I'm here now...
Come visit. I miss you.
I'm here now...
Come visit. I miss you.
This blog has become an albatross around my neck. It weighs me down, is heavy, and awkward. It's like that pair of jeans you've gotten too fat for but don't want to admit they no longer fit because once upon a time they were the pair that made your ass look hot. So, you keep putting them on and you keep hating yourself hours later when you peel them off. You ask yourself why you wore them, they cut into your waist, and gave you a cameltoe, and weren't at all comfortable.
What I'm saying is-this girl. The one who writes about all the bad stuff. Who whines. And nags. And uses sarcasm. And wallows. Yeah, I'm not that girl anymore.
I am Joy. I am in love with life. I live with my heart open.
And part of me wants to bury this whole blog. To delete it. Cover it up. Because it's just not me anymore. It doesn't fit.
But that wouldn't be authentic. Everything that I've written here. That I've struggled with. That I've prattled on and on about. It's all part of my journey. It's where I'm from and has helped me get where I am now.
I won't delete this blog. I'll keep it up. Maybe it will help someone else.
But I won't be updating here anymore.
I need something new. And it's in the works...I'll let you know when it goes live.
Thanks! You've all been dolls!
Love you madly,
Sara aka The Paper Doll
Fair enough. I've been gone for what let's be honest here-a year? I guess you do deserve some stories. So without further ado here are some things that happened to me...that I should tell you about in more detail when I get the chance.
-The Paper Doll will be working on these stories but wants to know what you've done
So while I'm technically not out of my twenties yet I AM on the down hill side. And my late twenties feel vastly different than my early twenties so I'm stealing this and writing my own letter.
Dear Twenty-Something Sara,
Oh sweetie your world is about to be rocked. But nothing I could say or do can change that. It's one of those things that will blindside you on a random Tuesday. You could never be prepared for it even if I told you it was comming.
So just be patient. You’ll get through it. It will be so awful at times you’ll believe you’ll never recover. But you will. Don’t wait so long to talk to someone. Or to ask for help. And ask her. Ask her everything you think you can't. You'll regret if you don't.
And stop. You’re beautiful. And funny. And smart. Don’t sell yourself short. And quit dating losers. Expect more for yourself, you're a good catch. And listen to that gut instinct. When it says don’t stay, don’t stay. It’s always right and things will be much easier if you learn that sooner rather than later.
You’ll worry a lot about what you’re going to be when you grow up (and it turns out it's something you never imagined but absolutely love. And you're damn good at it. So quit freaking out). You’ll hate all your first jobs and they’ll make you question everything.
On your worst days you’ll think everyone else has it better, is more glamorous, more put together, has it all figured out. But that’s not true. They’re all wrecks too. Your early twenties are hard. Someone should have told you that. But you’ll make it. And it will be wonderful.
On your best days you’ll know that. Hold on to that feeling especially on Sunday nights. Or when you’re lonely and thinking about taking that guy home from the bar.
But most importantly have fun. Be safe. And make a lot of memories cause there are certain things only a twenty-something can do.
Oh and about that thing you're thinking of doing. Don't. Just don't. Trust me on that one, okay?
See you when you get here.
Love you madly,
Ever since I was fifteen I've been with a boy. Some boy. The Southern Gentleman, The Writer, The Jerk, The Musician.
I've jumped from one sinking ship to another.
After this latest one went up in flames, I swore I'd be single for a year. Take some time to get to know myself as an adult. Throw myself into my studies. Make really good girl friends. Be celibate. My very own Eat, Pray, Love without ever having to leave town.
Then I got lonely. Six months came and went and I was itching for attention, affection, a fuck. So I did what any modern woman would do. I joined Match.com.
And after a series of leaking ships and rickety life boats I realized I have no idea how to do this. How to date. I'm always racing ahead. Pushing the throttle. Risking a few miles further on an almost empty tank of gas and no paddle on board. I stay too long. Want too much. Shove off when I should stay ashore.
How do you do it, Internet?
Navigate? Get on board without going over board? Know when to jump ship?
Got any advice for this single girl?
The Paper Doll
The beginning must have been that night last September when I rolled over and told the Musician to get out, that I couldn't do this anymore.
At least I think that's the beginning. Or perhaps it was when I got my acceptance letter? Or when I started my classes? Or maybe way back when my mom got sick?
It doesn't much matter that I trace the beginning back to patient zero. Just that it happened. That things unfolded and aligned and that the universe pulled me along on a course long ago plotted for me.
I didn't really have much say in the matter to be honest. And the last few months have been more about me holding on and trying to enjoy the ride than making conscious decisions. Which is maybe why I didn't tell you about it. I couldn't really see it then while it was happening. But now I do.
There were fights and hiccups. Hangovers. Regretted phone calls. One night stands. But there was also a hell of a lot of love. And joy. And peace. New tattoos. New friends. Cheers. And laughter.
I guess I could recount it all. Tell you all the details. But why Internet? You wouldn't really get it. You'd sit and listen and be nice. But you'd be bored. And wonder when my story would finally end.
So all you need to know is I'm good. I was bad. But now-I'm really fucking good.
-The Paper Doll can't wait to get on with it already
So, here I am reappearing. Gah, it's been a wild few months. Full of sadness, hurt, silliness, joy. Life. Full of what happens when you live. Really live.
Where to start Internet?
With an apology and a thank you. Sorry I haven't written. It was me not you. And thank you for always being there. For having my back even when I turn mine on you.
I feel so different. So grown.
And there's so much to share with you.
So how about I start at the beginning...
Wow. Err. It's been awhile Internet.
So, I've managed to partially crawl out of self loathing and pity. There's still a trace I'm shaking out of my hair but such is life, non?
I got a wonderful comment on that last post from Volk-noir. Something about the wording-the use of the word raw made me pause. Because it's exactly right. This is the place I come to be raw and me and exposed. And man has graduate school stripped me naked. Talk about being raw, being open, being exposed. Internet, a graduate school counseling program fillets you. Rips your guts out and then asks to you put them back and sew yourself up whole and complete and healthy.
It's a dreadful thing really. But like getting a tattoo. Painful and worth every ache because it lasts forever.
I've learned so much about myself these past few months. I've grown. I just don't know how to share that with you, Internet.
I've been really deeply interested in my navel. And I wasn't sure if you wanted to go there with me. But I've missed you.
And I'm going to try to write more soon.
The Paper Doll
It is Valentine's Day and I am listening to Kat Edmonson, drinking wine, and trying to crawl out of self loathing.
Has something ever happened to you Internet, and you stop and look around and say to yourself, how did I get here? How did this happen?
That's where I am right now. Wondering how I let myself get to this place. This place where I no longer see myself. Instead I see broken out skin and pudgy thighs.
A fat girl.
An insecure fat girl.
I use to play this game with my girlfriends when I was in college. They'd pick out a guy in the bar for me to take home. And I would every single time because I was confident. Not because I was the prettiest girl in the room. Or the skinniest. But because I was confident. And I knew how to toss my hair and touch him on the arm and tie a cherry stem in a knot with my teeth.
It was a terrible game. A useless. Use me up game.
But now I don't even have the courage. The confidence. To ask my crush to coffee. TO COFFEE.
And it's my stomach that's now in knots.
How did this happen Internet?
When did I let myself go? Lose myself?
How do I get myself back? Right myself so I can walk into a room unafraid of my power...
Not so I'm not alone next Valentine's Day but so I'll never be alone because I'll always have me. Wonderful. Self confident me.
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.' We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."