When you're a creative type (read: actor, musician, dancer, writer, artist) trying to "make it", you probably live in either New York or Los Angeles, leaving your family and hometown to pursue your dreams. When faced with the reality of paying rent and bills, you realize that if you don't turn your dreams into goals, they'll stay dreams. That's not why you sacrificed being close to your loved ones, to waste your time. So you take a job as a bartender, server, hostess, receptionist, assistant, promo model, brand ambassador, or salesman, something with a bit of financial security. It's a tough career choice you've made, being thousands of miles away from your loved ones, and you look forward to those special times of year when you can see them again; holidays!
Except you forgot that working in the service industry often means working on holidays while other people have their Thanksgiving dinners, or only getting the actual holiday off of work, and one day is not enough to fly home, enjoy quality family time, and fly back. So you sacrifice further, and you plan on working through the holidays. Besides, maybe people will feel generous and tip you more when their bellies are full of turkey and their heads are full of wine. That will make it all worthwhile.
I've been through this scenario many times in the ten years since I left Michigan, and this was my plan for this year. Luckily, my college friend, Dom, and his lovely wife, Zuzana, invited my boyfriend and I to their home for Thanksgiving dinner. I made corn muffins for the first time (quite successfully, I might add) and my boyfriend made his delicious sweet potato casserole, with mini marshmallows on top. It was a fun gathering, complete with Wii tournaments and arm wrestling. I wasn't with my family, but I was among good company and good food. I was comfortable even though I wasn't home, so I ate like I was home; turkey, stuffing, sweet potato, corn muffins (plural), yogurt-dipped pretzels, an entire 2 liter of diet soda, a glass of wine, potato au gratin, cheese and crackers, more cheese, then later, at my own house, hot apple cider rum and pumpkin pie. I really went for it.
I slept like a spoiled baby that night, due to a sugar and fat fueled food coma. The next day, I had what I can only describe as a hangover. I hadn't had much to drink the night before but I sure didn't want to get out of bed. The only thing that woke me up was remembering it was my birthday, good old number 31, and I was not going to waste the day. I let myself sleep in a bit and then immediately began celebrating! I love Mexican food so I went to Chevy's. I wasn't planning on drinking but I do love margaritas. Why not? It's my birthday! I deserve more sugar and alcohol, don't I? Cut to an hour later, a full belly, and a slight headache.
When dinner time arrived, my boyfriend offered to cook a steak dinner, complete with a bottle of wine and one of my favorites, red velvet cake. It was a perfect ending to a wonderful day. Once again, I fell fast asleep, with the help of my birthday food coma. Though my vacation time was officially over, I woke up the next morning dreading getting out of bed. I wasn't ready to go to my normal routine. With leftovers in the fridge, I didn't have to! I told myself I shouldn't keep indulging. On the other hand, my boyfriend worked so hard peeling all those sweet potatoes, it seemed such a waste not to eat just a bit more of that mouth-watering casserole. At 11:30 at night. Before bedtime.
Although I work all weekend nowadays, Sundays are still my "bad days" when it comes to diet. I allow myself the chance to eat the salty and sweet I usually deny myself throughout the week. Usually. But this week had been Thanksgiving and my birthday, I hadn't really denied myself anything. Maybe I'll just get donuts and coffee for the morning. I mean, it's become a tradition. Then, I didn't really have time before work to cook so I told myself it was okay to just have pizza, one bad meal is fine. After work I wasn't hungry right away and I had a conference call scheduled anyway so I could just wait to have dinner. But by the time the call ended, I was starving so fuck it, I thought, I'll just drive-thru and get fast food. I'll be good starting tomorrow. Mondays are good days for that, right?
I should have listened to my own advice, the idea I had when I started this blog; Every day is a good day to begin. I strayed from my path. Not only did I overindulge, I stopped working out. I derailed. I'm only sharing all of this to be honest. I'm not beating up on myself. I enjoyed myself! I let the kid in me live it up for the holiday weekend. And now it's time to get to work. I've lost a bit of the progress I gained during Round 1 of P90X, but it's never too late to pick up and get to work. That's what I'm going to do. Riiiiiiiiiight now.
I know that title sounds pessimistic but I'm just trying to be realistic. I'm sitting in the front car of an emotional roller coaster; either my hands are in the air or I'm just holding on for dear life. There is rarely a day in between. When those middle of the road days do come, I get bored. So I nitpick, looking for a reason to be happy or sink into a depression. Maybe it's genetic but as long as I'm aware of it I'm going to learn to control it myself, sans drugs (self-medicated or doctor-prescribed), booze, food, or anything other quick fix. My problem is that every time I have a setback, I feel like I'm starting over. How do I teach myself to think of these moments as speedbumps rather than failures?
