Anxietyville Horror

June 30, 2010 at 10:57 pm · Filed under Life

One need only own a TV to absorb the recent onslaught of Zoloft, Paxil, and “Are you feeling depressed?” commercials. Don’t get me wrong, in my younger, more erratic years, I’ll admit I once had to get a prescription – yes, an actual prescription – to Xanax (at that time, in all of my oblivious glory, I had no clue that some of my acquaintances were already on the stuff just for fun).

For those of you who have been so fortunate to bypass this experience, your first panic attack feels a lot like being stuck on a road trip with a friend that insists on playing his whole collection of Barry Manilow (no offense, Barry Manilow fans). You feel nauseous, short of breath and you just want to get the hell out of there.

The harsh reality is that in a society of instant-gratification, panic attacks are as common as church on Sunday. Workhorses driven by deadlines upon deadlines, popping Excedrin Migraine while flipping through their blackberry with one hand, and balancing Starbuck’s with the other – you know who you are. If you find yourself wondering where the last five years of your life went, it might be time to take it easy. It’s this sort of obsessive lifestyle that will take you on a one way ticket to anxietyville horror. Being busy is not a crime; refusing to relax, however, very well should be.

I think the problem arises when there are more ads for quick-fix solutions than there are people taking the time to delve into the cause of their anxiety. Wouldn’t it be nice to learn how to control it without becoming hooked on some med you can’t pronounce? Maybe it was my quasi-Buddhist roots or my penchant for Kahlil Gabran and Deepak Chopra, whatever you want to attribute it to, I was one of the lucky ones that managed to listen to what my body was trying to communicate instead of throwing a band-aid over the situation. Yes, there are always those extreme cases where medicine is required, but I am living breathing proof that through self-awareness, visualization, and all those other great phrases you hear in therapist’s offices, that you don’t always have to rely on some external force to gain peace in your life. It may sound like I am preaching enlightenment, perched on a rock in a monk suit, but that’s okay. How many Buddhists do you see stressed out at some monastery on top of a mountain? I’ve got a hunch that at the end of the day a little ancient wisdom for the Western world couldn’t hurt.

So on that note, from one nut job to another (wink, wink), if you find yourself cracking under the pressure, take a couple steps back and ask yourself what’s really going on? Is this really the job of my dreams? Or is my boss really a heartless soul-sucker that is sabotaging my life? Is this the person I really want to share my life with? Or am I convincing myself that comfort equals love? These are major questions that your subconscious usually has the answers to – you just have to listen very closely. Sometimes when we ignore our subconscious, it only has one way to come out – through a physical release. Next time you feel overwhelming anxiety, before you rush to your doctor to quiet that all-knowing voice, why not sit down and get to the bottom of what’s really bothering you. Nine times out of ten, if you change that, you’ll save yourself a trip to the doctor and a potential life-long contract as a pill-popper.

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The Psychology of Bridezilla

June 25, 2010 at 10:07 pm · Filed under Life

I feel the need to start this particular blog with a disclaimer: Please note, born and raised a Roman Catholic, I respect and honor the sanctity of marriage.

With that being said, we can now get down to business.

More than anything, as my mailbox overflows with one wedding RSVP after another, I can’t help but wonder why divorce is as common as marriage these days. I think I have some ideas…

Growing up, I always felt more comfortable hanging around the guys. In fact, living in Los Angeles with two male roommates was probably one of the best living situations I’ve experienced in all of my years of cohabitation. I think one of the reasons I liked it the most was because they never ate my food, stole my clothes, scratched up my CD’s or flirted with my boyfriends…why do I bring this up, you ask? Because I tend to side with my male friends who preach on the tendencies of some women to pressure men into lifelong commitments. It’s one thing to force a guy to choose you over the other 5 girls he’s sleeping with, but don’t you think that a huge decision such as committing the rest of his life should be a decision he makes completely on his own? I don’t know about you, but I’d hate to think that the man standing with me at the alter is only there because I left him with a painful ultimatum.

