January, 2021
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Day 21/6
Eight years ago today, I was positively diagnosed with MS.
Sometimes I remember. Other times the whole day slips by before I realize.
Today I am in the second day of another killer headache. We are quarantining. I am tired, irritable, frustrated, sad.
But for some reason, seeing the date written out and remembering its significance made me smile. Eight years. It feels like a lifetime. So much has changed. I have changed.
Eight.
Xox, g
Day 20/5
Today, Joe Biden from Delaware (Scranton) became President of the United States Joseph R. Biden, the forty-sixth man to hold the office in the nearly two hundred and fifty year history of America.
It has been a strange day in our house. Yesterday evening, we found out our neighbors have both tested positive for COVID with no clear idea how or when they were exposed. Making it even more troubling/puzzling is that one of them had already begun the vaccine process.
Anyway, now, nearly twenty-four hours after receiving the news, I feel less anxious and scared; instead I feel resolute, determined and stoic. We decided to self-quarantine (JIC) which has been something of a challenge and strangely exhausting. My question for the universe … who exactly is following COVID protocol and guidelines?
I ask because both my doctors offices were unsettling blasé about the news, making rescheduling challenging and frustrating. (Not to mention strangely shaming me for my hyphenated last name?! …) Our families reacted with various levels of concern and care, even stating at one point that we were probably fine. (Thank you Doctor Family Member).
It isn’t that I wonder if we’ve been exposed or are sick — both are possibilities. What weighs on my mind is the fact that our neighbors have no idea how they came to get it. And they are diligent about isolating and staying home; they have been since early last year. So … that’s … worrying.
Anyway, between phone battles with schedulers, I sat down and watched the first woman elected to high office sworn in as the Vice President of the country. I cried. Even if I hadn’t wanted to I would have because it was profoundly moving. I wished my mother was there to see it, but I also knew that she was and she was proud. Funnily, Judge Sotomayor mispronounced Kamala and I felt a surge of understanding and recognition as Ms. Harris didn’t get phased at all, but rather took her oath of office with poise and aplomb.
We are in dark days as a country. Today marks a change in leadership but I can’t say for certain if it marks a change in the momentum of the divide growing larger and louder among our citizens. All I can have is hope in the ideals of America.
It was a strange day today. I can’t focus my mind, I drifted through the day. I am tired and simultaneously wired.
Strange day.
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 17
There’s always one weekend day that I don’t do any of my regular routine, and one day that I do most of it because for some reason, doing the same activities on a Sunday feels different than doing them on a Monday.
Today was our monthly girls House Party call, so John went fishing, leaving the house to me. After skipping Peloton yesterday ( other than my nightly meditation) I hopped on the bike because there really is no better way to start a day than by getting sweaty. I immediately feel accomplished even if I do nothing else!
This morning I even managed to leave myself enough time after my shower and before our call to run down and get myself a chai. And then two hours of just good, girly conversation ranging from Cobra Kai to philosophy to football.
Afterwards, before John got home, Lucy and I took a long neighborhood walk and I settled in to read more American Buffalo (as I’ve promised it to my aunt to read next).
Sometimes, days just *feel* good.
Xox, g
Day 16
I woke up with a start in the middle of the night, panic surging to my heart because I somehow remembered in my sleep that I didn’t blog yesterday.
We went to bed after midnight so even if I had blogged before bed it wouldn’t have been the 15th anymore. We don’t often stay up that late but sometimes it’s a much needed release to just ‘break’ the rules. I know the prices I’ll pay (and I did pay them today) but somehow, it felt worth it to just stay up late, curled on the couch, watching (really bad) T.V.
I put a lot of pressure on myself to fulfill goals I set. I think it has to do with the amorphous nature of my days without a paying job, the consequences that I feel so quickly because of my M.S. and also, the fact that I was easily dissuaded and distracted when I was younger. I would make bold declarations and never see them through. I don’t want that to be my legacy. So when I decide to do something, I want to stick with it. Missing day #15 of my year-long blogging challenge was a huge, huge disappointment.
And then I remembered that that only person really reading this blog, or keeping track of when I’m writing, is me. And just like the Peloton, missing a day doesn’t erase everything. It just means getting back on the proverbial horse the next day. I tried quitting drinking So. Many. Times. Until one time it just stuck.
