Last Week #29 | Italics Fran is an A**hole

 I am drained. I haven’t had a second to check in with myself since I moved in to my new place. Well, maybe that’s not true. I have, but I haven’t been able to do anything about it. So it looks something like this, 

“Check in: Fran to Fran. Yes, Fran here, we are running at about 15%. Thrusters in critical condition. Pilot recommends rest and reading. And maybe a bath bomb.” 

“Fran to Fran. Fran here, yeah, we can’t do that. You’re just gonna have to work with what you got.” 

“Fran to Fran. Fran here, that’s bullshit. We’re at 7% now. We can’t hold on much longer.” 

“Fran to Fran. I have to go to work. You’re on your own. Bye.”

And now I’m at about 5%, I have no idea how to get it back up to working condition, and it just keeps getting worse. As you can see, italics Fran is a total asshole, and doesn't care about what bold Fran needs. Italics Fran is my brain with anxiety. She's very difficult to shut up. So in a nutshell, here's what happened this past week. 

1. I didn't write a blog post. It was a hard choice, but I ultimately decided I had too much going on in my brain to form into words that made sense. 

2. I had a bit of a meltdown and didn't recognize myself in the mirror. That was scary. Then I watched Gilmore Girls and tried to be okay. I wasn't.

3. I had another meltdown when trying to tell Eli about the first meltdown. I.e.: I cried a lot, he told me he thinks I need a break, and then he made me chicken. 

4. Bold Fran tried really hard to convince italics Fran that taking breaks would be okay, and not result in failing classes and losing her job. Italics Fran wasn't convinced.

5. I went to therapy on Friday night, and my therapist told me the exact same thing. In fact, he told me that taking breaks was part of it. That I'd be more productive if I slowed down. That was news to me, but then I tried it. And it went well?

I'm not going to be perfect, or even good at it right away. But I'll tell you something: this weekend I did a lot of relaxing, a lot of cuddling, and a lot of TV/movie watching. I also finished an entire graphic novel (the first book I've finished all month!) and completed a drawing for one of my classes. I'm trying to convince myself that slowing down will actually work, and will actually allow me to accomplish more. Even though the evidence is there, and even though I've read it about a million times in blog posts and self-help books, it's really hard to do. I have this thing where I want to be really good at everything I do. Otherwise, what is the point in doing it?! I'm convinced that if I'm not good at everything I do, and I don't do everything I could possibly be good at, I'm a failure. Because that's giving up, right? Listen, I'm writing this post and I'm asking all these questions like this is going to have a resolution at the end. The truth is, I don't know the answers. All I know is, Eli and my therapist and my mentor and probably loads of other people have told me that's not true. So I'm going to try to do another thing that my therapist recommended and trust them. 

I'm sad because this means I probably won't do NaNoWriMo this year.  Something I've participated in every year since I was a senior in high school. (Or at least not to the extent that I have in the past.) I'm sad because this means I might take a break from school. And by that I literally mean, one semester off. Or one less class. And sure, that means I might get my degree one semester later. But at this point, who the f*ck cares?! At the end of the day, I logically know that life isn't a race. But this anxiety that has been ingrained in me says differently. And it's really hard sometimes to fight it, and ignore the person in your head telling you you aren't moving fast enough. I literally do not have a pretty, soothing conclusion for this. All I can say is, I am happy. When I allow myself to slow down, I love so many things about my life. I love my apartment. I love my boyfriend. I love my friends, and how they continuously inspire me and thrill me. I love my creativity. I love my commute. I love my coworkers. I really like a lot of things about this new job. (We aren't at love yet. I don't want to move too fast.) I love the lazy Sundays I'm so privileged to have now. Right now, in this season of stress and excitement, I'm simply trying to keep the love at the forefront of my mind, and not the anxiety.

 -Fran

Last Week #28 | Parks & Renovation

 This is big. Late in the summer of 2015, as I was driving away for a vacation that was much needed but not really wanted as it required leaving my friends, I finished Parks & Recreation for the third time. And as I helplessly cried in the front seat in traffic on the New Jersey turnpike, I made my family promise me something-- "Don't let me start this show again for a long time. Even if I tell you, 'oh I'm just gonna watch the first episode again for fun' don't let me do it. I'm a liar and I have no self control." They agreed, probably because they were sick of hearing me laughing over the same lines at 3 am. And when I got home, I told my friends the same thing. My best friend Kelsey said to me, "Let's make a pact that neither of us will start it again until we move into an apartment together." Which was an admittedly adorable idea but was it PRACTICAL? No. Neither of us had any game plan for moving out anytime soon, we were just trying to get by in the life we were currently living. So I begrudgingly agreed, and held onto the fact that I had only finished season 6. I could still watch season 7 again and I wouldn't be breaking any rules.

I eventually did finish season 7, and felt a void in my life that I attempted to fill with other amazing shows (like The Mindy Project and Jane the Virgin), but there's nothing quite like Parks & Rec. 

