taking back control.

Today has been a day of hysteria.

Right from the get-go, it started off bad for me.

I was out late last night due to my show at Hollywood Disco (a la Elevation/Code Blue), then hanging out with Kelly, his new girfriend (whom I'm pretty much obsessed with), and Joel. So when I went to bed last night, I dressed in my work out clothes (sports bra and all) and went to bed, knowing I'd have to be up in 4 hours. In all of my preparation, it appears that I didn't click my alarm over to "On". So I woke up at 6:30am, cursing myself and my day that was now "RUINED!" I couldn't get back to sleep so I ventured downstairs, only to find a note on the table from my roommate. And though the note was as non-bitchy as they come, it rubbed me the wrong way. Entirely. Some of you may know the reason why this would be the case. So I then venture off to the gym with a chip on my shoulder already, so early in the day, and decide to "kill myself" with my own form of bootcamp.

Met my friend Ashlee for lunch at Jacksons, which was quite lovely. Good conversation, good food. All and all, pretty swell. Then meet up with Kim and Susan at Sunset Grille right after, eat Kim's dessert, schmooze with some producer guy they were meeting with, then mosey on over to the office to write with Karleen. We don't get much writing accomplished before Speev and Kim interrupt us to come up and hang out with me and "Weenie" in my office. So I'm a bit frustrated with the fact that this girl and I are NEVER going to be able to finish another song ever again!

My gas bill was due a week ago. I told Susan that I didn't think I had the money for it. So she told me to check my bank statement to see how much was in there. You see, like most other smart people, I don't check my bank balance often. At all. I'd rather not know, stay oblivious, then be blind-sided with my negative balance. Like I was this evening. I teared up a bit...

Then we're off to Corner Pub for our ritual Wednesday evening industry gathering, but not before I re-straighten my hair in the office bathroom, hoping to see my cute boys. Then proceeded to put the straightener back in my bag (while hot), where I then dropped my bag and picked up my straightener...only to burn the hell out of my hand. Awesome And wouldn't you know it, but when we finally arrive (after icing my hand for 15 minutes) my boys are not even there, so I am immediately disappointed and wanting to leave. During this "hang", I am told by my managers that our good friend Sue (she's also my graphic designer/webmaster) has been diagonosed with Lupus. I freak out. They assure me that it's the type that is managable, that Sue is optimistic and grateful that she's FINALLY been diagnosed with something after she's been sick for so long. So crazy. So after I've recovered from this news and we are leaving Corner Pub, I decide to run across the street to Great Escape to see if they have more copies of the first 3 seasons of Sex & the City, which my roommate's dog ate a few months ago. No such luck. So I'm depressed b/c I'll probably never find them used and cheap again, due to the movie phenom that's taken over America.

We finally get back to the office, only to discover that I've locked my keys in my car. So my managers drive me home, I crawl through the dog door, get stuck, then unlock the door to let us all inside. What do we find? Pete has eaten my couch beyond all comprehension. The living room looks like a tornado ran through it. I'm just frozen. Kim and Susan come in and are in shock with me. They then proceed to tell me how I need to address this issue and stop backing down from having the inevitable conversation with my roommate, you know, the conversation that's been lingering in my thoughts 24/7 since....uh, awhile.

I just start crying. Uncontrollably. I didn't even know what to do, words were coming out but not making the slightest bit of sense. Normally, I'd clean it up like I always do but I was just frozen. I could not bring myself to clean up this mess, physically or emotionally. I finally reached it...the breaking point.

I grabbed my spare keys, left Pete and the mess at home, loaded my dogs in the car with us, and headed back to the office and got my car. The whole drive home I can't stop crying. I know I have to talk to her and I don't know what I'm going to say or how it's going to come out or how she's going to react. What if we hate eachother and someone moves out? I was terrified. So terrified in fact, that I went upstairs with the dogs and waited for her to come home and find the mess. Which, she did. I gave her 10 minutes alone down there, hoping she cleaned it up. Then I went downstairs, sat at the dining room table, and started the talk that I'd been dreading all day...the only that's been building up for too long.

It went much better than expected. She's an incredible person, a wonderful and loyal friend to me, and over-all, very understanding. It's so hard to live with a best friend. The line between "roommate" and "friend" gets so blurred so often. But I've been rational and logical about the situation and I know the difference. Just because we aren't very compatible roommates doesn't mean we aren't best friends. I started the conversation with my hands shaking, looking all over the room...everywhere but her. But by the end of our hour talk, I was much more calm. Much more relieved. I felt like I said pretty much everything, in a very calm and mature manner. It was not a fight. There was nothing to fight about, really. This was the situation and how I feel about it. We understood eachother, I think. I hope things improve from here.

The reason I even wrote all this out for you is not to be like "Damn, Rachel...your day REALLY sucked" or to make my house living situation sound bad. It's because for the first time in a long time, I took control. I did something that I was SO terrified to do for so long and this fear was completely self-imposed. I've been so worried about the friendship and fearing the worst. But you know what's worse? Swallowing it. It's only been bad b/c I won't address things. Someone can't change things unless they know it needs changing. So how can I get so bent out of shape over every little thing when this other person has no clue that it makes me upset?

Standing in the destroyed living room this evening, frozen with my frustration, I realized something... I'm standing in the middle of a mess that I helped create. I helped create it because I never took control. I never took responsibility for MY needs by letting someone else know that they weren't making me feel appreciated. I never took the CORRECT action to save a friendship that I thought I was working so hard to protect by "sweeping things under the rug". So in trying to avoid conflict with another person, I just made a bigger conflict/battle with myself. I won't do that again. Ever.

The words, "I hate my life" came out of my mouth more than once today. Which is ridiculous b/c I don't. On the contrary, my life is incredible...better than most. Sure, it can be very disappointing at times, but overall, I'm pretty fabulous. When I uttered "I hate my life", Kim (being the smart ass she is) responded with "It is what you made it." And at first I was super pissed at her for her response, but then I thought of it...it's true. If I would take control of the things bothering me, my life would run a lot more smoothly. If I'd squash conflict right off the bat, I wouldn't carry around this extra stress/baggage. If I'd take responsibility for my money, I wouldn't be so devastated when suddenly I have none. If I'd take care of the bills/insurance/car stuff instead of procrasinating...I'd virtually by care-free.

So, in closing. Take charge. If you don't, you have no one to blame but yourself for where you are.

P.S. I have the most HILARIOUS stories for you all about my weekend. Today's events took presidence of that in this blog, obviously. But next time...you just wait ;)