Is it too ballsy to steal the name of the sled from Citizen Kane for my blog post title?
I invoked William Randolph Hearst’s name in a previous blog post as a bad joke, so me and Bill are pretty tight. I think it will be okay.
You know how people talk about what they would do differently if they could live their life over again? And how that is meaningless because time continues to move in just one direction for us?
Write a goddamn memoir and you will find that you get to live that scenario, at least in a fragmented way.
It’s not that I get to live my life over just because I am revisiting memories that I’ve had tucked away for years.
What I do get, is a chance to examine memories and, maybe, feel differently about events in my life.
This has been painful. Not completely painful. Not everything in my past was hard. I have plenty of good memories, but there is a lot of past pain. What I am finding the most painful, is not remembering when I was hurt, but more the way I reacted to those emotional injuries and allowed my reactions to dictate who I would become.
It occurred to me that I still get to decide who I will be. My story isn’t told. Not yet. I get to decide how my story flows.
I spent years trying to control life.
If I could control everything around me, then I’d be safe. No surprises, minimal discomfort.
That didn’t turn out like I hoped. I controlled so very little.
What I can do now is focus on me and who I am. I can let life happen around me without expending so much emotional energy trying to move the heavens and the earth. The heavens and the earth are heavy, yo.
Shame was an overriding emotion from the time I was very small. I carried those feelings with me well into adulthood. They were a constant companion, barely noticed. Kind of like when you write a sticky note as a reminder and, then after you see it enough, you cease to see the note at all.
The more I relive past events, the more I let go of feelings that have been weighing me down for years.
HAHAHFUCKINGHAHAHAAH. That’s only a little true.
I’m not letting go easily. I have to pry my fingers from every bad feeling I’ve held on to. Every single one.
I will get there when I get there.
The cool thing about writing this memoir is that not all the memories are bad. Some are definitely uncomfortable. Some are disturbing in a trippy, yet fascinating way. Some are mundane as hell, but still interesting to me.
Finding the balance between what other people would find interesting and what is only interesting to me is challenging. For instance, I’ve been hanging out in memories from when I was 21 and 22 years old. I had never been married, but was involved with the man who would become my first husband.
I realized I could pinpoint the moment in my life when I first felt like an adult.
I was 21 years old.
I had already moved out of my parent’s home once, but that move doesn’t count. I lived in a pay by the week apartment for 6 weeks before hunger drove me back home. By the time I paid rent and bus money to get back and forth to work, I had about $15 a week for everything else.
When I moved out the second time, I had a better job. I had a roommate. I had money for food and cheap shoes.
I also bought a piece of furniture.
Well, I didn’t buy it. I financed it. Come to think of it, that might have been my first big, really bad financial decision. Many, many similar bad financial decisions followed, but that was the first. Unless it was that gold watch I financed at a jewelry store. That might have been the first one. I can’t remember.
Anyway, I picked the biggest, most gaudy and truly ugly waterbed in the whole store.
I thought it was glorious.
The wood was chunky and lacquered to a high gloss. There was a huge head board with a lighted mirror underneath a shelf and cupboards on the sides with opaque glass doors that had rosebuds etched on the glass.
I thought the bed looked beautiful.
I also signed my first contract to pay someone money for something I really didn’t need and absolutely couldn’t afford. In my mind, that equated being a grown up.
Silly wabbit.
I don’t know that the rosebud waterbed story belongs in the book. I think more, just writing the memories down and allowing them to happen instead of forcing them to happen will be good for me in different ways. I will get better stories while gaining a level of self-acceptance that has been elusive. I can decide to forgive my younger self for making some spectacularly bad choices which in turn helps me feel a tiny bit more comfortable in my own skin.
It’s not easy reliving painful memories. It’s not all bad, though. Not at all.
I think the next step will be to find a way to refer to ‘the’ book as ‘my’ book. It makes me cringe a little. I am still working through the ‘who do you fucking think you are?’ aspect of writing a memoir.
What regrettable purchase(s) did you make on your way through adulthood?
I chalk it all up to growing up. I made some very regretable fashion choices that were too much money and too trendy but ….. I was young!
Oh yeah…I have those as well..
The worst purchase was a timeshare property in Aruba. Ouch it’s a painful memory.
We all can benefit from reading your story.
Thank you! And yeah…I was tempted to buy a timeshare once. I’m glad I didn’t. Because I got a waterbed instead. haha
Whether you realize it or not, you are actually working a 12 step program. Right now you are writing your 4th. Telling it to someone will be your 5th. 6 and 7 will be getting rid of those character defects you found out about during your writing. 8 and 9 will be making amends for all that past crap, then 10-12 will be living the new life you’ve found. Pretty cool, huh?
🙂
Yeah…except no one said there would be math.
There’s always fucing math.
I know..and that sucks for me.
I did sooo many stupid things in my early to mid twenties. I can’t think of specific bad purchases but I can’t tell you how many (self-induced) car destructions I was in. I think I finally grew up when I had to pay for car repairs completely out of my own pocket. Yeah, that hurt.