The months wore on, and for different reasons Kelsey and I both began to feel that moving out of our childhood homes and in together was no longer a dream but rather inevitable. In April, we got word that an apartment might be available. I was hesitant at first, as it is my way to say no to anything new immediately. But then I started thinking about it. It might not be as hard as I thought. 

The plans were made, a little bit at a time, the lease was signed, and suddenly, faster and sooner than I was even prepared for, furniture was being moved out and bought and moved in and arranged. And now, here we are. On Wednesday night Kelsey and I finally made good on our promise. With the boys in Colombia, we'd been mostly focused on getting the place together in their absence. But on Wednesday, she made a pretty amazing soup, and we decided to watch the first episode of season 1. And it struck me that this week has been something like the first episode of our new adventure. It's new, but oddly familiar. 

Let me backtrack a second. For a few years now, the biggest thing on my "Accomplish This Year" list was: move in with Kelsey. And for a long time that seemed impossible. But now, here we are. Without even realizing it, I've achieved the most insurmountable task on that list. It's happened. And it's insane. I don't totally know how I got here, and when I talk to people who I've known for a while, who have known me for a while, they're surprised when they hear what I'm doing now, where I'm living, what my life is looking like. They're like, "WOW! Look at you!" I've demurred and ignored them and acted humble. But the thing is, it isn't an act. I genuinely haven't realized all that I've been doing, all that I've accomplished, because I've been so busy doing it. I know that probably sounds pretentious, or ridiculous, or like some combination of the two... But I have. I've been so focused on just getting through each simple task (moving my bed in, making that video, writing that blog post, going to work) that I haven't seen how all of those things pile up and equal where I am now. 

I think it hit me this week, and I realized just how much I've been doing. And I got really freaking anxious about it. There were other factors, of course, but it culminated in me calling in sick to work on Friday, and spending the day feeling like shit and watching Jane the Virgin for 10 hours straight, trying to ignore my anxiety insisting that everything was huge and scary and I shouldn't do anything.  I'm still trying to get my brain used to the idea that: this is it, we've done it. We can check this one off our list. But I'm pretty sure my brain is still in zombie "get that next thing done" mode. I'm trying to reset it, and see and live and dwell in these beautiful moments that are cropping up all the time now. But it's hard. When you've been dreaming of something for so long, it's almost hard to accept it when that thing finally happens.

-Fran

Last Week #27 | Couraging

Okay, I don't know about you, but I often get this feeling. It's usually when something really cool is about to happen, and I'm excited for it, but then my anxiety chimes in and says "but what if it sucks though? What if the world ends because you decided to do this probably great but also maybe catastrophic thing? We should just not do it. Wouldn't want to risk it." 

I felt it before OVERDUE. It almost choked me, this feeling. This fear of not being good enough almost kept me from even trying. I felt it when I first started dating Eli. Not many people know this, but I almost broke up with him like the first week we were dating. I sort of tried to. I got really sad and was like "what if I’m mean to you?! I won't be good enough. Let's just not." And he was like, “Well no, you already are good enough and I don't even care if you're nice to me because I like you too much." (These are not his exact words. I don’t remember what he said. But this is the general idea.) And here we are. I am sometimes mean to him, I am sometimes not good enough to him. But we learn, and it's a wonderful, happy learning curve, so I’m grateful I didn't give up before it started.

I have that feeling again, now. Friday night I moved into my first apartment. This marks the first time I've ever left home. I'm a part time student, a full time employee, and I'm teaching a class as well. And now I've just moved out. (Or in, depending on your perspective.) At times, this all feels like too much. In fact, I'm almost positive this is all too much. But I'm doing it. And I'm trying to choke, gag,  fight and silence that asshole in my head telling me to give up already. 

On Wednesday, I taught the first in a four week children's film class at a local library. It was a little overwhelming, as anything involving ten year olds is, but as I listened to twelve ten year olds all try to tell me their thoughts at once, and one particular ten year old tell me, "I have too much up here to explain it all" and see him fluff his hair like a mad professor, I realized. These kids, this behavior this kid described, this is what the inside of my brain sometimes looks like. Sixteen screaming ten year olds all shrieking to be heard first, so you literally cannot focus on anyone or anything. 

My brain looks like this today, because Eli (and Kelsey's boyfriend Sam) just left this morning for a weeklong trip to Colombia. The freaking country. COLOMBIA. It's an incredible opportunity for them both, and for Peaks Coffee Company, and I would never want Eli not to have gone, but at the same time, it's freaking hard. It's hard because he's going to be however many miles away, in a place with limited wifi, for seven days straight. And I think I would be okay with that, if this wasn't also my first week living in my new place. In a completely new situation. I have to form new routines, patterns, etc, while balancing the old ones, all on my own. I tell him everything. Every stupid little problem that arises in my day, in my life, he helps me with. Even if he has no advice, he helps me with it all just by virtue of my being able to tell him about it. And I know I have other people. And I'll be okay. But it definitely, uh, sucks. 

