I know that the title for this post, the first in a long time (but I will try to do better), is a little trite. Begs the reader for a “duh”. But it’s something that I’m clinging to, that I need for myself right now. Every day is new and I can do whatever I want with it.
I’m trying something new. I’m going to try and be me. I’m going to try and figure out who that is apart from someone else, that is, who I really am, not my reflection is someone else’s eyes, or who I think they want me to be. I’ve been bad at guessing anyway. I’m almost 30. It’s about damn time.
Kind of a scary thing, to be honest. But I have some grade-A cheerleaders, people on my team. Mommy, first of all, who has not once gotten frustrated with my unintelligible sobbing over the phone. Tess, who has been my friend for 17 years and I just now feel like we’re getting to the best place in our friendship. Jacquie, a newer friend, but someone who, as soon as I met her, I knew I wanted to have in my life and to be in hers. She’s bought me flowers a couple days ago because “they’ll be pretty and happy and when you look at them maybe it will make you happy, too”. I am so incredibly thankful for these women
I’m starting to work intentionally on becoming a positive person. I’ve realized I am not. So very not. And in the past, when I’ve tried to be, I find that almost immediately, I am failing. But that’s not an excuse. It’s a challenge to meditate on and input positive things and to express positivity. Ry told me that was his focus for himself and for us when we first started and it got lost along the way, somehow. That probably explains a lot about why things soured and why he had to go away. I lost the focus on positive input and output and he got sucked down with me, and lost himself, too. I could not be more sorry about that. It was such a good intention. I’m resetting it but for myself this time, to do it alone to be… I don’t know… “whole” is the word maybe?
Talking to my mother, who has undergone a breathtaking series of emotional struggles throughout her life, I realize I have some pretty serious things to deal with. One being that I don’t think I really like myself. Part of that comes from not really knowing who I am and what I feel about things. There are things I can do to get there and I will explore as many good routes as I can find but I do know that one of them, for me, is writing. There’s a great article on narrative by a woman named Julie Beck, who says that “storytelling, then- fictional or nonfictional… is a way of making sense of the world around us”. And Neil Gaiman, who I’ve been reading A LOT of, says that writers don’t write to explain things to others, they write to figure out how they feel about things themselves. All that to say, my set intention is to write more.
I also took all the booze in my house to the restaurant for staff drinks. I think drinking alone is not a good idea for me right now. If it ever is. I’m also staying away from TV for a while. Definitely going to finish my West Wing binge watch at some point, and maybe invite some girl over to watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s with me, but none of that too soon. In the last few years, I stopped reading. I mean, I still read, but just not all the time like I used to. I think it’s made me suffer as a person and definitely as a writer. No good. Time to sharpen up.
When we first got together, Ry asked me if I wanted to grow. I said yes, and I meant it, but I don’t think I really understood the question. I framed it only in the context of he and I. While, obviously, that didn’t go so great, I think it also wasn’t the point. The point was for me to grow. Maybe I did, a little. I got back into my writing and that was huge and I’m so grateful for his encouragement towards that (along with everyone else’s- thank you, seriously). But I didn’t really undertake any strenuous growth. A few sprouts popped up in the soil but no new buds, no new vines, nothing with real roots, I don’t think. Nothing unfurled or enriched with color. I want that so much. So, I’m going to start now.