I guess you could say I'm having a quarter-life crisis. Actually, scratch that. I
am not going to be living to be 120 years old. In fact, if I make it anywhere past 75, be a buddy and drive me out into the woods and drop me off. Trust me, with my lack of outdoorsy knowledge, I ain't coming back.
Okay. Maybe it's my third-life crisis, but a crisis nonetheless.
Turning thirty had a really funny effect on me, in that it was not as big of a life-altering event as I thought, but something certainly changed. I've always been a painfully self-aware person, but now more than ever. Recently, I purposely gained ten pounds just to prove to myself that I look better with a bit more meat on my bones. It was a risky move, but greatly assisted in my own perspicacity, no matter the outcome (p.s. I was totally right!).
I don't like to live in the past... I've always looked at the world as a series of doors that you can open and close as you pass through each point in your existence. I am not a person that has a lot of unfinished business in the world, but there is one door I left wide open years and years ago that I should have shut behind me, and it is
haunting the fuck outta me.
I avoided the lingering feelings in the back of my mind for the last six weeks. I spent weekend after weekend hiding away and Googling pictures of
cute bento boxes and dreaming of a visit to Japan because, duh, I would fit in there soooo well (with my tiny stature and frequent squealing at cute things). However, tickets to Japan are a little stiffer in cost than your average non-profit worker can afford. I got drunk a few times, but despite my
absolutely perfect outfits and childlike face, I feel like an ancient weirdo at the bar nowadays (I don't even
have to tell party photographers to go away anymore!). I considered running away to Kansas City, a city full of warm weather and
BBQ and
adorable art projects and my new favorite band,
The Ssion, but it's not a wise idea to run from your problems. No, little Sarah. The best plan is to hop on a plane, fly for an hour, and face them head-on.
When people hear that I went to school in Victoria, they always gush about the greenery, the calm ocean, and the beautiful old architecture, and I could not agree more. Victoria is one of those places that is a fantastic vacation spot (and a wonderful place to go to die), but actually planting roots there is another story. There was a lot of struggle during my time in Victoria, personally and all around me.
I used to visit
Undersea Gardens frequently. I would pay my entrance fee and go downstairs to visit the giant octopus. I would often sit through a couple of hourly octopus shows, mesmerized by the flowing tentacles, just to avoid what sat on the surface above. I was hiding then, and I'm hiding now, but I can't hide forever.
In May, I am going back to Victoria and I am taking care of that unfinished business. I am shutting that door once and for all. Also, I will be eating a million oysters, going to the cruise ship docks to go seal-spotting, and visiting my old pal, the octopus. I always though my next trip out to the island would be alone, but I will be joined by Dylan, as well as a hefty Rx for benzos for when things get really tough.
This trip is important. Very, very important. Not just for my sanity, but also to allow me to start working on new unfinished business to panic about in twenty-some odd years, during my
totally awesome midlife crisis. I like to think ahead, you know.
With love,
~sarah p.
I tend to schedule my yearly physicals before the spring season, so all of my lab tests are out of the way. Once I "piss clean" and trick my doctor into thinking I'm reasonably healthy, I am free to become fondant than woman for a few months, starting in early to mid April.
