Where Was Myra??

So as you read my blog, I'm hoping that you will learn something new and exciting about me with each and every post. Tonight's post is about my preferences in the wonderful game of American Football. Of which my team has undoubtedly let me down. For those of you who understand the reference in my title, Kudos, to those of you who don't, I'll spell it out for you. I'm a Patriots fan. And while I didn't cry tonight (like I did in 2003 when the Sox lost the ALCS game to the Yanks), I was definitely not a happy camper. I have been reading a LOT over these past two weeks about the match up and the rivalry and that terrible 2007 Superbowl where my perfect pats got their asses kicked by yet another NY team. I was waiting for redemption, waiting to party like it's 1999 (or better yet, like it was 2001, 2003, or 2004). What I got was a good-for-nothing Brady and a defense that actually tried to hold there shit together with a decent amount of success but was unsupported by the offense. And the worst part, we lost this game because of ourselves. The Giants really weren't doing anything spectacular, they were just forcing us to question our abilities, and God knows that opening, one-play drive, that resulted in a safety and the first 2 damn points of the game definitely didn't do much for our self-esteem. But we couldn't put it behind us. We couldn't keep the ghosts of 2007 from hanging over Lucas Oil Stadium, and we couldn't seem to find the light from Mrs. Myra Kraft from helping guide us to the end zone. While all the blogs, articles, and television reports I absorbed over the past two weeks were very divided, most favoring the Giants, while my local reporters and writers exclaiming to the world that we are the best, we are the champions. It sucks that the 99% was right. We weren't. Brady didn't show up. One Brady quote sums up both the Division Title Game and the Superbowl, "I sucked pretty bad today..." ...Well, yeah, you did then, and you let us down now too. Thanks. Maybe your wife should stop asking for prayers and start letting you do you goddamn job. Forget Ugg, and all the other insanity that isn't football, and PLAY FOOTBALL. You know, that JOB that you're paid for.
I sound so grumpy. Maybe it's because I'm tired and I know I'm going to have to get up soon to go to work, maybe it's because I thought we were going to step up and shut everyone down, humiliate them for their disbelief. Maybe it's just because I know we are better than this.
I know most of you out there are sitting there (if you have even gotten this far) and are bitching that the last time your team WENT to the Superbowl, or Stanley Cup Finals, or World Series was a LOOONG time ago and I should just continue to admire the fun Lord Stanley Cup being held by my Bruin Boys. But with the September collapse to top all September collapses and now this humiliating 21-17 loss, I'm starting to feel as though we've lost our super-powers. We are but mere mortals. It kind of sucks. New England has some of the biggest sports franchises, most expensive franchises, and those boys put-out (in the best possible way of course). But this whole losing thing is foreign to my generation. My grandfather was born and died without ever seeing a Red Sox World Series win (Born:1919 Died: 1998). I've seen all four major sport teams win. All of them. But this dive back towards Earth hurts knowing what greatness we are capable of and watching it fall away as we throw more and more money towards these descending creatures who refuse to admit wrong-doing, but are turning into spoiled brats. Both players and fans. Maybe a drought is what New England needs. Bring us to our knees, so that in our fight to rise again we can appreciate the triumphs and the defeats and know that we actually played our hearts out. Not that we couldn't beat ourselves in the mind-field.
I guess all that's left is to pray the Bruins can repeat, or that we can start to re-evaluate how to build a championship.

Happy New Year A.K.A Happy February...

So it has been quite a while since we have last spoken. Or since I was able to write anything. It's been a rough past few months, getting through the holidays and getting back into the swing of things at work. But I've also been afraid to come back here. I started this blog because I felt like I had something to say. Something worth saying and subsequently, something worth reading. But in order to be myself here online, I had to seem perfect, I had to present the best possibly version of myself. Isn't that what we all do? We present the best possible version of ourselves here on the internet, where we don't really have a face if we chose not to parade it around. But I think if I really want to be able to write here regularly and without fear of being judged for having less than phenomenal work, I have to be honest about who I am. In October of 2011 I was diagnosed by a psychologist with Social Anxiety and Depression. Which explains my lack of content here, because I was afraid to be judged (anxiety) and afraid to talk about how sometimes my life isn't perfect (depression). 

I’m 22 years old. And I get depressed because I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. I feel as if my whole life I’ve been guided down this brilliantly lit street. Each new block being cascaded by the street lights leading me through elementary school, middle school, high school, and then college. And then this nice, serene alley-like path leads to a 10 lane interstate in every possible direction, with no street-lights whatsoever. Just the headlights of fellow travelers as they speed by and leave you in the dust. And my immediate response is to curl up in a ball and cry. I don’t know what to do. I can’t turn around, as life is only lived in one direction, but I just don’t know how to take the proper steps to ease myself onto this interstate. I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like not only am I afraid of the interstate, I’m also trying to conquer it with a ten speed bicycle. I am ill prepared for life in the real world. Part of that is my parents, and face it, when aren’t our parents at fault for some of it. But also, I’ve just never felt as if I would have to face something like this so ill prepared. I thought my life was going to magically spread itself before me, road-block-less and all.

But that’s what I get for being an American…

I'll admit it, my life has been really easy in comparison with others. Which makes it hard for my to admit that I'm depressed, because people in situations so much worse than my own are much happier and coping so much better. Who am I to complain? Some selfish middle-class chick who has a good job and a loving family. ...Yeah, what a shitty life you lead Missy. And I'm not saying my life is shitty, I'm saying I don't know how to handle my life not being perfect. 

I initially started this blog in hopes that others would read it, and enjoy my astounding sense of humor and want to be my new best friend. But in order to get some adoring fans, I felt I needed to be up-front about how I feel. I can't sit here and pretend to be someone I'm not. So I'm not going to do that any more. However, as a fun disclaimer, I don't plan on sitting here bitching about how my salad didn't have low-fat dressing on it today, but was instead full-fattening and delicious. I want to write about what I feel comfortable telling you. About how I view my world. About my daily struggles and my semi-regular triumphs. I want to be apart of something much larger than me. While I do work for a rather large business and therefore am apart of something large and wonderful, I want to be feel as though I am a vital part to something I love, and not just a replaceable cog somewhere deep in the underbelly of the machine.

So a very belated toast to the new year, and to a new hope that this small, barely read blog, will be viewed by someone else who is interested in my stories or who at least is literate.

Until next time...