I believe in the idea of doing something for 66 days to create a habit. It’s worked for me every time I’ve tried it. So I missed yesterday … while letting loose and enjoying being a little irresponsible after a wicked year, a strange holiday season, and one of the worst weekends of my life.
What matters is I came back today. And I’ll come back tomorrow. And I’ll just keep writing and keep being disciplined and just like biking and Sculpt classes and yoga and drinking and quitting smoking … at some point, it will just stick and be part of who I am, and the rhythm of my day.
So here’s to Day 16. Or Day 1. Whichever. Here’s to just being here.
Xox, g
Day 14
Sometimes my mind is overflowing with questions, contemplations, things I want to dissect and discuss. Other times, it’s just … blank.
Writing every day is an exercise many writing ‘gurus’ recommend. Sitting down and putting pen to paper (fingertips to keys) builds habits, builds routine. Builds familiarity with pushing through when nothing is there.
It doesn’t make it easier, no matter how much I tell myself it’s beneficial.
Two days ago during my therapy session (done via computer, obv) I basically word vomited for an hour about the frustrations of family; the difficulties that I cannot seem to overcome or transcend when dealing with my in-laws. My therapist suggested that the theme, or rather, my theme, something she hears over and over again, is the struggle to please people, to be accepted by people who just … don’t. And that this narrative — of not belonging, of always feeling less than, or somehow wrong — seems to underline a lot of the large story arcs of my life.
That’s a mind f*ck if ever I’ve encountered one.
So … do I create this martyrdom that I seem to habitually inhabit? Do I see things, hear things, infer things that aren’t actually there? Is the problem intrinsically mine?
I don’t know.
I know that two people told me in very rapid succession (and two people who do not know each other … they just both know me) that I need to love myself enough and accept myself enough that the rejection of others doesn’t weigh so heavily on my shoulders.
And here is where I struggle. I thought … up until this very week, actually … that I *did* love myself. That I *did* think I was pretty cool. So to hear that in fact, I might not (or I might not enough) is just …. Well, it’s a huge roadblock, it’s the biggest distraction, it is the shining light that is currently blinding me.
How do I love myself enough to transcend the continuous rejection that I experience from others? I don’t f*cking know.
Xo, g
Day 13
Yesterday was a tough day for me. There are a lot of reasons, and no reasons. One of those days. I wondered, by the end of the day when I was snapping at John and Lucy, what my problem actually was.
Even today, I can’t tell you because I’m not fully sure. I feel off balance and as though I’m slipping … just wildly out of control with no idea where I’m going to end up. I’m sad and angry and I feel so fucking alone. Like Alice and the Looking Glass … where she can see people but they can’t see or hear her.
I had a rough therapy session yesterday. It made me think about a lot of things in ways I had never considered them before. It left me uncomfortable and vulnerable. And angry (obviously) because anger is the best secondary emotion out there. Defensive and hot and fiery. Not raw or exposed or sad. Anger is aggressive, it makes you feel strong and powerful. It also makes you a miserable dinner companion. (Just stating facts).
On day number 13 of being off social media, I can say that I’m sad; I feel disconnected and faraway from humanity in a way that is not pleasant at all. I’m wondering if I will hit the bottom of this pit of self-pity soon and begin to relish the time I have — time to read and write and pursue activities other than scrolling a feed. I wonder if there will be freedom in the release from comparison — all those other picture-perfect lives that I’m no longer competing with. I hope.
J+I reactivated our Home Chef subscription this month because … well, coming up with dinner ideas seemed like too much pressure. Plus it helps us keep our grocery budget and we don’t have as much of an issue with leftovers and wasted food. It also switches things up, because after awhile we just fall into a food rut and can’t get ourselves out of it. Last night was stuffed peppers. Who knows what tonight will bring, but there are only two more choices so I have a 50/50 shot of guessing right! (I’m also half of the voting body, so I can hugely influence the outcome!).
We took the Porsche out for a ride this afternoon and got Starbucks. Life isn’t really that bad at all. I need to snap out of this round of the doldrums.
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.
D5 Creation