Dear God, Today I Gave Up

Get comfy, this is a long one.

It’s a beautiful Sunday morning in Los Angeles and I’m supposed to be at Church. Lord knows (pun intended) that this is exactly where I should be. But I can’t do it. In fact, I talked to God and said, take me now, I’ll put on my bikini and meet you at the fiery gates, but I can’t get to mass today. (Maybe later, but not right this second.) I told Him that I had had it. He said He knew that already.

This week was one of the worst, most draining, challenging, gut wrenching weeks of my life on so many levels. It was all I could do to get out of bed and show up and for one dinner hostess unfortunate enough to be involved with me, I couldn’t show up. My friends were calling and texting so often that they just stopped leaving messages. I felt guilty, behind on thank you notes for my son’s party that was two months ago and in general just tired of apologizing. World, I’m fried. My manners are horrible. Believe me, I know.

I used to know exactly, with razor sharp clarity and accuracy exactly what I wanted out of life. I won’t list those things here because you would hate me. I still thought I knew this week what I wanted until it all turned upside down and I got to do my own, not Week in Review, but Life in Review. I started asking myself what the heyyyyllll I am doing. The answers were kind of interesting.

The Highest Highs and the Lowest Lows –

I can’t really talk about the lowest low, maybe at some point soon I’ll share it. It just sucked. Took the wind out of my sails and just made me want to give up. But God has a sense of humor, at least when it comes to me.

But then other quirky good stuff happened.

Yesterday, my beloved, adored, part-of-the-family nanny, Marta, appeared at my door after being gone for 2-1/2 years to take care of her mother in Guatemala. I hugged her so hard I nearly cried. I opened up my bedroom door and there she was, outside of my son’s room, just like she had never left. How can you love someone so much after so long that your heart hurts? Are you supposed to love your nanny? I don’t know, but I love mine. Yes, plural. No hate mail please, it will send me to therapy. Maybe Dr. Drew’s got a spot on his next reality show?

After being really stuck on an invitation for a client, I met MJ at our secret Borders and stayed in that mall until we had the two most killer invitation ideas I think we’ve ever come up with. While at Borders, half in tears because I was sure I’d lost my creative edge, I start talking to a client about a party on Saturday. (This is Thursday night.) Saturday? As in this Saturday? My batteries are so low that the super jumper cables of life couldn’t get them powered up, but I faked it. I said sure, I would reorganize my entire Friday morning schedule and go to Beverly Hills for a walk through for the decor for  his 18 year old daughter. Beverly Hills, last minute calls and 18 year olds do not a drama free situation make. I expected these people to be the biggest tools ever. Totally convinced (after the past few days experiences that I’d had) that the credit card would be “just one digit off.” That the price would have to be negotiated, you know the drill, and I just wasn’t in the mood.

Turns out the client produces one of the most (maybe the most?) successful shows on television. And he was nice. He just wanted to make his daughter happy. Um, ok. This changes everything. As I headed back over the hill to my next appointment, we secured a canopy, fabric, draping, twinkle lights, striped tablecloths, pink feathered centerpieces, girly wonderful chair covers, the works. I called in every single favor I had and we pulled it off. We installed everything yesterday and were all done by 1pm. The client was thrilled. Ellen DeGeneres called while we were setting up. She lives across the canyon and spied the tent going up with her binoculars. What were we up to? Maybe new super nice client could give Ellen my card? Oh yeah he said. She calls all the time. Tom Cruise called yesterday. Of course he did. And the 18 year old? Could she have been a nicer, more gracious, appreciative, lovely, thankful girl if she tried? Nope. Just so happy that we pulled it off. When I left their house, I hugged this man. Thanked him for the opportunity. Then when he looked like I might be possessed, I assured him that I wasn’t a stalker. Crazy maybe, but not a stalker. He had no idea that he had just restored my faith in humanity.

In the midst of it all, all of the highs, lows, and tears driving back and forth across the canyon in the last 24 hours, I got an offer of representation for a reality show. Not an appearance, my own deal. In like a week or something, 5 production companies had called us. Um, where the heyllll was everybody when I was actually focusing on this? Nowhere of course. Friday I got an offer. We’ll know this week if I go with them or the other production company that I’m meeting with in a few days. “Things could happen fast” they said. “Sure,” I said. “Have your people call my people.” Why not? This was maybe the only opportunity I would ever get to say that to someone. “Have your people call my people.” Incredibly satisfying. Knowing that this parting was like a college crush I had who said he would call and of course never did. This was the equivalent of dating in Hollywood. Dumped before we even knew each other’s middle names.

WTF?? Lousy week, endless knock out drag outs with my husband, creative droughts, Mercury in retrograde, and then they call. An hour and a half after I had left their offices. Their people said, “Where and to whom can we send the offer?” The offer of what? People, my life is a train wreck. I’m pretty sure I’m bi-polar. My life makes The Jersey Shore look like a Ritz Carlton tea party. What are you offering exactly?

And that’s when I decided to give up. I finished my event yesterday and took my floral designer out for lunch. For helping me at the last minute, I would buy. I ordered a margarita (double) at lunch. I decided I’d had it – who cared about the carbs? I still hadn’t lost my muffin top from Easter.

I went home and took a nap and said my prayers. I asked God to make sense of it all because frankly, I just didn’t get it. None of any of it made sense anymore. And then there was a little, tiny glimmer of sun in my stormy skies. My husband asked if I wanted to grab dinner. (This implied that he would pay so I was kind of excited.) Knee deep in emails that I wasn’t particularly fascinated by, I said sure. In fact, maybe we could walk to Old Town. “Walk?” He looked like he was going to have an out of body experience. “Yeah, let’s get some exercise.” I strapped on my heart rate monitor and we crossed the bridge into the hotbed of Pasadena excitement. We actually strolled through the stores and I got some ideas. He actually seemed like he cared that I had found a new use for a cupcake tower in Crate and Barrel. We kept walking. Kept popping into stores. “Look at all of these new restaurants!” Where had we been?? We kept walking and shopping, talking and catching up. We ended up at Cheval Blanc for some wine and crepes. Of course I was having the wine to see how low I could get my heart rate (remember I still had the monitor on.) And then we walked home and I was actually content.

We didn’t have to struggle for parking, pony up the $20, fight while we decided which restaurant to go to. We just had fun. When I woke up this morning, I just couldn’t face God (there’s still time for the 11:15, the 1pm and the 5pm – I’m watching the clock.) My daughter was singing in her crib. Next thing I new she escaped, went right over the side of her guardrails and joined me on the couch. Drinking her “lechita, lechita” [milk] out of a bottle, she became totally fascinated with my bartender’s deck of fabulous cocktails. At first the irony was lost on me. And then I got it. My two year old was sucking on her bottle (yes, she is too old for it) and studying how to make a classic Manhattan. Thank goodness my husband was still in bed but at least it made me smile. Somewhere, God was showing me a little joke.

As I decided to type this, I asked myself if I should really put all of this out there. And then I thought why not? Remember, today I gave up. I surrendered. I’ve cried my last cry of the week and I’m actually feeling a lot better. The old me started to creep back. I started wondering if I needed to go to the psychiatrist, would it be a write off? A business expense because my business made me crazy? Or would I have to go out of pocket? Should I hand the bookkeeper the invoice and say, “Here, I’m crazy?” No need I guess, she could just read the blog.

On that note and my 1700 words, I’ll give you a break from my drama. At some point in the future, maybe you’ll just be able to Tivo the whole situation and see it for yourself. Make it a great week guys. Life is just too short to have it any other way.