Thanks to the artsy lady over at Crescent Over the Crossroad and the presider over the Hex Rated site who can make shit look way better than I can. I AM NOT BELITTLING MYSELF – I know my strengths. Making things look cool is not my bag, but it is hers for sure. Anyway, this is nicer to look at, the font has serifs (FUCK YES), and no one has to read that tiny, tiny print anymore. AND SNAKES!!!
Anyway, stay tuned for more. I plan on…continuing.
I have started this post about 20 times in my mind. The original effort keeps coming off as snarky, shitty even – and worse yet, I managed to once again get real comfy with doing what I do best: Belittle myself and all the trappings that come with that. Make light of my accomplishments. Poo-poo my struggles. Minimize my insecurities and my vulnerability.
To which I say, Fuck that.
And I can probably only write this from a place of honesty right now because a little podcast that is now absolutely ginormous and epic has saved my life and thousands of other lives. This post may or may not turn out to be about that.
Shit’s hard, y’all.
My husband and I packed up and moved across the country. That was not easy. Being new, in a new job, in a new city, in a new state, Is not easy. If anything, being new is definitely one thing: It is vulnerable. I have had to get over saying “I don’t know how this works here”, I have had to get over being in the wrong lane 1000 times, And I have definitely had to get over not having enough room for all my shit. If anything, I needless shit. I want to go explore my new city, but I am so fucking tired. It is literally all I can do to drag myself off the couch to eat something. Which is another thing. As tired as I am, I still have had plenty of energy to gain 10 pounds. No, we have not eaten healthy anything since we’ve been here, but time is of the essence and sleep is a hot commodity. Cooking anything, healthy or not, has not been a priority.
None of my friends are here.
But I knew all this before we started. I knew what I was up against. I guess I just thought I wasn’t too old to do this, or if I was, I wouldn’t feel it. Trust me, I feel every bit my age lately. And It’s not like I regret the decision to move. I don’t. I know it was the right move to make. I’m really glad that we did it. I know that it will get easier in time. That being somewhere 100% new doesn’t get comfortable overnight. I know that I will have time to explore and do all the kinds of things that I used to, and not be so tired all the time. But right now, I can’t see the light at the end of this particular tunnel. Yesterday I woke up at 4:45 AM (my new wake-up time, SUPER NOT AWESOME) with a giant sleep wrinkle in my face, and it did not go away until 1 PM. Everybody said DRINK MORE WATER! Newsflash, I’ve been drinking lots of water. The problem is I am almost 50 years old. My skin just doesn’t do what it used to do. It’s OK, I’ll get used to that too.
I’ve cried a lot. Sometimes it’s a release. Sometimes it’s because I’m sad. Sometimes it’s because I’m frustrated. I know I need to find someone to talk to – I was used to going to therapy every other week and add Find a Therapist to the list of Shit I Need to Do. So many things are not the same. All the old things were so…familiar. Comfortable. Easy.
And despite all of this, I am happy. I do love it here. It’s going to be great. I’m just impatient, and I want it to be great right the fuck now. I know it’s going to take more time then I’m giving it. So when I feel this way, I just have to slow down and think about all the great things. It’s beautiful here. The ocean is right the fuck there. I see it everyday when I’m driving to work. I can walk outside at lunch and barely break a sweat. There are a million things to do. The food is fantastic. I have not had a bad taco since I got here, and I have had many tacos in a month. But I am tired. And my perfectionism Is really trying to take over. I won’t let it. Things are not perfect. They are not going to be perfect. My need to show you something different – in writing, in what I say, or on social media – the need is strong, but keeping it real seems more important. I’ll show you a tree. I’ll show you the beach. Occasionally you’ll see Tired Old Me. And that is who I really am right now.
And oh, how’s this? WE MOVED ACROSS THE FUCKING COUNTRY. We sold half our shit, sold 2 vehicles, packed up the rest of our shit, packed up 2 cats, drove across the motherfucking desert, lived without most of our belongings for 12 days, started new jobs, got drivers’ licenses, insurance, an apartment, HOLY SHIT WE DID ALL THAT!!! I have to remember, this was a Big. Fucking. Deal. Don’t play it off like “oh yeah well people do it all the time blah-dee-blah you’re not special.” True, I am not special, and also true, people do it all the time. AND YET STILL. It’s a huge accomplishment that we did it. Or even thought of doing it. CELEBRATE, and FUCKING HOORAY.
I think sometimes my penchant for needless worry makes it hard for me to want to do anything outside of stay home and try to make the apartment look neat and clean, or do other things that really aren’t adding anything to my personal enjoyment. So, circling back to that little podcast that grew into a monolith: Every Murderino knows exactly what I’m talking about. Karen and Georgia have made it possible for me to just do the damn thing, and not think about it. WHO CARES IF IT’S NOT PERFECT. IT IS PERFECT BECAUSE IT’S NOT PERFECT. I was trying to live by this philosophy already, but then they came along and made it OK for everybody to do it. I’m just so grateful that they talk to their listeners about mental health the way they do, And make it OK for us to feel whatever we’re feeling, whenever were feeling it. No one can dictate that. I wanna tell you that this life that I have moved to is Instant Awesome. It is less than that at this time. And it might not be awesome for a while. Right now, I’m just trying to roll with the punches, get some sleep, drink some water, not go crazy.
