10.08.13

The high cost of low living

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An expensive jar of pickles finally gave me some perspective on…perspective.

One of my more finely-honed skills is buying shit that I don’t need. I maximize the potential by occasionally purchasing an item that I don’t need AND I don’t want. Some people consider these items “mistakes,” but when you turn the Hater Mode dial down a few notches, it becomes pretty clear that life has blessed me with “opportunities to learn.” The more you know, the more you grow. (Credit: Either LeVar Burton or Dr. Seuss)

When I have an uncontrollable urge to spend money, I stay away from stores with big-tickets items. Those “learning opportunities” are too hard to hide. I only know this because I once bought a daybed with a big gaping hole in the center where the mattress support beams should have been. Even when the sales associate expressed doubt that I would find replacement parts, it still seemed like a solid purchase. I mean, 70% off the original retail price. It’s a little greedy to expect everything for almost nothing. Harv asked questions like “When you tell me not to go into the library, don’t you think that makes me suspicious?” and “Isn’t a daybed useless if we can’t put a mattress on it?”

I’m not really a fan of people who show off their reasoning skills.

I now limit most of my reckless purchases to the grocery store. When I spotted the elegantly-shaped jar of pickles for twice the price of the crunchy little bitches I normally enjoy, I immediately recognized it as a need AND a want. My family claims that I have an unrefined palette, but would a non-foodie invest in a jar of artisanal-quality pickles? Be real.

In my haste to get all of the groceries into the house from our subterranean garage, I condensed the normally nine-step process into two. When I finally had all of the bags on the landing at the top of the stairs, I accidentally kicked the pickles and watched as the jar popped out of the bag and started rolling down the steps. Maybe it really did roll down slowly or maybe the trauma has colored my recollection. Six steps down, the lid loosened and brine started splashing out.

As I watched those expensive bitches tumble towards the bottom, I winced and thought, “UNREAL. This is the worst thing that has ever happened in my entire life.” And I really, really meant it.

When the jar finally crashed into a wall, most of the liquid already gone, I braced myself for the breakage, shards of glass everywhere. But it remained intact (probably because those motherfuckers weren’t kidding around about that artisanal-quality hype), except for the lid which fell off and the two pickles that followed with it. I did what I thought was best: I retrieved the jar, wiped it down, and stuck it in the fridge.

While I cleaned pickle juice off everything else, it occurred to me that no one is immune to feeling the dings of everyday life. Those small dings can feel so huge and overwhelming in the moment. As a former runaway, homeless pregnant teen, single mom, welfare recipient, and abused partner, I still couldn’t help thinking that a ruined jar of pickles was the worst fucking thing to ever happen to me.

I allow so many inconsequential people and events to affect my sphere on a daily basis, and each ding ruins my day and makes me unhappy and makes me wish I had a car wash for the sole purpose of burying people under it. Tiny grievances take root and break my peace.

My own behavior is the only piece I can control, and when I can’t even reign that in, the most basic action I can take is to keep my perspective in check. I’m currently living a life that is so far removed from the bottom place where I started. Even when I recognize the incredible blessings in my life, I still forget that there are people who face so much more. Things that actually matter.

But in the world of things that don’t matter, I guess pickle wreckage is still pretty fucked up.
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P.S. My friend, Bennett, recently founded Onionflix.com. I think it’s a pretty dope concept. He’s committed $100,000 to buying videos from both amateur and professional filmmakers who are interested in promoting a “good cry” with positive inspiration. Bennett started Onionflix to honor his parents and the true love their marriage exemplified. Read more here about their amazing story. “Life is fragile. Don’t waste a moment holding grudges or worrying about the little things. Don’t screw up amazing relationships with impulsive temptations. Don’t be lazy. Be honest. Be bold. Most importantly, find someone to love unconditionally.”

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image via blueq.com

October 8, 2013
09.12.13

Inhale the good shit. Exhale the bullshit.

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I tend to discount advice from friends, because honestly, if they’ve chosen to be friends with me, then what exactly does that say about their ability to make solid life choices? Hm?

Eventually, “Shalinda” might repeat something that several other people have opined, and if those several other people and this “Shalinda” aren’t associated with each other (Always a giveaway in my mind that it’s a joint venture intervention and Goddammit I’m onto you.), then I might consider it as a possibility. Very rarely do I ever complete the thought process and make a decision as to whether the statement is actually right or wrong. When I’m forced to perform difficult tasks like thinking, especially if it’s for more than a nine or ten seconds, I become emotionally, physically, spiritually, and mentally drained for days. By the time I recover, I have to use my brain again for a completely different thought. Life is hard.

I’ve always believed that my self-image comes from no one else but me. This is so far from the truth that I am totally embarrassed to admit it. In eight grade, I found out that Achilles is actually pronounced “a kill eez” and not “a chill eez” in front of the entire class, and that was pretty rough. I don’t want to sound dramatic, but my recent revelation was even worse than that time in eight grade. Sometimes you need a point of reference to understand the gravity of a situation.

I came to the realization that the way I view myself is largely comprised of other people’s opinions and not my own during lunch with a good friend. I wished out loud to be more like my family. Harv and Cal are so brilliant. I’m just the odd thug out.

“Elizabeth, you’re smart,” she said.

Out of habit, I immediately launched into a list of reasons backed by actual events and a few fun factoids that discredited her kindness.

She replied in a no-nonsense tone, “I can’t be friends with dumb people. It’s exhausting.”

I let myself consider the possibility for more than nine or ten seconds. It blew my fucking mind. Like, forrealz.

Since kindergarten, when I repeatedly peed in my pants because I couldn’t remember enough English to request a hall pass, I believed that I was dumb. After lunch, I sat in my car and thought about being stupid and other “truths” which shaped my self-image. They were so deeply rooted and long-standing that I had just assumed they were true.

The passing comments and direct criticism I heard as a kid shaped my Me View. Because the majority of those early comments were negative, I learned to discount any positive statements. And worse still, any time I heard negativity that fed those early seeds, I welcomed it because I thought that person was seeing my core.

I find it ironic that it was yet another person’s opinion that lifted the curtain and propelled me to examine the wasteland I held as Core Truths. I’ve always regarded kindness with suspicion, but I was wrong as fuck. It’s actually cooler than shit to have people in your life who can tell you the truth and be kind too. It may not always happen at the same time, but these people help you see the truth about yourself…if you let them. THANK YOU, L.

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My homegirl, Shannon Bindler, wrote this: “I Am Beautiful” Are Not Dirty Words. I love it. I’m so grateful to have people in my life like Shannon who keep kindness king.

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I experimented with my new work method: One Game Of Candy Crush Per Paragraph. Are there some design flaws? Yes. However, I am not a quitter and will continue to modify aforementioned method. You can “like” the Flourish in Progress Facebook page or follow along on Instagram (username: flourishinprogress) to get updates on my exhaustive research and for other (t)hug life happenings like snapshots from my past weekend at Rock the Bells aka Gangsters Paradise. Thank you for your support.

September 12, 2013