Chelsea Noveau.

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Words cannot quite describe the chaos that was 2023. Like, literally – where do I begin? Let’s just say the year had me in the first half, due to my fitness routine. On top of my spin classes at Cyclebar, I started Club Pilates in January and spent time there nearly every day for Reformer Pilates. It was quite possibly the most fun I’ve had working out, and my body was loving it. I met the coolest, most inspirational instructor there who changed my life in one Reiki session (on top of her inspired Pilates instruction). Not a day goes by where I don’t mull over her motivational words and insight that I am my family’s generational curse-breaker. How freaking cool is that?

I left Florida at the end of July. I didn’t realize how much I thrived in Gainesville, with the easy access to my favorite workouts, health stores, health foods, and daily sunshine. I traded one ‘ville for another, moving back to Greenville to teach at my alma mater (a very unique and challenging opportunity!), and the transition of the move was seemingly endless. I was virtually homeless for two months, living out of a hotel room/mom’s house/temporary campus accommodations. Imagine trying to start a new job and having every other part of your life up in the air. Yeah, it’s terrible. When I finally found an apartment, it took a few full days of cleaning top to bottom to truly disinfect it from the previous tenants who left it in a heap, but we’ve made it quite clean, nice, and cozy now. Trying to move with the semester in full swing just wasn’t it, and I am so grateful for the two-car garage that allowed us to just unload our boxes and take things out as needed. Spoiler: the garage is still pretty dang full.

Some pretty excellent things did happen in the second half of 2023; I survived my first semester of teaching, sprinted through receiving my certification in Experiential Learning (which may as well have unlocked the secrets of the universe for me it was so influential), I completed my MBA and walked the stage at graduation, spent all the major holidays with my family without having to drive 13 hours to do so, and I celebrated my first year of marriage. I somehow did all of the things and managed to deep clean one third of our apartment before January 1st. That’s not too shabby.

So here I am at the start of a new year with a notebook full of plans, a head full of ideas, and a heart full of desires. I usually begin each year with some semblance of this, but this year feels very different than others, in that I am sick of the wheel. I am so tired of wanting to do things and never doing them. My soul is dying to be creative, and neglecting that desire just leads to complete dissatisfaction. Getting to my breaking point might just be the thing that causes me to take the actions I always talk myself out of, plus completing my degree means I get days of my life back each week that I can channel toward other projects. I have lots to hash out over the next few weeks in particular, but those are stories for other posts.

Here is to a year of transformation! Thanks for waiting with me.

chelseainwaiting

GNV FLA

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I think it’s the only Less Than Jake album I own. I remember being at Lake of the Ozarks with my mom the summer of 2008 for the first of her many annual education conferences; while she was stuck in meeting rooms during the day, I went shopping. Back then, the outdoor outlet mall was still packed with stores and the options were endless; I’d hit Claire’s, Rue21, and the bookstore before circling back to hit Maurice’s and Marshall’s. I was still in the process of amassing my CD collection in ’08, so I found myself perusing the selection at Walmart (as one did). I had never heard a LTJ song in my life, I just knew they were very popular amongst the people in high school who were cooler than me. I bought it on a whim, along with Weezer’s Red Album and Charlotte Sometimes (I don’t think I have EVER listened through that one completely) and was immediately taken. It’s not surprising, since I love pop punk and ska. It’s also not surprising that it was my first thought when my fiancé (!!!) told me he would be accepting a job in Gainesville. Things in life are cyclical and connected, so I like to think that little corner of my musical world foreshadowed this time of my life.

So YES – a LOT has happened in my life over the last month. As I prepared for a move halfway across the country (the furthest I’ve ever lived from home), my boyfriend proposed to me lakeside behind our Missouri home. It was a beautiful evening illuminated by a bright moon as full as my heart. So much change happened in quick succession as we made time to say goodbye to friends and my family before setting off in my Ford Escape that somehow towed thousands of pounds of a U-Haul trailer across the south without problems. I regret now not stopping to sleep in a hotel room- a few naps in the car were not enough to prevent me from falling asleep on the road 20 minutes away from our new apartment. Thankfully no one was hurt and woke up as soon as my tires hit the ridges. The sounds of an early-2000s Matt Theissen kept me awake the rest of the way. 🙂

