Fine Lines

I've always been a famously anxious person. I was the queen of mood swings as a kid and there was always a little hysterical maniac in me just waiting to come to the surface. I'm sure part of it is my genetic make-up (my brothers can be equally intense), but I think it also has a lot to do with the instability I lived with as a child.  It was (is) my way of dealing.

In college, I realized that I was constantly walking the fine line between motivating and debilitating anxiety. One pushes you to do your best and other doesn't let you do anything.  Unfortunately, I'm leaning toward the latter with only a week left until finals.  I know everyone gets a little bummed out every once a while.  Even to the point where they can't get off the couch for a few hours.  But this week, a new kind of anxiousness (almost depression-like), has set in.  Deep in my chest. It is a physical pain that can bring me to hysterical (hurting, wake the neighbor) tears just thinking about it.  It comes and goes with no apparent reason, and I'm out of coping mechanisms. 

In case you couldn't guess, for almost all of high school and college I was highly medicated. My depression and anxiety became too much for a fourteen year old to handle on top of everything that was going on at home, changing schools, making friends and trying to pay attention in class. When I moved away from Michigan and took a series of awful, low-paying jobs, I couldn't afford insurance so I stopped taking my medication cold turkey.  And while that's not usually a good idea, it ended up working well for me considering I had a lot of time on my hands, my own apartment, and few friends. 

And this is the first time in over a decade that I've been in school without medication.  But now I'm going on twenty-eight, not fourteen.  I have a better battery of coping mechanisms, and twice as much maturity.  Although I've always known when it's socially acceptable to be hysterical, I feel the need much less often.  I've created my own life and that in and of itself rids a great deal of uncertainty and anxiety triggers.  My last hurdle now is how to deal with others; to be OK with the unpredictable nature of the other. 

Easter Sunday

All in all, I had a pretty great childhood.  It was filled with instability and unpredictability for sure, but my parents did some stuff right.  Two of the things that were always amazing and fun were Christmas and Easter.  Our Easter baskets were always filled with surprises like clothes for my Muffy Vanderbear and even flip flops once.  My dad loves traditions too, and made a big deal about putting something from Crabtree & Evelyn in our baskets every year.  He even sends me Easter goodies once in a while (again, lack of consistency is key). 

Living a few thousand miles away from my family for the past few years, I get super homesick on Easter.  I miss my nana's ham and cheesy potatoes, Easter dresses and helping my little cousins find the eggs my Papa's been hiding in the same spots in their house all my life.  I miss family time, homemade food, Hershey's chocolates wrapped in pastel foil.  I miss the promise of spring and the good mood it puts everyone in. 

Much like Thanksgiving, I've had to create my own Easter traditions in LA.  A few years ago, Vani and I went to a beautiful Catholic mass in Beverly Hills all dolled up and finished off the afternoon with Sprinkles cupcakes.  Last year we played beer pong, dyed eggs and drank mimosas at her boyfriend's house in our fancy dresses. 

This year Brady and Vani are moving in together (their new apartment complex has more than one pool and is just a few blocks from the ocean - I've already claimed my own drawer in the guest bedroom), so it's my turn to host.  Mimosas are always on the docket in my apartment and lately I've been on a bit of an experimental cooking kick.  So along with a strata, I'm making ebelskivers with a pan I'm borrowing from a coworker.  The cool thing about this is that even though I don't remember ever eating these as a child, my mom said she and my dad used to make them as newlyweds because they are part of my step-grandfather's Danish heritage. 

I have finals in less than two weeks, and I suppose my entire weekend should be devoted to studying, but I just don't see that happening.  I'm sure I'll sit down and go over all my study materials at some point this week, but getting to the nitty gritty of it all more than seven days in advance is just not my style.  I can't imagine a more painful way to spend this holiday than alone with my books.  The company of good friends, alcohol and homemade food is the next best thing to being with my family. 

Long Days... Long Week...

After 48 hours in Vegas (14 of which were spent in the car), and two days of work and class back to back, I'm beyond exhausted.  I'm so physically (and more importantly - emotionally) drained, that I can't sleep.  I'm like one of those little kids who's so overly tired that they put up a fight to do everything, including going to bed.  Last night I finally got home before 10:30, but promptly found out that the one washer for our entire (8 unit) building has been broken since Monday.  This was AFTER I stripped my bed, threw in all the towels I could find, and sorted the massive mounds of laundry that have been piling up for what is now two weeks.  

