Archives
now browsing by author
Day 35
Lemme be real for a minute.
Life for me is like an amusement park ride. There’s a lot of waiting, anticipation, anxiety and then there are highs and lows and everything happening in a rush … and then waiting again.
I don’t know if it’s the snow, or COVID, or just February. But lines are blurred and up feels down and down feels sideways and I’m just bouncing from wall to wall to ceiling to wall and then floating out the window.
I’m sad and I’m angry and I’m resigned and I feel trapped and overwhelmed by the vastness of it. I’m searching for comfort and finding none. I’m yearning for contentment but everything feels off its axis. I am drowning, I am floating … I am above and below and somewhere in between. I am lost.
That’s my brain, that’s my stream of conscious thought.
I keep grasping for an anchor and coming up empty-handed.
Listen to Miley Cyrus’ Plastic Hearts. It is my soul right now.
Xox, g
Day 34
Today was the day the music died in 1959 (I believe I have the correct year).
I learned that today listening to the radio. I don’t normally listen to the radio but I had to go to the chiropractor this afternoon. And I listen to SiriusXM in the Jeep.
It seems strange that a year ago, we lost Alan. So much has changed. Everything feels different; in so many ways, everything is different than just a year ago. Time is fickle like that. Global pandemics will do that, I guess.
Life goes on, but when you lose someone who is part of you, the way Alan was part of John, that emptiness is never fully healed. You just learn to exist with it.
Sometimes I feel the loss of my mother so acutely it takes the breath right out of my lungs. I wonder how I have managed to go on without her for over two years. I wonder how I can still be me … without her.
The truth? I am not still me — not the one who existed up until December 30, 2018. Just like John is not the same John who existed until February 3, 2020. That’s the way of things. That’s life and time and grief and loss.
xox, g
Day 33
I get daily Stoic philosophy emails. I was inspired to sign up by one of my yoga teachers, who was studying Stoicism (or just reading a book, I can’t remember) back when I still went to the studio three or four times a week for class.
Now I go zero times a week and I think my brain has begun to atrophy (evidence: my complete mental breakdown moments ago when John asked what I wanted for dinner and I didn’t know). I *really* miss social interaction and my yoga community. A lot.
I find the Stoic emails comforting and oftentimes enlightening (if only to give me a new perspective in which to frame life, thoughts and motivation). They are very matter-of-fact in their logic and their structure which I find comforting in a world that requires more and more interpretation.
Recently, one of the emails pointed out that Stoics believe that people cannot *make* us angry; rather we *choose to become angry. Which sort of dovetails with what I’ve been reading in my Buddhism book about self and not-self (and a whole manner of other, somewhat illusive concepts).
This logic, this proposition about our feelings actually made me angry. Mostly at myself for my inability to detach from my own emotions (that run rampant). It’s very frustrating to be sad and feel helpless and then be reminded that all the feelings I feel I am *choosing* to acknowledge and give power to. My Buddhism book distinguishes feelings from emotions — one being transient, the other more ingrained. I use the terms interchangeably , which just goes to illustrate how very far I have to go before reaching a state of enlightened bliss (or any enlightenment at all, for that matter).
Tomorrow is the first anniversary of my brother-in-laws death. I keep shying away from it, like avoiding looking at a cut that I sustained — using the logic that if I don’t look then it can’t that bad, it won’t hurt that much.
But pain doesn’t work like that. Pain is insidious, pain is subconscious and invasive and all consuming. It manifests in such a myriad of ways that its not always easy to identify. (Watch WandaVision for an excellent meditation on grief and pain).
Anyway. I’m a mess today. I’d like to go to sleep and try again tomorrow, but I don’t have much hope that tomorrow will be better. It will be the same as today … just Wednesday instead of Tuesday.
Xox, g
Day 32
Sometimes, it’s stark the clear difference between what is imagined and what is reality.
I dreamed of sitting curled up in my new reading chair (aka, Lucy’s chair), sipping a hot beverage, reading my book as the snow gently fell all afternoon. I thought maybe I would write a little because the mood just seemed as though it would be conducive.
