A chip is just a chip

In an attempt to find some words... I thought I’d share this tonight.

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Today I made a quick trip to the grocery store, and while I was wandering the aisles, I passed by a young girl standing by the refrigerators, declaring happily to her mother, "We need milk!" She was so joyous about it that I laughed a little.

Her mother was bent over by an end-of-aisle shelf, grabbing a few containers of I'm not even sure what but I think it was kind of junk food related. She looked up at me from her contorted position and I was still smiling about her daughter, but for some reason I think she thought I was chuckling about what she was buying (or how much of it). She did this kind of sheepish half-laugh and said quickly, "It's for a cookout!"

And she said it as if she needed to apologize or explain to me why she was buying chips.

I smiled and nodded and kept on going, but as I walked away, all I could feel was sad. Because here was this slender, attractive middle-aged woman, dressed in a very well put together fashion; yet she still somehow felt like she had to explain herself and her food choices to me, a complete stranger. As if there was something to be ashamed of. As if she needed to say, "I don't eat all of this myself. Really. I swear. Please don't think of me as a pig. Or someone with bulimia."

Now, I am certainly not one to judge about buying junk food for any reason, but I know what it feels like to worry about what other people think when they see me grabbing something like that off a shelf. There's a self-consciousness that floods over me, like I need to hide my choices, like I'm going to be judged or ridiculed or shamed for what's in my cart.

It's so silly, when you think about it. Who gives a damn what you buy? It's YOUR CHOICE. Whether it's an excessive amount of fruit, frozen broccoli, doughnuts or potato chips, it's no one's business but your own. And you certainly don't have to explain yourself or apologize for it.

Maybe you're having a party. Maybe you just like potato chips on occasion. How would I know? IT DOESN'T MATTER. Or, it shouldn't matter.

It makes me so weary that women feel this way, that they have to apologize for having any sort of appetite for anything. Like having a healthy appetite says you're unladylike or gross or overindulgent or gluttonous.

Why can't putting chips into your cart simply mean, "Sometimes I like potato chips"? What's wrong with that?

It just makes me tired and sad.

No good words

I haven't written in a while.

Honestly, I haven't felt like writing.

That's a really big thing for me to admit, because no matter what's going on in my life, good or bad, happy or stressful, I've almost always been able to turn to the page. Even if I couldn't verbalize it in person -- and I've never been good with public speaking in that way -- I could always write it out.

But lately I just haven't been able to find the words. I don't know why.

I've been blaming it on school. I've finally graduated with my new degree -- yay! -- and for a while I felt myself avoiding writing because it reminded me of school and projects and homework, words said with a heavy sigh. Though school was for the most part rewarding and good, it was also a huge mental drain. It took a lot of intense focus. So when I finished, I think I felt like I needed to take a break for a while. Rest. Rejuvenate. Recharge. All those good 'r' words. :)

However, it's been over 6 months since I finished school. So why am I still searching to find the words?

It's been 6 years since I got laid off from my job and (after searching for a long time) made the choice to go back to school. Six years since I moved out of my beloved apartment, boxed up all my things and moved in with relatives so that I could save some money while I figured out what to do. Six years of living out of boxes and feeling like a nomad.

I feel like I've been boxed up all that time. And now that I'm done with school, I feel this intense desire to get back out there, to find a way to afford a place of my own, so that I can break out of the box, you know what I mean?

There's this amazing episode called "Hush," from a show called Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and during that episode the main characters (and all the people in the entire town of Sunnydale) suddenly lose their voices and ability to verbally communicate with one another. Their voices are literally stolen by a very creepy group of creatures called the Gentlemen. Everyone's voices are boxed up so that they can't scream when the Gentlemen come to get them. (Seriously creepy, but such a powerful episode about finding ways to communicate with one another when you can't seem to find the words. And you've got to be impressed with an episode that is almost completely without verbal dialogue but still holds your rapt attention from start to finish.)

In the end -- spoiler alert! -- the only way everyone can get their voices back is if Buffy can break in to their lair, find the box of voices, and smash it to bits, releasing everyone's voices and her own in a massive scream at the top of her lungs.

This may be a silly comparison, but... sometimes I feel like that. Like I've been packed away in a box for the past six years, and I need to break free so that I can find my voice again and -- like Buffy and her primal scream -- let it out.

And then, move FORWARD in some positive fashion.