Lessons in Learning How to Rest, Part Two.

Lesson 2: Trim the Fat

For the longest time I've been a champ at balancing my crazy life.

Crazy that I brought on myself, but let's not argue semantics!

That is until recently, when I decided to take a break from my life. And since then it's all boiled down to just the numbers. Kind of like taking stock of everything that defines who you are. Or in my case, why I haven't slowed down long enough to catch my breath. It started with all the things I had accomplished or put up with in the last 10 years and now it's come down to the details. The mundane stuff that just seemed to add up all on its own:

516 friends on Facebook
373 people in my address book
600 text messages per month
500 minutes worth of phone calls
42 people to follow on Twitter
49 people following me on Twitter
At least 35 emails per day


I've inadvertently started to master lesson number two while trying to learn lesson number one. And while I still suck at slowing down, I am rocking the trimming of the fat! I've literally been in awe of myself. My personality is almost unrecognizable. I not only stay in every night, I've stopped returning phone calls. I avoid people at all costs. I've become a cave person!

Or maybe my inner-country girl has finally emerged?

It's weird. I've had a few friends who on occasion would lock themselves in their houses and take a break from everything-all at once. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. Why in the world would you want to stop going with the flow of a seemingly fabulous life?! And now I get it. While my life is still pretty great (I had a massage at my new office last week), I not only need to slow down, but stop all together. And putting everything on hold has felt so great. I've never been this relaxed. I've not been this rested since kindergarten. I eat better. I breathe deeper. Life is good. And I have to attribute all this euphoria to the trimming of the fat. The cutting out of the white noise, slipping into my favorite yoga pants, sipping a glass of wine and just enjoying the sunset on The Lake.

I honestly don't know why it took me this long to get here.

Lessons in Learning How to Rest, Part One.

Lesson 1: Slow the Heck Down!

After two trips to Sacramento, a day trip to San Francisco and repeatedly watching Smallz (my baby nephew) overnight, I realized that I suck at this slowing down thing. I am trying to shift myself into a slower speed and not get ahead of what's to come, but it seems like the harder I try the sadder my efforts look. BUT! I will say this: I have managed to squeeze in an abnormal amount of sleep lately. It's a weird thing to go from having a completely packed schedule to a life full of empty time slots. (My phone has never been so quiet!)

On that positive note, I've also passed up a number of very fun traveling adventures! I'm never one to opt out of a good time, but my M.O. lately has been to say no to just about every invitation that sounds the least bit exhausting and/or labor intensive (ie: driving farther than 15 miles). And if it weren't for my upcoming roadtrip to Santa Barbara I would officially be off the radar.

Today's count: Two steps forward. One step back.

I swear, I am a walking contradiction in terms.

My life in ruins...er...Roseville.

It was the beginning of the end. Only I just figured it to be a weekend away. I went out to Roseville for a quick visit and a much needed break from my life last weekend and ended up hitting a wall of exhaustion so ugly and so mean it landed me flat on my friends' couch for three days straight. No drinks. No happy hours. No staying up late and laughing until all hours of the night, reminiscing about the old days. No fun. Just an abrupt halt. I didn't see it coming, but I had hit the end of myself. I'll spare you the dirty details, but let's just say that I have never felt this tired in my whole life.

I should have known there was a reason for my adapting to the slower pace of country life so quickly!

The day before I moved up here I had inadvertently forgotten to put any jewelry on. I know, I know...this seems trivial and completely unimportant to most people, but for this city girl jewelry is not only a must before leaving the house it's a crime against fashion. But I was in a hurry to get on the road and figured anyone I would see that day would be forgiving of my lack of fashion sense and that I would remember the next day. But then I forgot again. And again. And before I knew it I couldn't even remember where I had put my bundle of bobbles. In my family, the women always leave the house with what we call necessities. And if we don't remember to bring them along we label ourselves naked. The mishap of not remembering is usually a sign of tiredness. A sign I managed to miss entirely!

Technically, I've been naked for weeks. WEEKS!


Since the weekend of ruin, I have slept at least 11 hours every night. (One night I slept 14 hours.) I was starting to wonder if this was a sign of depression given my lack of interest in anything and the fact that I just uprooted myself from Paradise and planted my behind in the depths of The Sticks. But I soon realized that after 10 years of going full speed, non-stop, exhaustion and everything that comes with it had finally caught up with me. So, I recounted all the things I had done in the last 8 1/2 years and here is the aftermath: 3 years of college, 8 years of treating and finally beating an incurable disease, 12 jobs (At one point, I worked 5 at a time for a full year. Needless to say, I worked 7 days a week that entire year.), 2 different apartments, 14 different room/house mates, traveled to 4 countries and all over The States, at least 25 road trips, 10 trips to Disneyland, 5 boyfriends (I lost count of the number of dates in between that I've been on...), and countless parties. Of course, this doesn't include all the other day to day stuff that will make you tear your hair out, but you get the picture!

Ha Ha! Those years getting tutored in math have finally paid off!

So, now my biggest (and let's face it) only goal is to learn how to rest. I've never been good at this. As a go-getter, I am always determined to be the best at whatever I try and I almost never stop until I've won. And so far I'm giving myself the grade of D+ (at best!) in the Taking It Easy department. (It's an embarrassing fact, but I once went on a job interview and date (not in the same day) while sick with the flu.) So, for now I've temporarily packed myself up and relocated to a place far enough away from the everyday stress for a little R&R.

Mutiny on my bounty!

Do you ever have a recurring day dream? I do.

