As much as this is going to sound like a Carrie Bradshaw intro, I’m willing to take that risk and talk to you about a subject that is really starting to stress me out.
A friend and I were talking the other day about the future and what we ultimately wanted/needed.
Now, this may be an issue that is specifically geared towards the ladies, but the older I get, the more I see this common fear amongst myself and the other ladies in my life: Can we have it all?
Can we have the career we are madly in love with, plus the man (or lady) we are madly in love with, simultaneously?
Neither one of these things are easy to accomplish to begin with, let alone add a whole new bag of constant failure and blind faith on top of our already stressful situations, which makes you wonder if it’s even worth it.
Do we have to choose? And if so, what does that choice say about yourself?
I, personally, don’t want to know. Ignorance is bliss, and Twisted Puff Cheetos have gotten me through some tough times, but how much longer can we hide from this question? And how much are we willing to sacrifice to find out the answer? If there is one.
This all sounds so mellow dramatic, and I apologize that this is the post I give you after a three week hiatus, but I’ve been going through some pretty shitty writer’s block and I’ve realized it’s because I’ve been running away from my feelings, while opening up to someone new, all at the same time.
Vomit, I know. But at the end of the day, I am still a lady, with lady parts, and thus get to be an emotional betch. Deal with it.
Some of you have really gotten to see me grow. I started this blog three years ago (hiding in my parents house with adult braces after graduating college) and I now live in NYC, dealing with my grappling fear of failure and the fear of the unknown.
Two things that have proven much harder to let go than I had ever assumed.
There are new people in my life that I don’t know what I’d do without, and I’ve watched my worst/immature/emotional decisions become some of the greatest/happiest turning points of my life.
I will always strive to document my life in a humorous tone, no matter how shitty the shit is, but I ask you to bare with me through these moments of emotional neediness and confusion that are bound to rear it’s ugly head repeatedly. (Like, right now.)
And as I venture off into the world of paid writing, I beg you to still love me, even after I sell out.
Side note: This post got weird, real quick. But again, thank you, for sticking around. I’ll be here, as long as you are.
But as the red wine begins to hit, it’s only bound to get weirder, so I’ll leave you with this: my life is insignificant, and not even worth reading; I am not an expert on anything, far from it, my only strength is my ability to bluntly open up about who I am and my choices so that you can learn through my mistakes.
Thank you, past Natalie. You’re welcome, future Natalie.