Bolted awake in the middle of the night, feeling like I'd forgotten something. And then it dawned on me: I hadn't checked the weather in Cancun before booking our flights. Like an idiot.
And OF COURSE every site on the entire Interwebs was predicting rain all 7 days of our trip. Total shit storm headed straight for the Mexican Riviera. Just my luck lately.
I called the airline this morning to see if I could switch destinations. The Mexicana agent sweetly told me in his lilting Spanglish that making the change would be an additional $500...per ticket. I said fuck you very much, hung up and dissolved into a hot mess of tears.
They weren't so much tears of "Woe is me, my impulsive fabulous tropical vacation is ruined." They were more tears of anger and helplessness, tears of why the fuck is everything so fucked up lately, why can't I seem to get anything under control.
Control is a major issue for me. Always has been. I think it is for most women.
(Interestingly, I think it may be behind my interest in fashion. After all, I figured out at an early age, no matter what is happening in your life, you can always control how you present your self to the world. It may be nothing more than smoke and mirrors but hey, it's something, in this perception is reality world.)
I've been actively working on the control issues over the past few years, learning to flow more and resist less. Learning to breathe, learning to be present. Metabolizing the fact that I can't control anything except my own reaction to things. You know, all that eastern philosophy, self-help stuff lost puppies lap up like water.
But today the weather in Cancun was the straw that broke the camel's back. It became just one more thing I couldn't control...like that meatball size tumor in my mom's brain that is about to turn our lives upside down.
Today I realized I still haven't processed all the challenges ahead, realized I hadn't sat down to think about things. I've just been go go going. I haven't wanted to look into the heart of the unknown, I haven't wanted to break down.
I just wanted to control this one thing. This one trip. This 60th birthday present to the woman who has risked and sacrificed everything for me. I wanted it to be perfect. For her.
But today the universe reminded me: nothing is perfect and that the semblance of control is just an illusion. The universe told me this through my saint of a mother who called me back after I left a hysterical message on her phone. She told me everything will play out how it's supposed to - with the trip and with that meatball of a tumor.
Thrifted top and coat
Tory Burch shooties
B is for bananas
Figured a splash of color would serve me well today on the outside since the inside was dark and murky. Never would have known I was wrestling some pretty fugly internal demons, huh?
Never underestimate the power of fashion. Especially a pair of hot shoes when you're feeling not so hot.