I went and saw one of my most trusted advisors today...which is to say, I got my haircut.
I talked Simon’s ear off for about an hour and he listened and nodded and snipped away at all of the dead ends. And in the end he looked right at me and said:
You gotta get your mojo back.
Actions don’t matter nearly so much as your thoughts. Don’t worry about what you think you have to do; your only responsibility is to get right up here, he said, tapping his head.
Elusive, hard to define, occasionally impossible to wrangle… mojo.
I lost it sometime round the middle of this last month.
Here’s the thing about getting left at the airport, it makes for a damn fine story (and don’t you worry, I'll be using it at cocktail parties for years). But it doesn’t sting nearly so much as lying in bed next to someone who doesn’t seem terribly keen on your being there. Nor does it hurt as much as spending four months dating a man who kisses you only a little, and only upon occasion--a man who never looks at you like you're much of anything--the dissonance of your experience with him leaving you just a bit, ever so lonely.
Because those things will leave a girl feeling like she needs to be hung up on the clothesline and left to dry out a bit.
(And I'd like to say, for the sake of posterity: I AM NOT HEARTBROKEN. Just in case that's what's read between my words, let me state for the record, about this man I am not heartbroken. It's not about the guy. I had a good cry the second time he broke up with me (end of October) and then MOVED. ON. It's about me. It's about feeling like a fool. It's about my confidence and self-worth and all that good stuff. It's about how all that good stuff is flagging, but not altogether lost).
So here I am, the start of February, searching for my mojo.
Which of course means I’ve been looking for the perfect shade of lipstick to no avail (I can, however, confidently advise on which Sephoras in New York City have the very best lighting).
More than the lipstick, I’ve been writing. And drinking jalepeno infused margaritas. And listening to really, really fine music. I bought some new perfume and have even gotten to the gym a few times (people tell me there’s something to that endorphin hoeey, but I go for heart health). I've read interesting articles and curious books and I’ve even gotten my hair cut.
I’ve done all the things I know to do…and yet…no mojo.
I know that sometimes it’s just a matter of time—that one can do all the right things and yet…and yet and yet.
But this notion of mojo, well, it’s gotten me thinking: What do other people do when they can’t find theirs?
So do tell, won’t you? Cause I’d like to try some new things on for size.
image and quote: Before Sunset (2004)