Author: knwolf

When you have anxiety, it never really feels like you have a rest day. Every free minute could be spent volunteering, or reading up on politics, or fucking doing jumping jacks.

My knee hates it when I run. Yesterday it swelled up to the size of a genetically modified orange. But I do it, because when I run, I’m incapable of thinking about anything else. Which is actually a really good thing.

If I have a day off I have to spend it cleaning the house, doing chores, exercising, meal prepping, counting calories. That’s right. Even the things I eat get calculated and thoroughly planned out and then logged into this little device that tells me whether i’m being “good” or not.

When you have anxiety, self-care goes out the window and it’s all about self-improvement. How can I be better? How can I possibly speed this process up a bit so I can get to the good part. Relaxing just isn’t really an option.

And I’m happy. I really am. And with myself too. I’m really proud of everything I’ve accomplished. The key is to fight the voice that’s always saying that I shouldn’t be. That says I’m not good enough, and that this life I live, shouldn’t be enough for me. The voice that tells me I have to wake up at 6 a.m. and get an hour work out in every day. The voice that tells me I’ll never make it in comedy. Etcetera, Etcetera, the list goes on.

So then, how you do you fuck it? How do you take the life-lemons and squeeze the shit out of them? How do you keep yourself from doing 500 jumping jacks at 6 a.m. and thoroughly pissing off your downstairs neighbor Deborah?

Well, dear readers, I don’t have it all sorted out yet. But I think it starts with realizing that you don’t have to do x, y, z, to get to the good part. That this is the good part. That wanting to be healthier and smarter and better is good, but so is watching cartoons and eating Dominos and drinking $4 red wine. You can do both. (but not at the same time. I’ve drunk wine while doing a Jillian Michaels workout DVD before and it did NOT end well).

Life is always going to be weird and hard and messy, so why make it tougher on yourself right? I know, I know. Easier said than done. But think about it terms that not everything has to happen right now. You can have a hand-tossed delivered pizza tonight and make a salad for tomorrow. (seriously, Dominos’ hand-tossed crust is the shit you guys.) If you’re tired and you just want to find a way to illegally download Jurassic Park, but you need to vacuum your room. Don’t vacuum your room. Watch dinosaurs. You can vacuum your room tomorrow, or never. Who even goes into your room?

What I’m getting at, dear readers is that it’s okay to cut yourself some slack. That self-care is even more important than self-improvement, and that can come in the form of meditation, a decent run, or pizza, but try and get a rest day in. Even if your anxiety tells  you don’t deserve one. Because you do. You are a beautiful wood nymph. Go watch T.V.

XOXO

The Weekday Hangover

 

I used to think that at some point, in college, I was a social person, and that as I grew older I became jaded about the world and that’s when I turned into a crotchety old woman who preferred needlepoint to house parties and has a strong difference to loud noises. But I think when I was in college, I was just drunk. Like. All the time. And when your constantly under the influence of Mike’s Hard Lemonade and outside chain smoking Camel No.9’s, your just numbing your inner self. Trying to force yourself to be in a situation to which you feel at your core, uncomfortable.

I didn’t meet the love of my life, make long-lasting friends, or even long-lasting memories at these parties I used to go to. I just stumbled around trying to represent a cool-looking person. I played beer pong, even though I hate beer, and always have. I took shots, and then proceeded to puke in my mouth, or sometimes on the floor, and even sometimes on my friends shoes. (Sorry Ashley). All the while I was convincing myself that this was what was supposed to be the time of my life. This is what everyone else was doing, so this is what I have to do. I peed outsite. A lot, you guys. Stumbling home, with my fake leather jacket and my knock-off Chanel bag. Then I would wake up looking like the crypt keeper, and order Dominos even though I knew, even though I didn’t want to accept it at the time, that gluten, and Dominos specifically, made me very, very ill.

The truth is, I was NEVER a “cool”, social person. My best memories involve 1-5 people, not 50. I like to make flower patterns out of yarn for fuck’s sake, not drink gin out of plastic cups. And let’s just get it out of the way. Gin tastes like PINE NEEDLES YOU GUYS. I don’t want to go to Vegas, or strip clubs, or even the bar down the street if it is a Friday and I know it’s going to be busier than normal. I just want to watch The Office for the 10th time and pet animals. I would rather feed a goat tiny goat pellets than listen to some guy hash out his past relationship while waiting in a bathroom line.

And I like SLEEP. You guys. Like, a lot of it. I would rather fuse my skin into my flannel long-johns and get a solid 10 hours in, than stay up until 2 a.m. waiting for an Uber and the delivery guy.