Add to that the stress of finals coming up in less than two weeks, the boy being too busy to give my cranky ass sufficient whine time (I mean attention), and work being slower than normal, I want nothing more than to zone out in front of the TV with a box of Girl Scout cookies.  A run would really make me feel better, but instead I am going to go to Target, tackle the laundry issue one way or another and plan my recipes for Sunday's Easter brunch at my place. Cleaning and organizing is how I deal.  Judge. 

Now that I live right between work and school, I discovered this week that I actually have time to stop off at home to change my clothes before sitting in class for four hours.  And you wouldn't believe the difference this makes.  Monday night I put on my running pants and a hoodie and felt infinitely more comfortable than I would have been trying to get through accounting in the dress pants, heels and cardigan (my unofficial uniform) I wore all day. 

The other good news is that it's light out longer.  On the nights when I don't have class, I actually feel like I can be productive for a few hours.  While this hopefully means more running opportunities next semester, it means less hibernation.  And I'm good at that.  I'm good at doing my own thing and feeling OK about being antisocial.  Especially when I'm exhausted and moody like this.

Get Outta Town

I'm a student.  I work full time.  I don't have a whole lot of disposable income.  So I don't travel.  I'd like to for sure, but I've made some decisions that don't necessarily allow that kind of thing.  And most of the time I'm completely content to live my vacation every day. After all, LA is a place where I could surf and ski and in the same day. I can run outside almost year round, and at any time it's only a short drive to a secluded beach. 

Except in the spring.  Every year, without fail, I get a little stir crazy.  My birthday is coming up in six weeks so my cabin fever is usually mixed with a bit of melancholy (at getting older), some quarter-life crisis-ness, and a bit of homesickness.  The weather's been dreary (even rainy!) and there's no real end in sight.  I mean, it doesn't get beach-worthy around here until July (June gloom anyone?!). 

And I feel like this year it's particularly pronounced.  Between a new relationship, new digs and classes, I feel like I've literally holed up in my apartment every weekend for the last three months.  I don't go out with my friends as often, obviously there's no kickball and again, it doesn't help that I'm not running. 

Luckily, I'm going on a little road trip this weekend.  I took the day off work tomorrow and a few of us are headed to Las Vegas in the afternoon.  It's Dre's birthday so there will be seven of us sharing a suite at the Venetian.  I'm super excited to hit the road, get out of my own head, see something different,  and let loose.  Unfortunately it's supposed to be 10-12 degrees warmer here than there, but I assure you I will still lay out by the pool for atleast a few hours napping and drinking.  Gambling doesn't do much for me so as long as I can walk over to the Forum shops at some point, I'll be a happy camper.

Some of my most important decisions or moments of clarity have come while driving.  Or hiking. Or running.  I think it has to do with getting out of my own head, out of my surroundings, and being forced to think about the big picture. 

For example, I decided to move to Ohio after a long solo road trip from Michigan to Columbus on Father's Day.  After I got the offer to move to LA, I drove from Columbus to Pennsylvania to visit my cousins and figure out my next move.  Even my latest sorta-decision to pack up and move to Chicago when this MBA adventure is done, was made while hiking Runyan Canyon. 

Not that I have any big decisions to make at the moment, but I could definitely use some clarity and time to decompress just in time for finals, birthday parties, weddings, and the start of yet another semester.

An (Almost) Perfect Saturday

This weekend was just like any other. Except that I didn't really have plans. And by plans I mean a night out with the ladies, a designated date night with the boy.  Basically, some sort of "event".  After a full week of work, classes and a brief St. Patty's Day celebration, I was mentally and physically exhausted so my singular goal for the weekend included sleep. 

Friday night I was early to bed.  I braved traffic, went to see the boy after work and by 9pm we had only managed to pick up some Thai take-out for a little living room floor picinic.  I think I was asleep before the dishes were even done because I had to get up early for my much overdue haircut. 

It was a hazy but sunny and mild Saturday in LA and although I would have liked nothing more than to sleep in and go for a hike, errands called.  The bank, Macy's for a dress (yay! - the one I liked online actually fit) and sunglasses, Target for the essentials, Ralph's for milk and apples, and back to campus for a group project.  I even had a big ole onion and a can of San Marzano tomatoes in the cupboard so I whipped up my favorite amazingly simple pasta sauce recipe to entice myself into doing my taxes and laundry.  (Notice I didn't run.  We/I need to fix that ASAP.)

