March, 2021
now browsing by month
Day 68
There are moments in my life when I feel as though I am on bloodied knees, begging for mercy. And other moments when I feel blessed beyond measure in all that my life entails. It’s certainly a spectrum. (Sometimes daily!)
Living with an autoimmune disease has been one of the greatest teachers I could ever have asked for. It teaches lessons in patience and humility, in self-advocacy, in moderation, in values and what’s truly important. It distills life down and gives it clarity in a way that did not exist prior to the disease. It is as much a gift as it is a curse.
I remind myself of these things when I’m tired, when I can’t find the strength or the internal fortitude to keep doing all the things, day in and day out. There’s an awareness that is honed over years of being diligent about … well, life … that while beneficial, is also exhausting.
Practicing gratitude in the hard times is as important as remembering the truth in the good times. It is a balancing act, an on-going exercise in equilibrium.
It is always.
Xox, g
Day 67
I had a lot of thoughts about The Interview before I watched it.
I knew I wouldn’t see it live — John and I have a rhythm to our life and an interview – no matter how explosive/informative/interesting – doesn’t fit into our Sunday night.
But today, after yoga and the roofer and a myriad of other things, i finally sat down before dinner and watched it.
All it did was confirm what I already believed to be true about the institution of the Royal Family of the United Kingdom. And reaffirm my respect for Meghan Markle and my affection for Prince Harry.
And tomorrow, after I’ve thought about it (& hopefully when I’m feeling a little bit better) I’ll write more. Maybe.
I don’t know.
Xoxo, g
Day 66
John always says that he needs all four seasons.
And while I might not love the heavy, oppressive heat of the summer — it might cripple me and cause staggering physical ailments for me — I can say, I am mostly in complete agreement with him.
How can you appreciate the gifts of your life if you have never suffered? How can you see the sunshine in all her glory if you have never weathered a storm?
My homework — to re-write my story — has taken on a life of its own. It has challenged me to re-frame so many parts of my life. I think about why I believe the things I believe, what the roots are. It can be raw and uncomfortable to realize that sometimes, I don’t know.
I heard once that so much of what each of us believe can be attributed to “some guy said it somewhere?”. When I first heard that, I balked. I thought – I have beliefs that are rooted in my choices. But when I thought about it on a macro level, I realized that so many of us believe things and can’t actually trace it to the root, myself included. It’s just something we’ve always believed. It’s seemingly universally accepted.
It’s hard to break those ties. It’s hard to say, “Well, maybe what I believed isn’t actually an accurate reflection of me … perhaps it puts faith in institutions that I inherently don’t agree with ….”. It’s hard to shake off society and opinions and peer pressure. It’s hard to say — No.
Anyway. I love winter. I love spring and I especially love autumn. But could I love the exquisiteness of all those seasons if I also didn’t know summer?
Probably not.
Xox, g
Day 65
I was thinking about M&Ms tonight.
We’d begun Birdman yesterday and not finished it. So we began it again tonight and after dinner, John poured me a tiny bowl of M&Ms.
I don’t know why, but they symbolized something somewhat … illusive to me.
When I was a child, I loved M&Ms. Just plain ole milk chocolate M&Ms. (Although when I was young, there were only two options … plain or peanut … I didn’t have the myriad of choices that exist in the M&M universe today). I liked the simplicity of M&Ms and the crunch of the hard candy shell around the smooth milk chocolate.
As I grew up I drifted away from them, discovering Junior Mints, Caramello, Starburst and Creme Eggs. And then the much more sophisticated desserts of the restaurant industry … chocolate mousse and creme brûlée and tiramisu and so many others my head spins.
But there’s really nothing more comforting to me than a plain M&M. So now, as I curl up on the couch on a Saturday night, my husband next to me, I don’t need all the fanciful desserts garnished with spun sugar or pickled fruit. I just need the candy that inspired magic in me as a small child.
It felt like a full circle moment …. the beginnings and the journey far away and then the return. To the things that delighted my young, innocent mind. The mind that hadn’t been jaded and beaten and defeated.
Because there’s nothing quite as magical as eating some plain M&Ms while watching a movie on a Saturday night.
Xoxo, g
Day 64
There really aren’t enough (or the right) words to adequately describe love. But this little fur ball has all of ours times infinity. She is the glue. She is the joy. She is the reason we have survived thus far.
There isn’t anything we wouldn’t do for her. Our baby girl. Our Lucy.
Xoxo, g
Day 63
I have always loved Leonardo DiCaprio.
My age has a lot to do with it. I was seventeen when Titanic was released and I saw it six times in the theatre (I love movies). How any 17-year-old didn’t fall a little in love with him is beyond me … he was downright irresistible.
And my love and respect has spanned all these years as he’s fought his pretty boy image and taken role after role in search of his illusive Oscar.
Let me tell you that I don’t usually miss the live Oscars broadcast, but ironically, my old boss scheduled a “team-building” dinner the night Leo finally won, and I was devastated to miss it. (Just ask John, who had to hear me complain about it leading up to it and then deal with me missing Leo’s acceptance speech … not my best self).