(This isn’t even touching on women who, unbeknownst to their boyfriends, throw their birth control down the sink or “forgot” that antibiotics cancel out their pills. Getting pregnant to hook, line and sinker your man is a whole separate disturbing blog in and of itself.)

Cue Bridezilla. We’ve all met her. The woman who spends every waking moment reviewing program fonts and evaluating the different types of Brie. I know it’s an important day, but I wonder if, somewhere lost between invitations and over-priced photographers, many of my own female friends are missing the point. Sure, it is a special day and it only happens once in your life – theoretically (although, this day and age, who are we kidding?). But what happened to the days of “even though we ain’t got money, I’m so in love with you, honey?” Did they disappear with folk and Woodstock?

Without being too much of a sappy romantic – isn’t love the bottom line? It doesn’t surprise me when I read stories about some old couple named Edna and Herbert that got married in a bowling alley 75 years ago, and still hold hands and flirt. Nor when I turn around and see one of my friends hold a 100-thousand-dollar-wedding and divorce a year later. When did the magnitude of the event surpass the magnitude of the commitment?

I am more impressed by “common law – married” couples that have maintained 20-year relationships and don’t require a binding legal contract to guarantee they won’t get dumped – at least easily, anyways. It’s as though we are saying to our significant other, sign here…P.S. if you try to leave me now, look forward to a world of hell that will include divorce attorneys, legal fees and a long arduous process of splitting our assets. And you wonder why “Pre-Nup” is such a prevalent part of our present-day vernacular.

Being fearful of the notion of a lifelong commitment myself (how am I supposed to know how I’ll feel 40 years from now?), I was the girl in college that would respond to premature marriages with two common responses: ‘they’re dropping like flies’ and ‘another one bites the dust’.

But I must admit, after nearing the latter years of my 20’s, marriage did become slightly more appealing. Nevertheless, I’ve promised myself to never feel pressured by biological clocks or fellow married peers. One day, I hope that my ideals of marriage as a young child will match up with the realities of marriage I’ve faced as a young adult. Until then, I say don’t let factors like impending old age or outside pressure cause you to think you should get married, especially if you know in your heart that you’re just plain not ready.

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Wisdom in Aisle Ten

June 21, 2010 at 8:30 pm · Filed under Life

I never really know what’s in store for me when it comes to my infamous local grocery store (AKA the “meat market” – and no, I’m not referring to the butchers).  Besides the constant shopping cart traffic jams (and potential pile-ups), there is always the annoying possibility that you will run into someone you don’t want to see.  A million ‘Excuse me-s,’ and 20 detours later, you can finally get your grocery shopping done;  by then your fish sticks have thawed out. 

 After a run-in with a dawdling employee at the deli that refused to know the difference between smoked and roasted turkey, I swore that I would never return there again.  But much like dating after a break-up, I didn’t feel like re-learning the aisles of another store.  Not to mention the one store I did try, I had to take my coat off every time I went there because my clothing retained a peculiar smell following each grocery outing.  But I digress.

 This week marked my return (or reconciliation, if you will) to the over-populated store.   About 20 minutes in, the strangest thing happened in the vegetable aisle.  As I stood and speculated over the most suitable stalk, a fashionable but eccentric old lady approached me with her cart and proceeded to inform me that this was the best deal on broccoli she’d ever seen.  I humored her for a bit, thinking this was one of those random passing conversations – like the ones that take place in the cinema room at the gym.  She went on to let me know that she was 93 years old, raised ten children and that her cheetah-lined suit ensemble was actually passed down from her mother.  With my broccoli in tote, I began to take baby steps forward, but she wasn’t budging.  At this point she had me curiously pinned between her cart and the veggies. 

 The last bit of surface information included the fact that she had purchased a home in a upscale nearby neighborhood decades ago for $50,000 and now it was worth $100,000 – I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow of disbelief at this one. (I’m no real estate guru, but there seems to be a zero missing somewhere.)

And that’s when it happened.

With a fervent look of intensity in her eyes, she grabbed my arm and shared three powerful bits of advice – one after another like short bursts from a firing arm.

