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Day 294
I love chilly mornings. Waking up snuggled in bed, listening to the even breath of husby, the snurfling of Lucy Lou. Knowing there is time before anyone moves, before the day begins.
Recently they ‘trimmed’ the trees along the road below our house and now, it sounds like a Nascar racetrack most early mornings, when the sun is just beginning to lighten the sky — deep blues and purples turning to grays and violets.
The sun rises from the behind the hills that we see from our bedroom windows. A horizon of red and orange melting to pink and then corn yellow before opening up into a crisp blue-white morning. Birds are chirping and life is humming.
It’s been a strange October … it’s been a strange year. Nothing will ever be the ‘same’ again … we have irrevocably shifted course and we must acknowledge that and move forward within that … even if it feels as though no one is on the same page.
Maybe it’s always been that way. Maybe I’m only just seeing it now, as I come around the corner of ‘middle age’ … and begin to realize that nothing is as we were taught. None of the rules mean anything. No one knows what they are doing – no one. We are all just making it up as we go.
I feel suspended in time, not quite here and not quite there. Anticipating the future, mourning the past. But not quite present. I long to find the person I used to be but also, wonder if she even exists anymore. It’s been a long time since March 2020 when the whole world changed. It feels longer still since May 2020 when George Floyd died. I cannot unsee what I have seen … and yet nothing has changed. Isn’t that peculiar and also so indicative of our culture? Disappointing. Infuriating. Exhausting.
I move through the day doing what I ‘should’ do … according to … I don’t know. Me? The world? Social media?
I read once that we are not who we think we are. And we are not who other people think we are. We are who we think other people think we are.
So does that mean we are self-imposing uncomfortable and unnatural guidelines to our lives? How do we shake that overly layered and unnecessarily complicated filter?
I can tell you one thing – I do not know.
I know that I come here to speak to the void, but also to speak to anyone who stumbles upon this page and keeps reading. I am speaking to the other curious people out there, feeling lost and looking for answers.
I do not think answers will ever exist.
And getting comfortable with *that* is the hardest task of all.
xoxo, g
Day 75
We are all on journeys.
Sometimes we don’t know where we are going or why … but we are traveling. Aimlessly, with laser focus … everything in between. Traveling along the road of time.
I think about time a lot.
Time is funny and tricky – like an optical illusion. Fast and slow simultaneously. I remember when my mother turned forty — she knew everything, she was glamorous and smart and had it all together. She had the answers to all the questions. She was everything.
I didn’t feel that way when I turned forty. I felt like I was still fifteen — unsure and unknowing. A little lost, a little reckless, a little afraid. Still trying to figure it out, this adulting thing. Still looking for answers to unanswerable questions.
Did she feel that way, too? Probably. But she never let on.
I feel young and old every day. Lost and found every day. I feel like my journey is a lazy drift down a winding river and also, a jump out of a plane.
And I am always, always tired.
Xoxo, g
Day 56
Have you ever said a word so many times it loses all semblance of meaning? All of a sudden you’ve said … believe …. over and over and over and it stops having any shape, any definition. It’s just sounds — it doesn’t make sense anymore.
Or have you looked at a foreign word (not just Arabic or Japanese but any language that uses the Latin/Roman alphabet) and thought … this combination of letters makes no sense to me at all? (I have a lot because I’m currently trying to learn French — my sister-in-law is French and she speaks excellent English and I can say Une coke avec glas sil vous plait in French … and that’s about it). So many people on this planet use words that mean nothing to so many other people. It’s wild.
I was thinking about these things today while I meditated (probably rendering my meditation useless but ce la vie). There’s a line in Avengers: Infinity War that Thor says during his first meeting with the Guardians of the Galaxy. It’s sort of a throwaway line, but John and I love it. He says,
“All words are made up.”
How TRUE is that? I mean, if you stop and think about it, so much of the construct of our lives is just … made up. Not by us but by someone and it was adopted by others and then passed on. Words were created — seemingly meaningless combinations of letters and sounds — that were assigned to specific things. And so on and so on, ad infinitum.
We watched a movie recently about the first editor of the Oxford Dictionary and it made me think about the definitions of words in a whole new light. I’ve always taken the dictionary for granted but there was a time when there was not a comprehensive list of all the known words and their definitions. In fact, it’s only about one hundred years old (the Oxford Dictionary, that is). How wild is that? Something I’ve just taken for granted as always being available, always existing. Now it’s an app on my phone (a lovely, well-used one at that!). But not so long ago … well, the cataloging of words was the Wild West.
Anyway. That’s what’s on my mind the night before a day at the hospital being reminded how inefficient health care in the USA really is. Joy.
Xox, g
Day 42
I wish I had something really good to write about today.
Because, honestly, I’ve found myself blogging once again right before bed, and my brain is mush and all I really want to do is wash my face, meditate and sleep.