What I’m incredibly grateful for is that we secured an apartment before moving here, because I can’t imagine not being able to roll up, walk in, sleep, and unload the way that we did. The original plan was to drive down and spend a few days either with a friend or in a hotel room to scout our options. We’d done some preliminary searching online to see what was available in our price range with the space we were looking for (3 bedrooms, mainly because I have so much STUFF), but we hadn’t finalized anything. After a few weeks, most of those places were full, so we were running out of options before we even arrived. It was two weeks prior to the end of our lease in Missouri when I happened upon the perfect place. We were sitting in a St. Louis Bread Co. about to have lunch with friends when I was lazily searching for 3 bedroom apartments and found a complex I’d never found in my searches before. It was an older build, but beautifully landscaped with the 24/7 gym and pool amenities we were looking for, a STUNNING outdoor gathering space with games and grills, and the finishes I preferred. Even better? FULLY FURNISHED. Didn’t have to worry about bringing beds, a kitchen table, any of the large, awkward furniture. We did a Facetime tour on the spot, and it ended up being not just a large topic of discussion at lunch, but my friends teamed together to put the pressure on my fiancé to agree to securing the place. Ultimately we decided the risk was worth taking, though we both would have preferred to see the place in person before making a commitment. It ended up being the best option – minutes away from UF, right across from the pool and gym, and located on the corner top floor for minimal noise from neighbors. It feels safe, private, and it’s beautiful to look out the window and see beautiful plants, ponds, and fountains.

Now that we’ve been here a few weeks, I’ve had time to recover from the sleep deprivation and the intensity I put my body through while moving. Things are 90% unpacked (small details like jewelry and decorative items are still boxed), and last night I put up most of my wall hangings. I have a beautiful vintage Iranian textile for the living room, but I’m hesitant to hang it without a frame (who knew 48×32 frames just didn’t exist?). Either way, it’s starting to look and feel like home. And I can already drive myself to Target, Starbucks, and Trader Joe’s without using a GPS. I have big plans while I’m here in Florida – this is where I’m going to get my businesses going, start writing again, and focus on becoming the healthiest I can be (I’ve already lost 10 pounds since the move). Florida is going to kickstart my best life yet.

Thanks for waiting with me.

chelseainwaiting

Shein, Sheout, OR: Why We Can’t Have a Moment’s Peace

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A package a day keeps the savings away. Because why would anyone want a backup plan when that money could simply burn a credit card-sized hole in your Kate Spade bag? Spare the bag, spend the money before things get too hot.

I’m falling into old habits. I don’t know if it’s because it’s getting colder and I’m getting out less, that I’ve been sick for almost two weeks and I’m getting out less, or if I’m bored/bargaining/afraid of real change. Truth be told, it’s probably the latter. I’d been doing so well with not spending excessively and moving out things I don’t really need or want, and I think that subconsciously freaked me out; I think I did the same thing with my weight for a while, not letting myself move below 250 because I didn’t think I deserved it somehow. My brain lived so long in crisis mode that it doesn’t know what to do when there isn’t one, so it must create them – and that’s sad, and a bit scary. So my checking account is slowly dwindling down so that I can have the latest mystery boxes from Jeffree Star Cosmetics, advent calendars, home/skincare/etc. subscription boxes, and Shein orders that I’ll regret later. Seriously, between the Shein shopping and the stupid amount that I just dropped on FB Live sales at the local consignment store, I could open my own boutique. Roughly half of that Shein order is being returned though; I bought multiple New Years’ Eve dresses in denial that bodycon styles make me look like the Michelin Man, and it doesn’t make sense to drop $100 on makeup that won’t even be the quality of Wet n’ Wild when I just gave Jeffree a bunch of my money. So hey, there’s a little bit of dignity I’ll get back. These installment pay options just make it too easy – Afterpay, Klarna, Affirm – it’s almost as bad as credit cards, because before you know it, the shopping just gets away from you and then you’re shelling out half your paycheck every two weeks to the habit. And Affirm might be the worst, because there are financing options – pay every two weeks, or pay every month for 6-12 months at a premium. It was better when QVC held the exclusive rights to Easy Pay.

So right now my office is one literal clothes pile. I wish I were exaggerating. And there’s at least 3 bags I haven’t even unleashed to the room yet. I wish boyfriend weren’t going to work from home tomorrow, because then I could take command of the bedroom to somehow wrangle this obscene mess with a Flip n’ Fold. I could handle the mess a bit more if it weren’t for the number of things I still need to move out. Right before I got sick, I had rented a small storage space again because I had given into the fact that my closet is not serving me and I can no longer handle a small pile of crates and storage tubs in the corner. This apartment is temporary, and my permanent keeps are just too much for it to contain. Unfortunately I don’t have it in me to run the stairs the 50 times it would take to rotate the stuff out and make room for the new, and it has me panicked. These are the moments when I feel like living alone is underrated – you can deal with your crap over time and no one is going to say anything about how long it takes, or make comments on its mere existence. Now it’s like I’m racing against the clock – because if boyfriend has comments on the hoodie I left on the bed, he’s going to have a full take on the possibly sentient amalgam of shirts, jackets, and accessories creating a lovely focal point in my office. And I don’t want to hear it.