I have this pattern and it goes a little something like this; I come up with a grand idea, a life-changing, mood-altering, genius plan. I then spend way too much time plotting and scheming to ensure ultimate success. By the time I actually begin to follow through, I'm already losing steam. Then, it fizzles out, a beautiful, glowing shell of what could have been. I do not want to end up a beautiful, glowing shell of the person I didn't become. But I've become more afraid of the little every day failures then of the big picture failure. I say I don't want to end up a never-was, then find myself distracted by other people's lives and art instead of creating my own.
Example; this blog. I thought my blog was going to be super motivational but it's turned into a substitute for therapy. At the very least, I'm writing something. That has to be a good thing. But where's the discipline. Must I wait for inspiration? Then nothing gets done. I need to learn how to forge ahead on days where I think nothing is good enough. Can it be that simple? Is the very least just about showing up and getting it done? Then there are these other ideas that I should be writing. I made a list. It's a very good list. All good ideas. When will they get done? What will it take for me to buckle down and write while working two jobs, sticking to my exercise program, and keeping my life together?
I'm wondering how do I live my life while planning for a life I might never have? Am I feeling this pressure because another birthday is passing me by, or do I always feel like this but never say it out loud?
It's been too long since I shared myself on this here blog so I'm writing, mental block or not. The truth is I haven't had anything inspirational to say. My path to fitness has taken a few twists I didn't anticipate. To begin with, my diet hasn't been horrible, but it hasn't been great either. One of the biggest problems with working in a restaurant is NOT eating the delicious, yet not-exactly-healthy menu items, like Eggplant Parmigiana. Yum. Or thin crust pizza, which I end up eating on Sunday afternoons for my "bad meal" anyway. I have not yet mastered the daily habit of moderation and it's effecting my progress. I sure love cheese!
Halloween came and went. When it arrived, I was thrilled but it ended up a big pain in my neck, literally. My friends invited me to Universal Studios' Halloween Horror Nights, including 12 haunted attractions (I was scared by Norman Bates, Michael Meyers, and those Joker henchman, and posed with Shaun of the Dead, my hero!). I had such a good time but I wasn't thinking about how tense my muscles would be all night long; getting scared over and over, standing in long lines out in the cold, and not drinking ANY water. In addition, I was up super late and didn't sleep very well. I may or may not have had nightmares involving captors with pig faces.
The next night was Halloween and I had to work. My weekend of not taking care of myself continued with working a closing shift until 2am, in platform boots, and again, drinking soda instead of water. I finished the night with a beer, the last thing I needed. By Sunday, I was wrecked. My voice was hoarse and I was tired. Did I replenish my throat and body with water? Nope. I opted for caffeine; coffee then soda. I then had donuts, ice cream, and fast food, with no thought to what I was doing to my body. It was Sunday and that's the day I get to eat what I want.
Monday morning I woke up and I could barely move my head in any direction without sharp pain. What had triggered this pain? Did I sleep funky? Was I not properly positioned on my Tempur Pedic pillow? We weren't THAT busy at work on Halloween so I don't remember bumping into anything. I do have an old neck injury but it wouldn't just mysteriously act up like arthritis. I simply couldn't figure out the cause of this sudden, debilitating pain, and I didn't until I saw a massage therapist. By asking me simple questions, he made me aware of my own self-sabotage. Questions such as "Have you been staying hydrated?" and "Are you getting enough sleep?" made me realize how my little choices had snowballed into me simply not taking care of myself. I told my therapist about my scare-filled weekend and he pinpointed my problem; Halloween.
While watching the latest horror flick may be fun, it turns out getting scared is actually bad for you. When we get scared, our body goes into "fight or flight" mode. Even when we know it's just a movie, our brain tells our body we're in danger. Our blood pressure and heart rate go up, muscle tension increases, and our body has all this built-up stress with no release. If only I'd known this before I went through 5 haunted attractions in one night, I could've spent the morning after relieving that stress, through physical activity or any number of relaxation techniques. Instead, I tried to get more sleep, skipped Yoga, and drank caffeine.
I guess I'm not as self-aware as I thought. Mind, body, and spirit are truly connected. The choices we make can have effects we didn't even imagine. And the next time I plan on scaring myself silly, I better plan on hitting the gym next day, too! Or some other form of stress relief...
Born and raised in Detroit, MI, Briana began writing at an early age. She studied Creative Writing and Journalism throughout grammar school, writing an advice column and serving as a Copy Editor for her school newspaper. Briana attended Western Michigan University's Musical Theatre Performance program before heading to New York City to pursue a career in theatre and music. Writing music with the Chad Parson Band inspired her to focus her energy on other forms of writing she had left behind; poetry, short stories, and eventually short film. She was privileged to study Poetry Writing with poet and novelist Laurie Wagner Buyer and was honored to receive an internship with E. Jean Carroll, the longtime advice columnist for Elle Magazine. In 2006, Briana co-founded Bigger Baby Productions, a small internet-based company focused mainly on short comedic film. On January 1st of 2008, she made the cross-country move from NYC to LA to pursue a career in film and television. Briana currently resides in Santa Monica with her dog, Howie, and recently finished her first marathon!