Yep…that’s a hard lesson to learn..
Ha ha just one? I have my share of financial poor choices too, for sure. I am still digging my way out of those. The best lesson was when my parents let me purchase the whole Mary Kay line, paying something like $3 a month out of my allowance …… you would think I would have learned my financing lesson then and there before the subsequent choices had a lot more zeroes attached!
It has taken me most of my life to learn that lesson. I’m still learning it, actually.
Hopefully the waterbed story will go in the book because…WATERBED. Unlike lava lamps which have made a big comeback waterbeds seem like a trend that have never made a comeback. I remember first learning about waterbeds from “The Courtship of Eddie’s Father”, that show about The Incredible Hulk managing to hold it together in spite of raising a kid alone, even when he was sleeping on his brother’s waterbed and the thing sprung a leak. And the second time I heard about waterbeds was an episode of “Three’s Company”. It was hinted, strongly implied, and pretty much spelled out that waterbeds were for all kinds of awesome sex. I don’t remember how it ended, but I’m pretty sure it was all a big misunderstanding and Mr. Furley still thought Jack was a homosexual.
And then my friend’s mother got a waterbed and I discovered that once you get on one it’s hard to get out of and I couldn’t imagine having sex on it. Fortunately it never did spring a leak.
So what I’m getting at is there are no major purchases I regret but I do feel guilty for spending so much time watching television.
HAHAHHA…that’s awesome.
I was pregnant with my first child and still had that waterbed. When I was near my due date, the only way I could get out of bed was for my husband to push on his side of the bed and then I would ride the wave out.
Your post reminded me of my waterbed which I had in college. In an apartment on the 10th floor. When the year was over and it was time to empty the waterbed, we ran the hose over our balcony — and completely drenched the balcony below us. Oops.
hahha…yes. And I would always lie about having a waterbed because back then, a lot of places wouldn’t allow them. I was lucky..it never leaked.
I remember my first apartment ever so clearly. It was a furnished suite (shivers). The first morning I came down the stairs to the lobby and there was a homeless man sleeping on the floor. Actually I smelled him before I saw him. It scared the crap out of me. I only lasted there about 3 months. LOL. That’s fantastic you’re writing a memoir, Michelle. Very therapeutic!
When I saw your title ‘Rosebud’ I thought it might be about the movie. Wasn’t he a narcissist? In the end all he wanted was Rosebud… great film.
Yeah..I would say that Charles Foster Kane/William Randolph Hearst had a large dose of narcissism.
First “grown-up” purchase that I regret having made- a series of gourmet cookbooks that came in the mail. There’s about 20 of them and I probably paid $200 for them – 30 years ago. I’ve made about 3 recipes out of them. Sigh…
My husband and I had a waterbed, too, but got it secondhand from someone who was ridding themselves of it. – Can’t remember if the sex was any better, but there were at least a couple of babies conceived there… at least I think that’s where it happened… ; )
Hahha..I had one child conceived on mine.
Yes! to your first question.
I love that your Rosebud was a waterbed. (Well it would be, wouldn’t it? hahaha!) When I was married we had a waterbed that we faithfully carted around from one rental to another (how about signing leases that you can’t afford cuz, you know, things are bound to get better?). I loved that bed – if I was alone in it with my 3 declawed cats. Sharing it with a husband who was twice my body weight meant my warm, snuggy cocoon ballooned into a precarious balancing act. Prepare to launch a cat!
You are a bwave, bwave wabbit, M. I sometimes dare to peek back into the myriad of bad memories and awful choices but I quickly turn away. Too chicken. I tell myself to just forgive it all because I CAN’T CHANGE THE PAST but the ick remains, polluting my subconscious like a nasty, viscous slick. I see that the clean-up is labour-intensive and I don’t have the fortitude. I am gutless. Trying to ignore it might be another bad decision. Add it to the list! So, BWAVO to you, girl! I admire your strength.
(Here’s your weekly mantra: MYBOOK, MYBOOK, MYBOOK…)
THANK YOU!! I am going to try that mantra out. 🙂
Our worst purchase as adults was the ENTIRE set of Encyclopedia Britannicas – all 4, 000 volumes! Hubby was going to college & we thought they would be useful. Month, after month, year after year, still paying for the damn things. It seemed the more we paid, the more we owed. When money got tight(er), we quit paying for them & they started calling and threatening us with collection agencies. We finally told them that if they wanted them so badly, to just come and pick them up. Never heard from them again. And by the way, we couldn’t GIVE them away for free.
I have a similar story with magazines. Holy shit, I was an easy target. I mean, it wasn’t quite as epic, but it was hundreds of dollars that I didn’t have.
Oh gawd, I made SO many bad purchases in my twenties–which is why I walked around with the ball and chain of credit card debt for years. Magazines…china and crystal (what 23-year-old needs this???)…clothes and shoes…whole life insurance (I was single with no dependents)…I was a sucker for a good sales spiel (and didn’t want to “offend” the seller). Thankfully, I’ve learned to say no, and to differentiate wants from needs. Good for you on the memoir…that’s gotta be cathartic–and I’m sure it’ll be a great read when it’s done!
