“Stop being a melted vanilla ice cream sandwich,” I said.
I don’t remember who it was directed at. I just recall that they were being kind of negative. I was tired, and the only thing I could compare how I felt to was the feeling of sticky, chocolate caked fingertips.
I hate vanilla ice cream sandwiches.
It’s not that vanilla sandwiches are repulsive. They’re just boring. Boring and basic.
So basic in fact, you cannot really hate them, but only tolerate their existence.
To be clear, I’m not talking about the sexy double fudge cayenne pepper avocado daisy flavored ice cream sandwiches you get at food trucks. I’m talking frost bitten bargain brand ice cream sandwiches, the ones you pull out of the back of your freezer when you realize you literally have nothing else to offer your guests.
It’s only after you hesitantly accept an ice cream sandwich that you remember how regrettable they are.
As the white, sticky ice cream starts to drip, and the spongy chocolate cake part sticks to your fingers, you start to question not only this dessert choice, but all of your life choices.
Questions such as the following come to mind:
“Why did I commit to eating this messy disaster?”
“What kind of person does this make me?”
“Who’s that drunk guy by the pool?”
“How can I get out of going home for Christmas?”
“Is Shia LeBeouf ever going to get his illustrious career back?”
I’m obviously being hyperbolic.
But seriously. They’re nothing worse than vanilla ice cream sandwiches, and we all know it. They fall into a category with other tolerable, but regrettable situations: slow but not tragically slow internet, a beer you order and just sort of like, Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull, Hilary Clinton’s pant suits.
You get the idea.
So what happens when each day feels like that? Like a soggy, but kind of okay backyard treat? When the days mush together, leaving behind a regrettable but somewhat tolerable residue?
What happens is that you blame yourself. You question all of the decisions you’ve made up to that point. You wonder how you became the kind of person that becomes comfortable in that kind of environment.
You know to be honest, I blame you too. You made the choices. You put yourself there. You said “OK sure” to one too many lumpy ice cream sandwiches, and now you’re paying the price.
So what are you going to do about it?
I shared a segment from my book recently that I think aligns to this:
Is it possible that “my refusal – to get too comfortable, to stock up on material clutter, or to stuff my face with too much junk… because I don’t want to settle SO BADLY, I won’t even settle on little things?”
For a period of my life, I was comfortable. I settled for hypothetical ice cream sandwiches.
I rationalized it by telling myself that someday, I would pursue what I really wanted – that I was just killing time. I willingly treaded water. But what I didn’t realize, was by settling, even in seemingly insignificant ways, I was training myself to believe I deserved less.
I finally broke myself out of it by the same shitty choices I made. I started saying no, to everything lackluster… to overly hoppy beers I accidentally ordered and didn’t like, to sundresses I only wore one time because they had an itchy tag, to unsatisfying books I forced myself to read halfway through, then ditched.
I just stopped. And everything changed.
Once I cleared out the clutter, and aggressively pursued things I felt something significant towards, I became happier. Less scared, less uncertain. Even something as simple as buying a bouquet of incredibly fragrant flowers for my desk transformed my day.
Starting my day with prayer, going to get Thai food at lunch, or foregoing a night out at the bar for a Mad Men marathon changed me. Sure, there were times I was still bored, still uncertain or nibbling on ice cream sandwiches… but I started to realize how unsatisfying these things were.
It turned me off to them.
A visit to the National Geographic Museum, the purchase of a drafting table that fits perfectly in my bedroom, the choice to eat proscuitto wrapped mozzerella for dinner… those little things added up to good vibes.
So friend, whoever you are, whatever situation you find yourself in, if it looks/feels anything like moderately long lines for the bathroom, lukewarm sushi, or post-it notes that are starting to use the adhesiveness… turn away.
Turn towards what fills you with joy. Turn towards the things that feel like sunshine, newly sharpened pencils, or the smell of a new book. Stop questioning whether or not you deserve to be gleefully happy, and start pursuing the people and places that will enable you to do so.
I’m right there with you.