I think you catch my drift by now, but it’s just nice to be at the point in my life where I don’t have to feel bad about being authentic to myself. I don’t have to feel ashamed if I want to leave early so I can read a chapter of a self-help book before I go to bed, or if I don’t want to go at all because I want to watch The Breakfast Club for the 78th time and avoid underwire.

The point is, once you stop doing what you feel like you SHOULD do, and start doing what you really, deep down, want to do, it’s such a relief. And the people who get it, will get it. And the people who don’t will call you a flake, and anti-social, and whatever other things mean kids come up with these days, but that doesn’t mean you would have more fun if you were joining them. You’ll have the most fun doing whatever the fuck is fun for you. If that’s vomiting all over your friends and doing hard drugs than great! Do it up. But if that’s listening to NPR and petting barnyard animals than that’s okay too. You’re cool in my book.

XOXO,

Milky

 

 

Here’s a mantra I wrote for myself because sometimes I feel like everything is a catastrophe and nothing is going to work out, and that I’m going to be poor forever. I wrote it in the style of one of those gross wooden boards hung in someone’s kitchen that says something along the lines of “Dance as if no one is watching.” You’re welcome.

Unapologetically do what you love

Not being perfect makes you more interesting

Floss your teeth

Don’t do things that make you feel like shit

Say NO when you want to

Say NO when you want to say yes, but you’re broke as fuck

Don’t beat yourself up for making mistakes – just learn from them and move on

Travel as much as humanly possible

GO OUTSIDE

A lot of the things you’re afraid of aren’t real

Anxiety is a jag-weed and it’s the one saying mean things about you

Despite what you think, you really like working out

You’re still learning, give yourself a break

But push hard to make time for honing your craft

Sleeping 12 hours a day is PROBABLY not normal – unless you are sick

Do what makes you happy, not what you think should make you happy

You like to read – it’s okay to do that more often

You don’t like to watch T.V. and that’s alright,

Soon enough no one will give a shit about Game of Thrones

Pet all the animals

Wear sunscreen

Everything is going to be okay

Hi friends,

Sorry I haven’t posted more. I’ve been going through a thing clinical psychologists like to call “seasonal depression,” Which when you have depression already is called “depression depression.” Or “depression squared. ” Or “I just ate a wheel of brie and am watching a movie about baseball to try and make myself cry syndrome.”

I have been so in my own head and down on myself lately, which is dumb as fuck. Thanks to anxiety, I have this constant feeling like I’m doing enough to improve my life and my bod, and that I’ll never be happy, and that I’m getting old, and that soon I will face my eventually mortality and what will I have to show for myself…..and you get the picture. I can’t let myself be happy or celebrate an accomplishment for a god damn second before rattling off all the negative side effects of whatever positive or awesome thing i’m celebrating.

Even though I’ve made tons of strides in the right direction, sometimes I just don’t feel good about the life that I’m living or the person that I am. I spend a lot of time comparing myself to others and I have an Instagram feed full of successful comedians, actresses and models. A lot of my 20’s so far has been spent thinking I’m not good enough or pretty enough or skinny enough. (Thanks patriarchy.)

I beat myself up every time I skip the gym, every time I ignore plans to stay home and clean the kitchen and study the words to the Willennium album instead.  I beat myself up because I feel like I should be further along in my career path, in my relationships, and my savings account. I beat myself up for not taking advantage of my days off better. I LITERALLY beat myself up because I don’t think I have enough fun. How is that even a thing? 

But here’s the problem dear readers: feeling shitty is exhausting. Feeling like you are doing things wrong, and feeling like you aren’t enough sucks the big one. Now that I’m 26 it’s time to get over the quarter-life crisis and just MOVE ON ALREADY.

How,  you ask? By recognizing that my authentic self and lifestyle is going to look different than others based on my own set of experiences, wants and needs. Accepting that, and GETTING THE FUCK OVER IT ALREADY. Also, allowing myself to be proud of myself when credit is due.

Sometimes Instead of hiking and brunching like the majority of Instagram, I like to lay in bed and do needlepoint or look at pictures of food on the internet. I pronounce words incorrectly and I get stuck to chairs. I get lost often. Even with a GPS. Even in my home town.

I like puppies and bunnies and being nice to people, and I’m so over feeling embarrassed or stupid for who I am. 

Sometimes I’m hard on myself because I feel like a ditz and I think that’s all people think of me. Just a blonde girl who likes makeup and puppies and can’t read a map.

