The Elephant In My Brain

You know that term “elephant in the room”?  Wherein the “elephant” is this enormous, smelly, hairy beast of an uncomfortable whatnot, and no matter how badly you want to be like “HEY!  What the hell is that ELEPHANT doing in this room?”,  you never bring it up because it’s just TOO MUCH to talk about?

Well, I think that each one of us has at least one “elephant in the brain”.

There’s always that one thing that anonymously plagues us over and over and over again, but we constantly refuse to address it because it’s just too scary/ugly/intimidating/dirty to even think about.  It’s just TOO MUCH.

Well, Rachel says that it’s not too much.

She has encouraged everyone, in the spirit of “I own this shit”, and “sorry I’m not sorry”, to put a leash on our collective ‘elephants’, and take the smelly beasts out for a little jog in the park!  Since I’m all about Girl Power (!) I decided to take Rachel’s lead.

I have been thinking about this post all week.

What could I possibly OWN that I haven’t already OWNED on this blog?  I’ve already told you about how, for 15 years, I thought that my eating disorder was a perfectly sensible way to deal with my emotions, I exposed myself and concluded that I thought I was pretty f&ck!ng awesome, I’ve told countless stories about the struggles I still have with disordered eating and thinking, and I also told you how not sorry I am for loving a black man because it makes me a unique piece of the blogging world.

What more can I possibly give you?

“I have nothing more to give”!

Or so I thought.

This morning, it occurred to me–as I was rolling out of bed on a Friday.  Wishing that I was not going to work.  Daydreaming as I was applying lip gloss, about another land far, far away, in which I didn’t have to go to work today.  And it occurred to me.  This is serious.  I’ve been letting this particular elephant stomp around in my brain for way too long.

I have to own this.

I desperately, completely, wholly, truly want to quit my day job.  Not because I suck at it, not because it doesn’t pay the bills, not because I hate my  coworkers or my work environment.

It’s because I want to own a tiny little bakery.

Tiny.  Like Tiny (with a capital “T”).

I’ll bake cookies.

Cupcakes.

I’ll serve you lemonade.  With a flower in my hair.

Wearing an apron.  It might be this one, but I have 2…so I’ll wear the one that feels appropriate on any particular day.

[But...I promise to do my hair and makeup when it's for real...but I might still wear running shoes if that's OK.]

Then, the most important decisions of my day will be;  a) which apron to wear, b) whether to make strawberry cupcakes with vanilla butter cream, or vanilla cupcakes with strawberry butter cream, and c) chocolate chip, or peanut butter?

I promise that I will always, always smile.  Because I would be owning, living, and doing exactly what I want.  Fulfilling a part of myself that dies a little more each and every time I do a bank reconciliation, a financial statement, and a quarterly report.

I really want the huge, smelly elephant to be gone, once and for all.

I really want to be Bethie Crocker.

Sorry I’m not sorry.

p.s…I’m scared.  The thought of doing my current job until the day that I keel over and die literally makes me want to keel over and die.  However, the idea of quitting my job to bake cookies and cupcakes makes me want to curl up in the fetal position and cry for my Mommy.  I need a game plan.  I’ve owned it, now I have to do something about it.  Did I mention that I’m scared?