I share this because I have recently been reading a book dedicated to the mountain men of the early 1800s American West and I read some tales of Hugh Glass. His bear attack survival, but also just …. his life, in general.
The Revenant doesn’t really do him justice. The man was a legend in his own time. (To be fair, many of the mountain men were … and also, effing insane, but that seems to be the trend of the time).
I sort of love that Leo won his Oscar portraying Glass. It seems fitting to me.
But, in case you were curious, the true story of Hugh Glass is better than the story that is told in The Revenant. And if you want to hear a good interview about it, you can find it on the Meateater podcast; Steven Rinella talks with the author of the book The Revenant. And gets very candid about his (many) beefs with liberties taken in the movie regarding Hugh Glass’ life. It’s really interesting.
So yeah. That’s what’s on my mind tonight.
And PS. Titanic holds up. In case you were wondering. John and I watched it at the height of Covid last year, and were actually impressed with how well it held up. (A movie that doesn’t =Zorro with Antonio Banderas & Catherine Zeta-Jones. I was shocked at how it DID NOT hold up. At all).
Xox, g
Day 62
Today was the kind of day that makes even someone like me wish for Spring. The weather was mild and the sun was shining. Everything felt a little easier.
I managed to be highly efficient all day — both getting in my Peloton miles and going to yoga (!!yay!!) plus running some errands, seeing the chiropractor AND making the majority of dinner.
I did all of it with a killer headache which is (for me) a huge accomplishment.
When I asked Dr. M for a referral to another neurologist last week I thought he took me seriously. (He *doesn’t do* migraines …. just MS). Three day long, debilitating headaches occurring after my infusion like clock-work seem … suspicious at the very least. But there was no referral in my paperwork and my disillusionment with modern-day healthcare deepens.
It’s just a frustrating place to be — governed by my health but unable to get any actual, comprehensive help. It’s all so fractured and not a single doctor wants to say anything for certain for fear of a lawsuit.
It’s exhausting. I’m exhausted. As though MS fatigue weren’t enough.
Ergh.
Xox, g
Day 61
Just as I was feeling up … then … without warning, I was down again.
Driving home from therapy this afternoon the fatigue hit me like a ton of bricks. I stared out the windshield, going through the motions of getting home but as though my body reverted to auto-pilot. I climbed the stairs. I pulled off my boots and put on sweatpants. I slunk into my chair and pulled the blanket up to my chin, closing my eyes.
I probably sat for twenty or so minutes, just letting my brain catch up to my body. Decompressing, slowing down. Re-focusing.
Fatigue is a weird animal. It’s not like being tired — it’s more, it’s all-encompassing, debilitating. It always wins.
Sometimes I wonder if adrenaline is what powers me through most days, and upon finally finishing whatever tasks are on the calendar, my body just collapses from the effort. It needs a re-boot. A rest. A moment of stillness, when nothing is required of it.
I’m climbing slowly out of the pit, stetching. Coherent thoughts once again populating my brain. Next is dinner. And then … finally … sleep.
Oh, what a Tuesday.
Xox, g
Day 60
Women’s History Month.
A five year anniversary.
The return to community.
It was a big day, today. I usually wonder all day what I’m going to write about and then —somehow— get divine inspiration right before bed (usually while meditating… go figure). Today, I have had so many thoughts in my head about what I want to say all day that I’m paralyzed in a different way — one of indecision.
**
A month dedicated to the history of women. A history woefully lacking in substantial texts, recognition and dignity. I was raised by a fierce, smart, strong woman who instilled in me a healthy dose of feminism and the drive for equality. I didn’t think there was far to go when I was helping collate newsletters in the 1980s as a child. Now, as a bonafide adult (usually), I have learned – painfully – how very far we still have to go. And how far apart women exist in the struggle for equality … white women and black women and brown women and trans women and poor women ….. The fight for equality looks different for all of us. And we should work harder to make it look the same. To make it no longer exist for everyone across the board.
**
Five years ago, recently returned from a trip to Italy during which I did infinitely more walking than I thought I could, I began my love affair with stationary bicycles. I’d heard (during a work seminar) about the theory of 66 days vs. 21 days to form a habit. I decided — perhaps somewhat flippantly — that I was going to ride our stationary Schwinn bike (currently serving as a glorified clothes hanger in our spare room) for sixty-six days and see where it led me. And here I am now, devoted (deeply) to my Peloton. Riding miles every day. Sixty-six days worked.
**
After five months away, I returned to yoga today. And as my forehead hit the mat in child’s pose to begin practice, I felt overwhelmed with emotion. For nearly three years I spent multiple mornings a week in that studio with women who have become my friends, my community. To be back, to be surrounded by these humans who share my love of Baptiste yoga, was stunningly powerful. And even though we all practiced six feet apart wearing masks and there was no cold, sweet-smelling towel to reward us at the end of class, it was still a holy experience to share those seventy-five minutes with people who have become my people.
Today was a good day. A powerful day. The beginning of the rest of 2021.
Xoxo, g
D5 Creation