adjustment and change

I’ve written before that I’m not a fan of change. It has nothing to do with whatever the change is, and it can be as simple as my favorite bagel and coffee place closing down or my usual salon shuttering, but I just don’t like change. Adjustment is hard for me, and I’m someone whose anxiety gets worse when I feel out of control, or when things happen that I can’t control.

In the past week and a half, I interviewed, accepted, and started a new full-time job. While I’m obviously ecstatic to be employed after almost a year of freelance and part-time work (hooray, health insurance!) the timing was the worst thing that could have happened to me, mentally. I accepted my job on Friday, two hours after interviewing, and was asked to start Monday morning. I had a schedule during my freelance time (at least, I tried to have a schedule) for this exact purpose — so when I did have to get back in the game, no matter when it was, I wasn’t always sleeping until 12pm or lazying around. But no matter how you slice it, transitioning from a laid-back lifestyle to 50 hour work weeks, constant social interaction, and commuting, is hard. Not to mention that this job, while wonderful, requires a lot of mental concentration. It’s a field I’m not entirely familiar with, and a job that’s out of my realm professionally. It relies both on me being my own boss and on me being the driver of a lot of different routes. It’s an open office environment — something not new to me, but in previous environments, I felt like I could at least have things around my desk that made it a comfortable place to work and not just a boring table. There’s no one that really treats their desk as a personal space here, despite the fact that lots of people work late hours, and so it feels strange to me to mark my territory by bringing in pictures and books and small cute toys. And because the company only has a handful of people, it’s also the type of place that focuses on a lot of extroversion (daily group lunches and dinners, frequent meetings and check-ins). All of which, combined with my quick hiring, took a toll. Adjustment and change are a bitch.

I spent the first week of work being frustrated, tired, and anxious. I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing. I wasn’t used to getting up at 6am and not returning home until 8pm, sometimes not until 9pm if I was prepared to go home but got pulled into a group dinner. Every time I complained about things, I felt even more guilty, because who was I to complain about getting a great opportunity and well-paying job with a lot of growth (even if it wasn’t in the field I wanted to be in) when all I talked about for almost a year was being depressed because I couldn’t move my life forward since I was broke? Couple all of this with the fact that my book writing is finally taking off, and I freaked out over having to suddenly figure out how to manage my time in a way I didn’t think I had to worry about for awhile.

Yes, I know I’m not a special snowflake when it comes to having these worries. Oh boy, do I know. Lots of people have full-time jobs, kids, health issues, and they manage to get things done. But I know what makes me spiral out of control, and I accept it, I guess.

I’m slowly getting better, and taking full-on control of my passion planner to help me organize and get my head straight again. I’m trying to take solace in small things that I can control, like settling into a morning commute routine — having time for coffee and Tumblr and maybe some writing, watching the news, knowing that I have to get up by 6:10 if I want to shower, but that as long as I make it to the subway to get the train that rolls in exactly at 7:30, I can get to work on time. I made an effort to find a favorite small independent coffee shop — something that’s hard to do if you work in an area like midtown where everything is so commercial, but there are loopholes. I brought in my Hamilton coffee mug and my small Star Wars box, despite the fact that there are universal kitchen mugs and I have no need for anything decorative. It’s minimal, but it helps, for now.

I’m also attempting to stabilize myself in bigger ways. As soon as my health insurance kicks in, I’m going to go back to my doctor and re-evaluate and change my meds, which is something I’ve been needing to do for awhile. I’m going to start going to therapy regularly again, now that I can afford it. (And boy, do I need it.) And once I start getting a paycheck and have a comfortable cushion where I can breathe easier about my finances, I’m going to set up a small rewards system for getting through the week, putting it in my planner to hold myself to it — a massage, or maybe ordering delivery and splurging on the good places, or buying that book that I really wanted, or getting a new phone case, or having a happy hour fancy drink or expensive beer at a bar. Even just writing some of this out gives me a sense of calm, knowing that I’m consciously taking control of my stress and anxiety.

Things will improve. Change will, eventually, be good and lead to other good things. But for now, I’m just trying to get through the day.

the big news: i’ve got an agent!

