Wrangler Dani

I’ve been sick. I’ll sum it up for you as I did for my compassionate G-chat friend this morning… I feel like my head is stuffed with cotton, I’m wearing a brick for a hat and topped it off by unwisely swallowing a length of barbed wire. At least I’m still kicking in-between groans.

When I’m sick, I wind up laying around and noticing all the aforementioned dust bunnies, which really gets under my skin, so I end up getting up and mopily dusting/straightening/disguising the areas of the house which I can see from my outpost on the couch. Today I took it upon myself to clean out the bulletin board which has been sitting unused in the corner of our office for over a year, that I started after college, when I first moved to California. (I’ve talked before about being a hoarder, so this should be no surprise.) The little mementos, scraps of paper and movie stubs are unsightly. They’re disorganized dust-collectors that just need to be tossed – but I can’t.

I’m going to be painfully honest, y’all. My first year or so out of college was ROUGH. When I moved to California, I moved to start a job which I felt unbridled optimism for and learned to hate within weeks, if not days. I knew nobody and suddenly was so painfully shy that it hurt to even try to make a friend. All of this after coming out of a senior year of college that had been liberating, intoxicating in its joy. I was the thinnest and most fit I’d ever been, happy, living with my best friends, easily conquering classes, discussing internships, ruling the college-paper opinion page with verve. After we graduated, I had to find a job, carry on with my life, do something without the support of those dear friends who’d just had my back for four years. I crashed, people. I crashed hard.

This bulletin board records the mementos of that tough period of my life, and it shows the places that I found hope, and the ways I learned to pick up and move on. There are notes from those friends that I so struggled without, reminding me that they were only a phone call away. There are clothing tags from shopping trips with the new friends I was making, little notes from a new small group that I reluctantly joined but was soon embraced by. There are movie stubs from when I worked up the courage to go by myself, stubs from the next time, when I worked up the courage to go with a group. There are official IDs on lanyards, declaring “Danielle Linthicum” as an employee or vendor from the jobs I had and tradeshows I attended. There’s a card from my mom with a snooty poodle on the front and a smiley face inside, reminding me that it’s OK to stick out occasionally. There’s a photocopied picture of the cast of The OC, with my head glued on Summer and my friend Julianne’s head on Marissa, smiling out from the embraces of our wanna-be boyfriends, Seth and Ryan. There are thank-you notes, a tag from my first pair of Hudsons (bought at Christina‘s insistence) a flyer from church, brought home and tacked on, the first day I felt connected there.

It’s hard to look at sometimes, as it reminds me of my shortcomings and mistakes. But it all tells a story. No matter how many nights I felt so alone, no matter how scared I was – even when I felt as chubby as a little squirrel in October, I was cared for and loved. Sometimes I didn’t feel it. Sometimes even thinking about that time makes me feel unsure of my worth. But these mementos, and all the memories attached, prove me wrong.

It’s why I can’t throw them away, because I am too forgetful. I have one day of mistakes and assume I do nothing but screw up, I get snubbed once and forget about every loving word spoken to me. So I have to keep these scribbled words of encouragement and voiceless reminders of where I’ve been. They keep me anchored, and gently remind me to carry on.

But, they DO have to come off the bulletin board. I may be a sicky, but I’m not through cleaning up this place… at least the clutter I can see from a prone position.

(Just so all of you know… the only reason I’m getting away with doing anything other than getting beauty sleep and ordering room service is because A. we don’t live at a hotel, COME ON now, and B. Adam has to go work and thus, left me to my own devices today. Over the weekend, he took five-star care of me, and even let me watch as much Olympic ice dancing as I wanted. He only tried to convince me of the heart-pounding drama of Curling once. It didn’t really work, but he’s still the best husband in the world, even if we can’t agree on The Most Confusing Olympic Sport Ever. I just wanted to be sure you all knew that.)