love this summer. Until next time, stop with the numbers okay?!
Don't get me wrong. I like shopping. I like looking at clothes, dreaming about the wardrobe I could have if my funds were unlimited and I was that gluttonous. I like touching the fabric, and gawking at colors and patterns. I have to touch everything. I remember doing this as a child too. I love fashion. I love clothes. I like the freedom that fashion gives me.
But. I hate trying clothes on. I hate the disappointment when something I love doesn't fit properly. I hate the panic and anxiety I get from worrying about sizes and whether or not I fit into this or that. I hate the feeling of my heart sinking when I have to... Cue the horror music... go up a size.
Summertime is hard. It's hot as hell, and I simultaneously want to go naked and hide the horror that is my body. In reality, shorts and a tank are probably a better option. But then in the shorts and tank, I think of how fat I must look to other people, and I am mortified. Shopping for shorts, swimsuits. A freakin' nightmare. And then my brain likes to say, "Run more. Eat less." And then my heart has to say, "F.U. It's 102 degrees here. Would you like me to give you a stroke?"
Then I have to step back and remind myself that I am not disgusting, that body dysmorphic disorder is a real asshole, and I have to kick it out. I have no time for that in my life.
Like almost every woman, I am sure, I try to wear clothing that doesn't exactly fit. Clothing that is a tad too small so that I can say I fit into an x instead of a y. Then I buy the too-small shorts, the too-short shirt, and I worry the whole time I'm wearing it. Then I engage in abusive language with myself. Is my ass hanging out? Is my fat hanging out of my shirt? Are my love handles visible? Am I disgusting? (If anyone else made these statements to me, I would probably physically attack lolz. So why do I say these to myself? Do better, self!)
I spend the whole time pulling the shorts down and stretching the shirt to cover my body when I could have easily gotten another size up and just dealt with the number. But it's the disorder in me that keeps me buying the smaller clothing. It's the shame and the guilt. So that I don't have to admit that my body is seemingly much bigger than it used to be. So that I don't have to admit that I don't engage in disordered eating. Because sometimes that is hard. Even when I am proud of my progress, sometimes I feel like I have failed my body by conquering the disorder. Isn't that messed up? I deserve better than that.
I feel like we have a false sense of our future selves. We make empty promises to ourselves about our appearance. "When I'm a: size 2, thin, my hair is long." "I will finally: get a boyfriend, have my dream job, be comfortable at the pool." Numbers change, weight fluctuates, hair changes. So why have we convinced ourselves that life will be better in the future, based on numbers and sizes? Why have we convinced ourselves we deserve love and happiness only when we have reached our "goal" looks? We have to accept and love ourselves as we are now. There is nothing wrong with a little self-improvement, but numbers are meaningless and we have to accept that. Apologizing or being sad about a size or a number is sort of like apologizing for having a body. Which is kind of bullshit. So don't!
Today I was buying shorts, and I tried something new. I picked up a new size in H&M, a store that is notorious for making tiny ass pants and shorts. I took the bigger, more realistic size first so that I could try it on and save myself from some disappointment of trying on a small size first and worrying about tightness or shortness. I tried the shorts on, and they were not only a perfect fit, but my phat ass looked great! And most importantly, I was comfortable wearing them.
There was a time that I was a size zero. And I was very sick and unhappy. I wish I could tell my 17 year old self that there will be a time that my shorts will be eight sizes bigger and I will be so happy with that body because I escaped from the rut of anorexia. I will be happy because of the things my body will do and the places it will take me. I would say, "Jamie, you will live in Spain and travel Europe with that body. You will run marathons and triathlons and train for big things in that body. And you won't give a single shit what size your shorts are."
<- exactly="" i="" nbsp="" p="" s="" say.="" that="" what="" would="">
Which is why I'm writing this today. I gave that up. Just like I gave up getting on the scale and worrying about THAT number.
So about this summer... We can do this. We can get through it together. I will do what I can with The Peace Mobile to project all the body love this summer. Until next time, stop with the numbers okay?!
Friday, June 3, 2016
A Run
The following was written about the phases of the day and corresponding emotions during a 24-hour endurance run, where a relay team of 8 members covered 131 miles consecutively and through the day and night, to raise money for the American Cancer Society. It was emotional and difficult for everyone, and to this day remains one of the most physically and mentally challenging things I have ever done, in addition to most rewarding. I wrote about the details of the run here, and this is the website for this year's event. Please consider donating to the C2C Run. Your money goes directly to local cancer patients who cannot afford to drive to their own cancer treatment. I wrote this very shortly after the event, inspired by my teammates and friends and fellow volunteers. This run was an honor!
A
Run
Dusk
city
limits
no
peace
headlights
kill the calming clatter
of
the rain
Dark
Ohio
backroads
twist
and turn and tumble
leading
me on
I
blindly trot along
as
the cornstalks whisper my name
the
darkness is tempting
I
could be invisible
my
hair
cornsilk
my
face open like a sunflower
legs
strong
stubborn
as
roots of the oak tree
yes,
I could return to the earth
but
I blindly trot along
until
day breaks
and
I am safe in the sun’s arms
Dawn
I
feel my insignificance
even
the particles in the air present themselves
for
the sunrise
clouds,
jealous of the rising star,
try
to hide its beauty
but
the sun fights
the
tension is burgundy
Day
have
you ever the pleasure
of
running with the river?
cheery
waters watch
trees
dance
the
leaves applaud me
and
the wind sends kisses
a
mossy path welcomes my footfalls
kinder
than the pavement of the backroads
the
sun smiles in rays
waving
across the water
praising
me for believing in her
even
when she was gone
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