Today I breathed in for 4, held for 7, and out for 8.
I checked my email only three times.
I texted a friend to let her know I was thinking of her- and texted another to thank her for thinking of me.
I watched the snow gather and collect at my front step and my fearless mountain dog cower at her own shadow.
I made chili with ground turkey and sweet potatoes and no beans, with green and red peppers, even though I only like how the red ones taste- I think it needs a bit green.
I told someone their expectations weren’t appropriate and set a boundary that made me uncomfortable, and proud.
I apologized to someone else for not living up to expectations I should have reached, but for so many reasons, didn’t.
I noticed myself walking over to my cookbook shelf to pull inspiration for dinners. Cataloging a song I want to practice for later. Ordering a new book- nothing to fix me or help me or heal me or work me- but one for pleasure, to be savored.
It has been three full weeks of not being myself but my post-it’s have slowly been put back in the drawer. I haven’t seen the clock on the hour in a few days. I have been able to eat three meals without feeling ill. I am singing again.
“It’s ok not to be ok,” has felt trite and uncomfortable. That doesn’t make it any less true.
It’s easy to think that the slow life is the best one. That the busy life is the most fulfilled. That you have cornered the market on what is the optimal choice. But the truth is- your needs are ever changing and evolving. There is no one way. If you box yourself in- even in to the choices you’ve dreamed of for a lifetime- you’ll only find yourself clawing your way back out.
Free is the only way.
I am learning what that looks like for me, in this moment.
I feel a fool for having to return again and again- to have to say, “I am learning”. Being a student can get tiresome- especially when one is so used to being the teacher.
And yet.
I AM.
Learning.
I practiced writing in my notebook in big, swooping letters, “I need help. Can you help me? Would you be willing to do me a favor? Can I ask something of you? Would you check on me, please?Would you take a walk? Get a cup of coffee? Sit with me while I fold my laundry? Ask if I showered? Ask if I sang? Ask if I feel joy- and then tell me to describe it? Will you stand in the gap for me?”
Does that feel terrible and icky and vulnerable to read?
As much as it did to write?
I am learning to do it anyway.
And something remarkable has happened.
I feel less alone.
Stronger.
And better able to be the helper.
Imagine that.
Things That Nourished Me
If you cannot “cook” because you hate it or because life is too hard and you are too busy, please do this:
Get your favorite BBQ sauce (ours is from
https://www.pulledforkbbq.com) and toss some shredded rotisserie chicken in it. Sautee some red onions until just softened- or, char the hell out of them. You do you. Add the chicken, onions, some shredded cheese, extra sauce and some cilantro leaves onto a tortilla or a pizza crust or a flatbread. Toast it, fry it in butter, stick it under the broiler or put it on the grill. Top with hot sauce or sour cream or both. Your family will love you, it’s assembly and not cooking and you can eat it at anytime of the day.
Grace Potter’s debut album has played on repeat in my head since it came out, years ago. After that she went a bit pop-y and I lost interest, but her song, “Release” from her 2019 album has killed me this week. It’s heartbreaking and gorgeous.
I’ve had several friends call, text, leave Voxers with this sentiment: You do not have to call me back, I just wanted you to know I was here. And I cannot tell you how that has sustained me. If you feel a pull to reach out to a friend, do it.
Having a puppy kind of threw an added wrench into my mental health but this is what it’s done that I’m SO grateful for: I have been outside every two hours, for the last 3 weeks. My family has been spending much more quality time together as we’re relegated to certain rooms for training purposes. I know for certain these things were some of the proponents in me getting a grip. And also- I hired a trainer. This shit is not for the weak
.
Baths and water are usually what sustains me but this anxiety bout has been exhausting enough that the idea of having to dry and dress was too much. So? I’ve been going to bed at 9 pm. And I might just keep doing it, seeing as how Juno prefers a 5:30 wakeup call
.
Cheers to doing life alongside of one another, no matter what that looks like. Sometimes eating your words is too tiresome. Order takeout and hold on. It gets better.