Good-bye Grams…

It has been said that when it rains, it pours, and it has honestly never rang more true in my life until now. As I stand without an umbrella, rain slicker, or even some fucking wellies in this deluge of an existence known as my vida loca, I'm not quite sure whether the water running down my face each day is due to precipitation or to tears of frustration, anxiety, and surrender. I never expected to have to tread furiously to keep my head above water in the puddles of my life 25 years into it, and yet that is where I am. And although scientifically a person is unable to control the weather that befalls him/her, I cannot help but believe that this monsoon I am being subject to ahorita is of my own damn instigation. And so, welcome to my stream of consciousness (or believe me, at times, lack thereof), "Confessions of a Quarterlife Crisis." This is your pilot speaking, Ms. Hap or Ms. Stake, whichever I prefer at the moment, and if you look to your right side, you can see a world of opportunity, hope, dreams, and wishes, and for those passengers sitting on the left side of the aircraft, you can see my current emotional and physical landscape, dotted with such lowlights as lessons not learned, laziness, disappointment, and fear. Buckle your safety belts because turbulence is to be expected, but ready your hearts, minds, and sides, because the in-flight entertainment is equal parts enlightening, tear-inducing, and hilarious.

(for a more detailed run-down on mi, see the biography link on this blog)

Oh what a difference a week makes. At this time a week ago I was sitting on my grandma's nursing home bed, laughing at her mistaking my kid sister for an aide, and having to shout in her "good ear" that it was actually me, her prodigal granddaughter finally there to see her, inwardly cursing myself for waiting this long to actually do so. She asked how my husband (her favorite of any of those I have ever been romantically involved with) was doing, to which I replied, "just working a lot," although Red (as I will reference him as) and I have been divorced since October. As her health has been steadily in decline the past year and a half, and mind in further deterioration with each passing day, we decided it best to never inform her that he and I couldn't hang anymore, had thrown in the towel like 50% of other marriages in the world. It wasn't only the fact that she loved him that kept me from telling her, but also the fact that I couldn't ever quite stomach the prospect of piling yet another disappointment of mine on her that she would fret over, wondering why God wasn't answering her prayers and why such a bright, young talent such as I could not for the life of me get my shit together, EVER. In a 25 year long epic, she watched me go from varsity athlete-president of everything-most likely to succeed, be rich or marry rich, future president or at least his/her speech writer-bright-eyed-bring it on life and watch me fucking dominate you badass, into a college dropout, lazy and unmotivated, debt-riddled, self-medicating, own-worst-enemy, self-loathing and deprecating, walking, but still talking my old, big game disaster. My 2.5 year marriage to the nicest guy in the world was the bright-shining lighthouse in a sea of wastewater, and to take that away from her, even though I had taken it away from myself months and even years before was unfathomable. So yes Grammie, he's fine, we're fine, I'm fine.

As I kissed her still warm forehead this afternoon, a week after my final conversation with her, in the few solo minutes I asked for before the funeral people whisked her into oblivion, I choked out what little I was able to. During those moments, I, the queen of word vomit suddenly went nearly mute, as verbalizing the swirl of thoughts and feelings inside of me felt like sticking my finger down my throat every time I'm shit-faced, a large-scale waste of time, b/c I can never get anything, regardless of how imbibed I am to actually come up. In between sobs I blurted out something along the lines of how sorry I was for thus far never getting it right, how much I loved her, how I was finally taking up piano again, and that one day, someday, I was going to make her proud of me. Red told me I looked like a grieving A-lister when he walked into the room, trying to tell a loved one good-bye while attempting to keep a low-profile from the paparazzi as well, small face covered with Jackie-O, Gucci sunglasses, and hood up on my sweatshirt. I wasn't the only person whose heart was breaking today, and so I never took my glasses off so no one would have to hurt any extra because of the pain in my eyes, and honestly, looking at Grams through shaded ojos made it all feel a little more surreal to me as well. Oh, and did I mention that I'm weak yet? That was part of the sunglasses routine; I hide from anything that I am able to.

