Thursday, August 8, 2013

Vertigo


I went back to the ear doctor yesterday, and he diagnosed me with something called Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo. 

Don't worry. There is no way this could be a serious condition, because the doctor gave me a handout. I just don't think they make handouts for the serious conditions, right? It would be too cold and impersonal.


The handout recommended doing exercises like this:



which basically looks like sleeping. I don't know, I have not it read it very closely yet.

But, seriously. I do have a vertigo problem. I get dizzy and light-headed and sometimes I even get nauseous. The other day I rode in a car for the first time in a month (cabs inside the city don't count) and as we sped along the highway on our way to a White Sox game, I felt like my head was going to explode.

But the thing is, Vertigo is the least of my problems right now. At least now I know why I always feel a little hung over on my walk to work. 

No, I've got bigger fish to fry. Like...Feeling stupid at work, or...Feeling lonely living by myself or...Sometimes wanting to pack it up and head on home.

Yeah, so moving to a new city and working for an even bigger advertising agency (when I am still not even sure about working in advertising in the first place) is tough. Breaking up with the guy I thought I was going to marry after two years of dating and living together is tough. Leaving my cats and accepting the reality that I will have to put them up for adoption (let me know if you are interested) is tough. 

But still, those things are still all arguably manageable. On my bad days when I am having a good, hard cry, feeling stupid about advertising or being single as a thirty something or becoming cat-less in a big city high-rise are not the issues I end up thinking about. Instead, I start thinking about my dad and I end up feeling sad and mad at life.

Leaving my quadriplegic dad at home with my mom who now has zero children within the state of Minnesota, and knowing that the only time I will see them is during vacations and holidays is tough. I cannot figure out how to read the World War II book to my dad when I am 500 miles away. There is something about needing to be in the same room sitting right next to him in person, but I do appreciate it if you just thought, "Well you could just Skype with him, then!" When my dad cannot move or talk, I cannot Skype. It is just not the same.

So I miss my dad and I am still pissed off about what happened to him, but there is nothing I can do about that. I put all my eggs in one basket marked TO CHICAGO and there is now no turning back. 

I am 100% here and 100% committed to becoming a success. Not just successful as an advertiser, but also as a more established, confident, slimmer and sophisticated adult. No worries that the fresh-faced interns over a decade younger than me make me feel like a dunce. They manage to make their work look effortless all while dressed in size sub-zero clothing from Forever 21. No worries. I am learning as much as I possibly can from these millennial marvels and I am rooting for all of them to get hired (so that they can help me do my job).

Here is the thing. I know what it is I have to do. I recognize what this is going to take. It is going to take late nights and lots of reading and asking uncomfortable questions and feeling humiliated in front of people I respect. It is going to take learning the CTA system and figuring out which bus to get on and learning the proper way to hail a cab. 

Here's the deal.

I am going to kick advertising in the ass.

I am going to become a badass Strategist and nothing – not ignorance, or loneliness, or spinsterhood or even Vertigo is going to get in my way of making it in Chicago. 

So look out! I have arrived, Windy City, and I am here to stay, dammit. 





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