I'm just your average, everyday, divorced 38 year old girl -- overweight, tragically unhip,
and trying to make a life for myself. I live with two furry beasts, Dave and Abby, whose
feline mission in life is to choke me with their fur. Nothing special.
Saturday night. You know what's not fair? That my new addiction - the one that has taken over where the binge eating stopped - is now causing me nearly as much trouble as the old one did. I speak, of course, of shopping. It's not that shopping is a Johnny-come-lately to the party, I've been using retail therapy to deal (or not) with feelings for years and years, it's just that, since it became the primary (only?) addiction in my life, it's like some cartoon monster that feeds on energy and gets larger and larger, swallowing small towns as it goes. Such, it appears, is the case with shopping.
It shouldn't surprise me that the urge to spend has gotten so bad. I most definitely have an addictive personality and, I'm mostly proud to say that I've conquered most of the other addictions, leaving just this one to loll around and get fat and sassy while I've been off working on the whole "eating everything in sight and not exercising except to walk to the car so that I can drive through Cotijas" thing. All of the issues that caused me to want to eat, or many of them, are still in my life and I've removed the all-time best way to make them go away (bingeing), and shopping has happily stepped in to fill the void. Shoes, clothes (it's a lot more fun shopping for clothes now than it's been in years!), stuff for the house, gifts for friends and loved ones, books, magazine subscriptions, out-of-town excursions all have been piling up on my credit card. It's a dizzying ride, to be honest.
Now, suddenly, the ride is over and I have no choice to get off. Tonight my card was declined when I attempted to buy the CD supporting Voices for Children, and the cold rush of fear and adrenaline hit my stomach like a stone. No credit left. On my "real" credit card (as opposed to my check card). This is not good. It's not that I'm destitute or anything, heck, I get paid on Friday, it's just that I'm 37 years old, for goodness' sakes, and I can't be running up my credit card (AGAIN!) just because buying things makes me feel better about myself and my life. You know what makes you feel really horrible about yourself, Denise? Do you??? Being hugely in debt and having to sell stock options in order to get yourself out. Remember last time? How about the time before that??? Gack!
I know that I can (and must!) set up and stick to a budget. On paper, it sounds simple enough. It's not as though I don't make a comfortable living, because I do, but I have rather extravagant tastes. Call it Tiffany's tastes on a Nordstrom budget. I must learn to live within my means, though. Must, must, must!
Some extravagances will continue. My prepared meals for one - my good health is worth more than anything else. High speed internet access, too - I just don't think I could deal with dial-up on a regular basis. Using the Anastasia counter at Nordie's for my brow appointments - it's only every six weeks, and I remember how awful they looked when I was going somewhere cheap.
There are, however, some obvious areas for cutback. First, my hair. I'm paying entirely too much money. Yes, she does a great job, but $150 a pop (plus tip) is over the top on my salary. Perhaps I could keep her for my cuts and do my own color? (At my age, I don't think "going natural" with the color is an option.) Second, I own a great espresso machine and I need to start using it instead of running to a coffee house (at $3.25 a latte, that's $676 a year or $56 a month). Next, no more Evian. I will not drink the tap water (I'm sorry, but you wouldn't either if you lived somewhere with the water pollution problems we have here) and I won't do the purified tap water masquerading as good water thing, either (hello, Dasani is just Atlanta tap water run through reverse osmosis - yuck!), but I can do Arrowhead or Nestle or something a little cheaper than Evian. Most painful of all, I simply must stop shopping needlessly. I have more clothes in my current size than most people who don't slide up and down the size scale will have in their entire lifetime, so I don't need any more. I also don't need any more shoes. No. More. Shoes. Oh, and no more handbags, either. None. Not even that deadly cute Lulu Guinness I saw at Nordie's. No! [Slaps own hand.]
I'm a grown woman. I (at the moment) have my compulsive overeating habit under control. I manage a wonderful team of talented people, and do it well, I think. I'm going to be the court-appointed advocate for a child or children in a very short period of time. I simply must get my finances - and spending addiction - under control and find something else to relax me.