For the past month or so, I’ve been cryptically tweeting about progress on “I DID A THING,” which was my very, very vague way of getting out my excitement for a project I embarked on but due to a lot of reasons, couldn’t be specific about just yet. Some of that had to do with the fact that I had no idea if it would actually happen, so I didn’t want to put the cart before the horse. Some of that had to do with business.

Guys, keeping a secret of this magnitude, when all you want to do is shout to the rooftops about how excited you are about your dreams starting to come true, has been SO HARD. And the thing is, this very vague cryptic project has a number of steps involved. I still can’t talk about a few of them, but I can finally talk about one that I’ve been sitting on for awhile, now that the paperwork is officially signed.

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Signing my contract! Yes, that is a Black Widow shirt for obvious reasons. Yes, my hair is a mess, but that’s okay.

I have a literary agent. I am officially represented by Maria Vicente of P.S. Literary.

Writing that sentence out — even just seeing it in print — is still surreal to me. I wasn’t sure where this crazy journey would lead me when I decided to query P.S. Literary about a project that is extremely important to me, and I count myself eternally grateful that I happened to click right away with Maria, who is absolutely the right people to help usher this project into the world. Say what you will about the geek world, but it’s small and lovely, and part of the reason I even thought of Maria as a good fit for what I hoped to do was because I knew how much she understood this specific project. Within the span of our long conversation when representation was on the table, I realized how much Maria was invested in my ideas, and how much I would click with her as a collaborative partner. You can query a bunch of people and take the first agent that comes along, but it’s truly so important to be able to listen to your agent, understand their views, and recognize their intentions. Because they want you to be successful as much as you want to be successful, and that’s a team effort. Long story short, I instantly knew this was going to be a great fit.

I started this process at the beginning of 2017, but a lot of this has come together in the past few weeks, which has made February a month of ups and downs — ups where this project is concerned, downs where full-time job opportunities are concerned. But in the atmosphere of the current political climate, having something to focus my energy on besides job searching has been lifesaving, and I’m learning all I can about the publishing world from the other side…a place I never thought I’d be (says the girl who saved dozens of stories to her computer in middle school and high school with the file name “Novel[1], [2], [3], etc” but never managed to complete NaNo.)

I’m still learning the ins and outs — how the whole process works, what I can and can’t tell people at certain points, etc. I’ve even already made stupid tiny mistakes by being overambitious, because it’s me, and also that’s probably what Clint Barton would do. But Maria has been amazing to have as a cheerleader, and I can’t wait to work more with her.

So, yeah. I have an agent. And as soon as I can share some other good news along the same lines, I will.

my coming out story, thanks to supergirl

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This is technically another one of those entries where I share a link as opposed to actually writing out my feelings, but in this case, it’s a little different.

I’m lucky enough to have a lot of connections in the industry. When I approached Mashable about freelance pieces and the possibility of writing a “coming out” story about my bisexuality thanks to Supergirl and the Alex/Maggie storyline, I was both surprised and grateful that they were into the idea. I wrote the piece back in December, and then for various reasons, it didn’t get published until last week, when the show returned from hiatus. Cue me freaking out internally while I waited for a go-ahead.

I call this post my coming out manifesto. I’ve been more open about my sexuality online and on Twitter in recent months, but I’m still working on fully embracing myself. This piece isn’t just me admitting the truth about my sexuality. It makes me vulnerable, and not just because I admit my age and my struggles. But I’m proud of this piece, and I hope that it helps someone else who is feeling like they need to find themselves. I hope someone else realizes it’s never too late to embrace your identity.

You can read the full piece on Mashable by clicking this link, and I encourage you to share it if you know someone else who shares my story.

this is democracy, and i am a nasty woman (aka trump is not my president)

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Saturday was the Women’s March in DC. I attended the one in NYC, one of the many, MANY sister marches being held around the world at the same time.

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the first sign we saw while walking to the march route was ON POINTE

When the march was first announced, I didn’t think I needed to go at all. Sure, I was interested, but it seemed like a lot of work. Sure, I wanted to fight, but I could do that by making phone calls, right? (I’m inspired, but I’m also lazy). The more people talked about going and fighting, though, the more I began to seriously toy with the idea of going to DC. I had my college roommate who I could stay with, and buses from NYC to DC were decently cheap, so it was financially doable. But, I’m in a bit of a hole right now, so the responsible side of me won out and I told myself I didn’t need that extra pressure of maxing out my credit cards.