Earlier last week, as I was nearly drowning in how overwhelmed I was, I stumbled upon this quote by Brene Brown, someone who I've been told to familiarize myself with a million times, and haven't until now. She said, "You get [courage] by courageous acts. It's like you learn to swim by swimming. You learn courage by couraging." I'm really hoping she's right. So I'm going to be courageous this week, and much like Harry Potter, hope the sorting hat was right when it put me into Gryffindor. 

-Fran

Last Week #26 | Channel It

 Last week, Eli was gone. For five days…plus an extra Delta day. But I had a plan. I was going to WERK. “Channel it. Into your work. Into work.” That was my plan, and then I burned out. 

At the beginning of the week I was like- I am a queen. By Wednesday I was like- I am dying. On that day, my “day off,” I tried to do too much. To be fair, I did it all, but by the end of the day my thumbs had checked things off the to-do list, but my poor brain hadn't caught up yet. I found myself wishing I had a Pensieve to empty my mind.

I discovered that it's extraordinarily hard to “channel it” when your outlet is gone. Usually I can channel anything into art. Deep sadness? Art. Anger? Art. Hunger? Art. This week though, my loneliness did not get turned into art, because my loneliness meant my overwhelmed-ness was compounded and I could barely do anything. I found it hard to channel my feelings into my work, because the channels were all blocked. Blocked by loneliness, blocked by anger, blocked by annoyance, blocked by stress. I didn't have my vent, so it built up and up and up until... I got a pounding headache. And then I was able to do even less. I watched The Mindy Project and packed books and tried to do the most I possibly could with each day. But the most you possibly can do isn't always the best idea. It's better to do the majority of what you can and leave some room for rest, so the next day you can do more, instead of burning out on day 1. I’m not really good at that. I’m good at burning myself out. 

Here's the thing about being on your own. Fortunately, there's no one there to tell you what to do. There's no one there to say, "you shouldn't watch The Mindy Project and do art on your lunch break!" (Good. Cause that was a dope idea.) There's no one there to say, "Don't get drunk in your kitchen and dance to Beyoncé.” (GOOD. BECAUSE THAT WAS A GREAT IDEA.) And unfortunately, there's no one there to tell you what to do. No one to tell you what to do when your head starts pounding and your heart follows suit and you don't know what to prioritize first because it all seems important so it's all too much. 

What worries me is, I did do a lot this week. I worked my typical 35 hour schedule (9:30-5 5 days a week), while also packing a significant portion of my room into boxes, bringing those boxes to a storage unit (and getting the storage unit OPEN on my own), starting and completing an art project in like 3 days, watching 26 episodes of The Mindy Project in 6 (Come on. That is an accomplishment!), having two school-related meetings, getting essays done, writing outlines, making videos and blog posts for myself, and sleeping. And I completed all that under the stress of only being able to talk to my significant other for ten minutes a day. (Usually at the end of the day, when I was so worn out and moody and sleepy I wasn’t really capable of being nice to myself, let alone him.) I did all that, and I couldn’t see it, so it therefore wasn’t enough for me. I felt like I had failed to take advantage of my week to WERK.

At the end of it all, when Eli finally got home, I was so worn out and strung out and wired and exhausted that I pretty much just crashed. We had a great reunion, don’t get me wrong, but I definitely fell asleep, hard, for a portion of it. Let me make this make sense to you— I do not ever fall asleep watching TV. That is blasphemous to me. This weekend, I did it two days in a row. Full on passed OUT in front of Bojack Horseman. Eli tried to act like he wasn’t disappointed, but I think he was a little bit. I mean, we had plans, and I snored and drooled all over them. But I guess that’s what I mean. I’m not very good to myself sometimes. I don’t forgive myself for falling asleep when I need to be doing other things. Actually, it doesn’t even get that far. I don’t even let myself fall asleep when I need to be doing other things. The reason Eli is so important to me, so important to my life, is not because I am some needy girl who can't do anything without her boyfriend. I can do it all on my own, but my brain likes to trick me into thinking that I've done nothing. He helps me see it. He is patient and kind and forgiving with me. And when we are together, we are a little better to ourselves, because all either of us wants is to be good to each other.

This week I thought a lot about a particular quote from a Conor Oberst song I’ve been listening to on repeat. "And if you don't collide with the traffic in your mind / I think you'll find your way out of this / I hope you find your way out of this." Every time I heard it, it stopped me in my tracks. Holy shit, I thought. How does he know about the traffic in my mind? How did he word it so perfectly? F***, has Conor Oberst bugged my brain? Anyway, I’m working on it, Conor. I’m working on being better to myself. I’m learning how from a really great human being. And I hope one day to find my way out of the maze of traffic in my mind.

 -Fran