To be fair, today was a wild day. I talked to more people than I am used to talking to, I had a job offer (and it rocks!) and I discovered a new author. Among other things. Yes, I know. Insanity!
Let me just say, if you aren’t a habitual reader, discovering a new author is like finding unexpected gold. It feels magical and exciting and strangely secretive. In the best possible way. Like when I found out that my Dad started to read Daniel Silva novels and we could finally share the joy of having read the same books.
Delicious.
Anyway, I discovered Joan Didion and simultaneously discovered that it was absolutely horrifying that I’d never read her – let alone heard of her! – before.
She is a seminal writer in the lexicon of United States authors. Her body of work is wildly impressive. And, it turns out, she also has MS. Almost like a footnote to her life. I absolutely love that.
Anyway, when I inevitably forget to blog tomorrow, or the next day, please know it’s because I’m lost in a book that is so exquisite I haven’t surfaced for air.
xox, g
Day 19 /4
It’s an interesting phenomenon, leaving social media after spending so many years affected by its ebb and flow, its plethora of messages and guidance on how to be the best version of myself (according – oftentimes – to people I don’t know). Social media created an entire world where some people have bigger voices that reach farther, that carry more heft. It is a world, an environment, that has a different set of rules than other, more personal arenas. It empowers some while silencing others; it manipulates reality with algorithms and targeted marketing. It is a sub-culture of reality. It is simultaneously trivial and powerful beyond measure.
The weight of the civil rights movement in America in mid-2020 felt heavier every time I scrolled Instagram, every time I was ‘reprimanded’ for not doing it right, for being too privileged, too white. There were lessons in that that I could not have learned any other way while being confined to my home in my safe, affluent, white corner of the world. Uncomfortable, essential lessons about perspective, about power, about motivation and greed.
But other movements, other ‘lessons’ felt less significant and yet equally powerful. And that is the rub of social media. Did I post the right photo of Dr. King and say the right thing about his messages (particularly as a middle class white woman … ). Did I acknowledge whatever is happening in the world with due respect? Did I state my position and take a side?
Should I have to?
I didn’t think about it until my meditation this morning (a special meditation by Chelsea Jackson Roberts on Peloton in honor of MLK Day yesterday). But instead of spending time agonizing over being ‘correct’ all I did yesterday was acknowledge and think about Dr. King and his influence and impact on civil rights in America. And that was freeing.
I won’t lie, I miss Instagram. I miss my friends and I miss posting pictures about the mundane details of my life. Even if no one actually cares. Haha! I miss documenting my Peloton and Sculpt journeys. I miss having conversations and messaging with people every day.
But I don’t miss the peer pressure. I don’t miss the angst and the controversy. I don’t miss the comparisons and the judgement.
Will I go back? Probably. When? I’m not sure. I have a date marked that I want to get to and after that I’ll reevaluate. But it is funny how the further away from something you get, the less powerful its pull to return.
Xox, g
Day 18 (Day 3)
I think, in a lot of ways, we all fancy ourselves adventurers. Ready for wherever the clues lead us, wherever the wind blows us; up for anything new and exciting. Especially now, when there are so few opportunities to do something out of the ordinary; so few opportunities to go new places, try new things.
I used to fancy myself flexible. And today I was reminded, with forceful clarity, that flexibility is no longer a well honed muscle in my arsenal. Maybe … and I haven’t thought long enough to say for sure, but maybe it never was. I just wanted it to be.
The idea of that is humbling, frustrating and depressing. To realize that something as small as a Monday holiday (MLK Day) could so drastically throw me off my game. Mondays are my re-set day. They are the foundation of my week. They are the grounding of my daily life. And today wasn’t that.
Today should have been a great day. A day full of fun and relaxation, no responsibility, no to-do list. Just John and Lucy and me. And adventure. Instead it felt claustrophobic, suffocating. Where was my gym time? Where was my office time? Is this the reality of my life without work?!? FOREVER?!?
Or is it the result of COVID? Tipping this carefully crafted existence that keeps me sane; that is delicate and sensitive and can devolve into a tailspin with the smallest of deviances?
Am I gripping so tightly to routine, to normalcy, that anything that unbalances it I view as a threat?
I fall into deep abysses of meandering thoughts; thoughts about existence and my place in the world, anyone’s place and purpose in the world … and come up with nothing. Why would a change in schedule so profoundly change me, alter my mood and state of mind? My energy presence in the world.
I have a million questions about life, its purpose on a macro and micro level. Why we do the things we do as humans, the purpose of it all. I have all these big, deep thoughts and then Martin Luther King Jr’s holiday wacks me so far out of orbit that I lose myself.
What is happening to me?
Xox, g
Day 12
Y’know how some days just feel a lot heavier than others?
That’s today for me. Maybe it’s the residual effect of our weekend away, maybe it’s family dinner from last night. Maybe it’s the pain & frustration of another day with MS. Maybe it’s America & her government.
