I had been lamenting my passing over two pieces at the Saver’s thrift store the other day, and I could not shake that horrible buyer’s remorse feeling - the one that got away. I did not purchase the orange plaid print short sleeved Marc by Marc Jacobs shirt. I rationalized putting it away. I told myself it was ugly, that if it was by Forever 21, I would put it away in a moment, but only because it was a Marc Jacobs was I seduced to buy. I thought that I was being a label whore about this one, jolted by the thrift store thrill of finding a high end label. I did the same with an Isaac Mizrahi beige suede skirt. It fit perfectly and could be a fantastic end of winter/early spring transition piece. And it held two simple and important second hand criteria - it was in great condition and the price was right ($5.98). I rationalized that I should spend the money on clothes for the girls or groceries or something more important – more practical. So I put them away and walked out the door.
I obsessed about them all night long. However, once I was able to quiet my mind and the delirious circling that it was doing, I listened to what was really going on. I was feeling more than misgivings about leaving behind thrift store treasures. I regretted that I just didn’t take that chance – that I did not take a risk. I can’t help but view my thrift store excursion as a metaphor for how I fear I have been living in my creative life. I have been scared – of taking creative chances and putting myself out there. Stuck. Comfortable with the status quo, but feeling an undercurrent of creative dissatisfaction. I have talked myself out of starting this blog too many times, telling myself that there are enough out there, the world doesn’t need another blog. I talked myself out of starting a blog, just as easily as I talked myself out of those amazing clothes.
I fear some days I am becoming a living cliché of modern, middle age. I have two children, a mortgage, and a marriage. I need comfortable shoes and I prefer white wine to red. I am involved in the PTA and I care about local politics. Those are all true parts of me. But, I struggle with the person who I still remember before children and other people’s needs and adult obligations came before my own youthful impulses. Some days I feel as though my mission is to bring these dualities to harmony in my life.
The great thing is I am back at that place where I have nothing to lose. More specifically, I have more to lose if I don’t just do it. I can be responsible and make sure there is food in the house and write and create and have some frickin’ fun with it.
And you know what was just the fantastic, metaphorical icing on the cake. I went back to Savers the next day, expecting nothing but hoping that maybe the shirt and skirt were still there – and they were! It was like they were waiting for me to just seize them and claim them – just like all the words and stories that swirl around inside of me every day.