Fortunately, the Women’s March in NYC came up soon after, and I was able to find a good friend that wanted to come along. I knew a bunch of people that were going, but everyone was so scattered, marching for different groups and at different times, many of them with their own groups of friends or family members. I didn’t want to show up unless I had someone with me. I mean, even without knowing HOW huge this thing was going be, I knew it was going to be MASSIVE and crowded and the last thing I wanted to do was show up on my own.

Was it perfect? Not quite. I also didn’t have a sign, which I regret, because I was lazy and didn’t think I could make one. I wish I had brought one. But I’m writing this entry to talk about what I felt during this march, because I wanted to remember every amazing moment. And now I realize that whatever I write, I’ll feel like my words won’t do my feelings justice. For the first time since the election — the day I felt like everything about my life and future rested on a hopeless government — I felt HOPE. I felt positivity, optimism, love, and power. We were all there for the same reason, but no one wanted to make anyone’s life miserable. We just all wanted to make sure our voices were heard. We cared about our lives, and the lives and futures of ourselves, our siblings, our parents, our spouses, our friends, our grandparents, our children. Sure, it was disorganized (props to the organization for trying, at least; they couldn’t have predicted this massive turnout.) But it was peaceful. There was no yelling or pushing. Yes, people got cranky and loud and confused and angry, especially when we were all kind of stuck at a standstill for hours because no one knew where to move to. But no one got angry at each other.

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HELL YES WE ARE

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my march uniform for the day: Planned Parenthood t-shirt designed by Scarlett Johansson + Bitches Get Stuff Done pin

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Because we knew we weren’t the enemy. We were all in this together. We didn’t vote for this man. We didn’t vote to be worried about our lives and futures and health and religion. We were banding together and we knew that it wasn’t going to result in any change at this very moment. But we knew we could create a MOVEMENT. It was a small way for me to feel like I was making a difference, but boy, did I feel like I was.

Rebellions are built on hope. We are stronger together. When the history books talk about the people that protested and marched and broke records, I’ll be able to tell my children I was there and be an example for them. I’m proud to be a woman, and even prouder to be a New Yorker. It’s moments like these that make me feel like we can get through the next four years, because we ARE nasty women. We are forces to be reckoned with, and we sure as hell won’t let anyone tell us what to do or who to bow down to.

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at the 5th avenue route right by trump tower. CHECK OUT HOW FAR BACK THAT LINE GOES 🙂

If this is the first step at banding together to do some good, I’m more than willing to have faith in our country.

here’s to 2017

Well, it’s 18 days into January and I still haven’t posted about the new year or any of my goals, so…I’d say my resolution to have more of a schedule is going well.

Maybe I haven’t made a declaration on my blog. But in my life, since waking up on January 1, 2017, I’ve made a concentrated effort to be more. Be more present, be more positive, be more optimistic, be more happy. It’s hard, but I’m determined. (I’m also determined to get better meds, but that’s another story for another day. Insurance, you suck.) Be more, and be less — less self-medication in unhealthy ways, more self-care on days I really need it.

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I’m trying to be more lenient. I’m trying to put less pressure on myself as a human being, as a person. My perfectionist traits run deep, from over-editing a piece of writing to making sure I look okay before I see someone I don’t know. In this same way, I beat myself up when depression and anxiety get the best of me. I allow myself to sink into anger. I’m angry that I feel this way, that I’m upset, that I’m unhappy with my state of mind and that I spent an entire day lazily dicking around online, finding ways to make myself feel WORSE rather than trying to change it. In 2017, I’m striving to take that pressure, recognize it, and breathe it away. I don’t have to be perfect all the time. I can (and just did) have a bad day, or ten bad days. I can accept that, and deal with it, as opposed to taking an entire bottle of wine and drinking alone.

This year, I decided to carefully title my page of resolutions “Things To Accomplish” rather than write out the word “resolution” in any way. The things I want to accomplish in 2017 are a mixture of real “resolutions” (drink more water, read more) and dreams/hopes I want to conquer (running another half marathon, moderating a comic con panel, writing a comic). Writing them all out in a big list is overwhelming, sure, but it’s also kind of inspiring. I’m not making the list so I can cross off as many as possible. I’m making the list to remind myself that I can do anything, be anything, accomplish anything. Is it a lofty set of dreams and goals? Sure. Is it a little ambitious? Probably too much. But you miss every shot you don’t take, right?

