Monday, March 10, 2014

My Blue Sweater Day

For all the bitching and fussing I do about what Mother Nature and my parents did or did not provide to me, I am fully aware of and thankful for the gifts I did receive.  One of those God-given gifts is the gift of a sixth sense or the ability to hear God or my conscience or perhaps even my own schizophrenic voice talking to me.

Sometimes it is a feeling in the pit of my stomach or a dread in my heart or something as solid as the leg of the coffee table that tears off my little baby toe and makes me howl.  But however it comes to me, I recognize it and I act on it--it is not something I ignore.  Ever.

I had this experience at the SITSgirls Women Get Social blogger's conference this weekend in San Diego when two amazing and well-accomplished women said two things to me well, the whole room actually but I know they were really talking directly to me.  

First, Fawn Weaver, author of the Happy Wives Club, asked me to close my eyes and ask myself, "Why not me; why not now"--and this was not an interrogative; what I heard was a goddamn imperative exclamation point.

Second, Nell Merlino, THE woman behind, Take Your Daughter to Work Day, informed me that as a woman I have had to "fit" into a world prefabricated long before I came along.

Now, I must confess that there is a little part deep down inside of me where my brain is supposed to be but where that sixth sense resides that knew all of this already--this was no new news here.  My Spide-y sense had confirmed that the uncomfortableness I have felt most of my life has been me trying to fit AND make-do all at the same time.  And it has been vital that I fit and make-do for a whole host of reasons least of which is because I possess a less-than-adequate education; and I was a young-and-dumb bride and mom; and I sat in bankruptcy court alone, young and dumb; and I had no other real options; and more importantly I needed to put food on the table and own a reliable car and obtain medical benefits; and most importantly I needed to care for a little boy who didn't sign up for anything less than the very best in life and who, in my opinion, got totally gypped.  And when a light was shined into that  little part deep down inside of me and I really allowed myself to sit with that knowledge and admit all of this to myself  I felt that sixth sense start whispering and I could perceptibly feel my life begin to change.

Now, because I have spent so much time and energy asking the interrogative and not living the imperative, I have been left exhausted and uninspired, so when the Tuesday morning after the conference rolled around and I couldn't even begin to figure out what to wear with a blue cashmere sweater, well,  that was the last straw.  I cried and then I made a decision and then I posted this on Instagram:
If you are so uninspired in the am that you actually type into Pinterest search the words "navy sweater", it is time to reassess your life.  So, I did. Then, I drove to work & walked in to the Cancer Program Chairman's office & quit. I ain't lying. I am not fooling around with this one life I got.  #navysweater  #makeitwork #ootd #wiwt #jcrew #cashmere

In all honesty, it is a job that has been chafing and binding and itching and ill-fitting and I have been struggling and fidgeting and pulling at the crotch and cuffs just to have even a modicum of fit.  I have been making do. But it wasn't fitting and it didn't do a thing for me except pay decent money.  Instead, it was killing me slowly every day.

But no more.

Tuesday was my Blue Sweater Day and I am moving forward with all the right-of-way and enthusiasm that I would have not felt or even could have imagined still existed within me one weekend ago.

Because, all together now:  Why not me and why the hell not now!

xoxo Darya

PS - I have had many, okay a couple, all right one blog supporter tell me how they long for their own "blue sweater day".  So, henceforth, any really big decision-making day will forever be known as "A Blue Sweater Day".  So let it be written; so let it be done. 

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