since feeling is first

fullsizeoutput_486eI have these grey sweatpants that I am in love with. They are a little big, but I role down the waist a little, pull them up just slightly and voila, they hang just perfectly. It’s to the point that when I get them out of the dryer, I literally hug them a little because they are so warm and comforting (no joke, I hugged them 20 minutes ago). Wearing them makes me feel at home. I curl my legs up in my orange velvet reading/writing chair, and I am nestled within the soft fabric. I would wear them 24/7 if I could, but I am a clean person, so I do have to wash them (if only they had a self-cleaning mechanism).

My family actually bought me new sweatpants for my birthday just so I could have a backup pair for when these are being washed (my family loves me through my little obsessions). It’s not quite the same though. The new ones are nice, but they don’t hang quite right and the bottoms are the bunchy kind so they never stay in the right place on my feet. These grey ones were the ones I wanted and I waited a long time to find them, but once I did, there was no going back, no substitutes.

I have tried to tell myself that a pair of sweatpants is just that, a piece of clothing with no actual way of making you feel differently. Maybe I have anthropomorphized these pants and have slightly lost my mind a bit. I honestly don’t care. Because when you find something that helps you to feel more yourself, relaxes you, does it really matter?  I now look at time in B.SP. and A.SP. Before sweatpants and after sweatpants. Laugh if you want, but I am serious. I will most likely never find a pair of sweatpants I love this much. And yet there was a time before I had them and never knew what I was missing. I got by with mediocre, ill-fitting sweatpants. The boyfriend fit ones from Victoria’s Secret that had some weird diaper butt thing going on. Before that I had these capri ones that were okay, but a little too thin and too short so not quite the same embrace.

If you are like me (for your sake, I hope you are not), you look for anything that will help you quiet your brain and focus. The two sides of my brain have been in constant conflict my entire life. The emotional side wants to be free and run wild. My rational side spends all its time trying to control that emotional side, wrestling it to the ground. (Gallup’s Strength Finders put Deliberator in my top 5 strengths, if that tells you anything.) My rational side works really, really hard. For instance, today, my inner emotional fat kid wanted to camp out in the Valentine’s candy aisle of Target and rip open the bags of candy, shoveling every piece in. You know how much work it takes to wrestle down my inner fat kid? She is not nice and she bites.


I can’t take photo credit for this one.

My emotional side wants a badass slate-grey Dodge Challenger. Right now. Like go to the dealership this minute and sign the papers. Here comes this asshole self-control telling me all the reasons why it doesn’t make sense. I have a perfectly reliable car, it’s paid off, it has given me no reason to trade it in for a new model. Doesn’t matter that it doesn’t really fit me. I can’t see over the hood, and I’ve almost run a few people over because of the blind spots. It gets me from point A to point B and it looks the part of a family vehicle. What would I do with a Dodge Challenger? A 40 year old mother of three? That’s just silly. I am not badass enough to drive a Dodge Challenger. So my rational brain convinces me to keep my giant Buick because it makes the most sense. Puke.

Self-control is exhausting. No wonder I get writer’s block, I am in constant self-control mode. My brain is so very tired that I have a hard time being creative anymore. Control how you talk to people, control how you react to bad news, control how you see the world, stay positive, don’t overthink, don’t be paranoid, do not ram your car into bad drivers, don’t show you’re upset, don’t eat that, drink more water, boredom is for lazy people, don’t be lazy, don’t get upset, don’t pout, don’t scream at your kids, shake off your bad mood…

I believe there is light at the end of the tunnel though. This is my prediction (although I haven’t run it by the Magic 8 ball yet)…one of these days, maybe years, my emotional brain is going to finally kick the shit out of the rational side. (Just a small tip, rational side, we don’t have to resort to violence. I mean come on, you’ve had a good run. Wouldn’t you like a break? Take a nap for once.)

And when my emotional brain wins, you are going to see me speeding down the street, driving a badass muscle car in my perfectly imperfect kickass grey sweatpants, music blaring Cardi B, booming bass, singing at the top of my lungs. The rational side won’t be able to tell me I’m too old or not cool enough or I might embarrass my kids. None of that will matter. I will finally live e.e. cummings poem “since feeling is first” and truly understand the final lines,

for life’s not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

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