Stuck In Transformation Hell
I am stuck in my “great transformation of 2012” story and I can’t escape. I am sick to death of it. In the big world of transformations, it’s nothing. I didn’t have cancer, my husband didn’t die, I didn’t lose my legs in a car accident, I was born with all my arms and legs. Those people, now they have something to overcome, right?
I really believe that. I am just not being sarcastic.
My claim to fame misery was I drank too much and one day I thought about driving my car into a moving train. Oh, at the time it was dramatic and sad. I was a sad, sad, woman who entertained herself by drunk texting her ex-husband. If I were to come across that woman today I would tell her, “Yes, what happened to you sucked, but move on sister. At least you have your legs.”
Oh, I genuinely feel for people and their situations. I do. But I am not always the most emphatic person.
Don’t you judge me.
I remember stumbling across the living room once with a cosmopolitan in my hand. I dropped the martini glass spilling cranberry colored liquid all over my beige rug. I looked down, said “Goddammit,” and went back to the kitchen to make me another one. I was drunk, what else would I have done.
Oh, I tried to capitalize on my misery after my transformation. I was going to help women over 40 create and live a life they love. But on a scale of one to ten, my misery was not that miserable. In the world of misery, mine was competing with some truly heartbreaking stories.
But then my foray into helping women became sad, for me.
Being stuck in that transformation story has allowed me to cling to a time of skinny jeans, footloose and fancy-free, and mountains. I can no longer fit into those skinny jeans, I am not footloose and fancy-free, and I haven’t climbed a mountain since 2012.
After I returned home from my brave sabbatical ( I ran out of money), my friends clamored all over me to hear my tales of the battle fought. Their accolades, “Oh you look so good.” and “Wow what a brave thing to do.” were placed on a shelf and for years after I lived off those words. I am an actress who won an Oscar that one time, for that movie. My trophy sat on a shelf and I would polish it, relive my speech, and never again do anything that grand.
I spent hours talking and writing about my glory days in the vast vistas of Colorado. Then the hours turned into days, and those days into months, and those months into five years later.
I stopped right there, at that moment and tried to create a future, while stuck in the past. My story has grown stale and out of fashion. And I am sick of it.
So my great transformation story of 2012, I am breaking up with you. It’s not me, it’s you. I feel a bit like Amanda in the play, The Glass Menagerie. Our dance is over, it was fun while it lasted, but I need to create a new story. I can no longer cling to a relationship that doesn’t serve me.
I will never forget you and I may take a peek back on occasion. But don’t count on me coming back.
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