However, I'm exhausted at the moment from all facets of my life—the frailty of it, the prospect of moving back home to my parents, fighting God, juggling a full-time school and work schedule, getting my summer body back, finding ridiculous love again, and some legal stuff I may or may not discuss on here, and I need to sleep. But oh wait, I can't, I'm big time behind on tarea para escuela, and if I don't read some of King Lear I might as well just start to dig my own grave plot next to Grams. So, as will become standard, in wrapping this up, I will present my first 60-40, a list of ten things, 6 good, 4 bad and in need of improvement that come to mind to mention each day, as I feel that even when life is totally que paso'ing out of control in one's life, with some level of perspective and optimism, the good always outweighs the bad.

1. Bad- I will watch one of my heroes being laid to rest on Thursday, knowing that I should have stopped in to see her more this past year instead of rushing back home to watch stupid shit on my DvR or whatever the hell else I felt like was more important, and will subsequently sob the next xxx amount of days.
   
2. Good- Grams has been in chronic pain since I was born and I'm certain even a little before that and now she is in heaven where she has so longed to be and not hurting anymore, unless she can still look down and see the shit I'm in and bound to create.
   
3. Good- My family, friends, and co-workers have been tremendous this past 24 hours, each one of them blowing up my phone with "I'm here for anything, absolutely, drop-of-the-hat anything's", giving me rides when I was crying so hard I could puke, telling me they love me, and even tearing up as well. I am so blessed to have the most ridiculously wonderful group of people, b/c without them, turns out I'm sort-of a certified mess.
   
4. Bad- I am being counted on a week from today to be the speaker of the house, face of my fabulous job at the most insanely amazing sushi joint in America (and I dare you to counter me on this) at our grand opening/open house, and I feel like I'm about 20 pounds overweight and my face is broken out like a prepubescent teenagers because of the stress of this past 6 months. I wonder how much weight I can drop in a week. I think I'll try a heinous mix of 2-a-day workouts, no carbs or dairy past noon, and a.d.d. meds to trim some fat. This is going to be fantastic when I look terrific next Monday and then collapse on the podium my boss is constructing for me to stand on. Stellar me, really stellar.
   
5. Bad- I am going to break someone's heart who loves me, very very much. I am his "vida" and "corazon" and "amor" and honestly, I do have love and attraction for him as well, but it's not going to be enough. He and I want two very different outcomes in life, and this is going to end with an unequal amount of pain in the end, not because I do not care, but because I know who I am, and I, especially at this stage in the game, am not a pretty sight, regardless of what my exterior looks like.
   
6. Good- I started running again. I've run 3 of the last 5 days, and had planned on running all of them had Gram's not succumbed, so I'm taking that into account. Running is therapeutic for me, and if ever I've needed some mental help, it's now, and not only that, when my body is sub-par, so is my mind, and as compared to my lithe frame this past summer, I'm a little whale right now. I know I must take into account that I suffer from body dysmorphia and see a fat kid where others see health, but either way, that is just how I feel right now. So yeah, I'm going to full-out train for a mini-marathon in April, and hopefully, somewhere along the trail until then I'll find my mind again. And fitting back into my 00's from Abercrombie can't hurt my attitude either.
   
7. Good- I netted an 'A' on an exam that I missed both lectures for over the past few weeks of the start of this spring semester, following a one-hour cram-athon previous to it. Honestly, I blow my mind sometimes.
   
8. Bad- Aside from my fortunate 'A' on one of my tests, overall my attendance to all of my classes has been absolute shit, and I'm behind on like 3 assignments. The rest of the semester is going to require a great deal of missed sleep, structure, discipline, and actual hard work, all of which I am capable of, but just not very motivated to achieve. Sigh.
   
9. Push/Good- My sister's high school called me last week and although I didn't get offered the varsity assistant coaching job that I wanted to badly (b/c a most likely unqualified teacher got it b/c of corporation policy) they did offer me the head coaching position of the junior high team with the option to skip out on any meets that are conflicting with my sibs. Not bad I suppose.
   
10. Good- I have my first piano lesson this week for the first time in over a decade. This is for you Grams. Watch out American Idol.
    

This is your captain signing off. Xoxo to all, and to all a goodnite.

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