“My bucket list of little things aims to live every moment as if it’s my first. To find the glory in what a seasoned eye might falsely consider mundane.” Andrea Gibson, Things That Don’t Suck (Substack)
It has been a long week. Nothing particularly bad has happened. I’ve just felt puny and tired. The weather, however, is gorgeous. It was 52 when I left home. I am wearing a light sweater!
Today, I need a list of things to look forward to this season that aren’t super ambitious but still give me ways to ground myself and remind myself that I’m alive and meant to be living and not just muddling through.
Buy a delicious cup of coffee and drink it while browsing a bookstore. Take all the time I want.
Take shorter, more frequent walks. Not everything has to be hard all at once. A little bit multiple times a day is better than pushing myself and getting too exhausted to do anything else for hours.
Keep my hands warm and nimble with piano and knitting.
Make soup without rushing. Pan roast the veggies slowly. Add one ingredient at a time. Fill my home with cozy smells.
Take drives. Drive down winding country roads just outside of town and find the few trees in Texas that know what time of year it is. Drive down my favorite streets and let the memories of every time I’ve been there before flow over me.
“…because she didn’t know if it was better to be correct or fun, and why did it feel like she always had to choose between the two?” Alison Espach, The Wedding People
Almost halfway through the month, and this is the quote that is resonating with me most this morning. I feel this way in several areas of my life.
It comes through in my art. There is a tension between my training and my enjoyment. I outline and then write a rough draft and then edit…except that is more focus and work than I can commit to right now. So I keep writing but in ways that are more fun. I blog, I write bad poetry (and let it stay bad…for now), and I experiment with stream-of-consciousness journaling. I am a classically trained pianist, but I have found so much freedom in just sitting at the keyboard and playing around with whatever sounds, chords, and melodies come forth. I stick to just enough of my dance basics to be safe (turns out, the basics of dance are mostly about avoiding injury) when I fling myself about in a haphazard way in my living room. I love the foundation that my training has given me but I also love breaking out of it when I need to.
It comes through at my job. I don’t think I’m a good manager. I want the job to be fun for my team, but I spend so much of my day harping on corrections – mostly about basic stuff they should already know – that I feel more like a nag. A nice nag, but a nag nonetheless. I also find it exhausting and dehumanizing to be held responsible for the actions (or lack thereof) of other people with precarious levels of give-a-damn. I know it’s not a unique problem – this is just management in a nutshell – but it’s still gross. I’m still waiting for the big bucks that are supposed to make it worthwhile to hit the bank account. I need to learn how to be inspiring, but I just don’t know that I’m that person.
It’s coming through in my life in general right now. Life isn’t super fun these days. Or, it can be, but there is a high price for anything that lasts longer than an hour or uses a lot of energy. The “correct” thing is to rest and not overdo it, but it takes so little to overdo it that I’m not sure that’s even a reasonable expectation. Overdoing it and the ridiculously over-the-top physical consequences of doing so seem inevitable. This would be a great time to be independently wealthy so that I could spend my precious energy only on fun things.
One of the ways I’m slowing my roll this month is not being super picky about writing a post every single day. It will happen most days – just not every day. It’s especially nice to take a break on the weekends.
Where do you get caught up in the struggle between being correct and being fun? Or do you? Is it just me?
I subscribe to quite a few blogs/newsletters, and that’s where a lot of my daytime reading goes. Here are my musings on three that stuck out to me this week. There were a couple others from Substack, but just as it was getting interesting, the prompt to become a paid subscriber popped up, so I’ll spare you those. I may have more to say about that later (not all bad…just…more).
Loving Your Inner Hobbit – Ask Polly (aka Heather Havrilesky). “The truth is, I think that most of us — even those of us who outwardly appear lazy or disorganized or prone to underachieving — hold ourselves to uncomfortably high standards. We’re plagued by guilt without consciously realizing it. We’re ashamed of our regular human urges. We feel like we’re letting ourselves down constantly, just by being human.” I have been feeling this a lot recently. I mean, I have overachiever tendencies all the time, but I’ve trained them to stay mostly dormant. Not right now, though. I have a lot of anxiety – mostly about work, but also about other things in my life that I feel like I’m missing the mark on. And as much as I would love to blame other people, the bulk of this stress really is just coming from inside the house. All the grace other people are extending to me seems to bounce right off this hard shell of expectations that I have for myself. I want to embrace my inner hobbit (that’s pretty much my whole personality, btw. Ultra homebody. I don’t know anyone who loves being at home as much as I do.); I just seem to have temporarily forgotten how.