I *am* curled up on my reading chair, I *have* read some of my book. But it’s been another strange day — even the snow has been strange. Sometimes clattering against the windows, sometimes so fine it’s barely visible. Sometimes swirling and dipping as if a squall has taken hold. I haven’t been able to settle my mind, my thoughts, my self. I’ve been intermittently hungry, thirsty, cold, uncomfortable and needing the use the bathroom. There has been no rhythm.
I feel beaten up with no discernible reason to feel so; raw and skittish and afraid.
Once, a long time ago, I sat on a park bench on a cool summer evening. The trees were green and the sky was clear, the stars twinkling. My friend and I had gone to dinner and were just sitting there for more time to talk before the evening eventually ended. He and I had recently graduated from high school and I thought we’d be friends forever.
We talked about many things that night, but there are two that still linger in my brain, twenty odd years later. He said character was who we are in the dark. And then he said, the only that that is constant is change.
We aren’t still friends, which makes me feel a touch sad at times. He went on to become a professor of philosophy and has published several books. He seems happy — what I can tell from the distance with which I now see his life.
But he profoundly changed how my mind worked that night.
And as I sit here today, the weather unpredictable, John’s schedule unpredictable, my legs … unpredictable. I think about those two things … character is who I am in the dark. Or perhaps, just alone, without any witness. And even though I cling to routine with an iron grip, the truth is that life will keep changing and morphing. And what is up will one day be down. John will change and evolve and I will change and evolve and we will grow and change together.
The more I fight the change, the harder I make it for myself. I need to just breath deep, and enjoy the ride.
Xox, g
Day 31
At times, January felt like it might never end. And yet, here we are because time keeps marching on without care or worry to the contents or the state of the world.
John began the second half of his fiscal year this past Monday and everything in our house has felt crammed and stressed and stretched and pressed and intense since. Even this weekend felt upside down and strangely not relaxing because the shadow of what’s happening at his company is just lingering in the background of everything.
We were supposed to have brunch with my Dad and Aunt this morning but it was cancelled due to weather. Snow began midday and hasn’t really stopped, although the accumulations seem small compared to how long it’s been consistently falling. We shoveled tonight, took Lucy for a walk. Came back inside, and prepared to start all over again tomorrow.
The snow isn’t supposed to stop until Tuesday morning but weather forecasts are fickle so we’ll see how tomorrow plays out. John will begin his day at a dead sprint again and has already prepared us both for another intense week.
I’m not sure what I’ll do tomorrow (outside of my usual). I’ll do a Sculpt class and some Peloton classes. I’ll do laundry and wash sheets. I’ll balance our checkbook. I’ll eat oatmeal. If I’m very lucky, I’ll get to read some of my book (Why Buddhism is True which I am very much enjoying). And then we’ll have scallops for dinner (because that’s our last Home Chef meal in the fridge). And we’ll go to bed and begin all over again on Tuesday.
I wanted the snow to feel magical today. I wanted to feel … something, anything. But it was a strange day, filled with low level anxiety and dissatisfaction. We both felt it.
Maybe the start of a new month, a new week, will help freshen up the current vibe. Who knows?
I know we have successfully survived January. And right now, that feels like something.
Xoxo, g
Day 30
As the month winds down, I find myself losing track of my resolutions. As though I’ve reached the finish line.
I have to keep reminding myself that the end of this month means nothing, really, in terms of the promises I’ve made to myself. Just days, preceded by days, followed by days. It’s anti-climactic.
***
Today was a weird day. We had plans … which we should have known would change and morph so many times that the day would end up looking completely different than we’d imagined.
But once again, we didn’t realize it and it was a frustrating exercise in lack of communication and two types of polar opposite people — those who plan and follow through, and those who live a little bit more … spontaneously? Yeah. We’ll say that.
Anyway. I ended up spending some unplanned time reading this morning as John made flies (Santa brought him all the fixings for Christmas, but he hasn’t been able to find time to pursue it until today). Nearly a year ago my yoga teacher recommended a book called Why Buddhism is True and while I purchased it at the time, I hadn’t sat down to read it with any degree of focus until now.