THAT was one of my biggest problems. I didn’t want to offend the seller. Except with the waterbed. That was all me.
I spent way too much for my first TV when I moved in with my roomies. Of course, it was on credit. However, on the bright side of that, it did last a good 30 years!! It went everywhere with me – about 8 different apartments and 2 houses. Got my money’s worth. 🙂
Yeah..you can’t complain about 30 years of entertainment.
Oh, I too have a TV story. Got it together with my then fiance. Ended up dumping him along with that TV. Credit was in my name, however, and I’m still paying for the damn thing. Poor planing on so many levels.
You are not alone…
I felt so bad when I was young that I didn’t buy anything for myself but a bunch of alcohol. Yes, I thought that would help. YOUR BOOK is going to be successful because of the honesty, humility, and humor you are capable of putting out there everyday.
Thank you!!!!
Errrr…I still sometimes think booze helps. Haha.
Of course the rosebud waterbed belongs in your book… It speaks volumes about you at that age… Wrong bed… Wrong man!! It looked way better to you then than it does now. Symbols and motifs…
Purchase I’ve regretted?? Does the treadmill I ignore count??
I have one of those treadmills…
There’s a pet supply place in Oakland called Citizen Canine, so your appropriation of Rosebud is entirely cool, if only by comparison. The only things I ever bought on credit were a guitar and some motorcycles, and I have zero regrets about them. And of course it’s your book, and I predict that it will kick all of the asses…
Thank you…now..to just finish writing the first draft.
It was a condo in a community of evil old people. And I do not use the adjective lightly. We sold at a loss just to get out of there. My husband can’t even talk about it, it was so horrific.
Oh man…that sounds really bad.
I actually paid for my own wedding band when I got married the first time. God almighty, was that ever the worst financial and life decision I ever made. Of course, I couldn’t see that at the time. I paid for that ring in more ways than I can count. But, I got a great daughter out of the deal. 🙂
ooohhhh…ouch. But YAY on the daughter. I have a son from a first marriage. I left with only him and was entirely good with that.
I don’t know about regrettable purchases – except perhaps those horrible diet candies called AYDS. Yup, unfortunate name once the 80s came along.
I did buy an antique rocker when I couldn’t afford it – but I love it and still have it 40 years later…
Include the story – every memoir should have a waterbed in it!
I remember those candies!
A Hyundai Excel with my now-hubby…it started falling apart the day after the car yard warranty was up
oh ouch…car issues are the worst.
Oh my goodness! This scarily close to something I could have written – waterbed ‘n all! I can so relate to the cringe aspect of writing about ourselves. It IS painful and cringy, especially if we have moved on quite a long way from who we were.
Going back there for me is like going to visit someone I feel sorry for and maybe don’t even like very much. It’s uncomfortable remembering poor reactions to past events, especially when we would do it so differently now. I have a safe jammed with notebooks full of anger! I often think about burning them but can’t do it. They come to me in the night when I stress about dying before I have got rid of them.
And the waterbed! I had one when I lived in Toronto in the 70s. It was from a shop called Curved Space. It was fine because we were living in a basement apartment on Santa Monica Boulevard – nowhere for the water to leak. We moved to a 3rd floor appartment on Bathurst Street from there and it really freaked me out that we might deluge the second floor with gallons of water. And pregnancy – yes! I used to rock to get a wave going and launch myself up off the bed too. The worst thing was when the heater broke – a cold waterbed mattress is too horrible to even think about, let alone lay on.
Worst purchase? Everything we bought from Curved Space. The Cactus lampshade, the purple ‘fish’ chairs, low to the floor and designed to elevate the feet when tilited back with the person’s weight and, the yellow dressing table. All very exciting at the time but truly horrendous in hindsight.
Great post, very relateable for lots of people of a certain age I would think, by all the comments.
It’s like we’re sisters. Only I didn’t have fish chairs.
Ha, you’re braver than me, I’ve always had this fear of water beds, I’m sure if I went near one I’d rip it or puncture it by accident. If I’d ever bought one it would probably have lasted a week.
I don’t think I ever made any really daft purchases, apart from the odd wardrobe mistake. I did however, choose several men who made regular and very expensive daft purchases. I have spent vast portions of my life trying to sort out the mess they invariably made of our finances, so they’re my daft decisions.
Come to think of it there was a truly unreliable, green Toyota Hiace that I bought as a band van once though. That was a real lemon which cost a lot of money to keep on the road, before I finally gave up and scrapped it. I guess that probably wasn’t the wisest purchase I ever made.
Yeah…the car I bought before this one has been a huge mistake. I need to dump it.
I think we may have owned the same waterbed. I loved that thing! I was highly disappointed when I traded up from my original “all of the waves” mattress for a low-motion one. I loved all of those waves!