Coffee Table Books – Ginger Horton (MMD Book Club). “Gift books and coffee table books—you know the ones, usually hardcover with loads of glossy photos or illustrations, probably picked up in that impulse section of your local bookstore, or even in a boutique or on vacation—provide some of my favorite reading experiences. And yet when a friend asks, ‘What are you reading?’ I’m prone to forget to mention that gorgeous volume on the nightstand that’s been flipped through many times or the little book of essays that sits in the breakfast nook.” This rings so true for me. Some of my favorite reading experiences are not the things I talk about the most. They’re not the books I read cover to cover and then mark as read on my reading tracker apps. They’re the design books in my living room that I thumb through when I need to see something pretty or the short humor essays I read (or re-read) when I need a quick laugh. As I get more shelves and reorganize my collection, that’s becoming more of what’s on my TV shelf – books that are best enjoyed in increments.
Bracing Yourself: How To Process Breast Cancer After Treatment Ends – Bezzy BC. “You won’t be told how to manage survivors’ guilt or how to respond to the continuous stream of messages that will no doubt flood every inbox you own. You won’t be prepared for the fake quick fixes your loved ones will tell you about because they heard it from a complete stranger in a grocery checkout line. You won’t be told how to feel when people you have contact with every single day drop off the face of the earth because your cancer diagnosis is too much for them.” Another thing I wasn’t told is that there’s this weird space between treatment and after treatment. I’ve rung the bell, signifying that the big three – chemo, surgery, radiation – are done. But I still have the port because I’m still getting immunotherapy treatments every three weeks, and I still have routine checkups and tests in the upcoming months to confirm that what we did actually worked. Is it really “after” if there are still appointments on the books? If I still feel the lingering symptoms from radiation and chemo (or maybe even surgery)? Part of processing involves knowing exactly where I stand, and I’m not really sure how to do that. The ground under me feels pretty shaky right now.
I am staring down the last few hours of work and then I am looking forward to a restful weekend.
Hope your weekend is everything you want it to be!
“I thought that my recovery required that I turn in any right to lament. Sick people were allowed to lament; healed people should be grateful. It wasn’t until years later that I realized how alone I had felt.” Abby Norman, You Can Talk to God Like That
(It’s not years later yet for me. Conventional memoir/reflections-writing wisdom tells me that it may be too early to write this post. But here we go anyway.)
In August, I finished my radiation treatment for breast cancer (click on my Instagram feed in the sidebar if you want to see the video of me ringing the bell). It was a good day. I was so happy and relieved. Going forward, I have quite a few tests to make sure the cancer stays gone, but there’s a good chance that the hardest parts are behind me.
This is where I say again that I have an amazing support system. I am surrounded by people who love to hear good news because it’s currently true, not because I’m pretending or hoping it will be true. And even when the good news is currently true, they understand that there is more going on in any given situation, especially an ongoing trauma such as cancer treatment and recovery, than just the facts or prognosis. They know how to leave space for despair, even when they can see that things are working out or will likely work out in the future.
Even with such a support system in place, however, there have been (and continue to be) so many times I feel like my problem isn’t quite big enough to merit complaint. It is often hard to convince myself that I have a good enough reason to take the rest I actually need.
If you’ve had chemo or other types of treatment, you’ve been bombarded with reading material detailing how many things can go wrong. If you have spent time in those waiting rooms – you know exactly how bad it could have been. You’ve seen it. You meet so many people who have it worse.
With a few hiccups along the way, my recovery has gone pretty well. I’ve had some scares and setbacks, but I’ve generally healed as the medical team expected me to.
Add to this that I am Gen X, oldest daughter, former gifted child, and high-masking neurospicy cocktail of a human, and before I even know what’s happening, I’m should-ing myself to death.