And make it home.
I am not sure how much more we can all take, those of us that want and expect decency to prevail in this Upside-Down we are in right now. It’s all so gradual, right? I mean, everything that’s happening may not have really touched you or a person you love yet. You have health insurance from your employer. You are in good health. You are not an immigrant. You are not a Muslim. Or brown, for that matter. Or a woman.
But there’s going to be a time when a category rolls around that hits you. Because they are gunning for everyone that is not rich and white and male.
The Republicans of the House of Representatives, save 20, voted to repeal the Affordable Health Care Act today. They have passed the American Health Care Act, which will leave millions of people without access to medical insurance coverage. It also guts Medicaid. While this bill would still have to go to the Senate, to committee, back to the House, blah blah blah before it passes, the point is: Republicans cracked open a few cold ones to celebrate making dying for millions of people a more affordable option than paying for health care.
So I hope that goes down realllly smooth for ya, fuckers. Come on back home to your constituents. We are waiting for you. If you want a class war, you might just get it. The poor, the elderly, the women, the immigrants, we are all waiting for you. Come back and face us at town halls. Come back and hear more of the complaints that you’ve been hearing for months, except now they will be louder. More vehement. More desperate. If you didn’t like it when women cried at your town halls or children questioned you, prepare yourselves.
I mean, what difference does it make? You’re winning, right? That’s what matters.
For everyone who is empathetic out there – for those of us who know in a short time, we too will feel the long poking stick of GOP “justice” and “freedom” – man your battle stations. The sound in the distance is sirens. If you have just been thinking all of this is a bad dream, now is the time to wake the fuck up. There are elections for mayors and city council places happening right now. Get educated about the candidates. Vote. Write letters. Use Resistbot. Run for office. Do anything except think this is all going to go away. Do anything except wait for someone else to save this particular princess, that statuesque lady in the Harbor that other countries used to look toward in order to find safety.
It happens gradually. The Death Star wasn’t built in a day.
As I stood in my bedroom folding towels while listening to thunder in the distance and rain actively – well, raining – I had a deep thought: There will be a time in the future where my consciousness may or may not exist, or know what it feels like to fold towels while it’s raining outside, or what listening to thunder feels like. Yeah, it’s that kind of Sunday.
I just finished Shit Town, which got me to this exact plane of thought, I think. If you have not listened to it, go. Just stop reading this. See you in about 7 hours. It is an amazing look at one man’s life, a man who possibly understood both the finite and terrifyingly infinite concept of time better than many. A man whose mind was, to say the least, tortured and complex.
It made me think about where I am now, in this very moment in time, in my life. I have read hundreds of amazing books. I hope to read hundreds more. I have laughed so hard with friends that tears spilled from my eyes and my breath was hard to catch. I have spent countless hours balled up in a small, dark place in my heart, paralyzed by failure, crushed by unrequited everything, unable and many times unwilling to dig into the marrow of what might be the cause. I have witnessed selfless acts of encompassing kindness; I have put myself square in the majesty of Redwoods; I have lived sometimes too cautiously and done enough reckless things to at least have some stories.
As I listen to the purr of the cat on my lap while the rain softens, thunder hums and a bird cries out nearby, I know I am changed. I am changed by this moment, and every moment. I am beyond grateful that I get to experience these changes. I am in awe of sometimes every leaf I see, every duck I watch land on water, every time my cat snuggles up to me and lets me rub his belly, and the feeling I get when I hear my husband’s voice.
I don’t always show my gratitude for these moments, but I’d like to think that overall, my life, this journey that can be so frustrating and yet so inspiring all at the same time – that my life is full exactly as it is. I would not alter one minute of this life.
I will do my best to be aware of the minutes remaining, and to always, always realize that the “big picture” is right in front of me. All I have to do is be still and open my eyes.
Oh hey, are you reading this? Then my guess is you, too, are no stranger to disappointment or depression. Are you human? Alright then. We’ve all been there – you got some less-than-good news, you had a bit of a soul-crushing defeat, someone you love has left you in one way or another – your friends see that you’ve put on a fucking smile anyway and then you know, you still gotta pay the stupid car insurance and go to work and buy toilet paper. How do we keep going? There are many answers to this complex question, and while I am a big fan in recent years of really feeling all the feels and figuring out why I feel the way I do and what, if any, action I can take, there are days when you just have to slap a motherfucking band-aid on that shit and say to life “WHAT ELSE.”
While you may really need that band-aid, I propose the theory that there is one thing that is that, but maybe more: Music.
