Lovely Saturday. Sun shining. Slight breeze. But I’m hiding from the children and tensions are high. We’re all trying to claim existence. So I bought fancy coffee and we’ll have a “farmer’s lunch” – lots of protein and good carbs. I’ll lower expectations and maybe the best we’ll do is to get the sheets washed and go for a walk.
Balancing on a high wire, afraid of heights, I’m in suspense. “Not like in a mystery novel,” I say, “more like suspended.” She gets it.
I’m wildly running from pole to pole: abundance/scarcity, wealth/deprivation. That animal fear is in my gut; programmed into my DNA. I can see it in my mind’s eye – a blip on the double helix, so big in Biology books, so small in actuality.
The real curse is how it’s tied to self-worth – scarcity snakes its way in and wraps around your very self like a cobra you don’t notice until you almost can’t breathe and you’re suddenly questioning why anyone would talk to you ever and why did you ever think you had anything to offer? And it goes on like that until you snap, eyes wide, body gasping; reaching for stasis in a room spinning with falsehoods.
So you take yourself by the hand and find your comfiest pajamas. Pour yourself a small glass of that wine you bought a few days ago, as if you knew this was coming. You unplug yourself. For now the bills are paid, the children are tucked in, everyone has enough to eat, you can breathe. That’s enough.
Anna day. Determined to breathe some energy into these days. Made it her birthday – brought balloons and went to breakfast with a blueberry walnut muffin to go. After breakfast we’ll keep moving and I’ll keep remembering that even the smallest things are important to someone.
Neck injury persists despite all of my longing to the contrary. The rainy day implies that it’s okay to lay low. I can feel that in these moments I’m lacking intention and my breathing becomes shallow. Hard to focus on purpose when my head feels so heavy; neck taut. Back to basics.
Case of the Mondays. Dumb morning.
Flat white coffee making it 3% better. Elliot Smith radio on Pandora making it 2% worse. Maybe this is the best I can do for now.
Sun roof open. Modest Mouse. Sam singing along. New dirt smell in the air. These are the moments that make up a life.
My God, I was right.
First warm day.
First “blast the music, open the sunroof, let the wind whip through your hair” day. I feel like I’ve won something. It’s blue skies all around. I think I believe in angels again.
When the kids get home from school, they’ll be outside until dusk. I’ll make dinner to the sound of a basketball bouncing in the driveway harmonized with the strained, defensive chatter of my girls. We’re beginning to stretch and move again. We’re finally arriving on the other side. We’ve made it.
Cold day. The last cold day, I’ve decided. Because of this I’m embracing all the things I’ll miss when it’s hot and sunny every day: my super warm cozy coat, hot coffee, melancholy. This is easiest to do on a day like today when it’s snowing but smells like spring. Everything will be new again soon enough.
I’m getting better at handling the anticipation that occurs before I jump into something I’ve never done before. I’m no longer:
Instead I’m:
But also, I’m getting my workouts in and eating protein. Drinking just the right amount of coffee, wearing comfortable clothes, getting one good chore in before I launch (today I mopped the kitchen floor).
This is today’s status. It’s true that tomorrow I could once again be preparing for our eventual destitution – feeling those phantom rats gnaw on our toes as we sleep in boxes in the corners of tenement houses where the heat doesn’t work. But this is not tomorrow; I do not live in tomorrow; this is right now.
An Absurdly Magnificent Life 