Should be grateful.
Should be happy.
Should be energized.
Should be back to normal.
Should be better – at my job, at my hobbies, at my life.
To my distress, I’m not usually any of those things these days. I am having a hard time.
Maybe I’m writing this post because I need a reminder right now that I have the right to lament.
My body looks different than it did before. My relationship with my body was already complicated, but now it seems like a stranger who assumes a familiarity that isn’t there. I feel like my body thinks it knows me because it follows me on Instagram. But we are not real-life friends right now.
I’m having more neuropathy symptoms now (specifically, tingling and numbness and poor grip in my fingers, especially in my right hand) than I did when I was undergoing chemo.
I am easily saddened and overwhelmed. I spend a large portion of my day and energy fighting back tears so that I don’t cry at the slightest inconvenience or change in plans. I sometimes cry for what seems like no reason anyway.
I’m tired. So, so tired. Just all the time.
I don’t know what to do with all my feelings. But I am slowly remembering that I have the right to have them. Even the negative ones.
Maybe you need someone to tell you that you have a right to lament, too. I urge you to give yourself permission to do so.
“I have finally concluded, maybe that’s what life is about: there’s a lot of despair, but also the odd moment of beauty, where time is no longer the same. It’s as if those strains of music created a sort of interlude in time, something suspended, an elsewhere that had come to us, an always within never. Yes, that’s it, an always within never.” Muriel Barbery, The Elegance of the Hedgehog
Today’s post may be a little short. I’ve not been feeling well this week. I tried to push through, expecting my default version of taking it easy by going to work a little later and canceling a meeting or evening plans a couple of times would do the trick it usually does/used to do.
But no.
Last night I didn’t sleep a lot because I was up and sick with a fever and various other unpleasant symptoms. I finally admitted to myself around 4:00 that I wouldn’t be able to go in today at all.
I hate it. I’m so tired of being sick. It may be quite a while until I’m back to what I’m used to seeing as normal for me. The despair is so heavy at times that it’s almost a tangible presence.
I’m not much of a bright-sider, but I know that little touches of light and beauty are good tools to guide me out of the dark. Things like kind words from friends, the perfect cup of coffee, my favorite sweatshirt. My faith. My art. Constants that I can always depend on even when it seems like the bad things will never go away.
I’ve gotten a lot of advice on how to take it easy this year. Most of it was wisdom I specifically sought out, whether in reading or asking questions of people who had either gone through what I was going through or at least seemed like they were doing something right.
When I read this quote, it punched me in the gut a little. It was gentle enough for me to be amenable to it but strong enough for me to take notice.
One of my core values is curiosity. I love learning new things. I am fascinated by perspectives and experiences different from my own. I aim to start conversations by being open to explanations and trying to understand rather than by assuming I already know their intentions and have decided they’re the worst.
This practice has served me well. I am more liberal than the average Democrat (Two-party system? More like two sides, same coin) and I live in Texas. I have a lot of…opportunities…to listen to people with whom I disagree. And with many people (not all – some people really are just assholes full of hate), when I listen to them, they let their guard down enough to listen back. And we both learn that we have more goals in common than we thought. They no longer see me as the enemy they imagined me to be.
Changing hearts and minds, one radical conservative at a time.
An echo chamber (wherein you surround yourself only with people who agree with you) is not generally conducive to this practice. My gut reaction to Dr. Walker-Barnes’s advice was immediately no.
Then the curiosity kicked in.
As I read on, I thought about all the places that I carve out in my life where I feel safe. Places where every word isn’t a constant struggle and every nuance doesn’t have to be analyzed and defined. They still challenge me and make me think (because I like that) but they at least give me a soft and loving place to do it.
I see this all over my environment. For example, the picture above was taken in my office at work. I have
Twinkle lights (that need new batteries but still – they’re there)
Pretty bottles and rocks
A nice mix of inspiring nonfiction, fiction, and poetry
Fun stuff for play and art
A visual echo chamber, if you will.
