My brother, Johnathan, who is ten years younger, with an athletic body and god-like head of hair, recently became a father to the most beautiful, chocolatey, cherub, twin boys in existence. Of course, he would. His long-time girlfriend, who I absolutely adore, would have served as the inspiration for LL Cool J’s, “‘Around the Way Girl”, had she been alive in 1990. We recently became Facebook friends and I noticed that her posts state that she is “really in my feelings right now…” when she’s feeling particularly overwhelmed by something, as I imagine that a young mother of four is perfectly entitled to feel.
and… as with most things that I learn about people in my life, my compassion for what they must be going through, drifts toward thoughts of my own challenges.
I couldn’t even begin to imagine the stress of caring and providing for a family of six. It must be exhausting. I’m also very overwhelmed by my life. After returning from Paris last year, I feel totally off my game and am left wondering if I should continue with this “chef” life or go back overseas, maybe focus on my love life? maybe re-invent myself again? wait… what were we talking about?
Needless to say, I love this phrase and wish to use it as often as possible.
I’m really in my feelings, right now.
I’m safe on paper but convinced that verbally, I wouldn’t have been able to pull it off with much success.
More Rihanna. Less Dianne Keaton.
What “we” mean when we say this, is that we’re being totally owned by our emotions. In my case, not many can multi-task being superficial and feeling entitled, with blatant depression and insecurity. My ability to experience such a complicated range of emotions makes me feel superior to others while disconnected from them and sad because of it.
I’m off track, both personally and professionally, which means that I’m expressing my fear of being alone and frustration about my career, by over-eating and being as much of a slut as opportunity (and luck) allows.
I did okay around the holidays but as of late, things have taken a significant dive. The last guy that I was attracted to, wanted to know if I was willing to be “generous”.
Great. I ‘m pretending to be a non-smoker for this?
Even more degrading was that for a split second, I tried to tally how much I had available in my checking account.
As if the professional side had become jealous of all the “fun” that the personal side was having and demanded to play too, I was dealt another emotional kick in the balls, when my chef informed us that he would be leaving the restaurant in six weeks.
This was two months before I had planned to shock and awe the restaurant staff of my (very irresponsible) decision to leave. Though given my relationship with the front of the house, what I naively envisioned as gasps of horror and clutches to the heart, might actually be sighs of relief and raised middle fingers.
I need to move on. To… something.
At this moment in my life, my professional experience has resulted in being miserable in two very different industries. and one paid substantially more than the other. There’s no clear, winning position at this particular fork in my road.
road 1:
return to an industry that you despised, with my tail between my legs, and with skills that are undoubtedly, obsolete by now. make twice my current salary and spend the rest of my life, using extended, paid vacation times and issued, “sick leave”, to window shop suicide approaches. on the plus side, I’ll have health insurance again. and weekends.
road 2:
resume working in an industry that I’m growing to hate, despite being unable to think about doing anything else. continue to resenting customers and the coworkers who encourage them. earn the same wages that I did as a part-time employee during summer vacations from college. hook up with the occasional dish washer and/or waiter and hope that this, along with binge drinking, are supplemental enough distractions until I’m “fortunate” enough to go even further into debt after opening my own restaurant, that has a very strong possibility of failing within the first six months because I refused to accommodate a high maintenance, vegan.
