A Dirty Martini and a Meltdown

A couple of weeks ago I had a bit of an emotional breakdown. Just kidding, if you were one of the unfortunate souls that saw/heard from me that day you know it was actually a complete shitstorm. To summarize, I was having a horrible day/week and then I opened a 33oz bottle of sparkling water (necessary detail: mandarin orange flavored) which exploded all over me and my office literally one minute before I was supposed to be in a meeting. In a soaking wet silk blouse that was clinging to my body (that wasn’t supposed to sound sexual but I’m going to roll with it), I walked very calmly to the bathroom where I proceeded to lock myself in a stall and totally lose my fucking shit.

You guys, I was a wreck. This breakdown was essentially the culmination of multiple stressful situations occurring simultaneously in which I had absolutely no control. So naturally, after work I went to a bar that makes the best dirty martini in NYC, conveniently located two blocks from my apartment. It helped. 

As I was sipping on my dinner, I was thinking about all of the problems swirling around in my head and feeling sorry for myself. As one does. Don’t get me wrong, about 90% of these problems were legitimate problems. I wasn’t overreacting. But I have enough self-awareness to recognize that I am extremely lucky to be where I am in life. After all, I’m alive.

There’s been a lot of super shitty shit (that B.S. in Creative Writing coming through for me once again) going on in the world lately. Between natural disasters, (preventable) mass shootings, and our Oompa Loompa of a President leading us into a Third World War via Twitter, emotions are high.

You might be feeling the impacts of some or all of these situations. No doubt you have your own shit to deal with. Maybe your cancer came back. You had a miscarriage. Your spouse cheated on you. Your mother died. You lost your job. You lost your house. Maybe you lost everything. Whatever it is - big or small - whatever your own 33oz bottle of mandarin orange-flavored sparkling water is, please don’t give up.

I know the pain is real. It's fast and it isn't fleeting. I know what it’s like to feel everything all at once and to wish the pain would just stop. Today is hard. It's hell. I can't promise you that tomorrow will be better. Or even the next day. What I can promise you is that you can survive it. And I can promise you that there are people who are counting on seeing you tomorrow. There are people who want to help you ease this pain. They want to see you get better.

This is your reminder that it’s okay to feel pain and vulnerability. And it’s also okay to talk to someone about it.

NYC: One Year Review

Was definitely supposed to write this a while ago and publish yesterday but is anyone really surprised? Because I'm not.

Sooooo, yesterday was my NYC One Year Anniversary. WHAT?! I don't know if it's because I'm really having that much fun or if it's because I'm old now, but this year has flown by. A year ago I packed my life into a sixteen-foot truck and hauled it up to the craziest, scariest, most exciting city in the United States. The very best place on earth. Alright fine, I'm probably overdoing it. Some people say I'm still in the honeymoon phase but whatevs, I love it here and I haven't regretted this decision for one second.

Friends keep asking if I'll stick around for a while. I have no idea. I know that I can't see myself moving away from this amazing city anytime soon but I'm also excited to see how far I can push my limits. If an opportunity presented itself, I'd have no problem picking up and starting over again. If I've learned anything about myself over this past year it's that I am so much more independent and self-sufficient than I thought. 

Some things have changed since I last checked in with you all. Keep reading. If you've gotten this far, I already know you have nothing better to do. 

The Rent: It kind of hurts to write a check for that large of a sum every month knowing I have friends back home in Michigan whose mortgage is 1/3 of what I pay. Yeah, it would be nice to have a house and a yard but HAVE YOU SEEN MY VIEW?!

The Rats: Okay, I've seen one now. It was the size of a cat. And it was terrifying.

The Subway: I use it more now because Uber made me poor. It's so easy and much more efficient than staying above ground. If you're visiting NYC I'd recommend this mode of transportation over anything else. It can be intimidating but if you ask someone for help, I promise you'll be okay.

The People: Oof. This one is tricky. I think the best way to sum up the majority of New Yorkers is that they look out for #1. And I get it. This city is tough. I learned pretty quickly (or maybe not so much) that it's the ones that use you that you gotta watch out for. People keep telling me I'm too nice. Maybe they're right.

The Dates: Not telling! Alright, alright, I'll give you one little nugget. The worst date so far was when this dude made me go all the way out to Brooklyn to meet him at a movie theater. That should have been my first red flag. Then he showed up late so I had to buy the tickets. Whatever, I'm an independent, successful female; I can buy my own shit. The deal breaker was when he dropped me off three blocks from my apartment while I was wearing heels because he didn't want to have to go down a one-way street. I am here to tell you that chivalry is dead.

The Nightlife: I haven't really gone out much lately. I'm on this crazy marathon training plan so all of my calories are going towards fueling my body instead of getting drunk. Omg. Is this adulting?!

The Food: There is a difference between a NY bagel and a bagel anywhere else. Also, if I could eat Wafels & Dinges every day of my life and not become diabetic and obese, please know that I would. #alwayshungry

The Smell: There is nothing like stepping outside every morning and being greeted by the smell of a homeless man's piss. If that's the price I have to pay to live in this great city, so be it.

Promise Me

That voice inside of you. Maybe today it's quiet. Maybe today it's louder than it's ever been before. It's telling you that you can't do this. Everything is different now. You can't possibly exist in this strange place.

