Back in 10

These days I’m interested in taking care. I’m interested in creating more space.

I’ve been burnt out, bubbled up, and everything in between. I’ve been disappointed about feeling sad, and my therapist tells me that’s a waste of time. I’m reading Mary Oliver in bed, I’m watching bad tv on the couch, I’m in the car with my friend finding a car boot drop off*

*Can you believe nyc makes you drop off the boot they put on your car lmao

Mary Oliver, One or Two Things

1. Don’t bother me. I’ve just been born.

3. The god of dirt came up to me many times and said so many wise delectable things. I lay on the grass listening to his dog voice, crow voice, frog voice, now, he said, and now, and never once mentioned forever.

7. For years and years I struggled just to love my life. And then the butterfly rose, weightless, in the wind. “Don’t love your life too much,” it said,

I don’t think I’ve ever been depressed from something that wasn’t a breakup, I confessed to Lea on the F train going north. Can the heart ever really close, or will it combust under pressure? Sending the heat up the throat and out the mouth—hot words.

I think of the people in my life and if I’m giving them enough. Do I have enough? Enough can’t be quantified. Can I be selfish as a means to support myself?

My mind jumps to the scar on my thumb that still hurts from November. It’s never the thing we think it is. Every day I hope I’ll feel better.* What changed? Where did I go wrong? What am I doing wrong?

The news I’m trying to keep up with is ripping me from myself. The practices I can see but I’m not doing, because I’m too tired. Have you considered trying yoga? My friend joked on the phone*. I’m too tired. I notice my friends showing up extra and I notice and I’m grateful. I notice when I’m alone I tear up and I think about the dogs and I miss them so much*. I’m having such a hard time prioritizing. Related, I hate networking. Can we please take off our blazers (I don’t own one) and talk about how we’re doing? Maybe walk? We’re sitting so much.

*I’ve since tried pilates. I’ve since visited the dogs. I’m feeling a little better now.

I am the change I need. Blah blah. I can see the solutions and soon I will do them. But right now, I can’t take them. I need to grieve what’s here and let myself cry and skip the event and let my friends be here for me. I need to tell them the truth and I want to turn in the assignment and I want to do a good job [whatever that means]. I want to keep going and I want to feel joy (again). I’ve never been depressed over something that wasn’t a boy.

How do you cope with getting what you want? When what you wanted isn’t what you thought it was?

I want it to start in May.

I want coffee to feel supportive. I want to feel good in my body. I want this weird depression to go away. I want him and I want my friendships and I want sleep and I want warmth and I want the planet to stop heating up and I want to feel like I don’t need to work so hard and I want to feel taken care of and unafraid.

These days

It snowed more this year than it has in the last. A recent headline told me it’s cause of a polar vortex. I watched geese waddle across the ice and a dog test the snow with her paw. She was wearing a rainbow jacket. I looked at the trees that were holding hands (limbs). I sighed of relief—I forgot, and now I remember. I’m constantly perplexed by my aversion to discomfort. Will I ever change? I couldn’t be more different—somehow I feel the same tight chest I did when I was a kid,

Do you ever feel like a grown-up? When you have kids of your own? Does it matter?

I touched the snow, my finger poked through the layer of ice and it seared—I haven’t felt that in years.

I stayed, cause where else could I go. I cried as the playlist changed, I cried when my friends asked me how I was doing. I started to think I was addicted to feeling this way. Lisa Olivera said it perfectly, we work so hard to always feel okay, not knowing it tends to sever us from feeling everything.

When I feel joy, there’s often a looming thought of “this isn’t going to last”. When I feel grief, there’s a looming thought of “this is going to last forever”. When I let myself (period), I can feel everything, without thought. It’s not addiction to the [grief, sadness, anger], it’s the surrender to letting them be there and be big. I’m open to discomfort—I say through clenched teeth.

I noticed that a lot of us are writing and talking about grief. Can I say, we’re right on time?

I want to believe in more space, I want to believe that there is enough time, I want to believe that I am changing for the better. I do, I do, I do.

xxxx

Liv

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