I will master the mess, even if it means I relapse. It’s fine, I’m fine. Check in with me again on Wednesday to see if I’m still singing that tune.

Thanks for waiting with me.

chelseainwaiting

Forward motion.

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Matthew Thiessen once wrote that he struggled with forward motion, and that spoke to my soul. Is that surprising for a self-proclaimed waiter of life? But here’s the thing: while I have, again, not been keeping up with this blog as originally intended, you know what I have been doing? LIVING.

Yes, I, Chelseainwaiting, have been… not waiting at all, actually. I’m saving the details for my book, but while the world has been falling apart, I’ve been getting my life together. Drastic changes have led to drastic results. For example, I went from accepted spinster to making a home with my boyfriend of almost a year, from hating my job to not only finding a new one, but launching my own business on the side (early stages, but I’ve filed the LLC!). It’s been a whirlwind, and I have a lot to unpack – figuratively and literally, I moved 1.5 months ago into a smaller space. The downsizing is real!

So here are my new goals.

First of all, WRITING. It’s my passion, it comes naturally, and I’m always happier doing it. This blog is a priority.
Personal growth via downsizing my stuff. I have waaay too much of everything – clothes, books, makeup, personal care – use it and lose it is the name of the game.
Professional growth – get a day job writing, get a side job writing. Launch YouTube channel(s). Write the book I told my doctor I would write.
Advance the fitness trek. Keep pushing in the gym, don’t get sidetracked by shiny, unhealthy-for-you things. Get to that healthy goal weight.
Financial independence. Know where your money is going and get it under control – be strict with self!

I’ve truly never had a more positive outlook. I usually build all these ideas in my mind, then fence myself in with my own fear. What if it all goes wrong? Having a strategic mind can be a blessing in the right context, but can be oh so devastating if allowed to roam free. I guess I’m finally sick of the insanity cycle, because I’m pivoting and leaping into action without thinking too much about a safety net.

Here’s to the risk takers – thanks for waiting with me.

chelseainwaiting

Girl Meets Apathy

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A wise man once sang, “Yeah, being apathetic’s a pathetic way to be, but I don’t care; what matters to you does not matter to me.”

As someone who tested for empathy as a top five strength on the StrengthFinders test (you’ll find it on my resume), I’ve not once been accused of apathy. If anything, I feel too much; I can quickly turn empathy into a weakness when I start to believe it’s my personal responsibility to take control and fix everyone’s problems. I have the answers, but when I can’t predict behaviors or daily workflows, I start to unravel. I never thought I was a control freak, but I start to wonder, the older I get. There seems to be a fine line between a desire to be invaluable and help people and total self-sacrifice, and I’ve been sacrificing myself for years.

I love to work, and I get so much satisfaction from the work I do, no matter what that has been -Sonic carhop, office utility, teller, etc. My philosophy is this: the work you’re doing may not be your passion, but be passionate about your work. Many of us don’t get to hop right into our dream jobs from graduation, but maintaining a passion for a job well done leads to success. Unfortunately, we can find ourselves in environments that may take advantage of that passion, at which point we can learn the hard way if we don’t consciously protect ourselves.

It’s me. I learned the hard way.

I gave up a management title because I had let my work run me into the ground. Well, that’s part of it; it’s a broad generalization for a series of unfortunate events, at my expense. Regardless, I let those things happen, and I kept my mouth shut because I understand the concept of paying your dues and proving yourself, ignoring the fact that I’d gone far beyond that; I had no time for myself, and no matter how many more hours I put in, the amount of work to do continued to increase. I was losing sleep. I was having anxiety attacks on the reg. I was throwing up every morning. In a job that I had worked so hard to attain and even harder to keep, I felt unsupported and unsatisfied, knowing what I was capable of accomplishing and feeling too tangled in the daily quota to do what I set out to do.

So here I am in a new role with the same company – and I find myself leaning into the same tendencies. It’s on a much smaller scale, but there have definitely been many days where I’ve worked 10-12 hours vs. the typical 8. Curse my sense of responsibility. In all seriousness, I’m trying to focus on dialing it back. There is so much I want to focus on both personally and professionally, outside of my current profession. Getting healthy takes time. Writing a book (or an essay, or a blog post!) takes time. Downsizing your stuff for cash takes time. While I’m still very serious and passionate about the work I do, I’m learning to develop and apply what I refer to as a healthy dose of apathy.

