Just popping in to say hello.
HELLO.
And to ask whether you’re hanging in there since it’s the HOLIDAYS and holidays are, traditionally speaking, traumatic and terrible. And occasionally magical. But mostly fraught with Big Feelings and also Expectations which Anne Lamott says are resentments waiting to happen.
ARE YOU HANGING IN THERE?
I am.
I’ve lowered my expectations which has helped IMMEASURABLY. ...
Listen; I love Mary Oliver. I do. The wild geese. The exhortation to Pay Attention. But I have a new plan for my one wild and precious life, Mary, and it’s to take a nap. A LONG one.
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” Mary wrote, and it’s a poignant and powerful question. THIS IS IT, after all. Our ONE SHOT. One go-around. One lifetime, for however long it lasts. So the reminder to use it well is apt, yes? To correctly value it as priceless and use it accordingly. To remember we’re creatures of the wild, born to be freely and fully ourselves because we’re the only one of us there is. And I am ON BOARD. I am here for it. I get it, and I’m all in. ...
I’m about to take a stand on a CONTROVERSIAL ISSUE, friends. Because I, apparently, have no sense of self-preservation. That coupled with Big Opinions means we’re doing this.
We’re talking about the fact that it is the very dawn of November, but Christmas starts NOW, and why that’s actually a good thing and you should let us do it.
Confession: Holidays have, in the past, stressed me out. Which is not much of a confession since it’s most people’s experience. It’s like saying CONFESSION: I sneak Oreos when my children aren’t looking. Tell you something you don’t know, right? Holidays have, in the past, stressed me out. NO SURPRISE. Except, of course, there’s an expectation that holidays are JOYFUL, dammit. OUR CULTURE DEMANDS IT. And it especially demands that mothers Make It So. Culture demands we make it so, AND we’re overjoyed by it ourselves. We are, in other words, supposed to be the Opposite Of Stressed Out by the holidays — we’re supposed to be CELEBRATORY and SERENE — or we’re somehow doing it wrong. ...
OMG, friends. Bless my darling heart. I went to see my therapist yesterday, she said to try something called a “Consistent Activity Level,” and I don’t know how.
Yesterday, it made sense.
I’m at the part of mental health recovery where the medication is probably working again. So, WOOHOO! But also, CAUTION.
BEWARE. ACHTUNG. Because I am starting to feel better. I have a working brain on occasion. I can complete WHOLE THOUGHTS and remember why I went to the kitchen, like, 50% of the time. It only took me three trips to remember to bring my tea back to my desk this afternoon, and that’s WAY less than infinite trips which is the number I was making while the meds were withholding their love. And all of this is wonderful — it really is — except for the fact I fall so easily and quickly into the NOW I AM BETTER, I MUST DO ALL THE THINGS trap. ...
I had a wild hair last month while I was scrolling through my Facebook feed, and I asked my friends to let me know if they think they’re good looking. Weird, yes, but I was intrigued, and my friends tend to be the honest types, so I thought I’d throw it out there and see what happened. There were two main causes; a sort of aligning of two stars that day that resulted in the questions rolling around in my head. 1. I don’t know how to keep my daughter’s iTunes music from autoplaying in my car. 2. I find whatever wave of feminism we’re currently surfing completely fascinating. ...
{I originally wrote this at the beginning of September, but, you know, things happen. I’m publishing this now, out of chronological sequence for events in my life. So, you know; the timeline is off, but whatever. Most of me is “off” anyway, so it may be more authentic this way, anyway.}
Alrighty, friends; I’m about to disclose everything I know about parenting, friendship, and being a real, live community, aimed at caring well for each other. ...
It’s been a grueling ride lately, through some rough territory. Dry deserts by day. Lonely plains at night. Scaling steep mountains. Standing at the edges of the world on a precipice or two, trying to catch my breath at the heights where the air is thinner than I like. Slogging through the valleys where the air is thick and soggy and hard to pull into my lungs. Sometimes the ride is like this, though. Breathless. Relentless. Even as the scenery changes around me, and summer turns to fall, and there’s a chill on my skin urging me to wrap up tight. This is what it is right now to navigate my wonky brain and try to move forward at the same time. ...
