It’s my second official workday away from Corporate America.
As my gift to the world, I washed my hair today. A few days of going to bed with wet hair and then not bothering to even look at it the next morning left me with meth-head mugshot-worthy hair. You’re welcome, America.
Other than that … I’m trying to figure out what to do with myself. I started a baby quilt for my soon-to-be niece. And I’m cleaning the basement … you know, all the boxes we’ve never unpacked since moving 2 years ago? And all the crap that we stashed to just get it out of the way? Again, you’re welcome, America.
I had this email exchange with BFF:
BFF: Are you just running around, singing about freedom?
Me: Yes. I am running around the house singing civil rights songs, and then mixing it up by getting all nekkid and singing George Michael’s “Freedom 90” and acting like all the models in the video.
Except I just watched the video and the models aren’t nekkid. And I’m not really nekkid, because I’ve been wearing the same fleece pants for 3 days.
Yes, America, you’re welcome.
So, obviously, I’m still figuring this all out. And I’m trying to let go of some old messages that are haunting my brain.
See, back in the day, when I decided to be a full-time freelance writer the first time around, I was still living with Ex-Ex. While he was initially supportive, his day-to-day actions were not empowering. He saw no reason for his lifestyle to change simply because I no longer had a steady income and was starting a business. However, he still expected me to pay 50%. He would say things like, “Well, that’s not how I’d do it, but if that’s what you want to do …” or “I feel like you decided to become a ‘housewife’ but just didn’t tell me.”
And then, he kind of cheated on me with his high school girlfriend and stopped speaking to me. When I finally moved out, he opened every cupboard to see what I’d “stolen” and then complained to me that he couldn’t afford living room furniture since I’d taken my couch.
I know. I’m such a witch.
So, clearly, I have some emotional baggage. My reptilian brain still believes that self-employment and romantic partnerships do not mix, and that I am a obviously a freeloader and a loser. And My Guy will clearly take up with some hussy and I will be out on the street. Obviously.
Now, I know. I know! My Guy and Ex-Ex are not even of the same species – thank God! And my sweet husband and I have talked and plotted and planned and we’re in this together. But there’s still part of me that thinks that if I don’t have the entire basement organized when he gets home today from his “real” job, he will judge me and start thinking about what employed ladies he could find to take my place.
I know. I know!
So, I guess in addition to quilting and cleaning the basement and getting my wits about my consultant / writer self, I am also busy rewriting some scripts and letting freaking go.
My to-do list is looooooong.