I don’t know. Today just feels … awful. No rhythm. No comfort. Nothing. Just interruptions and fire drills and worries and sadness.
I am grateful for my house. My office & my gym. Heat. Food in the fridge. Comfy clothing to put on after a shower. I am grateful for the knit blanket I won on an Instagram giveaway. I am grateful that I can walk most of the time without aid. I am grateful for health insurance and access to doctors. I am grateful for my Neuchâtel chocolates (given to me last night by my Dad). I am grateful for my husband and for my puppy. I am grateful.
I am grateful.
Xox, g
Day 11
Jennie & Bubski & little Louie. 
Tonight we had a family dinner. Tomorrow my brother & his wife leave for Colorado. And after that France. And after that … who knows!
That’s what makes Dave Dave and I couldn’t imagine it any other way, even though I wish we saw him more. I’ve heard other people’s opinions about him my whole life, but here’s what I think. He’s the best. And he’s the best because he lives life exactly as he does.
Our dad sent us the above photo today. I always love the surprise emails from him; usually one brief line of text and a photo that feels priceless. This one of Jennie and Bubski and my Dad, his little family growing up. At a backyard BBQ party at Geneva on the Lake. Just a brief moment in time, captured and now shared with us. It felt perfect.
Family is family is family. I grew up completely blessed. I know that now more than ever before. Tonight, sitting around the table, we all told stories, some old, some new. My dad told Jo about his first trip to Europe — a legendary story to us kids (and John, too). About Bubski handing him $500, getting his passport in a day in downtown Pittsburgh. Arriving in Rome and watching Aida at the Circus Maximus, drinking wine out of leather wine bladders. Riding the train to Naples in order to catch the boat to Capri. Shopping for pearls. He told new stories, like our maternal grandfather’s first trip to the USA in 1976. Going to Fort Pitt and seeing the re-enactment soldiers. Dinner at Oakmont Country Club.
Dave & I talked about how absolutely lucky we were to have our parents, people who saw the positive, who believed in the magic, who exposed us to the world. Who did nothing but encourage us to go out and live our lives.
I probably saw more similarities in us tonight than I’ve ever seen. It felt comforting. My little brother, my first best friend. Whose life looks so different from my own. And yet, who resembles me in so many ways.
Family is crazy. And I love mine.
Day 8
It’s been a weird day for me.
I’ve really, really struggled. Putting on a happy face has been nearly impossible. I failed multiple times. I snapped, not reacting properly or saying the wrong thing. I let my guard down and was myself instead of the caricature of myself that I inevitably play in these situations.
The thing is, some humans just don’t understand other humans. And even if it isn’t meant or isn’t intentional, things are said and meaning is implied and feelings get hurt and everyone is unhappy, misunderstood and exhausted by the end. Over it. Spending time with people who just aren’t compatible with you wears on you. After years your nerves are exposed and raw and tired. And the charade gets harder and harder.
We are in the throes of one of the toughest times in our country’s recent history. Politically, socially, economically. We are all tired. We are all feeling a little bit on edge.
Anyway. I can justify it all I want but today was a tough one and I was not my best self. And that’s all, really.
Xox, g
Day 7
Yesterday was a scary day. The aftermath playing out today is also … frightening? Grounding? Eye-opening? Sad.
I am sitting in a cabin tonight in the woods. The WiFi is bad. Getting on to blog is about the only thing I’ll be able to do (& even accomplishing this has been a challenge as I’m trying very hard not to move and lose connection). We spent four plus hours on the road after spending the morning packing and running last minute errands and calming our frantic dog so I haven’t been as tuned in as I’d like to what is happening. The last news brief that registered on my phone was the resignation of Betsy DeVos (umm… ok?). I received an email survey from my U.S. House Representative as to whether or not I felt V.P. Pence and the Cabinet should invoke the 25th Amendment. I read that both Schumer and Pelosi supported the effort. Apparently Trump is trying to save face by agreeing to the peaceful transfer of power. It’s hard to keep up when there is no internet and no TV. Which… normally … is kinda nice. But right now makes me feel vulnerable.
I am immensely proud to be an American. Immensely. As the daughter of an immigrant I grew up with many different viewpoints about the world. I am grateful for those perspectives because it’s always challenged me to look at things from multiple angles. Today I am struggling to understand the logic behind the people who stormed our Capitol building yesterday. I am just really, really struggling to understand a whole section of Americans who believe things so contrary to what I believe America is. And yet claim to be patriots.
If we don’t take swift action to condemn what happened and that our current sitting President condoned it, where will that leave our country? Our democracy?
It is very difficult to contemplate. I feel as though I’ve never been quite this heartbroken, this heartsick, about something I loved so much. Something that has changed and become so distorted as to be unrecognizable.
Xox, g
D5 Creation