But I also like a whole bunch of other things! Like genetics and European history and foreign language and shit. I’m diving head-first into the world of improv which I’m more in love with than anything else in the world (except 90’s Leo, to whom I will always be faithful) and I don’t even eat noodles anymore. I DON’T EVEN EAT NOODLES ANYMORE YOU GUYS. I should be praising myself every god damn day that I don’t eat Lunchables so basically I treat my body like a fucking temple now compared to my turkey and mayonnaise sandwich eating days of yore. 

So here’s the deal, here’s the advice that I would give myself if I ever fucking listened:

Don’t compare yourself to others, laugh at your “flaws”, and know that they make you an authentic, relatable, beautiful human being, and don’t be afraid to like what you like and give yourself some fucking credit every once and awhile.

XOXO,

The Weekday Hangover

 

Compared to my early 20’s where I wore little black dresses and red lipstick everyday, my mid-20’s is  all about leggings with a hole in the thigh and a sweater long enough to cover said hole. I work behind a computer and I bike to to work, so I spend most of my time in sports bras and soft fabrics.

I’ve gotten so far away from the version of myself that I used to know, that I came up with a name for my dumpy new alter-ego. It’s Tammy.

Think about what I just said. I have a DUMPY ALTER-EGO NAMED TAMMY. What even is that in terms of something someone says?

This all boils down to one question: How the hell do I have a boyfriend?

You heard me right. I have a DUMPY ALTER EGO and have been managing to see someone romantically for about the past 6 months. Let’s explore this further……

Reasons why I am baffled and extremely fortunate to have male companionship:

1. Yesterday as a 26 year old woman, I learned how to fold a box so that the lid stays shut.
2. I strongly believe that if you wear leggings, it’s okay to sleep in them and wear them out the next day, so long as you change your underwear.
3. I don’t floss.
4. I have hit 5 parked cars with my car total.
5. I am the messiest eater. My hand eye coordination is for shit. 40% of all tortilla chips end up on the table in front of me, on the floor, or in my circle scarves.
6. I talk so loud that I went to an audiologist to sort out my hearing problem, only to find out that I don’t have a hearing problem, I just really like shouting.
7. I cry at every movie I see, and get popcorn down my shirt at every movie I see.
8. I was born and raised in Eugene, OR and my parents bought me a GPS on my 18th birthday so I would “stop getting so lost all the time.”

I used to beat myself up a lot for a lot of things, and it is still a habit I’m trying to break. I would give myself the hardest time when I felt “Disty” or “Stupid”.  I wanted so bad to be the chill, cool girl, who knows how to work on cars and pronounce words correctly. A self-sufficient bad ass, with the chic, bohemian vibe of Serena Van der Woodsen. But that’s just NOT ME.

I care a lot about things. I like reading 1940’s mystery novels and talking in an vaudeville accent. I like staying in and doing needlepoint and wearing sweatpants. I spill coffee down my front a lot, and once a week my dress is on backwards. BUT I AM FUCKING COOL.

The way I see it, is no matter what, you have to love yourself, laugh at the wack ass shit you do, and enjoy the things you enjoy. Don’t be ashamed or shit on yourself for not being or acting the way you feel you need to based on comparing yourself to others.

Once you start loving yourself and stop the act of trying to be someone else, that’s when the magic happens.

XOXO,

Tammy

 

 

I’ve been going through this phase, where I desperately want to quit my job and be a cartoon.

Don’t worry, I’m not referring to a long-term acid trip where I start to only see in two dimension. I’m referring to being the voice of an animated character for a living, but it’s really a little column A, a little column B.

The cartoon thing may or may not be a phase, the quitting the job thing has been pretty concrete since the day I started and reinforced by  the multiple panic attacks I’ve had in the communal restroom since.

I’m over-worked, under-paid, and a homeless person punched me in the arm on the walk to work today.

The only thing currently keeping me from walking out are the following insecurities:

1. I have seen the way unemployed people live their life and it is admirable and terrifying. I’m pretty confident top-ramen isn’t gluten free, so I have to have another job lined up. Keeping a job I hate VS a diet of russet potatoes is pretty much what it boils down to. (See what I did there?!)
2. I go back and forth between wanting a lot of money and security, and wanting to quit my job and work at the coffee shop across the street from my house so I can have the emotional capacity to write, play, create etc.

I just want to spent my days cooped up with a bunch of hilarious people, recording the weirdest possible sounds my voice can make.

So  how do I do both? How do I pursue my dream of comedy, and still be able to pay my rent? Can I make a decent salary with PTO, 401K and dental while also knowing that i’m advancing in the world of improv, comedy writing and cartoonery, or do I have to risk everything and join the masses of blonde waitresses in Los Angeles who are waiting for their big break?

