Made-up conversations

It’s been a rough week, hasn’t it? I know I shouldn’t assume, but I assume you don’t want to talk about it. So instead I’ve got some good things to distract you – I hope this isn’t getting old.

I’ve been taking care of my mom lately and it feels good. This week I mowed the lawn for the second time. I knew it was going to rain, the grass was low enough that I could use the chute, and it took maybe 20 minutes. I think my mom really appreciated it though. I’m learning to enjoy that feeling – making her happy.

I also finally stuck my ass to the couch to finish my mom’s resume. And she can’t stop reminding me it was right on time. Not in a bragging way, but in a spontaneous genuine way: “I got a reminder to finish uploading my resume. Can you help me?”

I feel like I should thank you. It’s fucked up that you inspired me to be a good daughter and not just myself, right? I’m choosing to believe that it was always in me but you just brought it out of me. You bring out the best in me sometimes.

I guess that’s all I wanted to say. Thank you.

The rest is a downer. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be OK. I always say it because it’s always true. (OK isn’t great though, either.)

So, please, tell me a story. Make me laugh. You’re always good at that. Or is that too much to ask right now? I just want to be careful, I know you’re fighting your own battles, so I don’t want to ask you for something you don’t have the strength to give.

(But I can’t wait until there’s room for me again, among the chaos that is life.)

20 reminders for blue days

  • Play music so loud it drowns out everything. Only what you feel, though.
  • You don’t have to do anything. Skip anything that doesn’t bring you inner sunshine. The world will not stop turning.
  • If someone hurts you, tell them later when you can be more “impeccable with your word.” Plus, there’s a chance it’s not them, it’s you, all you.
  • Don’t reminisce. Don’t open old photos or messages from “the good old days.”
  • OK. Edit: you can reminisce on random good memories, like that lady you met on the beach who also loves the four agreements.
  • Everything is temporary. Especially this feeling.
  • Do you remember that one thing that you thought you’d never get over? Well look at you now! Do it again.
  • You’re not actually alone, you just need yourself right now.
  • Don’t bottle it up. Talk, write, text. Just get (it) out of your head.
  • Be honest. There usually is something bothering you, you just don’t want to admit it.
  • If there’s a moment where you “accidentally” feel joy, like when your favorite song comes on and you’re singing and vibing like “oh shit,” embrace it.
  • Do that thing you’re afraid of. The wondering and worrying usually lasts longer than the experience: good or bad.
  • Stay off social media. Except Pinterest. Pinterest is cool.
  • Be careful of what else you’re digesting: cow milk, news, Game of Thrones. Instant mood killers those things.
  • You have a $100 spend limit. Rollerblades, bongos, knee-high socks are all acceptable purchases.
  • Studies have shown that moving yourself from one location to another – via car, boat, or plane – does not miraculously improve your mood. But if you need to unplug, hiding your phone is a start.
  • You know what does miraculously improve your mood? Exercise. I know – whomp whomp.
  • Meditations are boring, but you should do them all the same.
  • Sometimes you just need sleep.
  • If your favorite movie is Sex and the City and you just watched it two days ago but it brings you peace, you should definitely watch it again right now.

Things I’ll one day understand

This post isn’t about happy hour.

Today I found some friends and sat on a patio in the sun only to be told that the happy hour menu was bar only. The waitress was extremely apologetic but also firm: even though we could see the bar, we had to sit AT the bar, in the shade, for happy hour prices. But we did to save $1.50 here, $3 there, $4 elsewhere. And it wasn’t half bad sitting at high chairs on a warm humid day.

About thirty minutes later, the sky grew dark, and the rain that the forecast had threatened us with all day finally fell torrentially. And I just watched it all with pleasure from the safety of my covered seat at the bar.

When the waitress, now bartender, returned, she laughed at it with me and said, “Everything happens for a reason.” And I told her, “Yes, I believe that!” I even added umph when I said it. Like that was THE thing I live by.

How ironic it is that I find myself now wondering why the universe saw it fit to place you in my life. That phrase, “everything happens for a reason,” requires a certain amount of faith. It’s so easy to say after you’ve learned or gained or shared what you’re meant to, but the real power in it comes when you can look at life like, “It’s gonna work out because everything happens for a reason even if I don’t understand that reason.”

I feel disingenuous placing emphasis on those words and then later seeking explanations for things I’m not meant to know.

But I try anyways.

My favorite thought is that I’m meant to protect you. You have enough guardian angels I’m sure, but maybe I’m the only one who can protect you from making my recent mistakes. Maybe you’ll hear me when I say “chill out” or “be kind to yourself.” Maybe if I’m around enough to say it enough, eventually it will stick with you enough to keep you from suffering in your mind the way I did for years.

I’m not naive enough to believe you’re the one who’s really being saved though. At the least I can try to repay you in words. You’ve taught me to see the beauty in myself. I’m flattered by what you see on the outside but I light up from what you see on the inside. The fact that someone can see and appreciate all the bare bones, cellular fragments of me gives me courage to be me every single day.

You make me want to shine, and work hard, and spread love. Partly, for myself. But, to be honest, it’s also to live up to your expectations and to lift you up when you need it.

Together we create magical memories. And sometimes I wonder if it’s those moments alone that I’m meant to take from this. Where we share music, and stories, and goals, and fears, and dreams, and plans. I would say that would be enough, but I’d be lying.

Why allow me to create so much good in not enough time? Why force my expectations for future happiness so far past the ceiling? Is it truly better to have loved and lost than never loved before?

I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. To be on the other side of this time, missing the hell out of you but with no string, tape, or glue, nothing that will fix it. And I’m also praying for the rain to fall to give me some true indication as to why you were placed in my life with such a force. But somewhere deep, deep down, I’m terrified at the possibility that life operates without any reason at all.