The more I read, the more I wondered what it would be like if at least one of my social media networks was an echo chamber. What if, when I opened the app, I wasn’t immediately bombarded with every snarky, petty dig someone could think to take at people who are doing what I consider to be good in the world? What would that be like?
So I tried it on Instagram. Mass unfollowing. That alone was pretty cathartic.
The days that followed, though? Heavenly. There is so much wonderful going on out there. Did you all know this? I’m a little sad that I missed out on it for so long.
It’s still not all shiny happy news, but it’s very grounding. It’s a reminder that I’m not alone (because in Texas, I often feel very, very alone).
How do you feel about echo chambers? What purpose (if any) do they serve in your life?
“We are all stardust and stories.” Erin Morgenstern, The Starless Sea
A large portion of my life – and, I think, in all our lives – is wrapped up in story. I read so much because I typically find something in every book that enriches my perspective or reminds me of someone or something important to me. It keeps my mind active and curious.
You don’t have to read to understand the wealth of a well-told story, though. We all wrap our lives in the narratives we share to show who we are and where we’re coming from.
I’ve got some exciting plans this month, including the Celebrate Life 5K, Empty Bowls, Spiderdead, and Dewey’s Readathon. At work, it’s Fall Preview this Saturday and information sessions for student staff selection for next year all month. I’m sure there will be a Halloween party or two somewhere in there as well.
While the calendar looks busy, I don’t want to get lost in an endless sea of tasks. I have blocked out lots of time for stories, and I’m excited about my list.
My September reads felt pretty brutal. For example, one of my book clubs read a book that centered around the events that could lead to nuclear war, and another read a book about a prison fight club that was televised like reality TV. Both of those books were good, but they were also violent and heavy. This month, as I feel like my year has been heavy enough all on its own, thanks, I am going to dive into something cozier, or at least books with a satisfying resolution.
I have a couple of Phryne Fisher ebooks checked out from the library that I want to finish, and I want to start the Poe Baxter series by ACF Bookens. May go for the next book in the Finlay Donovan series. A couple of my book clubs are reading choose-your-own-adventure style with a spooky theme, and many of those selections are cozy in nature (except for The Reformatory – but I’m almost finished with it and it’s good enough to make an exception). And who doesn’t love books about bookshops (rhetorical – the right answer is “nobody”):
This year has been nuts. Even with a truly outstanding medical team and the rich support of friends and family, cancer made sure that I felt more like a pin cushion or an experiment than a person most of the year. -1,000/10. Strongly do not recommend.
Several things have saved me. I’ve never felt like I was in this alone. There has always been at least one person willing and able to accompany me (or drive me) to my appointments, treatments, and procedures. I have received so many gifts. I always suspected that if I had a specific love language, gifts would be it, and I think this year has verified that. I also have been fed and texted and encouraged and cared for in so many other ways. Even people I didn’t expect to think about me at all have come out of the woodwork to give a kind word, donate to GoFundMe, or offer much-needed wisdom.
Another way I’ve made it through is by honoring that I need regular quiet time for rest. Of course, this is true all the time, but it has been especially vital this year. When I chose quiet as my theme word for the year, I knew I had to pursue it intentionally. I figured it would mean that I would need to lay aside a lot of the things I do to keep busy – things that I genuinely enjoy but tend to cause me more stress than other responsibilities and practices. I expected a lot of FOMO.
Instead, I’m happy to report that my feelings on the matter have gone the other way. Apparently, JOMO is also a thing, and I have it. I enjoy seeing people, but when I can’t or when plans get canceled, the disappointment I feel in not getting to do the thing in question is often overshadowed by the absolute delight I experience in escaping several factors that often come along with it – the noise, the crowds, the germs, the commute, the cost, or simply the constant energy expenditure it takes to make sure I am projecting the right socializing/listening/personing face to match what is actually going on in my head.
I didn’t really mean for the year to be this quiet, but I’m also not upset about it. I love quiet so much.
One of my favorite practices that I’ve honed this quiet year is slowing down during my reading time. Part of this practice is practical. My attention span has been sparse(-r than usual) and I get tired more quickly, so slowing down has been necessary to even retain what I read. Another benefit of a slower pace is that it leaves room for jotting down meaningful quotes that stand out to me. These quotes have their own journal, and it’s the most consistent journaling I’ve done in a while.