I imagine that the pain you're feeling must be palpable in the space around you. This heaviness, there isn't a name for it. No word, no language could possibly capture the gravity of what is inside of you. It's black and full and takes up the space between your ribs so that even one breath becomes a small victory. I can't pretend to know what that must feel like. I hope I never have to.

Death never comes when we're ready for it. There's always more life to be lived.

All at once you've lost your best friend, your partner, your lover. He knew you in ways that can't be described and in ways none of us could ever understand. I hope you cry. I hope you scream. I hope you say words you've never dared to say out loud before. I hope you listen to sad songs and have too many glasses of wine. I hope you get angry and feel sorry for yourself. I hope you feel everything there is inside of you to feel. You should. You're owed that. And so much more. But I hope you never give in to that voice.

You can do this. You will do this. Because you have three boys that need you to show them how to become men. They need you to show them how precious this life is. How short it is. How it can burn you and break you. And yet time and time again you heal. It's a test you weren't ready for, you didn't ask for, you aren't prepared to take. But you will surprise yourself.

I won't pretend that this is fair. I don't understand it and you don't deserve it. No one should have to feel the pain you feel now. But promise me, even on the darkest nights that are surely ahead of you, promise me that you won't listen to that voice saying that you can't. You can. There's always more life to be lived.

If you're interested in ways to support the Woeber family, you can do so here.

Happy Ann'y

Two years ago today I decided I was going to start writing again. I had no idea what I was doing (spoiler alert: still don't) and I had no idea what I wanted to write about. It turns out, I want to write about it all. The good, the funny, the bad, and the ugly. I've grown up a lot with you here - and not just as a writer.

I've told you stories about waking up in a trash can, moving to New York, and my inner dialogue when I have to do anything that requires being physically active. I hope you've enjoyed laughing along with me (or more likely, at me) and I can assure you that there will be plenty more of these stories to come.

You've also been there with me in the darkest moments of my life. Right now you're staring at a screen merely reading typed words but on the other side of that screen is a woman who has cried for hours in front of you, wondering if she's sharing too much but still needing to share it all. I've been told that I should be ashamed and that God is disappointed in me. That what I'm sharing some "don't have the stomach for." I've learned that my words aren't meant for these people and I've also learned to be okay with that.

As of this morning, I have 22,955 pageviews. That might not seem like a lot to some. But to me that number represents every time someone thought something that I had penned was worthy of reading. Thank you for your comments and likes and most of all, thank you for reading.

Are We Clear?

Hands down one of my biggest weaknesses is that I hate confrontation. I'm horrible at standing up for myself. I bury my head in the sand. I pretend that problems don't exist. Super healthy, I know. So what I'm about to tell you is a pretty big deal for me. Not kidding, currently listening to Sia's "Unstoppable" on repeat and feel like I could go run a marathon. Please don't make fun of me. Here we go...

Over the last several months I've had to deal with sexual harassment from someone with whom I have a professional relationship (for the record, he is not employed by my firm). I won't go into the specifics of the conversations and offhand remarks but I'll be clear about the fact that there was absolutely no ambiguity in their nature - they were inappropriate and offensive.

So today I came into work, wrote out a mini speech, and pulled my harasser aside to tell him in a clear, calm and professional manner that I was done. I wasn't putting up with it anymore. It was terrible and scary and after our conversation, I walked away slightly shaking. When I got back to my office I stared at my little speech, so proud that I had finally stood up to a man that was taking advantage of his power, his position, and our professional relationship.

Recently, Fox let go of two individuals who were accused of sexual harassment in the workplace. Something I heard across multiple channels was, "why didn't these victims say anything?" I can't speak for everyone but I know that when I've had to deal with sexual harassment in the workplace (it's happened twice before), I've felt vulnerable, ashamed, and even concerned about what implications speaking up could have on my harasser. It won't make sense to everyone and I'm not really concerned with the ones who don't get it. I'm concerned about the ones who've experienced it, who are experiencing it, and those who don't know what to do next. 

After reading through my speech a few more times I realized that a lot of women don't even know what words to say to their harasser. My advice? Craft your message without regard for his feelings. Because he didn't take yours into account when he touched you inappropriately or continued to ask you out even though you had said 'no' on multiple other occasions. He didn't concern himself with the fact that you might be uncomfortable. Or embarrassed. Or upset. So why should you care?

Below is what I used to confront my harasser. If you're experiencing sexual harassment, please feel free to use some or all of it. Use it as inspiration. Copy and paste it, if you'd like. Just please say something. I know it isn't easy. But I promise you'll feel better once you do.

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"I wanted to address the inappropriate remarks you've been making towards me since we've started working together. I'm not sure what kind of working environment you're used to operating in but I can assure you that the comments you've made over the last several months will no longer be tolerated by me.

What you're doing is sexual harassment and I don't care if your intention is to be funny or playful. Your comments are offensive and more than that, they are demeaning. I do not exist in this world for your amusement. I am a professional and I expect to be treated as such.

Going forward, I would like to continue our working relationship without these remarks. Please do not comment on my appearance, my dating preferences or inquire about spending time alone with me outside of the office. Are we clear?"