Summertime is in full swing and I truly feel rejuvenated. For real. I’m like a fully charged solar panel, running on the accumulated energy from my springtime acts of self-care and my newfound love for the word “no.” Best of all, there’s a formula to my recent onslaught of joy. It’s a double dose of no-f*cks-given that I’ve decided to whip out this summer simply because it’s due. Also, I highly recommend it.
So. Since stress both ages and kills, here’s what I’m not going to do for the rest of this summer:
I’m not going to take anyone too seriously in love or commerce unless they show me that they’re serious too. And since my guidelines for what constitutes a serious effort are purposefully stringent right now, that’s not likely to happen. So instead, I’m going to listen to people’s dreams, plans, and ideas, and pass out a card or two. I’m going to carefully choose my projects based on a realistic assessment of my schedule instead of an idealistic one. Also–and this is most important–I’m not doing any projects for free this summer and I’m certainly not falling in love with anyone’s dusty-ass son just because he’s showing me abs and attention.
My workouts will bend to my life and not the other way around, so I’m not going to beat myself up if I slip up in my regimen. I bought a bike and I’ve been riding it. It’s sunny enough for swims, runs, and hikes, so I do that too. I won’t confine myself to the gym unless I’m not up to battling the elements. There will be no shame on my plate this summer. There will, however, be potato salad and grilled veggie burgers. And a bitch will still be out here in stringy crochet cutout monokinis all Savage Summer ’17, stretch marks and all. Unapologetically.
I’m also not skipping any therapy sessions or anything I deem therapeutic. Sexual violence survivor support groups. Yoga meetups. Tea with friends. Journaling. It’s all good to me and for me. For a long time, I was convinced that I was just fragile. Nah. I just didn’t have the coping tools. Really, I’m pretty and tough…like gele fabric.
So yeah. It’s truly (my) summer. It’s raining men and career opportunities and it’s about damn time. While the money moves are more important to me right now, I do view the extra attention from men as a sign that they can see that I’m outwardly happy or at least content. And they’re into it because happy people attract happy people…unless you meet that one vindictive mofo who’s like ‘She smilin’? Lemme eff up her credit, sleep patterns, and life.’
SIDEBAR: If someone is more into you when you’re tearful and broken, run for the hills baby. Because it’s your summer too, and it’s meant for day parties, beaches, and baecations–not tears and stress.
So that’s about it. I had a rough winter full of self-loathing and doubt. I had a transformative springtime full of effort and prayer. Now I’m having a bomb ass summer full of gratitude, reflection, body positivity and abundance, and I plan to keep it that way.