Friday night. Blame it on the cold. Blame it on the lack of proper sleep for the past few days. Whatever the cause, I'm just not feeling clever today. It's not even 9pm yet, and my dearest wish is to go to sleep. I have this nagging sense of letting myself down by not writing something important, but I know I'll get over it.
p.s. I got my official CASA badge this morning at my final interview. All assignments are complete and turned in (with a glowing review of my written court report, no less!) and now all that remains is to be matched with a child or children that need someone like me. Somewhere in San Diego County tonight there is a sad child - scared, alone, confused - who feels like he doesn't have a friend in the world and wonders if he'll ever be able to trust adults again. He's probably stuck in a group home (modern equivalent of Dickens' orphanages) with none of his possessions or friends or anything familiar to him. He might even wonder if everything that's happened is his fault. In a few weeks, perhaps less, I get to start rebuilding his life with him, step by oh-so-painfully-slow step. I can't wait!
Thursday morning. Don't let the title fool you, nothing about this morning is sexy. I'm tired, I've got Kleenex stuffed up my nose, and I've been checking work e-mail for over an hour now (120 messages since yesterday afternoon). The cats are both curled up here next to me, which is nice, and I wish I could sleep, too. I might have gotten a few hours last night, but nothing deep and refreshing - it was the desperate sleep that comes only after you've tossed and turned and moaned pitifully for hours. Ugh.
On to more exciting topics, though. Yesterday morning, through a haze of Claritin and Kleenex, I sat through the morning session of one of San Diego's Family Court sections. This is not like you see on "Judging Amy" or "LA Law" or whatever TV program you might watch, most of which show the legal system at it's most dynamic and sexy. This was a set of (approximately) seven lawyers that shuffled in and out as cases were called, representing the minors, the mothers, the fathers, and the social workers. Voluminous files were piled along the railing between the gallery where I sat and the courtroom itself and each lawyer had a different pile. I have no idea how they could keep their many clients straight and was very impressed by the fact that they had fairly detailed knowledge of some very complicated cases, especially given that they blasted through probably 25 cases in three hours. Most impressive for me were the three women who were filling the role that I will (one day very soon) be filling: Court Appointed Special Advocate (CASA). As a matter of fact, I was officially sworn in just before going in to observe, which was, quite possibly, one of the most exciting moments of my life. Really. Truly. Right up there with my wedding day and the day I bought my first car for myself. In any case, these three ladies knew their cases inside and out and contributed substantively to each of the proceedings they were a part of. One of the CASAs was even responsible for getting a case continued because the minor had been erroneously told by the social worker that there was no need for her to attend, although she very much wanted to be there, so no provision was made for transportation and she wasn't in court. The CASA knew that the minor wanted to be present and made that known to the court, resulting in all of the parties involved (county counsel, social worker, alternate public defender, CASA, judge, minor's mother, and counsel for both parents) having to reschedule and make provisions to get the minor to court in a few weeks. I am in awe of everyone that works within that system, for their dedication to children and families and getting the best outcome for everyone involved with too few resourced and too many families in need. I can't wait to get started!
Would someone be kind enough to run out and get me more Kleenex?
* a Saab 9-3 or a BMW 325i * a manicure, pedicure, massage...aw, heck, let's just do a day at a spa! * to be like Coco Chanel, Audrey Hepburn, and Grace Kelly * a vacation * peace on Earth and goodwill among men * to know what Victoria's Secret is * a cat that loves to be held and cuddled (d'ya hear that, ingrates???) * to sleep on nothing less than 500 thread count sheets * Kate Spade Barbie * my Grandma back (I still miss her after 15 years) * to be able to play a sport, any sport, well * friends who live within 100 miles of here * a house straight out of the Restoration Hardware catalog * to see every state in the United States * the body of a 22 year old combined with the wisdom of a 37 year old * a child of my own * straight teeth and liposuction for my inner thighs and stomach * a really awesome obituary for me a very long time away in the future
What do I really want? To love and be loved, of course. What else is there?