Music can get you out of a mood, put you in a mood, cause you to explore that mood, or shut out everything in your life that is just not a thing you can deal with right the fuck now. As I blasted The Cult’s “Love Removal Machine” on the way to work this morning, I followed it with Deftones, Marilyn Manson, and Pantera just to get some fucking anger out of the way. We all have our own thing. There will be a moment in the next 48 hours in which I will probably sit bawling in my car to OH YOU FUCKING NAME IT, because my Spotify is filled with shit that will make you cry. (Of course, when the dance-able joy of New Order’s “1963” makes me get teary, it doesn’t take much. Lyrics can hit me in the breadbasket.)
What I am trying to say is that for me, music is a key that can unlock numerous doors, or lock them back up if need be. Sometimes you don’t know exactly what you need until that perfect song hits you. There are other times where you know that if you roll all the windows down and turn up the volume, you’ll be allowed, in that space, to feel exactly what you need to feel.
Turn up the volume. Either way, that guy next to you at the light totally wins.
Yeah. I used to say this. I used to say it a lot. I used to wear this phrase like a badge of fucking honor. But it never was really all that true.
What the phrase should really be is “I am scared of myself. I am scared of my own power. I do not want to look in a mirror and see all the things I am too frightened to be or not be.”
Today is International Women’s Day, and I can say this: I was wrong for a really long time. It was never about not liking women. It was about being uncomfortable in my own skin. Then I joined roller derby, and I didn’t have a choice but to look in that shitty mirror every fucking day. Roller derby served as a really great halfway mark between feeling extremely uncomfortable around women and conversely, feeling great around them. But yes, it was only a halfway mark. Just being part of a large group of women who loved the same sport did not bestow upon me the kind of affection and care I feel for the women in my life today.
Because looking in that mirror is hard, y’all. I saw in every one of you what I hated about myself, and what I wanted for myself but was too scared/unmotivated/unwilling to go get.
So what changed? Me.
My perspective shifted to one of gratitude and realization for all that this mirror has done for me. To look through the mirror and to really dig down deep and find yourself in the faces and hearts of your sisters – that’s what has changed for me. The ugly, the splendid, the spectrum of human frailty and emotion and strength is all there. Was always there. In you, and in me.
So if you also find yourself saying “I don’t get along with women,” maybe it is time to dig a little deeper into the murky pit of why that is. It’s a little gross in that pit. But I can guarantee you will come back out of it with something you didn’t have before: You.
To all the women who have spoken up, fought, persisted, and just kept livin’ in my lifetime and throughout the centuries, and to all the women who have not found their voices yet:
Thank you.
This may be a jumbled mess, and for that, I apologize. My brother-in-law took his own life a few days ago, and I am doing all I can to process and help my husband process all the feelings and emotions that go along with suicide. It is more than I can put into words. I wish I could have given him more. I wish he could have received what we all had to give.
I use this title knowing you would have scoffed at it, #1 Music Nerd that you were. You would say that using a Travis song as a title for this little piece of writing is trite and frankly bullshit, as Travis is a band that got undeserved notoriety and they are melancholy and suck anyway. I do not use it to spite you and your music taste. (I can hear you: “FUCKING TRAVIS????”) Yes, Fucking Travis, because it’s me, not someone else.
I use it because I should have used it months, years ago.
I will remember you for just that – your ability to tell me how the Smiths were pompous (true) and how music is better when it’s not really recognized by the mainstream (sometimes?). I will remember you for your passionate stances on God-or-No-God/Politics/World Events/Legalization. I will remember meeting you for the first time with your brother, wondering who these smart motherfuckers were who were beating me mercilessly at bar trivia. I will remember you at countless dinners we had, I will remember you dancing, I will remember you and the glimmer you sometimes would get for wanting a better life for yourself, and I will remember you for talking to our dog in a baby voice and loving him no matter how often you did or did not see him. I will remember how you spoke of your daughters and how the love you had for them shone through no matter what, even in the midst of struggle. You were uniquely you at all times, in defiance of norms, and despite your surroundings. I will remember that there were indeed good days. There were not-good days too. I will remember those as well. Turbulence is a force that sometimes does not quit or knows any bounds. I can’t forget it. But I can do everything in my power to forgive.
I would ask all of us, no matter who is reading this, that if you or a friend of yours feels like life is too overwhelming and cannot understand how to begin to pick up the pieces, there is help out there. That if you or that friend has the ability to reach out, do the reaching. Sometimes our reach to you falls short. Sometimes it doesn’t have the impact we want it to have. Sometimes, there just is no saving. I know in my heart that you might not have known another way, right then, at that moment. I love you because I just do. Whether you let me or not.
I will talk to you now, even though it’s too late, in the quiet times of the day or night, in the wake of all our heartache, in the space you have left. Repair comes when we let it come. I will choose to repair, no matter how late it is, no matter how much it hurts, no matter what anyone else believes. I know there is a part of you that will exist beyond consciousness, beyond human form, and I will do what I can to repair both our hearts in that open, grey, and imperfect space. My guess is you might be calling bullshit on that, too, but you know what? It’s what I’m doing. If I could stand one more time in the blizzard of your wrath, I would do just that. And then some.
I love you because I just do. Whether you let me or not.