It blew my mind. It’s fascinating and terrifying and pushes the boundaries of the mind (I’m assuming for anyone who has not extensively studied Buddhism before endeavoring to read it). I’m loving the added perspectives it has contributed to my always-evolving life view.
I am also loving the conversations it has inspired between John and I, as I attempt to explain what I’ve just read (I learned that I understood more of it than I initially thought -which pleased me very much). It’s fun to have big conversations about ideas and theories every once in awhile — it breaks up the usual talk of work, Peloton rides and Marvel movies/shows. (Although, side note, WandaVision is everything I hoped it would be, and more!).
I like reading because even if it’s “just” fiction, it changes and expands my mind and I like the feeling of learning and growing. I read A Man Called Ove last summer and the themes and story of it still haunt my thoughts sometimes. It was incredible.
I’m such a book nerd. Haha! Happy Saturday, friends. I hope yours is a good one!
Xoxo, g
Day 29
Today was a medicine day. And it was my first infusion at a new infusion site (my old site no longer does outpatient infusions). It was alright. I’m exhausted and don’t have much to say. Happy Friday! Happy We-Are-Almost-Through-January!
Xox, g
Day 28
Before I begin rambling about something else, I’d like to edit my post from yesterday. Far From Home is the best live-action Spiderman. But Into the Spiderverse is currently the best Spiderman movie that has been released. We watched it again tonight .. just effing brilliant.
Brilliant.
Anyway, moving right along– I got my laptop out for the first time in ages and let me say, typing on my laptop is vastly superior to typing on my iPad. I *do* keep touching the screen and getting frustrated when nothing happens (I’m special okay?) but otherwise, it’s really nice to type on a full-sized keyboard.
I finished reading American Buffalo today. I don’t know why it took me so long to read it because I loved every minute of it. It filled my brain full of curiosity and questions and awe for the history of an animal I knew very little about.
I have a million things I want to say and yet, I can’t find a good place to start.
It feels like Steven Rinella has always been a part of John + my life but in reality, John probably only discovered him and his TV show and podcast (of the same name — Meateater) about two plus years ago. It has profoundly influenced our lives (moreso John’s than mine but by extension). And when John ordered some of Steve’s books from the website (signed copies!!) I idly picked one up and then … never fully set it back down.
I haven’t watched a single TV episode and have only listened to a handful of podcasts. But the book captured my imagination almost instantly. It wove its way through a myriad of things I knew very little about, and because of that I was fascinated. I felt like I was truly learning something new for the first time in a very long time. When I closed it for the last time today, it stayed with me, a shadow of every thought in my brain.
It wasn’t just the history of bison bison across hundreds of thousands of years or the complicated relationship of humans and buffalos. It wasn’t just his quest to hunt and kill a buffalo in Alaska in 2005 after miraculously pulling one of only 24 licenses issued. It wasn’t the archaeology or the anthropology or sociology or economic history. It wasn’t Steve’s personal story, of his love of hunting, his brothers, his discovery of a buffalo skull that triggered the whole thing. It was *all* of it.
It helped me understand an entirely new dimension of my husband. It educated me on the complexities of the European expansion across the United States, the misconceptions of many different factions of people regarding Native American history, buffalo history, hunting history.
I really, really loved it. Read it.
xox, g
Day 27
I’m a very competitive person.
Sometimes this plays in my favor. Other times … it does not.
Recently I’ve become preoccupied with challenges on the Peloton and in doing so, have so fully exhausted myself that I had to take a time out. Recognizing that need was difficult; actually doing it was nearly impossible. I will push myself past all my limits in a fruitless attempt to prove that I can do anything I want. But the truth is, if I do anything I want, there will be consequences, a balancing out. My body can’t sustain hours of cardio and strength workouts every day indefinitely. It just isn’t equipped to do that. And even if it was, it means I can’t do anything else with any degree of efficiency (& this, I have learned clearly over the past few weeks).
