There Will Be Lobster Read online

  Advance Praise for

  There Will Be Lobster

  “Sara Arnell is the only writer I know who can make self-deprecation and wisdom look like the same thing. There Will Be Lobster is a darkly funny memoir with a big heart, and it’s the exact comeback story we all need right now.”

  —David Hollander, author of Anthropica and L.I.E.

  “No matter where you are in life’s journey, there are stories and anecdotes in this book that will confirm what we know but don’t always practice—self-care and self-love are the two most powerful healers you have available.”

  —Dr. Gabrielle Lyon

  “This book is a deeply personal story that’s not afraid to show you the crazy moments that we all have, but often don’t admit to. Read this memoir if you want to learn how honesty, vulnerability, and sheer perseverance can help you step into your light and illuminate a new path—one that is happy, healthy, and full of hope.”

  —André Leon Talley, author of New York Times bestseller,

  The Chiffon Trenches and former Vogue editor-at-large

  “Reading this book makes you want to look more closely at your friendships, ask more real questions, and take the time to truly pay attention to signs and signals that indicate a friend needs help. There Will Be Lobster is a poignant portrayal of a woman in crisis—a woman like many of us—so used to being the strong one at home and work, that she just doesn’t know how to ask for help. It’s a must read for anyone who is looking to make a transition to a new chapter in their life.”

  —Christina Juarez, CEO, CJ & Company

  “This is Sara’s story, in her own words of how she stepped into her light and illuminated a magical, better world for herself. It’s a crazy ride, full of extraordinary characters and events but in the end, her compelling honesty is a lesson in how to help heal yourself and be the best you can be.”

  —Alyssa Duffy, founder, a-listed studio

  “What an enjoyable read. Sara gives us quite a ride upon the wave of elevational theater in her study of the futility of chasing lasting happiness solely in its external reflections. After decades of winning deserved accolades, Sara’s belief in herself reaches its lowest ebb when, unexpectedly, she discovers through Vedic Meditation how to turn within and finds what she was seeking: inner contentedness and purpose. Sara skillfully and courageously shares her life experiences with candor and humor. In doing so, she exemplifies a Vedic principle of good citizenship, to make personal experiences relevant socially, thereby making one’s growth toward illumination relatable, bringing hope to readers.”

  —Thom Knoles, Vedic Meditation Master

  “While names and storylines may differ, Sara’s intimate account of her transformation from seeking fulfillment through others to ultimately finding it within herself is a journey of awakening we all find ourselves on. Through Sara’s masterful storytelling, we can see that even in moments of struggle, loss, and fear, life will hand us breadcrumbs of hope that encourage us to continue searching for a better way. Regardless of where you are on your journey, Sara’s story will inspire you to take that next step in realizing your full potential and purpose, with some laughs along the way.”

  —Susan Chen, founder, Meditate With Susan

  “Sara Arnell’s memoir There Will Be Lobster is filled with wry self-deprecating humor but equally replete with genuine poignancy. In writing so transparently about the full catastrophe of her midlife crisis, Sara takes us on a journey that arrives at hard-earned resilience and lasting insight. This book is a rollicking account of the human condition written in an authentic, original voice.”

  —Gail Straub, co-founder, Empowerment Institute

  and award-winning author Empowerment and The Ashokan Way

  “I remember Sara Arnell as the tough, polished woman wearing a perfectly chic leather jacket while ruling over the hottest branding agency in Manhattan. Through There Will Be Lobster, I met a frightened, bewildered woman lurching through a terribly dark midlife passage. That both people are the same shows how sharply life can change. Sara shows that our only chance is changing with it—and that change is a messy, frightening process best handled with brutal honesty and humor.”

  —Hugh O’Neil Gallagher, brand writer and author, Chicken 65

  A SAVIO REPUBLIC BOOK

  An Imprint of Post Hill Press

  There Will Be Lobster:

  Memoir of a Midlife Crisis

  © 2021 by Sara Arnell

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN: 978-1-64293-926-2

  ISBN (eBook): 978-1-64293-927-9

  Cover art by Cody Corcoran

  All people, locations, events, and situations are portrayed to the best of the author’s memory. While all of the events described are true, many names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of the people involved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

  posthillpress.com

  New York • Nashville

  Published in the United States of America

  To my children

  Contents

  Learn How to Change Your Life and Achieve the Success You Desire!

  Chapter 1: January 1, 2015

  Chapter 2: How Did We Miss an Eighteen-Pound Tumor?

  Chapter 3: Spring 2013

  Chapter 4: Levon Helm Is in the Hospital

  Chapter 5: Grandpa, Is that You?

