I’m experiencing what you might call a 1/3 life crisis. Others might call it a pity party. I think this particular crisis was precipitated by a chain of small but unlucky events as well as the fact that I’m going to be 30 in less than two months. Within a two-week period, I crashed my car into the car in front of me on Route 66 resulting in an unexpected $500 deductible expense. Luckily nothing happened to me or the other driver except for the inconvenience of a Friday evening crash in heavy D.C traffic and luckily my insurance covered a rental car. But then I ran over a monster nail and got a flat tire on the last day of my rental. Of course, I have no idea how to change a spare tire so I had to call someone and pay $40 for a job that took approximately 2 minutes (I really need to learn to do this). Then on my way home from Detroit to Washington there was a giant storm all over the Midwest and my flight was cancelled. I decided to take a plane to Newark figuring at least I’d be on the East Coast but then the plane went through a lightning storm. I don’t mean I saw lightning off in the distance; I mean our plane was flying through the spot in the sky where lightening bolts originate. It was terrifying and resulted in an hour of full body shaking and an acknowledgement that next time I fly I’m going to need Xanax or a couple of glasses of wine to make it through without having a panic attack. And I’m going to have to be seriously medicated (knocked out) if I ever fly international or long-distance again.
I was so fearless when I was younger and now I find myself being scared/concerned/worried/fearful about something new every year. It’s like I’m slowly becoming my Colombian Grandma. Anyway, I assumed there’d be some bus or train out of Newark when I arrived that evening, but there wasn’t. Everything was sold out. The next train (because I was now fully terrified of flying and refused to fly) was at 8 am in the morning so I got stuck at Newark for almost 12 hours. If you are going to get stuck in an airport, Newark is not exactly the nicest one to get stuck in. And if you need to get from Newark to D.C, Amtrak is not exactly the cheapest option.
And then a few days after coming home I got sick. In bed-all-day-feeling-awful kind of sick. My old body just can’t take airport all-nighters anymore. When you’re in bed and your Internet isn’t working (because of course the Internet died too) you start thinking too much, which can be a very dangerous activity. This is because in my morbid state I was thinking about all the things I haven’t done rather than all the things I have. Mostly it went like this in my mind: Oh my God, I’m almost 30 and I have a roommate and I have no money in the bank and a mediocre job and I’m alone, all alone in the world and I’m going to become some weird(er), phenomenally fat and frumpy 60 year-old spinster with too many cats any day now and I will never be able to afford my own condo in D.C and I can’t even travel anymore because I’m terrified of flying and I never wear makeup or dress nicely so I’m kind of already that spinster and I’m going to be 30 and that sounds really old and I should be more accomplished by now and nobody reads my blog and everybody on Facebook looks so happy and accomplished and I’m about to turn 30 and I’m all alone and maybe I should have gone on a second date with that nice, high-earning government guy who kind of repulsed me but maybe he would have grown on me over time and my only asset is a car that has had its entire exterior replaced because I’m apparently a terrible driver. When I wasn’t thinking, I read Junot Diaz. That was a mistake. I listened to Nina Simone, Edith Piaf and Jacques Brel. Also mistakes. I watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and numerous real-life crime shows. Massive mistake.
So on Monday afternoon I decided I needed to leave the house, sore throat, stomach ache, general malaise and all or I was going to think myself into an existential crisis. I walked over to Mom’s Market where I decided the answer to all my woes was fruits and vegetables. Lots of them. Smoothies in the morning and salads for lunch. So I stocked up, paid, and realized I now how to walk home three-fourths of a mile with my very heavy (and very expensive) bags of groceries. It is at times like these when I miss being married. Maybe I didn’t have the greatest marriage, but my ex-husband was good for carrying heavy packages and bags at least.
I am perfectly aware that my two weeks of “bad luck” is hardly the stuff of tragedies or sad movies, mostly because I got no pity. From anyone. I’d share my story of woe and everybody would say things like It’s not so bad, you’re alive! Which is true. It’s not so bad and I’m alive and I do have a tendency to be dramatic and over-the-top and blow things out of proportion. And today I’m feeling a little better because it’s always a good thing to be alive. In the words of Nina Simone:
Or maybe my slight change in mood is the result of all the smoothies I’ve been drinking. Considering what I paid for supposedly organic fruit/vegetables, I hope so.
Categories: Me, Me, Me