This month, I want to let you in on a little part of it. I’m going to share a different quote each day that I’ve taken from the books I’ve read this year and write a reflection on it. I can see this becoming a regular thing here, but it’s daily during October.
I’ll catalogue the posts here for reference. Enjoy!
I know it’s not Friday, but it’s July so all weekdays – Fridays especially – are out of control. So here we are on a calm, rainy Sunday, coffee in hand, eating maple whipped cream out of a bowl with graham crackers, leisurely letting you in on what I meant to post Friday.
A busy schedule means I need to be more intentional about downtime than I usually am, and nothing relaxes me and puts my whole life in perspective more than reading. So this week, I have been drawn to ways to boost my reading and give myself a little extra challenge. Maybe your reading needs a boost, too? If so, see below!
“Gratitude is not a solution to the problem of pain.” I love that quote from this short clip of Kate Bowler. Gratitude is a useful tool for perspective, but it is not The Answer. Also, enforced gratitude is the worst. Even if telling other people how to feel could make them magically feel that way, it’s still controlling and manipulative and I hate it so much. A while ago, a friend recommended Bowler’s book Have a Beautiful, Terrible Day! (specifically for coping with cancer treatments). And now I’ve bought it. It’s been refreshing and comforting.
I love musings about friendship, and this one on the medium friend is particularly good. I especially like this part – “Medium friends can thus be seen not as inferior to best friends but as delightful and beneficial on their own terms: a well-matched tennis partnership; a bond over breast cancer; a mentoring dynamic; a rediscovered childhood chum; a gamer buddy abroad. Relieved of the pressure to be ‘good,’ the friendship can flourish and serve each person as it is.”
The National Book Foundation has a summer reading adventure. You click on the things that you do, fill out the short form below it, and submit by August 31, 2024. Since most of these activities fall under what I’m already doing, I’m in! Are you?
Also, if you love audiobooks, Libro.fm is hosting an audiobook challenge that goes until the end of this month. I am always up for winning more books and perhaps a mug, so I’m pretty stoked about it.
I always wanted a solid layer of pineapple on my pineapple upside-down cake, and this one delivers. My favorite line in this whole piece is “Like revenge, it’s a cake best served cold.” For the record, I would buy her cookbook so fast.
I could eat my weight in cherries. I won’t (probably). But I could.
When I typed the title of this post, my gut reaction was “Nothing. Not a damn thing.” I feel like my plate is already full for this summer. So rather than come up with a lot of extra things to do to feel like I’m getting the most out of this season (the worst season, to be clear…it’s so, so hot…I just want to lie in a bucket of ice), I decided to limit myself to four doable things as a reminder that there’s no need to get ambitious.
Finish radiation treatments – When they start in the next week or two, this is going to be a 5-days-a-week-for-7-weeks ordeal. The silver lining is that it’s paid for, thanks to the generous (and fast!) funding of my GoFundMe!
Eat low-maintenance meals – We’re talking meals that look like small charcuterie boards (fruit, raw veggies, cheese, nuts, crackers, bread, jam, pickled things), sandwiches, and salads. Maybe the occasional breakfast burrito or fried egg on toast. Sometimes pasta or a quick stir fry. But if it takes more than 10 minutes to make it, I don’t want it.
Indulge my sweet tooth – I’ve been so careful with sugar this year to give myself the best chance of feeling good and not crashing. But sometimes, I just want something sweet, so I’m going to give in a little bit now that feeling-good days are happening more consistently. I’ve already ordered the key lime bundt from Nothing Bundt Cakes to pick up this afternoon.
Read and attend book clubs – I missed all my book clubs in May due to health issues, and it definitely put a damper on the month. I also haven’t read as much this year as I intended, due to a lack of focus, which is understandable, I guess. My goal for summer is to keep feeling good enough that I can get back to my usual bookish self (or a close approximation).
This reminder to slow my roll was technically for me, but maybe you need it, too? If so, consider this a gentle, caring nudge from me to you to confirm that you are already doing enough so maybe just sit in front of the fan and relax for a minute.
