ally mcbeal moments

each season, Ally McBeal goes on a frenzy right around her birthday, one of her fears was turning 30 that she was upset about celebrating her 28th, cuz it’s 2 years from 30. I’ve been having my Ally moments since I turned 25.  There’s the feeling of having to find a safe and sane career path and then the need to build tight bonds with people and worst of all, there’s the horror of occasionally catching a gray strand shining above your head while looking aimlessly in the mirror as your hands guide the toothbrush through your gums causing you to choke up. And then it hits…damn it! I’m getting old!

Another brush with a similar event happened the other week as I was combing through my email. Diane screamed at that top of her lungs “don’t move! white hair! it’s standing up!”. Right then, I lost my appetite to work. I don’t look at the mirror looking over my head anymore, even when I’m fixing it, I don’t wanna catch myself off-guard again, specially when I am a perfect example of someone who needs to grow up and think ahead about my finances, career, health deterioration and lifestyle.

It doesn’t move forward from here, cuz life itself is the stumbling block.

I don’t trust the ground I walk in

It might be because of my not so recent roadside mishap one rainy morning, but maybe not. I used to walk comfortably and without fear on whatever pavement surface, may it be pebbles, mud, cement, mossy rocks, grassy lands, rusty steel, washout  name it! I don’t fret on walking front ways or sideways on a 45 degree ramp, but not anymore. I don’t know if I don’t trust my shoes or I’m saving myself from the humility of falling on my ass for whatever slimy stuff there is on the pavement.

And just like that, I drew up a conclusion that how I choose to thread the paths I walk on is how I am towards life and work. I don’t wanna walk on the slippery slope, I might critically break my back or sprain my ankles. In my proverbial walk, I tumbled down and been rolled over, now I have lost the fondness I have for what I do, I’m not thrilled to get up and go, then I wonder where my passion slid to? when it burned down and out? why it did. Waking up with vigor to create, share and collaborate used to be the life I live and breathe. Now I just live it, I don’t breathe it.

Over salad, pasta and passion fruit cheesecake, Jan burst the bubble I have so long protected for what I thought was for my own good. I gotta run, I gotta jump the fence before I get irrevocably stuck. What she said was true to the very essence, I should not wait for the day when I don’t wanna get up and just resort to sending my farewell email. I have to show myself the door while I still see it, before the dead end sign presents itself as more than an image in my head but a revelation  staring me in the face.

I wanna be able to walk again with no fear of the pavement dragging me down, falling face down with bruises that will never heal.