This Is a Nice Thing

Ed and I have been together just over seven years now, married for five and a half of those. I KNOW. We are surrounded by young colleagues who are getting engaged left and right and it’s really lovely to see how excited they are and sit back and know I will never, ever have to plan another wedding again. Amen.

Anyway, these bright-eyed youngsters sort of look up to us as a couple who is Doing It Right. (High-five, Ed!) And while this is really sweet and flattering I don’t really know what to say when they ask me for my tips and advice for a happy marriage. I mean, first of all, five years isn’t that long and I know we haven’t faced a lot of the rough stuff life is going to throw our way. Although a friend did point out to me we have dealt with a fair amount of bullshit and upheaval in a relatively short time and we haven’t let that kick our asses too hard so maybe we’re on to something? But I still feel weird speaking with any sort of certainty or authority when asked for advice. Do these people not understand what an incurable dork I am? And that I think it’s hilarious to yell “scrotum” when my niece is on the phone with her boyfriend? Pretty sure literally anybody else on the planet is more qualified to give advice on such a major life decision.

The first thing people usually ask is if I like being married, which I do, and they’re always shocked to learn that before meeting Ed I had very little interest in it. Like organized religion or neck tattoos, it seemed to suit other people fine but it wasn’t my jam. My usual answer is, “I like being married to Ed” because for me it’s more about the other person and the quality of our relationship than the institution as a goal in itself. So yeah, I’m a fan, but only under very specific circumstances.

One of Ed’c coworkers asked me during a happy hour outing, quite sincerely and practically ready to take notes, for my advice my advice on a successful marriage. I made some joke about keeping the wine cabinet stocked but then I thought about it for a minute and realized that all my knowledge was based on how Ed and I operate, our values, our personalities. So I told him to ignore advice from other people because if I followed someone else’s plan for a happy relationship my head would spin from all the conflicting bits of wisdom thrown my way over time. He seemed relieved by that, and I hope it gave him some comfort to know you don’t have to have some sort of perfect plan in order to be OK, and it’s probably not super healthy to try to model your relationship after anyone else. There are lots of happily married people out there, but I wouldn’t necessarily be happy with any of them.

So my genius advice was “don’t listen to other people” and now I’m basically relationship Oprah. Where’s my money?

I Need People to Be More Chill at 9:30am

The title of my autobiography.

Spoiler: Jake Ryan Doesn’t Show Up

Dear 18 Year-Old Christen,

First of all, good job with the sunscreen. KEEP IT UP. You won’t regret that and all the girls who showed up to prom tan look like handbags now.

I feel like I need to quickly assure you that your life is going to be great. It looks almost completely different than what you’re imagining right now (some of your timelines and expectations are, to be blunt, fucking bonkers) but it’s really the best and you are happier than you thought you would be. You go through some wild stuff to get to this point, but it’s worth it.

I don’t want to give too much away, but please, please listen to your instincts when it comes to…pretty much everything. People are going to tell you you’re doing a lot of things “wrong” and it’s tempting to listen to them. But your path and your life are different from anyone else’s. Don’t settle and don’t talk yourself into doing what everyone thinks would be best. They may seem like they have it all figured out, and although they mean well, they have their own shit to figure out and are putting their neuroses on you. You’re doing just great and every mistake you make leads to this life you’re living right now.

You could stand to drink more water, though. Maybe work on that a little.

Happy Birthday!

Love,

38 Year-Old Christen

PS You’re going to wake up this morning with a zit. DUDE I KNOW.

Math. Problems.

Number of People in the Last Six Days Who Have Asked Me About My Reproductive Plans/Status in the Last Six Days: 4

Of Those People, The Number That Were My Husband: 0

Of Those People, The Number That Were My Husband’s Boss: 1

Number of People Who Wanted To Know What the Damn Problem Is: 3

Of Those People, The Number That Were My Husband’s Boss: 0, Blessedly

Number of People in the Last Six Days Who Have Called Me “Weird” or “Creepy” for Saying I Do Enjoy Children, Despite Not Being a Mother: 1

Number of Times in the Last Six Days I’ve Been Tempted to Bail on Society Because, Seriously, This is Bullshit: Lost Count

Advice From Me to You

In the event that you find yourself helping out at a 10 year old boy’s birthday party:

• Watching a documentary series on the American mafia will absolutely get you in the right frame of mind. I was in a “take no shit” mood the moment I stepped on the scene and those little animals could sense I had zero qualms about smashing any of their faces into a wall if they disrespected me.
• Febreeze will help the smell of FEET that your car will instantly absorb after five minutes of three rain-dampened, stinky little boys chilling in the backseat. Or you can set fire to the car*. Whichever is more convenient.
• Beer. Just… ugh, who even cares? It’s not like they’ve listened to you all night. They wouldn’t notice if you started shooting up.
• Whose idea was it to take these heathens bowling? A nice idea in theory, to be sure: get them out of the house, pizza, a structured activity that will ideally wear them out. On the other hand: we just handed them weapons to fling at each other. Aces.
• Take a minute to look at that big kid. He’s playing and joking around with his friends and looking so grown-up. When did he get so damn funny? Soon he won’t want or need you at his party. Sit back and watch him laugh and be the very best little guy you could have hoped for.

