I’m not an addict, and I’m not an alcoholic. But as offensive as this may sound, I sometimes I wish I were, if only so I could have a language and a community to help me deal with what often seem like out of control urges—a structure surrounding me to help me cope with, well, life. But there are no 12-step meetings for people who simply have trouble getting up every day, who feel hollow and weak and unworthy, but who don’t gloss over those feelings with a single, predictable vice. Over the course of my life, I’ve certainly used alcohol, sex, shopping and food to help quell those feelings, and they’ve each worked, in limited doses, but eventually their effects wore off.
The thing is, though, my rock bottom moments don’t revolve around alcohol, though I’ve consumed my share, or drugs (I’ve attempted to smoke pot twice, and basically failed each time); sometimes it’s food, sometimes it’s sex, sometimes it’s shopping, but I fundamentally believe that the core part of me that hates myself in those moments when I’m eating an entire box of cereal, screwing someone I’m not that into, or buying a pair of shoes I don’t need and can’t afford, is the same impulse that drove, say, my father or grandfather to drink (both are recovering alcoholics). Keep reading »
I started having emotional breakdowns about a month into wedding planning. Sweaty palms, heart racing, knees weak, teary eyes, total immobilization. I would find myself staring at a web page filled with tiki torches or green bridesmaid dresses or centerpiece ideas, and I would just stop dead in my wedding tracks.
It became the worst when Patrick would ask me for ideas or advice. Two questions in a row about the wedding and I’d be a shaky, sweaty mess. All of a sudden, my mind was deluged with worst-case scenarios and paralyzing fear of judgment from others. How do you plan a party everyone has already been to before, but also make it the paragon of amazing loveness that super-embodies the perfect lovey-face of your wonderful and unique relationship?
Moreover, will our venue let us put party lights up and what if we don’t have party lights and we trigger Armageddon right then and there?!
Wedding planning is the worst. Keep reading »
This year, in honor of the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, The Frisky staff is going to be sharing our lists of what we’re thankful for. Amelia is up first… Keep reading »
When I was 25 years old, I was in a band. It was a dinky little coffeeshop folk-rock band, but MAN it was fun. I had just enough skill to compose but not enough to accompany myself, so I made embarrassing recordings of half-formed songs, brought them to my bandmates, and we workshopped them together. You know how being the lead singer of a band looks really fun? Well, it IS. Seriously. Keep reading »
Somehow I missed the first three seasons of “RuPaul’s Drag Race” during their television run. But the show found its way to me thanks to the magic of Netflix live streaming. Now that I’ve watched all three seasons consecutively, I think this reality TV diamond in the rough may be my most favoritest of all time. Why? Well, obviously because drag queens are fabulous. They are talented, creative, and courageous lady boys who can turn feathers into gold. And that RuPaul Charles! Dammit! I knew she was a Cover Girl, but I didn’t know she was the most inspiring human being to ever host a television show. She’s everything Tyra Banks wishes she could be on “ANTM.” Yes, I walk away from every episode having learned how to properly contour a jaw line or bedazzle a butt cheek, but I also leave with glittering hunks of wisdom. After the jump, important life lessons I’ve learned from “RuPaul’s Drag Race.” You’d better work, bitch! Keep reading »