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.
Day 10
Lucy woke us up this morning at 4.51a.
The irony was that twice before we went to sleep we semi-joked about getting up at 5a to pack and head home. Clearly, Lucy not only listened but thought it was a terrific idea. After three nights of troubled sleep, issues with the heaters and the drinking water and two days of stress stress stress, we decided to call it.
We pulled out in the darkness, creeping slowly down the icy driveway and turning onto the main throughway. The sky was still blue-black and the moon hung low in the sky. We were tired. Mentally, physically, emotionally. It had been a long … long weekend.
I often write that time is a funny thing. I think about it a lot. Perceptions and viewpoints and the slippery nature of it. Tonight it feels as though the past two days are decades away. We merged onto the turnpike from the northeast extension and I felt the tension drop from my shoulders. We felt lighter, our conversation bubbled, we laughed.
John slid the truck beside the curb across from our driveway and we fell out, setting to the task of unpacking. Lucy stretched her legs and nosed the grass. Four hours and a lifetime in that drive. Four hours and the slow unwinding of anger and frustration, miscommunication and disappointment.
Four hours and the sun cresting the horizon, the terrain changing from snow covered to green and brown. Four hours and we came back to ourselves after somehow crossing over into a twilight reality of people who look like us but don’t feel like us.
It was a long weekend. And now, we are home.
Day 9
I miss Instagram because some days don’t need words. They need pictures.
Pennsylvania roads. Snow. Reminding me of joy, of gratitude. When joy and gratitude seem to elude me.
Xox, g
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
Day 6
Right now, I feel like I’m drifting. Doing just enough to stay afloat. Unsure of where I’m going, just that I want to journey to get there.
It’s that part of winter that just makes me … listless. It isn’t snowy and it isn’t really cold … it’s just meh. Gray and windy and overcast and brown and depressing. There’s a long stretch of time with nothing substantial to look forward to. There are … things, I guess. Rabbie Burns Day and Valentines Day and Fat Tuesday … but those are small moments in a long stretch of monotony. And honestly, Valentine’s Day and Fat Tuesday are moments that J+I celebrate when we realize that’s what day it is. And sometimes, we don’t.
We aren’t haters. We just worked in the food and restaurant industry for so long that most holidays don’t really register except as a busy night at work with the potential to make money during dry spells. It doesn’t even bum me out. I’m neither happy nor sad about Valentine’s Day … which is kind of how I feel about New Year’s Eve, if we’re naming holidays that stopped meaning much of anything the longer I worked in restaurants.
We always find moments to celebrate, things to look forward to. Moments that happen on Tuesdays or Wednesdays … days that don’t usually mean much of anything in restaurants.
It’s funny how a person’s life becomes indelibly marked by certain things. I think I was probably always destined to be a restaurant person even if I didn’t know it. But the ebb and flow of restaurants, the way it morphs your calendar from a ‘regular’ work week to an industry week … those are imprints that have stayed even as our lives became much more routine.
Right now I’m rambling because I’m tired and I’m drifting and my brain has flashes of clarity amongst jolts of anger and frustration and utter fatigue. It’s like a thick blanket of fog hangs ever-lasting across my mind. I know why I feel this way, even if I hate admitting it.
Let’s go back to talking about Valentine’s Day. Okay?
Xox, g
Day 5
There’s a feeling —and I don’t think young people get it, because I don’t remember it from when I was young — but it’s this feeling of remembering yourself at another point in time. So clearly. So fully. You remember who you were, but you also know you aren’t that person anymore and in some ways that person has become a stranger.
But it’s not a sad feeling. It’s like seeing a friend from your past in the most unexpected place. And your whole body smiles, not just your mouth, because the joy at having this reunion in such an unplanned and unanticipated way bubbles up from the depths of your soul and overflows from your fingertips and your eyes and the top fo your head and your heart swells. With memories, with recognition, with happiness.
Nearly twenty years ago I went to concert while studying in Rome. I don’t remember a lot of the details (other than we had a bitch of a time getting home after all the public transportation shut down for the night). But I remember standing in the pit of humans at the base of the stage and I remember my favorite song beginning, the stage dark and then a bright, white spotlight on Ani. I remember diving for a guitar pick when she threw them from the stage. I remember being transported by her words, her poetry, her vivid imagery. I played her music on repeat for such a huge chunk of my time in college. And then … I didn’t.
Sometime after that concert in Rome I lost myself a little bit. My twenties were tough for me and I wish I could pinpoint why, but I just felt lost and insecure and unsure most of the time. Beaten down by the people I surrounded myself with; people who didn’t understand me or know me really. Because I didn’t even know myself, I had forgotten who I was.
After bottoming out, crashing and spectacularly burning, I somehow managed to pick myself up and begin to rebuild. But when you rebuild it isn’t about all the nuances or the details. At the beginning it’s broad strokes, big pieces. Some of the small things get forgotten. And as time passes and you settle in, you fill in new details. You create new parts of yourself. Because life is ever-changing and ever-evolving. New things interest you. You create your depth again, when it isn’t all about survival anymore.
And then, you run into that friend from your past. The one from before the crashing and burning. I ‘ran into’ Ani Difranco while searching for music on our Sonos system and it has been the sweetest reunion. I remember the words to songs I forgot that I forgot. And it fills me up to the very brim. I want to march down the street dancing and screaming her songs because I’m sure that everyone needs this level of joy.
Listen to “Little Plastic Castle” … that’s a good place to start. Or “As Is” … or my college favorite, “Gravel.” Or “Untouchable Face.” Or … just go discover Ani if you don’t know her. It will be worth it.
Xox, g
D5 Creation