You’re welcome.

 

*AFTER the kids have exited the vehicle. I’m not a monster.

Status Update

• Remember a week ago when I declared that I was going to prioritize self-care? The very next day, due to a series of unfortunately scheduled meetings and also some poor planning on my part, I skipped breakfast AND lunch and was a shaky, weak mess by the time I dragged my exhausted ass home. I almost fell over while trying to pour myself some juice (“DRINK YER JOOCE, SHELBY”) and Ed had to throw some crackers at me while he made dinner, which I promptly wolfed down.
• I did a better job the rest of the week.
• No, really! I have limited myself to one cup of coffee in the morning, water throughout the day, and no booze. And food! I’m also chugging Emergen-C because apparently there are at least three sick people in this office on any given day.
• Ed left town for work on Friday and it has been non-stop fun and excitement for days. I have rearranged the living and dining rooms, cleaned out the refrigerator, reorganized Ed’s side of the closet, and spent a glorious afternoon at The Container Store, but managed to restrain myself when it came to purchasing items. This evening I plan to mop the kitchen floor. One person’s cocaine-fueled orgy is another’s weekend of nesting and cleaning.
• I’m generally indifferent to celebrity deaths and the like, but David Bowie’s passing really hit me. One of the things I’ve always appreciated about my parents was that they shared their musical tastes with me and made sure that I had exposure to various genres and didn’t grow up on a strict diet of New Kids on the Block and Milli Vanilli. I loved a lot of what we listened to together, but Bowie is probably the one artist I still gravitate towards regularly. I saw him in concert 20 years ago (when I tell my 30 year-old coworkers that, they look at me like I just announced I had a pet pterodactyl growing up) and while it was all new material and a little more emo than what I typically enjoy, there was no denying he put on a great show.

Happy New Year, Ya Filthy Animals

We’re still allowed to wish people a happy new year, right? I figure you have a week and then it’s just weird.

I’m not a big “new year, new me!” person but I am relishing this feeling of a fresh start. While wearing real pants was a bit of a shock to the system (Christen + Leggings 4Eva), being back at work is actually comforting. I crushed it today and have been whipping projects into shape. I spent much of last week getting shit together at home although there’s still work to be done. But the general feeling that everything is chaotic and overwhelming has passed. There’s such pressure to hit the ground running with a renewed sense of energy and as much as I want to – and can be – peppy and hyper-efficient, there’s something to be said for taking it easy on myself. Luckily everyone around me is dragging ass right now so I look like the Energizer Bunny by comparison. Small victories!

Speaking of “works in progress,” I am committing to some better self-care in the coming months because I’m useless to everyone around me if I’m a ball of anxiety constantly on the verge of flipping out. It’s not fair to anyone and it’s not a healthy, happy way to live. I’m not naive enough to think I can be happy at all times, but there’s a better ratio than the one I’m currently living. I know that much.

It’s also not entirely fair for me to tell 2015 to fuck off because, while the last quarter or so was a dumpster fire, much of the year was really lovely. Also, we saw The Force Awakens which reinforced my love of Han Solo (he and Captain von Trapp are two of my first crushes which says A LOT about my dating history, which could also be classified as a dumpster fire from 1994 to, oh, 2009) and any year where we get some sweet, sweet Star Wars action is a good one.

Ho Ho Ho No

I’ve been on a bit of a roll posting-wise so let’s keep this going! And in keeping with the downer theme of the week, here we go:

• In addition to not feeling great physically (although considerably better than earlier this week) and a little fragile psychologically, I’ve noticed I’m slightly more sensitive, too. I cried during a WalMart commercial of all things; Ed thinks my heart might finally be growing three sizes after years of atrophy but I suspect a brain tumor.
• As a semi-pro shopper who relishes gifting lovely things to those around her I am straight-up out of ideas this year for Christmas presents. I mean, things have been purchased. Nice things! But I feel like I’m basically just running errands for people as opposed to delighting them with something fun or whimsical or thoughtful. I don’t like to just buy stuff for the sake of buying stuff or I’d be set, so this is posing a bit of a dilemma. All the usual gift list ideas are either repeats or just not that inspiring. Any help here is appreciated.
• I’m trying to temper my expectations of holiday cheer and fun with our families this year. Every year I turn into Clark Griswold, all high on Christmas spirit (OK, eggnog) and invariably am let down because no one appreciates the effort and can even pretend to have fun. There’s pouting and guilt trips and lots of “I guess that would be OK” and that’s from the people over 60, not the teenagers. I’m also already exhausted by the whirlwind of travel and activity involved in dealing with all four sets separately this year. While I don’t miss living in Chico, I do miss being able to round up at least three quarters of the troops in one convenient location so I could be treated horribly in the comfort of my own home.
• I’m really impressed that the manicure I got last week has lasted so well. Legit Christmas miracle happening over here, kids.
• Being sick meant I laid off the coffee for a few days and now when I try to drink it I don’t care for it. What is going on? I’m really curious to see if my decades-long love affair with coffee is coming to an end.

Alrighty, let’s see if I can gather up the energy to wrap some gifts, maybe try to order a few more gifts, and get myself out of this funk.

 

What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

A cold medicine-induced post about anxiety. Here we go!

In addition to sneezing my head off and coughing so hard that I vomit, I’m currently in the middle of a little…anxiety spiral? I guess? An “episode” feels a little bit much, but I don’t know what to call this. As you can imagine, this is incredibly convenient during the holidays when you’re expected to be social or juggle multiple commitments or handle crowds. It’s a real chicken-egg situation: I can’t tell if it rears its ugly head because the holidays require precise management of expectations and schedules or if having to deal with four sets of parents and friends short-circuits my brain, but here we are. It sucks. I feel completely useless and to anyone who hasn’t experienced this it just seems like I’m scattered and cranky and lazy. I spend a lot of my time saying, “I forgot” and “I’m sorry” and all of my organizational skills and coping mechanisms are shot to hell. It takes a lot of concentration to make a to do list, which helps settle my mind and calm me down a bit. It also chills out the part of my brain that’s telling me that unloading the dishwasher is such an insurmountable task.

I see people on social media post pictures of folded laundry or list off chores they finished and quip, “I’m adulting!” and I always bristle. First of all, “adult” as a verb is annoying as hell and we need to cool it. Second, for a decent chunk of the population, it IS hard to get three things finished in a day because leaving the house or making a call is a challenge. Maybe not every day all the time, but it’s there. I get that it’s meant to be a light-hearted, self-deprecating thing, but on the days when I’m having trouble calling my mom back because I know I can’t fake being happy and so she’ll worry so then I put off calling her back even longer but then that makes her worry even more. It’s tiring at best and at worst damaging to my relationships.

The hardest part of this is trying to explain it to people without freaking them out or pushing them away. (I’m sure writing a blog post about it is a great way to avoid that!) It’s the ultimate It’s not you, it’s me and it feels so hollow and lame. I’m lucky enough to be surrounded by people who don’t give up on me, but at some point it’s going to be tiresome, right? There are people starving in this world and I can’t keep my act together? I have so much to be grateful for – and I am – but it’s hard to break the cycle of negative talk. So I lean on the good people around me a little more and hope that I can repay the favor when I’m doing better.

But At Least I Haven’t Consulted WebMD Yet

I am on Day 4 (OK, maybe Day 5 now that I think about when the initial ickiness kicked in) of a cold and I do not care for this. I’m exhausted and achy and can’t breathe and I don’t want to point fingers but this is totally Ed’s fault. He was sick week before last and despite all my shrieking to “WASH YOUR HANDS!” and “DON’T TOUCH ME!” and “YOU’RE SLEEPING IN THE OTHER ROOM, RIGHT?” I still managed to get this death virus. So I Married Patient Zero. Also, every person on my side of the office has been sick so that may have contributed.

Anyway, this is the first time I’ve been sick in awhile (woo!) but it really drives home how awful of a person I am when I’m mildly inconvenienced. Any dramatic tendencies are only heightened by the NyQuil. Does the Red Cross know how I suffer? I wonder why no one is planning a telethon to raise funds to fight whatever I’m bravely battling. “I can’t even remember what it’s like to be healthy” I wail as Ed fetches me another glass of juice and offers to bring me more blankets and deals with me insisting on watching Gilmore Girls all day since I find the music and clothing soothing. Did I mention I threatened to smother him in his sleep if his coughing kept me up at night? A fucking delight over here, I tell you.

I did get a flu shot this year, however, so I’m hoping this will be the extent of how sick I get. For Ed’s sake (and anyone else who has to be around me) let’s hope that’s true.