In the back of my planner, along with this list of “resolutions,” I’ve made a number of other 2017-oriented lists: Books Read, Things To Write, as well as a general wishlist of items I want but just can’t afford right now. I’m also keeping a list that’s simply titled “Nice Things And Smiles.” It says 2017 on it, because I kind of got carried away in decorating, but it’s really just a comprehensive list of all the things — from hot baths to comics to FaceTime dates with friends — that are worth smiling about or waking up to. My goal is to add to this list as often as I can, and as often as I feel like I want to. (Oh yeah, and sometimes I put things down twice by accident. Whoops.)

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There are things happening in 2017 that scare me, and that I don’t know how to handle. But I can handle myself, and that’s what I’m working on.

a (brief) look back at 2016…the good stuff

In my last post, I talked about how 2016 wasn’t a great year. And it wasn’t. But I didn’t want to end the year with an entry that, even though a little hopeful, dwells on the bad. So.

At the beginning of 2016, I made some resolutions. I started a “monthly check-in” (that I promptly failed at keeping up) where I tried to see how I was doing with the small-ish goals I had made for myself, and I’m proud to say that if I look back at where I ended up, I did pretty damn good.

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Okay, so technically, I completed very few of these things. I started to be better about my water intake thanks to daily messages/check-ins with my girls, but a lot of these things didn’t happen: I lost my job so I could barely pay anything let alone pay down my debt, and I didn’t finish NaNo due to November being an absolute pain in the ass. I didn’t write one fic per month like I planned but I DID break my word count goal, which makes me feel really good about myself. I also finished a huge, huge writing project — my longest story ever at 250,000 words. And in case you missed it, I ran the Disney Avengers half-marathon. I guess that counts as “running at least one big marathon somewhere”, right? (I think when I started this I definitely had intentions of doing another run before/after Disney in the NY area, and I tried, but the timing never worked out.)

One of the biggest goals I set for myself was to read more in 2016. I had fallen off the train due to laziness and (sad to say) an increase in screen time that took my time away from reading. I didn’t read AS much as I wanted to — I really would have liked to read more. But between re-reads and new books, I think I did pretty well, and I read more books than I have in the past two years. As for 2017? I have a whole new list of books I want to read, and thanks to the holidays, I have a crop of books already queued up and ready to go. Bring it.

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I haven’t fully finished my goals/resolutions for 2017 yet, because I haven’t really sat down to look at things in my new planner. (I haven’t even gotten a chance to finish things in my old one, and I might not…we’ll see. I’m debating just starting fresh at this point since we’re so close to the New Year and it won’t do me any good to “catch up” on the week.) But as much as 2016 sucked, I did a lot of things I was proud of. I had a lot of personal accomplishments (some of which I’m not writing about just yet, but they belong in this year), and although some of the bad outweighed the good, I prevailed. I accomplished the things I didn’t think I could do. I didn’t let the bad guys win when I could have, even though I came very close.

I’m still here. I’m a little more tired and broken-down and cynical, and I still have things to work on, but I’m here.

i tried, 2016. i really did.

When I sat down a few weeks ago to decorate/fill in the December monthly grid of my passion planner, the first thing I did was take a pen and circle December 31. I then wrote in big letters, the year is finally fucking over.

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2016 was supposed to be a great year. Okay, maybe the word great is a little too optimistic. I always try to be optimistic, but I just don’t have it in me to be a true “glass half-full” person. Still, 2016 had the potential to be pretty good. After months of stress, I was going to move in with my boyfriend, thus finally starting to move my life forward. I was well-respected and successful at my dream job, and I had plans in place to start searching for a new job with more money once I got settled in my new home. I had goals I wanted to achieve, and the hope that I could make my life more organized and more comfortable. I wanted to pay off my debt. I thought I could finally be engaged by my birthday, if not the end of the year. 2016 was going to be a great year.

2016 was not a great year.

Three months in, I unexpectedly (and unfairly, though that’s a story for another time) lost my job. I lost my job exactly four days before I was supposed to move, and I still haven’t been able to find full-time work, despite numerous interviews and connections. It all spiraled from there — because of not being employed, life moments like getting settled and getting engaged were pushed back. My self-confidence waned, and I became unable to have conversations about life because I was feeling guilty that I was holding us back. And each day came and went, because the world doesn’t wait for you to start figuring your shit out. It just leaves you in the dust, and suddenly, you’re looking at where you are at 34, approaching 35, and thinking about how left behind you are and how everyone else is in a better place than you.

