If I really really wanted what they have, I could do what they do, is another option. Or a teeny, tiny little bit more of what they do might get me a teeny, tiny little bit more of what they have: different body, different income, different swagger in the world.
The last few days my anxiety has been up, way up, for no particular reason that I can determine. I mean, of course I can rattle off the laundry list of stuff going on currently that I could use as evidence to justify my anxiety — things are happening, life is in session, people are existing according to their plan, not mine, there’s too much plastic, all that.
Let’s begin: I do enough. I have enough. I am enough. Ok. So I know all that, intellectually. And, in my heart, or maybe belly, or foot, there is still that little speck of, “Well, sure, enough ... BUT ... I could do, have, and be more.” And that BUT is what for many years ran the show, drove me and my life, my relationships, actions, choices.
So I went to my 30th high school reunion this weekend with my BFF Bianca Babesberg. I love her so much but over the years she’s also represented a bit of a thorn in my ego paw. Not her fault, she’s doing her. But she seems to be doing it so damn well, and so damn successfully and happily, while looking smoking hot all the time btw, that it’s tough to stand in the shadow of that, or even near it — and I am clear that I am the person making the shadow, doing the comparison rather than co-existence thing, with this person who I love and who loves me and who doesn’t do what she does to make me feel shitty, whose life is not about me, really at all, but rather includes me, or can include me, if I let it.
It’s not like I forget exactly but every now and then I’m reminded that I’m gonna die, my kid is gonna die, and everyone I know is gonna die — and not on my schedule. So then it becomes what do I want to do with this turn at living? What kind of person do I want to be in the world? How do I want to enjoy this earthly body, this life, this trip? What are my values?
This Summer my dream is that I enjoy Ax’s company when I have it. That I stay calm and accepting in the face of marathon lego sessions, sofa cushion fort-building and destroying, loud cartoons, and rejections of my offers for outings to the beach, zoo, playground, hiking trails, tennis courts or any other outdoor wholesome activities.
Yesterday Ax and I returned to the tennis court for a lesson with Coach Tommy. The plan was I’d watch Ax for half an hour, then take fifteen minutes for myself, which is all I wanted to test my foot with.
Ax still eats cheese tortellini marinara every day. He’s trained me to stop trying new foods and I have, mostly. He eats cheese tortellini for lunch and dinner and chocolate chip muffins or chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.
It’s been the longest stretch of not blogging in a few years and I was starting to get that stick to beat myself with and then I thought well, maybe I’ll just put myself on my sofa with coffee and a blanket and my writing stuff and see what happens.
Every now and then, well pretty frequently actually, things don’t work out the way I planned them to or perhaps wanted them to. People, situations, and logistics don’t come together as they would if I were the writer/director/producer of my existence.
My friend Jinx is launching her fifth or sixth successful business and after a long day of meetings she came over, flopped down in one of the stained white club chairs, and wondered aloud, “Is it a power shoe if there’s no heel?”
A lot of the time I have this feeling like, “Where the eff did my day go?” Like all of a sudden it’s time to pick up Ax, or even time to go to bed, and I know I was busy all day doing stuff that seemed like it needed to get done but I kinda don’t know what I was doing or why it took up so much space.
I was explaining to my friend and advisor Glinda the other day about everything and how debatable and not exactly tortured but not exactly at peace I was about this and that like what am I doing with my life and is it enough and all the ways it could be different, more, better and what about Ax, and then there’s Mike, and also these other things and people and situations, and after a while of listening to me and my plans, dreams, and doubts, she was like, “Stop it!”
So there is nothing like a pair of sexy shoes to elevate my mood. Thing is, with my well-documented foot issues, the traditional elements of the sexy shoe have been unwearable to me. And yet. With the help of my professionally fabulous friend Olga I found a pair that I can wear.
For Ax’s spring break I went to Esalen in Big Sur, which I recommend. I quickly met up with a handful of fabulous babes also traveling on their own. In the cliffside retreat setting, with tasty communal meals provided from the organic garden, we women had nothing but time to share our life stories with each other.
So my friend Lila Lavender Rosequartz and I were at the juice bar the other day and they had this deck of animal spirit cards there we could use. I pulled the Panther card which said I should, “annihilate the unnecessary.”
In the eye of the storm all is calm. When life is in session sometimes it can feel like a storm — logistics, planning, hurrying from one thing to the next. For me it’s so important to pause in the midst of all that and return to that peaceful, grateful place.
I could not be luckier than I am right now. I’m in my comfy chair, with my comfy blanket, and my cat Cleo kneading my lap in preparation for an epic morning sit. She is the best mindfulness coach ever.
There continues to be a knowing-doing gap with me. Like I know, and I write about, and I talk about, how important it is for me to eat right for me - right stuff, right time, right amount, right frequency. That when that’s off then my mood and my well-being are off, and mayhem — real or mental — is more likely to ensue. Same with sleep, exercise, socializing.
I’m waiting for this morning’s celery juice to take effect. My friend Jewel brought me her slightly used juicer last night when she heard I’d been semi-converted to juicing rather than smoothie-ing and did not actually own a juicer myself.
So, I’ve been talking more candidly to my friends, or rather they’ve been talking to me more candidly about all the “work” they’ve had. The tummy, the boobs, the thighs, the ass, the upper arms, and, of course, the face. The full-on face lifts, and then the chin implants, the cheek implants, jawline “softening,” brow lifts, neck lifts, and all manner of contouring way beyond the nose job. And then all the so-called non-invasive “maintenance” stuff, — chem peels, light facials, micro-blading, the parade of injectables including Miss Magic Botox and all her many sidekick filler friends.