12/5/15

Rambley and Rattley Emotional Roller Coasters

Photo Credit
Dear Pussycats,

There are exciting things on my horizon, ie, a job (finally!). I can now end 2015 saying that I will (hopefully) never work retail, or be an intern ever again - and I cannot express how amazing that feels.

Actually I can, because I'm a writer, duh.

It feels like the first bite of a coconut donut from Dough after justifying to yourself why eating it is totally okay, (calories don't count in the morning, right?).

It feels like when you're drunk and singing karaoke and thinking to yourself that you sound really great and are hitting all the notes while in a magical daze of beer hiccups, beer goggles and Whitney Houston (aka, total euphoria).

It feels like a warm fuzzy hug after a good cry to your mother.

I DID IT, TEAM.

I have a lot of feelings I want to get down, because honestly, I haven't written in awhile. But just because I'm not writing, doesn't mean I'm not thinking, and it certainly doesn't mean I'm not feeling. Sometimes every day of my life feels like I'm riding the emotional equivalent of the Coney Island Cyclone roller coaster. I know the term "emotional roller coaster" is as cliche as the statement "happiness is a state of mind," but hear me out, my emotions are no normal "roller coaster," okay.

This summer, on the way to a darling date at my happy place, Coney Island, my normally patient, and calm boyfriend was very eager about one thing while there, the Cyclone. I shrugged off his insane roller coaster wishes and went about my adventure as I usually do.

We hopped off of the subway and were immediately surrounded by sunburnt tourists and posters for hot-dog eating contests and the Coney Island Freakshow. The smell of cotton candy and fried food was everywhere, and it was 80 degrees, despite the fact that it was September. We passed the money-operated Zoltan fortune teller and fortunately we didn't turn into middle aged business men, and while I thought we were going to have a normal day people-watching and suckin' on a chili dog, Mark had another idea.

As we made our way closer to the Cylone, my stomach turned into a pretzel. The aforementioned roller coaster is not only old as hell, but it is scary as hell. Being made entirely of wood, this roller coaster looks like some sort of hell-ish, haphazard contraption conceived by the brains of a rag-tag group of Little Rascals in 1927. I starred up at this steampunk-nightmare and instantly thought, "oh hell nah," but my boyfriend was determined for me to share this experience with him.

This rickety and rattley roller coaster is very similar to my emotional roller coaster considering they both feature 12 drops, 27 elevation changes and an "exhilarating 85-foot, 60-degree plunge at speeds of 60 mph." It took pleading and a bit of bribing for my boo to convince me to join him, and to this day it is one of my weirdest life decisions I've made since that time I thought straight across bangs would be a good idea.

Sitting in this scary death-trap, I thought about my sisters, my cat Netflix, and all the future cats that I would be leaving behind. Mark insisted on the front seat which fulfilled many native New Yorker's ultimate childhood dreams. I kept repeating, "don't say I don't love you, ever," and even though I hoped we would have a darling moment like the into of Step by Step, instead it looked a little bit more like a scene from Rogers and Hammerstein's State Fair, mixed with this scene from Final Destination 3.

It was scary, anxiety-inducing and I didn't know what to expect, I soon learned all I could do was scream.

It's really unfortunate that the emotional roller coaster that I ride every day in my mind happens in places that are a lot less socially acceptable to scream my head off, cry and then shove my face with cotton candy afterwards.

Moving to New York is kind of like riding the Cyclone as well, because if I knew how scary it was before I rode it, I probably would've never bothered.

A photo of Mark and I directly after the Cyclone
However, what is so cool about Roller Coasters in general is that they always do end, you're able to get back on your feet, fake-punch your boyfriend for making you do that, followed by consoling your feelings with greasy food (although I really got to get out of that habit).


I get sad, angry, happy, irritated, sad, elated, silly, all day long. I'm strapped into this thing that feels shaky and uncertain, but I always end up sorta okay, if not, just a little dizzy, and for now, that's the best I can do. Also I've recently been seeing a therapist and that has been fundamentally helpful too!

Why all this roller coast talk? I don't know! I hope you realize that with this blog, you're never going to get anything you totally expect, because that's just not my style apparently.

I hope you're doing okay and not too stressed about finals, or job hunting or anything like that.
I hope you're getting compliments from someone important and yourself (I also need to work on this).

Keep it sassy,
xoxo
Caelan

No comments:

Post a Comment