Life can be really hard.
I’m writing this during my lunch break; a break I haven’t taken in some weeks so as not to drown in to dos. My apartment’s a mess. My clothes scattered around, as though about in a fury. My refrigerator is empty. My cabinets sparse.
A month ago it wasn’t like this. I had a full fridge and even hosted my first dinner party. I had a hand to hold regularly and looked forward to the weekends.
But life just happens. And things get heavy, fast. No matter how much you think you have everything under control the truth is that sometimes you have no control. Being OK with that fact is half the battle, I suppose.
So here I am, surrendering to what is. Accepting what may be. Holding on tight to what I know to be true.
In the meantime, I recommend this piece from “Ask Polly.” Because it chewed me up and spit me out and put me back together all in the course of 5 minutes. Now I reference certain lines as reminders. As hope. As a grace to get me through.
Until my fridge is full again. Until my laundry is done. Until my to-do list is finally completed.
I have two daughters, and this, for some reason, is my biggest fear when it comes to them, that they’ll waste their lives chasing men in circles instead of recognizing how much sunshine and genius and expansive, outrageous possibility they carry around with them everywhere they go. But this anxiety of mine isn’t just about young women and their tendency to ignore their own value and worth and potential. It’s also about 30-something men and 40-somethings and 50-somethings and everyone under the goddamned sun. We are all so completely poleaxed by our own longing, by our own magical thinking, by our own physical resistance to hard work. We put our faith in prefabricated fantasies instead of reality; we believe in easy answers and short cuts instead of craft; we admire popularity instead of originality; we find ourselves reaching for shiny dreamworlds and ignoring human beings. The world tells us that we should be disappointed in ourselves, every single day. The best party is across town. The best party is across the universe. We should be fucking a ghost that looks like Chris Hemsworth, gently, in some galaxy far away.
Let’s just be ourselves instead, broken but hopeful, and let’s be right here, right now. Let’s look around and see the scrappy, mediocre, mundane details of our lives and proclaim them exalted and glorious. Imagine for a moment that I can see you clearly for the first time. I can see you clearly, and you are radiating pure, lusty, brilliant grace and divinity. Feel it. Believe it. Carry it with you.