So today, the third day that I struggled to get out of bed, I decided to rest. And I spent the day on the couch watching Marvel movies.
Recently, John + I decided to purchase all the Spider-Man movies in a bundle pack, because even though we own the two newest (of the MCU) we didn’t have either Tobey Maguire or Andrew Garfield’s movies. And we like binge-watching so this seemed as good a thing to binge as anything, considering that characters from both those franchises are rumored to be featured in the newest MCU installment (tentatively scheduled for release in December of this year).
We weren’t always MCU nuts, but once we went down the rabbit hole, we really committed. So this newest purchase wasn’t outside the realm of things we would do.
Having now watched all seven movies (recently) I can understand why the MCU might have picked the villains they picked to re-introduce. And seeing the different iterations of Peter Parker is fascinating in the progression of the character. Could Tom Holland’s Spidey be as good as he is had Tobey Maguire and Andrew Garfield not preceded him? I’m not sure. I like how each Spidey is his own unique interpretation of the character. But there are also so many similarities in the interpretations that are kind of fascinating.
To begin, I loved the Tobey Maguire movies when they came out. Revisiting them was nostalgic, but it also highlighted to me how weak he was as an actor, and certain compromises that seem to be made in Spidey to accommodate for that. Andrew Garfield, a much stronger actor, made Spidey funnier, more nuanced, and altogether more Marvel (for lack of a better descriptive word). The second “Amazing Spider-Man” (which suffered a little from the same disease as the third Tobey Maguire Spidey … aka, too many stories happening to do them all justice) was actually pretty powerful in its portrayal of Electro, the love story of Gwen and Peter and Gwen’s ultimate demise. My heart still stopped watching her fall and that final moment when Peter’s web caught her but she was too close to the ground. Oof. I loved the humanity of Sally Field’s Aunt May (and Martin Sheen’s Uncle Ben) and all in all, I much preferred those two movies to the first three.
And that brings us to Tom Holland and the behemoth that is MCU.
Do I think Spider-Man: Homecoming is the best movie ever? No. It’s not even the best Spidey movie (I reserve that for Far From Home). But it so significantly improves upon all that came before it that it’s hard to compare. To begin, the ages of the main characters are much more realistic than 27-year-old Tobey Maguire playing a high schooler. Tom Holland is a delightful blend of funny, insecure, intelligent and awkward that makes his portrayal of Spider-Man utterly enjoyable. And the supporting cast —- Flash and Aunt May (who doesn’t love Marisa Tomei?!?) and Ned and MJ …. all brilliant. Jake Gyllenhall’s Mysterio is amazing — a crazy blend of mentor and villain and mastermind and insecure megalomaniac. And Michael Keaton as Vulture in Homecoming? Loved it. Loved it even more re-watching it. They just elevated the game to a whole new level.
Anyway. That’s what I was up to today. That, and discussing with John the pitfalls of my Peloton obsession. Oh well. I guess I just have to keep learning the same lessons over and over until I get it. Life, right?
Xoxo, g
Day 26
My brother-in-law Alan was born 41 years ago today.
I loved Alan. He could make anyone smile, his laugh was infectious and earning an air-kiss a special privilege.
We lost him nearly a year ago. It was devastating.
I think about him a lot. We didn’t see him enough while he was alive, but the times we did see him lifted my soul up. He was the most joyous human I’ve ever met.
Alan had cerebral palsy so we could never talk to him — we could talk *at* him and hope we understood his response. We could laugh and tell him stories and hope that we understood his reactions. We could hypothesize what he might have said had he been able to tell us what he really thought. But we never knew. And that … that was awful.
What was never in doubt – not ever – was how much he loved John. His whole being lit up when his brother arrived to see him and his devastation when we left was real. He stared at John, rapt with love and so many words unsaid. He laughed and swung his arms in excitement; he withheld kisses until John had sufficiently apologized for our long absence (yet again).
The world is certainly a darker place without Alan in it. My heart hurts thinking about it.
Xox, g
D5 Creation