Warily I write this, knowing that an outright commitment to something usually results in a blatantly self destructive rebellion on my own part. A January 1st New Year's Resolution typically ends in a January 2nd protest against resolutions. Vowing to lose 10 pounds becomes a gain of 5; Getting organized results in living in chaos... you get the jist.
Something feels different now. It's not the usual resentment for the soccer moms that always have makeup on and know how to make a wreath from scratch. I am over the longing to have some sort of Martha Stewart meets Heidi Klum expectation for myself. Don't get me wrong I totally believe in setting the bar high, but recently I realized that I was always so busy trying to find something wrong with myself COMPARED to everything else, that I forgot all the things I loved about myself. Some doctor told me that my reason for being scatterbrained and disorganized was possibly Adult ADD and gave me some prescription. Sorry pharmacy, but you can restock that one because as far as I am concerned my biggest flaw, while frustrating at times, is something I embrace. It took several life changers I guess. Always the control freak martyr it's easier to take the blame or try to figure out how I messed something up than releasing the reigns to the true culprit.
So I am proclaiming it loud and proud. I'm a little crazy, not a good housekeeper, and my weight fluctuates - but I am ok with it. When I want to I can have control, but when I am tired I can release it. I feel like I just grew up and now my real life is about to begin.
I often remember driving in his car. The speed and the teenaged love intoxicated me. A nylon seat belt created an embrace across my heart, connecting me to the steel of the car. My body heated, clinging to the seat in acceleration, then jerking with each intentional shift. I watched his hands which were usually divided between the steering wheel and the shifter. I watched his legs covered in faded Levi jeans marching with the rhythm of the clutch and gas. It was a Nissan Sentra. There wasn’t a place I didn’t want to go in that car. Freedom. To Blockbuster we went, for the latest in VHS entertainment. We watched movies sitting close with our innocent flesh radiating through clothes purchased for us by our mothers. At my house we had company - siblings and parents depending on the movie choice and time of night. At his house we watched in a private basement. I remember there, being secluded with just the light of the tv and our young love, we often became distracted during movies. The m