I don’t want to be just a marketing person at a company. Yesterday at improv class I got to be a down-on-her-luck  lunch lady named Ezmarelda, and then 10 minutes later I got to be a suit-hating Dead Head by the name of Chonky Fellow.

I’m legitimately too weird for this corporate, desk job shit.

I just want to find my place in the universe. Some people were born to be a writer, or a dancer, or an open-heart surgeon, but I finally found out at 26 that everything I enjoy (writing, people, psychology, faking accents, having the spotlight on ME) boils down to some sort of comedy career.

I don’t know quite how I’m going to swing it yet, or when it’s going to happen for me, or even what the hell I’m doing right now, but I find comfort in the fact that I finally know what I should be doing with my life, even if I don’t know the how quite yet.

I’ll leave you, dear readers, with a quote that I think may be comforting no matter what your aspirations are:

“I hope you will not give up. As in all of the arts, fortune follows the persistent much more than the merely talented.” – The Definitive Guide to an Unpredictable Career in Comedy

Also, I don’t feel great knowing that the only funny thing in a blog dedicated to how I want to be a comedian was the potato joke. I’m sorry about that guys.

XOXO,

The Weekday Hangover

If any of you know me, or have even read a blog or two of mine, you would know that I’m riddled with self-doubt and a raging case of body dismorphoc disorder. Instead of being a confident, chill person, I’m always thinking about how to do that, and what that looks like, and oh shit have I been talking too loud? Did I just cut that person off? Am I sweating? Oh fuck  oh fuck.

Needless to say I’ve been working with a therapist for the past two years trying to figure out how to be in the moment and tell those 2,000 simultaneous self-critical thoughts to STFU.

Could you imagine how wonderful it would be to just sit down and have a beer with your friends and enjoy their company instead of thinking, “Fuck I have to stay here until midnight because that’s when my direct deposit comes through, and I have to be better at budgeting which means I shouldn’t be doing this exact thing right now…..” You catch my drift. Not being in the moment is a total drag.

Some people say that meditation helps with being in the moment, but for people with anxiety, it just gives you more time to be in your own head. I’ve found that physical activity is the best bet for keeping my crazy head distracted. “See the ball, go get it! Go get the ball!”

Another place that I apparently shine and allow my authentic self to interact with the world is when I do karaoke. I don’t really know why, because I have a shit singing voice, but maybe that’s the thing. It’s the one time where I’m not trying to be perfect. Be the perfect friend, have the perfect body, be the funniest girl in the room, the list goes on.

I’m just there to watch the words on the screen, hold the mic up to my face, and belt out the words to “Oops I Did it Again” in front of a bunch of strangers that I don’t give a shit about, and a few friends that I give a lot of shits about and who are there cheering me on.

Kaylee: Where did this laissez–faire attitude come from? And you only knew half the words to “Semi-Charmed Life”, You’ve never known all the words, I don’t know why you would pick that song, and have you been smoking more? Your voice sounds like a bus driver.

Karaoke Kaylee: Yeah, but the words I did know were AWESOME. And don’t get on me about this quitting smoking thing again, not tonight man, I’m chill as fuck right now. Also, stop talking to me, I’m trying to read the crowd and figure out if they would be more into”Getting Jiggy With it” or “Welcome to Miami.”

Kaylee: Are you seriously going to sing again? You did it once, and it was rocky. Remember when you tripped over the mic stand? Maybe you should just sit down, drink five more ciders and go home and write in your diary about how you need to get a better handle on your life.

Karaoke Kaylee: Maybe I’ll drink five more ciders, and maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ve already had five ciders! It’s none of your business. But I’m certainly not going home to write lists on how to be a better version of myself again. That shit is B-O-R-I-N-G. Besides, those middle-aged elementary school teachers on summer vacation drinking the Mike’s Hard Berry? Those bitches love me. They are pretty much demanding an encore. Isn’t that right ladies?!

I think you catch my drift. Now the trick is, how to be Karaoke Kaylee all the time?

Well guys, you are going to have to buy the book, because I’m not giving away all my secrets for free. I’ve paid a pretty penny, and spent a lot of years at the shrink for this knowledge, so it’s going to cost you. Also, I may or may not be still trying to figure the answer to that question out myself, but I think I’m off to a pretty good start. It’s what my therapist would call a “breakthrough.”

Also, maybe I’ll write a book. < see that confidence?!

XOXO,

Karaoke Kaylee