  Chapter 6: The Cautionary Tail

  Chapter 7: Goodbye to All This

  Chapter 8: Listen to the Music Play

  Chapter 9: The Gimp Is Back

  Chapter 10: You Look Like Joni Mitchell

  Chapter 11: Home Alone

  Chapter 12: Please Don’t Die

  Chapter 13: Gone but Not Forgotten

  Chapter 14: Smile Therapy

  Chapter 15: The Medium

  Chapter 16: Step Over the Log

  Chapter 17: Psychic-Ology

  Chapter 18: Crying at the Gym

  Chapter 19: Cat’s Out of the Bag

  Chapter 20: You Must Change Your Life

  Chapter 21: I’m Going Home

  Chapter 22: Jesus Will Save You

  Chapter 23: There Will Be Lobster

  Chapter 24: Just Breathe

  Chapter 25: I Want to Come Home

  Chapter 26: Turn Left

  Chapter 27: It’s Just a Cold

  Chapter 28: You Can Scream If You Want

  Chapter 29: You’re Going to Do Great

  Chapter 30: Heal Yourself

  Chapter 31: I Can Smell Cancer

  Chapter 32: The Thing

  Chapter 33: Into the Light

  Acknowledgments

  Learn How to Change Your Life and Achieve the Success You Desire!

  Now that I have your attention by using the advertising skills I’ve honed over the past thirty years of work in the industry, I want to tell you a bit about what you’ll encounter in this memoir. And maybe, just maybe, the promise of the headline will come true.

  The journey you’ll be going on in this book is driven by the things I did, thought and thought about over a several year period of disruptive life shifts, stifling anxiety, depression, and a jarring health diagnosis. It was a packed few years and it took a lot for me to unpack them and write them down. I had to face myself and what I did, again. It was hard enough the first time. The second time needed to be for reasons of lessons learned and shared.

  Along the way, during the writ
ing of this book, I spoke with a lot of people to help me remember clearly, get the sentiment right, and remind me of the moments I wanted—or tended—to forget. My description and explanation about this book was met with very similar responses:

  “You have money and resources. Couldn’t you get professional help?”

  “What was your family doing to help you through this?”

  “I never noticed you were having a hard time.”

  “Who knew?!?”

  And I would answer…

  “I couldn’t buy myself happy, after a while. That I-bought-a-new-bag feeling didn’t last very long. I rejected therapy because it felt like an insult to my intelligence.”

  “My family would say they thought I was just a little down and would perk up soon. A lot of internal stuff isn’t always outwardly expressed. No one imagined I was beyond anything that a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix.”

  “I never talked about how bad I felt about myself. I got really good at hiding my behavior or chalking it up to feeling free instead of out of control and self-destructive. Basically, I lied about what I was doing and what it was doing to me.”

  “I went from a CEO to a CE-OH no she didn’t. It surprised a lot of people.”

  But the reason I faced my bad, sad self a second time was because I learned some things that I want—need—to share. I know I’m not the only woman who has found herself in a midlife crisis of family, faith, and an uncertain future. I know I’m not the only woman who has had too much to drink and made decisions in the moment that didn’t look quite as chill or fun or smart in the light of a new day. And I know that I’m not the only woman who has searched hard to figure things out, get things straight, set things right, and still struggle to find a way out of a gaping black hole.

  In this book, you’ll read a lot of stories and anecdotes that have become my life lessons. There are stories about an eighteen-pound tumor, a tailless cat, a dying rock star, a famous medium, and a former monk. I was obsessed with self-care and all its accoutrements—crystals, mala beads, facials, massages, healings—but could care less about my actual health and wellness, until a cancer diagnosis woke me up. I searched for signs from the afterlife as I missed sign after sign from the world around me. I was a creature of media and consumed sensational stories of death, murder, and criminal behavior that caused me to fear for my children and myself.

  From boundless misplaced effort, false affirmations, self-pity, senseless worry, and the debilitating, utter depression of it all, I learned one huge lesson.

  Okay. Spoiler alert. I know I’m about to give away the ending and the ah-ha moment I finally achieved, courtesy of the former monk, but what the heck. I would rather have you hear this now and not have to wait until the end of the book, because it’s that urgent to know and put into practice.

  I learned that nothing external changes for you unless things change inside you first. Or, said the more commonly quoted way:

  “When things change inside you, things change around you.”

  This is the journey into light that we make on a daily basis through our decisions, actions, and thoughts. This is the acknowledgment that happiness exists inside you. It’s not something you chase, buy, or conjure. It’s something you tap into, deep inside yourself. When you do this, positive thoughts, laughter, joy, clarity, love, and hope all bubble up. Happiness is not on the other side of achievement. Happiness is what propels achievement. Finding what makes you healthy, happy, and whole is the horse, not the cart.

  Watching a lobster crawl out from under a chair was the signal that I needed to change my life and come back into the world.

  We all have lobster moments. Think about yours and how you can use it to change your life, from the inside out.

  Love always. Always love.

  Sara

  Chapter 1

  January 1, 2015

  This morning was different. I couldn’t wash it away.

  My ritual of letting hot, soothing shower water stream down my back for an extra ten minutes before I stepped onto the plush bath mat to dry off would have to wait. The shower drain was clogged with vomit.

