I wrote this back in March. Yesterday, before I went out dancing (YES!) and sat in with the band (Honest: I was pretty terrible), I re-read it and came to the conclusion that I just needed to post it. So, here you go.
I haven’t written much lately. Sometimes I sit poised at the computer and hope the words will flow. Inevitably, I get distracted or I vehemently procrastinate (“Haven’t used those makeup brushes in over a year, but I really should clean them!”), or I slither down the rabbit hole of mind noise.
It feels like the days are so very long, yet the weeks fly by. How is that?
It’s 2021, yes, but it sure as hell feels like December 116th, 2020.
It does seem like there’s an end in sight: people are starting to get vaccinated and things are opening back up again. Being a rule follower, myself, I’m not too keen on jumping the line, but I’m champing at the bit (yes, it’s champing, not “chomping”) to have my turn.
I need to see people. I need to hug people. I need to be touched. I need to laugh, heartily, and not worry if my or anyone else’s spit particles are entering our bodies and ready to wreak havoc on our lungs. I can’t get the image of that crazy ugly virus out of my head. Probably ever.
I’m normally a very positive and hopeful person, but if I’m being completely honest here, it’s been a long, dark, anxiety-ridden road. And there have been multiple times I’ve just shut down, completely.
As we all know: a pandemic can do that to you.
Something recently changed, though. I don’t know whether it’s because I hit the six-week mark since enduring an appendectomy and subsequent Snowpocalpyse in Houston, Texas (oh, wait until you hear that story!), or I just got sick of the self-pity and destruction that follows feeling downright losery because I’m unemployed.
Yesterday I woke up and said to myself, “Self, you are going to be creative today. Sure, sure, meet that job application quota (at least two a day), but don’t let it suck your soul. A desk job isn’t where you’re ultimately meant to be. So, write. Play the piano. Laugh. Move your body (but don’t overdo it; you’re still recovering from fucking SURGERY). And revel in the sheer joy that you got out of bed, showered, ate breakfast and even put on lipstick.”
Sometimes, there’s something quite beautiful about being ordinary.
I truly have no idea where this post is taking me. The words are just writing themselves. But yesterday was a good day. I posted a story I had written a couple of years ago on request from O Magazine (they never published it). I had been sitting on it in hopes another magazine would. Alas, alack. Rather than keep it to myself, I put it out there.
I also contacted my publisher again. We parted ways in the summer of 2020, but I needed the rights to my book back.
I got them. A good day.
So, I’m back to square one. And I’ve already started shopping for a new home for “The Christian Girl’s Guide to Divorce”.
Oh! I forgot to tell you — I have officially been divorced for ten years. Ten. A decade.
A couple years into the chaotic aftermath of my marriage, I remember sipping coffee and journaling about the very real fact that someday, I would be divorced as long as I was married.
That day – March 3, 2021 – came and went, and I didn’t even notice. And when I remembered, I raised a glass, but it meant nothing. Because it doesn’t really matter. There’s no need to give it a second thought. Neither marriage or divorce defines me, or you, or anyone.
A good day.