“Honey, it’s not work that wears you out – it’s the worry.”

“Never go to sleep without finishing something you’ve started.  You’ll never get back around to it.”

And last but certainly not least:

“Always watch what you eat.”

I interjected this last statement by smugly pointing at the various items sprinkling my grocery cart: turkey meat (I had plans for spaghetti with turkey meatballs) salad, and scores of boxes bannered with ‘low fat’.  She barely noticed I’d spoken.

 She finally carted away, wishing me a great day over her shoulder as though I’d suddenly become a passing afterthought.  I had to look back a couple times to make sure I didn’t just imagine the whole thing.

I’m not exactly an avid fan of old shows like “Touched By An Angel” (I stand corrected; “Highway to Heaven” was by far the exception) but I couldn’t help but feel like this woman made a B-line for me – it was as though she was some messenger on a mission to impart this random message to me at all cost. (Then again, she could have been some senile old lady, but the first version seemed so much more mystical, didn’t it?) 

I’m always amazed at the mysterious detours that disrupt our daily routine.  Guess as much as I complained about congested aisles and bumper car shopping carts – there’s always some unforeseen positive in every one of life’s random interruptions.  At the end of the day, you never know where a lesson is lurking: restaurant bathrooms, pumping gas at the gas station, airport layovers, overcrowded single’s mingle grocery stores – keep your eyes and ears wide open; you never know when a message is therein waiting.

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No End to Mondays

June 19, 2010 at 4:04 pm · Filed under Life

It happens to us all, well at least to the security-seeking-sheep of the world.  One day we wake up and realize there will never be another 3-month summer vacation to break up the monotony and we will forever be defined by how we choose to spend our precious 40 hours a week.  After watching my friends float around me in a lost sea of insecurity, I’ve figured out that our predecessors did us a major injustice by never warning us of the trials and tribulations of what I call the “lost years” that range from about 23 to 30 (if you’re lucky, this precariously unstable stage actually comes to an end). 

I’ve grown tired of seeing my peers pretend like everything is under control, when in reality many of us are struggling to keep our heads above water – to juggle an influx of bills, career status and more often than not – relationships, while smuggling in a week night romp at the bars in a feeble attempt to maintain a social life that is involuntarily waning into nonexistence.  And if you are like most college graduates, you are working a job that is completely different than the one you imagined while toiling your life away, buried under papers and books amidst all of those treacherous years of academia.  Worst yet, I see creativity stifled beneath files and cubicles of claustrophobia.  Look.  This isn’t everybody – but if you find yourself stuck in the entry level job from hell – take heart.  Know that these years are about finding what you enjoy – it’s not all about racing to prove who you are.  You already are who you are.  There are people in there 40s still trying to figure out what they want to be when they grow up. 

There are worst paths to take i.e. people that run from finding the meaning in their lives (or feelings of meaninglessness) by rushing to start a family with some Joe Blow off the street.   Come on people; don’t screw over the future mindset of your children because you want to assume a permanent role of meaning by becoming a parent.  It’s one thing to start a family when you are mentally, emotionally and financially sound, but popping out one kid after another out of sheer boredom should be considered a crime against humanity (okay, so I exaggerate).  

 Another red flag, when you are 25 years old and you find yourself surrounded by people who are disgruntled corporate Veterans filled with oodles of regret and contempt.  Don’t think you are immune to serving their fate.  One such job, I had a middle-aged co-worker who, like clockwork, peered over her cup of coffee each morning and greeted me with a variation of two alternating phrases: “another day, another dollar” and “another day in ‘Paradise’”.  Needless to say, I put in my resignation in shortly thereafter. 

 I always try to remind myself that creativity, faith and a little courage can go a long way when it comes to the working world.  Three full-time jobs into my twenties and not only has that credo sunken in, but I’ve finally found myself my own cozy little niche.     

 So remember, as you test drive career after career: never fear change and never fear challenge.  In the end the sheep will pay their bills but often falter in the face of fulfillment.  And when all’s said and done, that’s the bottom line.

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