90 Day Diet to Follow Your Bliss

Last weekend I met with two fabulous ladies for martinis and chocolate cake to discuss future plans for following our bliss. I am a lover of all women but these two are just sensational. I shall describe them as soulful, gorgeous, hilarious, and fearless. I believe we initially met for support for M, who had just broken up with her douche bag boyfriend, a man I dare say never deserved her in the first place, a realization that her head knows but her heart does not seem to want to accept.

We discussed her 90 day diet, which she decided should mostly include men, sex, and Jager bombs. To M, following her bliss meant healing her heart and many wounds, taking full responsibility of her financial situation, and most importantly, keeping party girl tamed, away from shots, and off the bar.

JC, the married of us three, with even a phone that organizes, calculated this should end approximately June 7th, which we all three groaned and agreed, seemed a lifetime away. A hard working career mom and wife for 15 years, JC described her bliss to mean being more playful, which we cheered with approval by clinking our martinis. She said she must start taking care of some of her own needs, something very apparent by the amount of times she exclaimed she couldn’t believe she was not chewing on a chicken nugget for dinner.

She thought she needed a little something, possibly dreadlocks, and had some hilarious notion that she should have to fly to Vermont to find them.

As the drinks flowed and the food came and went, so did the topics involving JC’s stressful job, where she had to manage a woman who actually spoke with a puppet who was very distressed over frownie faces and exclamation points.

Somehow the thought of her talking into a puppet as to not stress a woman in her mid forties made my stomach hurt from laughing as well with her worry over toddler biting issues, M’s labor stories, and my dating catastrophes.

As for me, the last six months have been marked by reconstruction. I have been healing my own broken heart and dreams, waking up for six months finally sober after years of struggle with anxiety meds. Six months may not seem like a long time in the scheme of life, but when your heartbroken, sometimes even waking up each day is a miracle in itself.

So, with my martini glass raised and my heart wide open to these beautiful women, I decide that it is time to join the living. I have been living my life for too long with my hand over my face and my eyes squinted, too afraid to see what might happen next.

I am dreaming big.

Pursuing a career in photography inspires me as well as making a commitment to my writing, to becoming financially independent like M, and if I’m really lucky, perhaps a relationship too, sprinkled with love and trust, commitment, fun, and some hot mind blowing sex.

A girl can dream.