#wcw | Mary Marantz

Up until this past weekend, you couldn’t see our guest bed from all the clean clothes that were piled on it rather than just putting them away.

Lately I’m addicted to Pizza Bites.  Y’know, those frozen rectangular tiny pockets of pizza that you used to eat at sleepovers when you were 13?  Yea, I eat those as a grown up.

I haven’t driven a car in years because New England drivers scare me, and most recently I let my license lapse for two years until I just got it renewed in May.

I have some “Mean Girls” in my life.  You know those “Regina George in Sheep’s Clothing” type of friends who will hand you the world’s meanest comment without once breaking a smile and then act as if nothing happened?  I’m thinking of going all T. Swift about the situation and writing a song about it.

At this very moment, I’m overwhelmed.

I worry more about what it would feel like if I never chased that scary big dream than what could go wrong if I did.

I can’t sing.  Like really, really can’t sing.  Cameron Diaz in My Best Friend’s Wedding can’t sing.  And I really, really wish I could.

I cuss, get my feelings hurt, and drink more wine than I probably should.

I have stress dreams in some form or another pretty much every night.  My favorite is the “I forgot to go to class all semester and now I have to take the final exam” one.

Sometimes it takes my breath away (in an Oh my God, I can’t BREATHE sort of way) how many people we have who want things from us in any given day.

I’m a classic A+++ over-achiever who has to constantly remind herself that my worth doesn’t depend on how many to-do’s I accomplished that day.

Yesterday, I showered and got dressed, did my hair, and put on make up.  And then Justin asked me if we had a meeting or something because it was so out of the ordinary.  Whoops!

I’m working really hard to be a better friend.

It takes me WAY too long to blog.

I’ve been trying to lose 15 lbs for ohhhh the past year or two.  I think I’m down 5.  But ask me again tomorrow.

Sometimes I check my phone in the morning before both eyes are open.  I look like a technology addicted pirate.  Arrrrrrrr.

I will be paying off the very expensive student loans I took out to go to Yale to then NOT become a lawyer for a very long time.

I buy pretty clothes now because growing up in a leaky, broken trailer, all my clothes were from yard sales and smelled like mildew.  I dress up now because in so many ways I’m still trying to get away from that trailer.

I’ve survived an abusive boyfriend and a cheating boyfriend.  Those bad past relationships just make me realize and appreciate more the AMAZING man I have now every single day.

I can’t stand false leaders, fake inspiration or a lack of integrity.  I have no room in my life for people like that.

I would however like to get better at putting on false eye lashes.

I prefer the truth in tears over a fake smile any day.

I like to watch scary movies in the middle of the afternoon.

I don’t cook a single meal for myself.  Justin handles breakfast, lunch and dinner.  But I light the candles & pour the wine soooooo…

Every time someone makes a reference to how old our golden retriever Cooper is getting (he just turned 10), I want to come across the table at them like a spider monkey.  Don’t want to think about it, don’t want to talk about it!  They’ll understand that some day when they’ve had the honor of bearing witness to an animal’s entire life.  And he’s going to live to 100 anyway, so just stop talking about it! 🙂

I just love this idea that my amazing friend, Lauren, started.  And I am SO honored to be a part of it.  But even more so, it was a breath of air and a lifeline for me at a time when it feels like we’re all drowning.  Sometimes I think we forget the walls we put up.  We stop noticing how much we have twisted and contorted ourselves to fit into what someone else says we should be.  We get so good at curating the perfect image and spinning the perfect caption that we forget what it is to be really, really honest anymore.  Because we convince ourselves that if we sat down across from someone and showed them who we really are….that it might not be enough for them.  That it wouldn’t be pretty enough or young enough or pinnable enough or double-tap worthy.  I think sometimes we forget what it is to allow ourselves to exhale.  To come alongside someone with a bottle of wine and an over-sized sweatshirt, and lean in closer when they tell you everything that’s going wrong.  To listen to really hear, not to respond.  To look them in the eye and not down at your phone.  To nod your head and swirl your glass and let out a blues-y “mmmmm hmmmm.”  And then when they’re done, to whisper the only two words in the English language that can really start to help heal people, the two words that act like a cool salve to the wound: “Me too.”  Oh have I been there.  Ohhh do I know how that feels.  And you are not alone.  So today, wherever you find yourself somewhere in the midst of the messy middle you’re currently walking through, I hope you read these words and hear me whispering, Me too, friend.  Me too.