  I achingly grunted, “Happy New Year” to myself as I tried to get up from my bathroom floor. I could barely move. Every part of my body hurt. I imagined this was what it would feel like if I ran a marathon. Or was in a car accident. Or fell down a flight of stairs. The pain started from the top of my head and extended down my entire body. There was not a bone, a muscle, a sinew left untouched or unaffected. I noticed that I was wearing my terrycloth bathrobe and that it was damp. “Oh God,” I sighed as I struggled to my knees and wedged myself between the toilet and the sink. With my body in this semi-vertical position, I began to look around and assess the situation. Vomit covered the floor. The glass shower door was ajar. The toilet paper roll was in the tub. Something that may have been a towel or a slaughtered rabbit lay crumpled under the sink.

  I was still on my knees, so I dropped my head and considered praying, except I didn’t know what to pray for at this point. Should I pray for my headache to go away? That seemed selfish. Should I pray for a better year ahead, beginning with right now? That seemed too broad and not of the moment. Should I pray to be able to stand and get myself together for my children who were probably on their way to my house for a New Year’s Day brunch? Yes. That was the prayer I needed answered.

  I made it from my knees to the side of the tub and sat there for a few minutes hoping the dizziness would dissipate before I stood all the way up. Thirty minutes later, I had completed the journey from the floor to a standing position in front of my bathroom mirror. The face that stared back at me was almost unrecognizable. My hair was wet and hanging in front of my face with chunks of regurgitation falling to the floor like confetti as I brushed it back to reveal a big, black eye. On the other side of my face, my right cheek was bleeding. The skin was peeled and blistered. I had burned my face from lying wet on the radiant-heated tiles. I had no idea how long I had been on the bathroom floor or even what time it was. Panic began to set in. I have to cook, I reminded myself. I have fifteen people here for brunch at 1:00 p.m. I swallowed three Motrin and decided to lie down in my bed for a few minutes while they took effect. I brushed as much puke from my hair as I could and crept under the covers. I thought about taking another shower but couldn’t bring myself to clear the clogged drain or rinse the glass walls that were dripping with projectile spew from hours prior.

  “Mom!” was the distressed bellow I woke to.

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s almost noon,” said my daughter, standing parentally over my bed. “I came early to see if you needed any help.”

  “I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I’ll get up now.”

  My daughter helped me to the bathroom, which I had to clean before I could use. The smell was a putrid reminder of tequila shots. I had a vague recollection of slamming my face on the toilet bowl as I was heaving into it. My son was home for the holiday from Utah, where he lived, and had about ten friends sleep over after spending New Year’s Eve in New York City. They rolled in at about 4:00 a.m. I remember popping bottles of champagne and doing shots. I remember noise and music and dancing on the large kitchen island. And then I remember waking up on my bathroom floor.

  By the time I made it downstairs, it was well after 1:00 p.m., and my daughter had left to eat somewhere else, realizing there would be no brunch. No one else in the house was awake. For that, I was thankful. Maybe this is what I should pray for, I thought, that they sleep all day and that I don’t have to cook and clean. My head was still pounding. I sat at the kitchen table, which was strewn with remnants of our early morning party. Some of the food I had prepared the day before for brunch was already eaten. There would be no macaroni and cheese or crudité with dip. Or pie. There was no apple pie left. It was all eaten or destroyed or used for spontaneous sporting activities. I began to s
ee food scattered on the walls and smeared on the countertops. What the hell happened? I shuffled to the counter and managed to put a pod in the Keurig to make a cup of coffee. While trying to keep my first sip down, I saw one of the slipcovers on the kitchen chairs move. I stared, wondering if it had really moved or if it was just my brain jumping inside my skull, causing me to see things. It moved again. One claw then another emerged, followed by a big, red body. I watched a lobster crawl out from under the chair.

  I picked it up to put it back in the refrigerator and postpone its death by boiling indefinitely, only to find that the rest of the lobsters I was going to serve for brunch were no longer shifting about in the water of the holding tank. The pot on the stove, I guessed from a glance, was where I could find them. I wondered how this one had managed to escape whatever primal madness had overrun the kitchen. This is a smart one, I noted. I slid the chairs back from the table to see if there were more stray lobsters that needed to be rescued, but instead found piles of lobster shells that had been discarded, as if by starving castaways on a beach.

  I took my coffee and went back to bed. I cried for the next few hours. I cried because I had failed as a mother. I cried because I had let my children down and missed a chance to celebrate with them and to spend time with family and friends. I cried because I had a black eye, a scalded cheek, a splitting headache, and an upset stomach—all self-inflicted and all because I’d been so determined to show my family that I was good, really good. I felt the need to prove that I was their happy-go-lucky, fun, cool-with-everything, nothing’s-a-problem, glass-is-half-full, freedom-loving, young-at-heart, skinny-jean-wearing, better-than-ever mom. But I was the opposite of good. I was jobless, directionless, divorced, single, middle-aged, and the last of my three children had recently moved out for college. I was spinning through a gigantic, gaping hole into the deepest, darkest blackness that I had ever experienced. The starving castaway here was me, picking up lobster shells and sorting through them on a deserted kitchen island.