I’ve ditched the minivan.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I lost myself in that damn van. There were days when I didn’t even do my hair, you guys. That’s how you know.
I would walk out to that van each morning, and just LOATHE who I had become. The van was a direct representation of me. At least, in my head, it was a direct representation of me.
I had become everything I never wanted to be: A mom who had given up on herself.
Now, don’t go getting all offended if you love yourself and you drive a minivan. Just understand, minivans aren’t really my “thing”. I also don’t like olives. Or drinking things from the same glass more than once.
I’m now driving a brand new GMC Acadia, and I love it. When I get in it, I feel fancy. I could be a mom or a rapper’s girlfriend in this pimp-mobile. It could really go either way.
But the new whip isn’t the only thing that’s changing.
I’m going to start doing more for Meredith.
This doesn’t mean I am going to do less for Shaun; or less for Lars, Logan, and Lilah. This just means, I’m exploring all things again. I’m trying to figure out who I am, and who I want to be when I grow up.
And no, I am not quitting my job again. My career is about the only thing I’ve nailed down.
I’ve just got to pull myself out of this funk.
So that’s what I’m going to do. And I’m going to be selfish. And I’m going to do more things for me… and just me. Hell, I might finally get my four-times-broken-nose straightened back out. I might even get this hangy skin, from having a bunch of babies, chopped off. And after it gets chopped off, and smoothed out, I might even put on a bikini. WHO KNOWS WHAT I MIGHT DO!
And I apologize to all of you for not writing as much recently. I just couldn’t find my voice because I had lost myself, and this blog was supposed to help me find my voice, but then it just felt like a lot of pressure, and more and more people were coming here who were super judgy. So I just slowed it all down.
But I’m taking my filter off again.
I’m saying, “To hell with feeling judged.”
I’m saying, “I haven’t been happy with myself in years, and I’m about to change that.”
I’m saying, “I’m going to wear more red dresses because I think they make me look sexy as hell.”
I’m saying, “As a woman, it’s okay to want to look and feel good about myself.”
Getting rid of that damn van was step one.
I don’t know what this is. It’s new and it’s awkward, but awkward in a good way. Maybe it’s a thirty-something thing. Maybe it’s a quarter-life crisis.
Have you ever gone through a self-created-life-shake-up?