Newsletter Archive: How I hurt my heart and feet; on recovery + cooking

Dear Reader,

This week I did something groundbreaking. Well, groundbreaking for me. I bought my first pair of Birkenstocks. Ok, I didn’t buy just one pair, I bought two because - well - one for walking and one for ... Everyone needs a toggle strategy when it comes to frequently used items. Look at Carrie and her Manolo Blahnik’s on Sex & the City? I’ve just met my flat and more functional match.

I dated someone (many times) who was into fashion and appearances. He wasn’t the first, and there were others along the way. But upon expressing my desire to buy Birkenstocks, Jim said that I should not buy them because “They are ugly.” And you know what? I didn’t buy them. That was two years ago and things with Jim and I didn’t end well. Nor did the pain in my feet subside.

This week I sat on a park bench, alone, reading and comfortably wearing my Birkenstocks; recalling how I would get dressed for our dates and feel nervous. I never felt good enough, and very much unlike how I wanted to feel inside. When I went to meet Jim’s parents I borrowed an outfit from my best friend, Su. A respectable blazer and top over my jeans and boots because nothing of my own seemed it would make an impression. And I can’t blame him for my own actions or for his words “They are ugly.” I want to, but I can’t. I lived many parts of my life from the outside - for approval and validation. And that started from our very first date. I took what he said, and what many other men said, at face value. 

Alone in bed, here in Oaxaca, because there is No Sex & Oaxaca City happening in my life; I’m now rewatching older episodes of Sex & the City. I am not watching the show because I miss New York; nor is it because I miss high fashion and wore Manolo Blahnik’s. That was not my New York of 10-18 hour work days in production, shopping in Ann Taylor Loft, walking home from work and collecting fortune cookies to guide my unknown future. My shoes were also all mainly from Macy’s or Target. I did, however, relate to the low self-esteem cover ups and drinking.

Now I often find myself watching the show and wondering if Carrie’s feet hurt all the time and if she suffered for Mr. Big and appearances? Did she like being in shoe debt? Did she actually enjoy skipping meals to buy shoes and maintain an addiction to footwear and clothes?

In retrospect, I believe that show may be partly to blame for most of the drunkenly impaired dating strategies of my 20’s and 30’s. My own toxic thoughts and the compliance with toxic behaviors. Well, I can’t blame the show. I want to, but I can’t. I wonder how Carrie really felt about herself on the inside? I felt pretty shitty when I did the things she did - the compulsive shopping and dating. After breaking up with Mr. Big, she slipped back into her old habits of drinking, eating Chinese takeout in bed, calling her “sure thing” guys, going to bed late and waking up later. And, in the end, she gets back together with Mr. Big and he leaves her at the altar. BUT, later, they get married - after all of the heartache and pain, and what I can only imagine was pain in her feet, as well. The example of their relationship set the stage as the quest for romantic love being complicated and toxic; while self-love and comfortable footwear was something to be avoided. I vividly remember watching the show and ROOTING for Carrie and Mr. Big.

I realize, now, that the show made appearances and sex the epicenter of a woman’s life, while also painting it to be a constant quest for approval, love, relationships, fancy dinners, the perfect outfit, and having a baby. I know, I know, it’s called Sex & the City and, in the end, it’s a show about perpetuating norms. I hang on now for the friendship angle - and for the study of my own life in love, sex, outfits, shoes, booze and heartache.

And, while life is A LOT OF NORMS IF WE ALLOW IT TO BE, it really doesn’t have to be. Something I’ve only learned 20+ years later. I don’t think the Birkenstocks are a gateway drug to purchasing more BoHo chic dresses, excessive drinking, dating more Jim’s or breaking my two years of celibacy, but I guess you never know?

I will concede that my TV show would be far from entertaining. No Sex & Oaxaca City: Healing Old Habits + Moving On might be the longest title and the more boring show, but it could be better for women’s life choices and self-esteem? I guess that’s why I’m here writing.

This week I sat on a park bench and thought about how real life is beautiful, flawed and simple. Simple with its pained, crooked feet, Birkenstocks, makeup free, and with no frills. With its saggy skin, cellulite, low boobs and journaling. Without spending much money or constantly dating, drinking, having sex, maintaining toxic relationships for drama or something to do; or choosing unhealthy habits to make it feel as though we’re living. The irony of the latter always gets me when it comes to our human brains and hearts.  

I broke my own heart one too many times. And my feet were killing me. When was I going to stop? When was it going to be enough? One day, it finally was.

XO
Tina