Unlike last semester, this time around I have a few weeks of down time between midterms and finals.  And I'm fully taking advantage of the timing.  I'm headed to Vegas in a few short days to celebrate a birthday (read: lay by the pool for endless blissful hours) and am obviously allowing myself less structure. 

I was harnessing my chi, watching some Real Housewives, reading cookbooks, getting all that annoying stuff accomplished and feeling pretty good about myself.  And then my "check engine" light came on...

Little Successes

In the six months I've been in business school, I've learned a whole slew of things.  A lot of them I've documented here, but many more I have yet to articulate. Even to myself.  One of the lessons I learned after running for a while was that little successes give one the confidence to continue to move forward.  This past week I realized that this is almost universally true. 

I have an undergraduate degree in economics so our econ class this time around hasn't been necessarily challenging.  I understand the material in class, I rarely open the book, and the professor makes class interesting.  I didn't do particularly well on the first quiz because it required memorization; something I don't enjoy nor am I good at.  I did, however, get the best grade in the class on the midterm.  And honestly, I don't EVER remember this happening before.  Probably not since fifth grade when our teacher wouldn't let me raise my hand in math class because I knew more about fractions than anyone else.

More important than this great grade though, is the fact that I have a renewed sense of confidence and purpose.  It was becoming more and more difficult to spend a great deal of my free time studying only to get mediocre grades.  Was I studying ineffeciently?  Am I just dumb?  Do I not care enough? Getting this good grade may very well be an aberration, but it was almost necessary.  I CAN do it. Getting grades I can really be proud of is possible.  Hard work DOES pay off.  The sacrifices and hard work is worth it. 

Now to digress a moment, I just need to share that I found out this morning that a great pair of pants can really change one's outlook on life.  A year or two ago I tried on this pair of skinny cropped black dress pants at the Gap and have regretted not buying them ever since.  They hit just above the ankle and while I don't love my body, the cut showed off those shapely gams I have.  Just a few weeks ago I decided I desperately needed a new pair of black dress pants (along with cardigans, a pretty standard issue uniform for this gal) so I perused Banana Republic's website.  And behold, those same pants in my favorite BR fit and material.  Friday night, those puppies were mine and putting them on this morning with a gray cardigan, my fave M+O tank and the patent leather and herringbone kitten heels I was obsessed with a year ago was something of a miracle. 

Opportunity Cost

If I had studied half as much in undergrad as I do now, I don't know that I would be in grad school.  I was a solid B student most of my life because I believed I was smart.  If I understood what was going on in class and could do the homework, I didn't think there was any need to review the material much further.  My senior year of high school I remember really having to teach myself math and I'm sure there were a few sociology and economics classes in college I did a little memorization for, but I honestly never cared too much. 

Now, I spend hours and hours reviewing material, making flashcards, listening to the professor's notes on my iPod and working through practice problems.  I give up many a Saturday night to spend with my textbooks as opposed to my girl friends. While I suppose my grades are slightly better than they were back then, I can't imagine what they would be like now if I didn't put in all this effort.  And half the time I do put in the effort I think I should, I still don't necessarily get the results I want. 

So I guess that's a good adult lesson.  Care.  Care a lot.  Don't coast along because you think you're smart and deserve it.  Work hard.  You can coast later.  Nothing is going to be handed to you this time around.  Don't just assume you'll get what you want because you think you're smart and mildly charming. 

I've learned that if I want extraordinary things I need to work extraordinarily hard to get them.  That life is about decisions.  Opportunity cost if you will.  These decisions lately haven't been the easiest.  I know that ultimately they are the right ones, but they surely don't come without consequence.  Without losing friends and feeling lost and getting frustrated and shedding tears. 

Perspective is hard when I come home to my empty - albeit nice and cozy - apartment after more than twelve hours of work, class and studying for two days straight.  It's tough when my phone doesn't ring as much as it used to and the weather is lousy and I miss my family something fierce. 

But when I get those tests back and I see my grades online, I'm proud of myself.  I know, somewhere deep down inside, that this is what I should be doing.  I've come so far in the last year and I have just about a year and a half to go before I start a whole new chapter in my life.  It's going to be a  lot of hard work and I will be forced to make a lot more difficult decisions, but that's what being an adult is all about.  Now I just have to get through March.