All my bosses and coworkers have preached to me for years the need to not work around the clock, that the work will still be there tomorrow, but I’ve cared too much about work and too little about myself to do that, which introduces about 100 other problems. So this ‘hapathy’ as I’ll refer to it is about being stricter with myself about my workday no matter the workload so I can focus on self-care and attaining other goals. Huh. Just coming to the realization that maybe that’s why I’ve always thrown myself into my work – to avoid myself. Yikes – anybody got a therapist they recommend?

So it’s Sunday, and instead of leaning into my usual funk and getting worked up and depressed about the work week, I’m trying something constructive. A year ago I picked up a book while I was on vacation. I travel to Lake Ozark every summer for what I call a free vacation; my mom has a conference, so I tag along and piggyback on her travel and hotel accommodations. They have this great overstock bookstore in the middle of the dying outdoor outlet mall, and I never spend less than $30 when I go there. In the middle of a table of books, I found The Quarter-Life Break-Through. Being 29 at the time, I said to myself, “Well, I’m probably more at a third-life at this point,” as I turned the book over in my hands to read the back cover. I almost choked on my spit when I read, “…fresh, honest, counterintuitive, and inspiring career advice for anyone stuck in a quarter-life crisis (or third-life crisis).” I bought the book simply because that was too coincidental to not mean something. But like every book I’ve purchased in the last three years, it sat on my shelf and collected dust. Today I picked it up and started reading, and I’m so glad I did. While I don’t exactly identify with the millennial set that isn’t focused on financial gain (I want to make money and should make money – I have a lot of skills, experience, and three degrees!), it’s certainly comforting to know that I’m not the only person in the thick of this feeling of being stuck and that it’s possible to come out on the other side.

Now that I’m 30 years old, it’s a fine time to redistribute my focus and get my house in order. Figuratively and literally.

Thanks for waiting with me.

 

chelseainwaiting

Welcome to the waiting room.

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Instead of Muzak, we play Fugazi.

A quote popped up this week on the daily calendar I bought last year for my work desk from Five Below that really struck me. It said, “I don’t wait for moods. You accomplish nothing if you do that. Your mind must know it has got to get down to work.”

It might be the only thing I’ve read by Pearl S. Buck, but it was affirming and motivating at the right time. I had recently opened a journal in which I’d made one entry at the beginning of the year during my annual winter lull that described the emptiness I’d been feeling, along with the stress of examining past mistakes that contributed to current uncertainties that could hold back the future I’d always dreamed for myself. I was reading this four months after that panic session was immortalized, and I felt so separate. Not that I was surprised at what I’d been enduring at that time (who am I kidding; I feel that way most of the time as someone never quite satisfied), but it had been a long time since I’d written anything other than a quick verse of a song on the fly, before and after that journal entry. I graduated from Greenville College (now it’s Greenville University; I’ll have to get used to that) in 2016, and that spring was the last time anyone I had written anything down that was a story or report. I’ve always loved writing (I decided to go for my B.A. in Journalism & Creative Writing to complement my B.S. in Music Business), but I’ve always needed to be assigned to break out of my creative shell to pen anything more committal than 3 verses, a bridge, and chorus. And I call myself a creative; just typing that makes me sad.

I’m reading these 3 pages where I’d just laid everything bare and given in to the flowing descent of what I’d been feeling, and I felt simultaneously ashamed that I’d not been using my talents and empowered to take action in pursuing my craft. I make so many excuses in embracing procrastination and laziness, and I end up in the same unhappy location, waiting for something to happen.

But like Pearl said, we can’t wait. It must be done, so we do.

For a writer, I recognize the act of writing should be necessity in the same way as food, water, and rest. It’s a calling, something jailed inside us that longs for escape and we’re the only one with a key. I’ve failed myself in that for so many years in favor of shopping sprees I couldn’t afford, Netflix binge sessions, love-hating social media that may or may not have contributed to hidden emotional instability. I’m choosing to use my time more wisely, at least what little I have left after throwing myself completely into the salaried job I love and exhaust myself over. I’m choosing to get back to doing something I love, for me. Part of that choice is this blog, a place where I can publicly be my awkward, over-thinking, likely annoying, and (I think) funny self. If you’re reading this, you’ve been warned. Thanks for waiting with me.

 

chelseainwaiting