I once watched an ENTIRE VH1 episode about how Vanilla Ice was sued because he ripped off Queen's song titled "Under Pressure" for his immortal hit, "Ice Ice Baby" and while I'll never get those thirty minutes back, I'll always have some trivia bragging rights.
I'm sort of brilliant and pathetic all at once.
I used to impress the world with my ability to sing "Ice Ice Baby" from memory. Not everyone could do that, you know... it's reserved for a special class of the Pathetically Brilliant American Population.
Now I spend my time singing other songs, less rap-related and more Pixar-related.
These days, I've been singing Queen's song with a brilliantly ripped-off beat.
Throughout my life, pressure has been a healthy motivator. It helped me complete homework assignments, take tests, think critically, give speeches!
But I recently came to some realizations about pressure and the part it has played in my marriage. I'm so grateful the realizations came NOW instead of five years ago.
If I had realized five years ago that I'd spent my marriage feeling pressured to have sex, pressured to perform, pressure to look like a porn star, pressure to behave approvingly, pressure to be "perfect"... I probably would have left my husband in a fit of anger. I always knew I felt some degree of it along the way, but now I recognize the FULL degree of just how much Pressure has stolen my precious experiences, my sacred memories. It's as bad as porn at stealthily creeping in and robbing my brain!
The fact that I've realized it now -now that I'm on Step 8 and have almost three years of recovery -has made a big difference in how I've processed this realization. I'm able to write about it, talk about it to my sponsor, pray about it, honestly voice to my husband when I feel Pressure start to creep in, even if there's no call for it.
Where does the pressure come from? Him? Me? Satan? Society?
Honestly. Does it matter?
I don't think it does. The point is, I'm highly triggered over anything remotely pressure-y lately.
I didn't order a box of peaches this year. Wanna know why? Because a box of peaches = pressure to can. And if I don't can, the peaches will taunt me from their box... I'm serious. Dead serious. Pressure Peaches are not happening in 2013.
I've given up a few other pressurey activities which a lady never mentions.
I can feel myself bordering on Alicia's version of Rebellion which is mild enough that only dogs and very small children can actually hear it. But I know it's there. And God knows it's there.
And that's all that matters.
The Pressure Grooves in my brain are deep-rooted. I'm running in the other direction for a spell to give my pressure grooves a fighting chance to heal.
It won't last forever, probably.
And my hopes are that in a little while I'll be back to using Pressure as a healthy motivator... My brain will be healed enough to give speeches on the fly like it used to. It will toss out research papers the night before and not even flinch when asked to talk in church.
Pressure used to be my friendly, slightly-weaker-than-me rival.
In the last nine years, it's turned ugly. It's taken cheap shots and cheated.
I believe the Lord can heal my pressure issues. I believe someday that Pressure will once again be healthy.
In the meantime, I'm going to let my hair down and take naps.
Or, as my buddy says, "Let's kick it."