One of my favorite movies of all time is Multiplicity featuring Michael Keaton, Andie McDowell and Andie's adorable Southern accent. Keaton plays a guy with a laundry list so big he finds it impossible to keep up with his life. So, what does he do to resolve this problem? He clones himself. And then the clone clones himself, etc etc etc. Then the obvious slapstick hilarity ensues....yadayadayada...he realizes that letting some of those juggled balls drop is OK after all. Life doesn't stop just because you let go of a few things on your to-do list.

Holy pandemonium, Batman!


My recurring day dream is that I get to clone myself. I imagine all of the possibilities: things I could accomplish, tasks I could finish and places I could go. I might actually get a chance to relax. Or at least one of me would! Most mornings my head is already reeling by 10 'o clock with all the things I need to do. And by lunchtime the walls might as well be closing in on me. So much to do. So little time. I've been told a thousand times to get an assistant, but I always find reasons why I don't need one or want one. Although, maybe now that I'm going to be on the road more I should think about hiring someone who doesn't move around as much as me to take care of the day to day stuff.

ANYWAY, all this to say that my move to the country has turned out to be a good thing. During the commute to my new office I noticed that the slow driving wasn't sending me into fits of panic and rage like it usually does. In fact, I was actually enjoying being stuck behind a 92 year old driver who was slowly weaving his way down the road and around The Lake.

As you may have noticed, I'm a big fan of making lists, setting goals and giving myself deadlines. But I have this new theory (as of this morning) that maybe I like putting all this pressure on myself just to see it not work out like I had planned. It's like those kids who build a huge tower of blocks just to knock them down.

Life's mutiny on my bounty.

And in light of this morning's epiphany I eased up on the plans and list making for at least another day. Life isn't going to stop just because some things (or everything!) isn't going as planned.

We're definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

Ok. So, it's been a few days since I officially set foot on The Lake. And so far, it has been a whirlwind of changes!

Talk about hitting the ground running!

The first day was just a veritable scramble of making appointments, taking phone calls, answering emails, and trying to set up shop in my new office. Then there was dinner with my girls that I've been friends with since the dawn of time. And I guess I sort of forgot what my best friend looked like the last time she was pregnant. I walked in and saw her across the dinner table and could tell she was about ready go into labor. And the very next day she did!

Just getting to be here for the birth of her second kiddo, Lucie Joy, was such an enormous blessing and such a sweet time to get to bask in the glow of her being a mommy. At one point I forgot what day it was and the fact that I no longer live in SB. I kept thinking, "OK, don't forget you have to leave in a couple days." But I live here now. I kept saying those four words to all our friends in the delivery room whenever the word "babysitting" came up and I got the weirdest stares in return. If I could have I would have cloned my body and given myself the same look. It just sounded so weird and "out of body" to admit to anyone that I live here now.

I've always had mixed feelings about my hometown. On the one hand, it's a great place to grow up. Fresh air, good clean country living, sweet people that are always around (and know ALL your business) who have known you since birth. On the other hand, it's one of the tiniest towns in California. At times you feel like no one, besides the residents, has ever heard of this place and that no one ever will. As I like to say, it's one of those places that you "can't get there from here."  For now, I'm undecided about how I feel about this place.

And on that note, let me just conclude with this little dramatic scene that took place at KMart tonight:

I went into the store to get a rather large list of things (things you would think KMart might sell) for my new office and came out with 3 envelopes. I would get into the details of my wandering around the home decor section for about 15 minutes only to get frustrated with the fact that there are 5 aisles of towels and no aisles of anything that is actually useful in a home, but I won't. It's sad to admit, but I almost cried because of the lack of...well, everything!

Among many, many things, I wish this place had a Target.

Today's the day!

Yesterday I officially moved up to The Lake. It seemed totally surreal, fake, weird, and down right indescribable. I wondered how could it be that I was moving away from paradise to some other place?

The day started out with breakfast (at the ungodly hour of 7:30am) with my old housie, Ashley, at Cajun Kitchen where we laughed till it hurt and talked till we teared up. And then I was off to pack up the last few things at the Freedom House and head out. I drove down Grand Ave and started to have a million flashbacks of the summer I had spent with, my now long-time friends, Tim and Meg. And as I looked over the city from the riviera I remembered everything at once...school, friends, church, surfing, bike rides, the apartment. It just didn't seem real. I kept saying to myself, "You're just going on a long vacation. You'll be back here before you know it!"

Then I drove up to SLO where I had lunch with a couple of my oldest and dearest friends. And even though we haven't seen each other since Thanksgiving, we just picked up where we left off and talked about everything in about an hour and hugged and giggled until it was time for all of us to get back to our lives.

 

Aren't these girls just presh?!














No, she's not going into labor! I just made her laugh really hard. :)

And then I headed north. For real this time. But it didn't seam real. I caught up with a few friends on the phone, checked my facebook page a million times, detoured for the a couple of starbies, and sang as loud as I could in the car until my throat hurt. I only felt a lump form in my throat a couple times and I managed to push it and the tears away. I was pretty proud of myself for not getting all emotional over something as dumb as a move to a new town.

It's crazy, but they have actual trees and nature-y stuff right next to the road!

I stopped off for a bit at my grandmother's house and watched a game show, that was the equivalent of watching old footage of my summer camp days, with her for about an hour and then drove the last hour....home. Just as my car started to crest the hills covered in vineyards, it hit me. I wasn't driving to my hometown or my parents house. I was driving home. A home that even though it's very familiar, it seems very new. I couldn't help it. The lump in my throat became a knot and then it became something sizable to a boulder. It was too big to push away. And so were the tears.

And once again, I'm excited to be here (or at least move on), but sad for what I left behind.