2016 was not a great year.

My mental health imploded in a way that was extremely detrimental. Whereas I used to be able to comfortably handle my anxiety and depression with healthy amounts of self-care, being out a job made me unhappy with my life, which caused my anxiety and depression to hit an all-time low — one that forced me onto medication. My self-care deteriorated considerably while my drinking escalated, and I had more than a few embarrassing “rock bottom” moments that included a bottle of wine and the toilet bowl. I hated myself for becoming that person, and wondered if I had a problem that needed to be addressed. I toyed with suicide ideation for a few months, though never so seriously as to worry myself, aside from worrying myself that I was thinking a LOT in terms of “what’s the point?”

2016 was not a great year.

My depression manifested itself in not only making me feel worthless because I couldn’t find full-time work, but in tainting my relationship. Never before had I cared so much about what other people thought — I was comfortable in my relationship, I had a guy who loved me and would give me the world, who was genuinely a good person and who shared my interests. I suddenly became extremely fragile when I realized other people didn’t think of him the same way or didn’t even care for him as much, which made me feel like I was making a mistake. And because my self-esteem was so low and I couldn’t trust myself, I started comparing myself to every other couple, focusing on the negative qualities every person has that I couldn’t look beyond, convincing myself I had made wrong choices.

2016 was not a great year.

I spent most of it in the worst financial shape ever, overrun with debt, feeling guilty that I couldn’t provide my share of finances. I relied heavily on my parents to support me, something that exacerbated my guilt tenfold, given that I’m at an age where I should be self-sufficient, or at least married and taking care of my own life. Accounts were overdrawn, and I have a list miles long of money I owe friends from commitments I made this year that I still followed through with because I could KIND OF afford it at the time.

2016 was not a great year.

When I lost my job, lots of people reached out instantly and offered support or help. I was grateful to them. A lot of people who worked at places I longed to work in also supported me and offered words of encouragement. I went on interviews that seemed wonderfully positive, and lots of times, I was left in the dust without even so much of a “yes” or “no” response to all the work I’d put in to trying to get whatever job I applied for. I suppose it’s not anyone’s fault — things just weren’t in my favor, and I have to keep searching to find the one thing that’s “meant to be.” It doesn’t mean that each rejection didn’t hurt, though, and it doesn’t mean that I didn’t spend time feeling badly about myself, as everyone else who was let go from the same kind of positions before and after me managed to find work fairly quickly. The journalism world is small, and it’s hard to hide from everyone else’s success. It’s hard after awhile not to wonder if maybe you’re not so great at what you love, after all.

2016 was not a great year.

Donald Trump was somehow elected president. In the days and weeks after the election, my queer, Jewish, female self has never felt so helpless or so scared. My mental health suffered; I found it hard to find the creative drive I always embraced when I needed to get my mind off of things that were bringing me down. I felt removed from friendships due to everyone pulling away from the world and having their own issues, which was no one’s fault, but because of my current mental state, it made me feel that much more alone and useless. I couldn’t complete NaNo for this year, because November wore me down in every single way. It’s December, and I’m still am looking for that “holiday cheer.” I’m not sure I’m going to find it.

 

I write all this out not to air to everyone what hardships I went through or ask for sympathy, but to try to put into words everything that felt hard this year and remind myself that this year wasn’t me. Sure, 2016 sucked because of a lot of reasons, more so than previous years. But because those bad things happened, because those setbacks happened, it doesn’t equal the fact that my life is terrible. This year didn’t define me. It just beat me up in a lot of ways. And I’m very grateful that I had amazing friends in my life who were my rocks and lifelines, even when they were dealing with their own shit. And when that failed, I relied on those who reminded me that I could get back up and beat the bad guys. I could take care of myself. I could rise up.

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2016 was not a great year, but if anything, it made me realize I can try to be better. I can try to make things happen and make 2017 a good year for myself. A year doesn’t define me — my thoughts and actions do. And I’m willing to be optimistic, even cautiously so, if it means I can get rid of some of the bad.