I am the friend your mother warned you about. I’m the one who hatches the plan and convinces everyone that they won’t get caught. My tombstone will someday read “Seemed Like a Good Idea At The Time”.
And it did.
Many of my brilliant ideas involve competitions of some sort, or maybe cake. There’s really no predicting which way my winds are going to blow. If I’m being honest, I base a lot of my decisions on the potential for glitter. I’ve done 4 triathlons, mostly because I was intrigued by the idea of writing my number on my arm in grease paint.
Perhaps someone tried to get real with me and suggested that I’m somehow incapable of doing something. It will then Be. On. Shortly after my twins were born, I set a PR in a half marathon, primarily because at my 6 week post-op, my OB-GYN told me I’d never be the same.
Side note: A few weeks ago I was watching that show on E about female WWE wrestlers and I kind of mentioned that maybe I’m not too old to get in the ring. I didn’t even finish the sentence before my mom screamed “No!” It stung probably more than it should have.
I might come home with a puppy, or a Masters Degree. Maybe I’ll feel instantaneously compelled to book a trip, or train with a weapon, or renovate a large area of my home. Hair can turn colors. All things are possible, and therefore my husband lives in fear. He once accused me of “finnagling” twins.
See, ideas are kind of my thing. I get the ideas, and then the ideas get me. They consume my vision and I can’t let go until they become reality. I’m sure there are people who could teach me to harness this power for good instead of evil, but so far…
For me though, the problem is not the ideas; it’s when I don’t have them. The ideas focus me, they give me an outlet for all my nervous energy, my anxiety, my negative thoughts.
I’ll spend 3 or 4 months training for a race, or planning a party, or gestating a child. Whatever. Something to keep my mind occupied.
It’s not like I’m not busy enough as it is – the opposite, actually. I usually feel pretty overwhelmed by my everyday responsibilities and routines. I just feel like my little side hustles (or “Shennanigans”, as my husband refers to them) reminds me of who I really am.
Me. The Me that I keep tucked away in a small little compartment within my soul, away from Mommy, Babe, Mrs. M, and all the other Me’s that all the other Them’s need me to be. When I get one of my Ideas, I feel Me spark just a little bit. Like someone just lit my pilot light.
And just the thought of Me, covered in glitter, wearing those awesome high socks, dominating a roller derby, handing out free samples of gluten-free cake, with a new tattoo, while documenting it all for my doctoral dissertation, reminds me that I’m still there, whenever I need Me.