my boss' great grandmother celebrated her 107th birthday this past weekend. 107. there are days when i can barely count that high, let alone dare to dream of living that long.
and remember the 106 year old dancing with the obamas at the white house? that video makes me weepy every single time i watch it. there is just so much joy there, y'all. it hits me right in the feels.
but then i get to wondering about having those kinds of older women in my life; or, to be more precise, not having those kinds of older women in my life. my maternal grandmother died before i was born. my paternal grandmother died while i was in my early 20s. i'm not sure anyone in my immediate family has attempted to trace our ancestry beyond my grandparents and if they have, i certainly haven't heard anything about it. i'm sure i could and i probably will at some point just out of sheer curiosity.
instead of having older relatives or friends to marvel at because they're still alive and active and dancing and raising hell, i got to attend a funeral on saturday for a family friend who died at the ripe old age of 53. i know it's selfish to want an extended circle of folks all living long and prosperous and happy lives, and i know i obviously have no control over how or when folks die. the logical side of me can process all of that and accept it as valid.
can you blame me for wishing i personally knew a 100-something year old so i could listen to all of their stories like i'd never heard them before? that i could share their joy over dancing or music or a good meal or just laughing themselves silly? i totally plan on being the crazy aunt on someone's porch drinking spiked iced tea and saying whatever comes to mind and doing whatever the hell i want (within some semblance of reason, i suppose) and i'm just saying it'd be nice to have some personal role models for that kind of thing. thank god i can live vicariously through other folks' connections to the elderly.
i'ma go watch that dancing video again.
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
Monday, April 04, 2016
what they don't tell you re: growing up
if you were anything like me back in the day, then you couldn't wait to grow up and be on your own. occasionally a family member would say something like "aw, don't be in such a rush to grow up. you'll have to pay bills and be responsible and you only have one childhood," or something along those lines. that was a trade-off i was willing to make, dammit. i'm more or less willing to be responsible and earn money and pay bills and do what i want, within reason.
here's the thing, though. i don't think anyone bothered telling us that one particularly sucktastic part of growing up is coming to terms with the fact that you will begin to lose family members and friends at an alarming rate.
some might think that since i've lost so many family and friends throughout the years that i'm more resilient than most when it comes to dealing with loss. oh man, would those folks be wrong as hell. i found out on friday night that another family friend from church passed away that day and the news sent me reeling. luckily i was sitting down when i heard about it and by the time my brain actually processed the words, i was mid-sentence and had to stop talking because i wasn't sure if i was going to start crying or screaming. neither happened, but there was lots of swearing. lots. a tapestry of obscenities may still be floating near the ceiling as i type this.
at one point, it slowly dawned on me that i am at the age where i have to be prepared to say goodbye to my play aunties and my play mothers. i do not like this. this is a pretty fucked up part of adulting and i would like to opt out.
i have been beyond fortunate to have a circle of older (relatively speaking - they're all older than me but i wouldn't call them "old" per se) black women, both from church and from other spheres of my life, that i can call on for advice or gossip or a quick word of encouragement or to read me the riot act or to just be there when i need them. this circle has been in constant formation for as long as i can remember. these were the women i could lean on when my family was driving me up the wall and i didn't think i'd survive high school without losing my mind. they held me up. stood by me. sometimes stood in front of me when i couldn't defend myself. they still do, but i have to accept that death will remove some parts of that circle and it hurts like hell. it really fucking hurts.
i told someone that this timing was particularly egregious because i'd just gotten through the stretch of february/march with all of the death anniversaries and other remembrances and now i can add april 1st (seriously, god - if this is your idea of a joke, I AM NOT AMUSED AT ALL) to that list. the hits just keep on coming and i might have to start adopting the tuck and roll position because attempting to remain upright is exhausting.
here's the thing, though. i don't think anyone bothered telling us that one particularly sucktastic part of growing up is coming to terms with the fact that you will begin to lose family members and friends at an alarming rate.
some might think that since i've lost so many family and friends throughout the years that i'm more resilient than most when it comes to dealing with loss. oh man, would those folks be wrong as hell. i found out on friday night that another family friend from church passed away that day and the news sent me reeling. luckily i was sitting down when i heard about it and by the time my brain actually processed the words, i was mid-sentence and had to stop talking because i wasn't sure if i was going to start crying or screaming. neither happened, but there was lots of swearing. lots. a tapestry of obscenities may still be floating near the ceiling as i type this.
at one point, it slowly dawned on me that i am at the age where i have to be prepared to say goodbye to my play aunties and my play mothers. i do not like this. this is a pretty fucked up part of adulting and i would like to opt out.
i have been beyond fortunate to have a circle of older (relatively speaking - they're all older than me but i wouldn't call them "old" per se) black women, both from church and from other spheres of my life, that i can call on for advice or gossip or a quick word of encouragement or to read me the riot act or to just be there when i need them. this circle has been in constant formation for as long as i can remember. these were the women i could lean on when my family was driving me up the wall and i didn't think i'd survive high school without losing my mind. they held me up. stood by me. sometimes stood in front of me when i couldn't defend myself. they still do, but i have to accept that death will remove some parts of that circle and it hurts like hell. it really fucking hurts.
i told someone that this timing was particularly egregious because i'd just gotten through the stretch of february/march with all of the death anniversaries and other remembrances and now i can add april 1st (seriously, god - if this is your idea of a joke, I AM NOT AMUSED AT ALL) to that list. the hits just keep on coming and i might have to start adopting the tuck and roll position because attempting to remain upright is exhausting.
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
recipe review: slow cooker jambalaya
a funny thing happened a couple of weekends ago: i had an entire sunday free. no plans. nothing on my calendar. no need to leave the house unless i really wanted to. this was exciting because i couldn't really remember the last time i'd had a saturday or sunday that was completely free with no errands to run or no laundry to do or not going to church or brunch or lunch or dinner or to a party or a concert or to the bar or anything. it was going to be great.
the day before this lazy sunday, i looked in the freezer for something i could cook on sunday that wouldn't really require much effort. i spotted a pack of andouille sausage that i'd bought with some vague idea of making "cajun" pasta at some point. the sausage went into the fridge to start defrosting while i went to my recipe files for ideas.
i realized that making something in the crock pot would be a great idea because i could do all of the prep either late saturday night or whenever i got up sunday morning, and it'd be done by the time i was ready to have a late lunch or early dinner. that helped narrow things down a bit.
this was the first recipe i found in on my laptop that looked promising...until i realized it had no seasoning. none. i just looked at it again while copying the link here and there is no salt, no pepper, no garlic, no herbs, nothing. obviously this would not do.
off i went to my folder of hard copy recipes, where i found this one. i didn't really want red beans and rice per se, but at least this recipe had more seasoning and other things i could make work.
what i wound up with was a combination of elements from these two recipes. here's what made it into the crock pot for 4 hours on low:
the day before this lazy sunday, i looked in the freezer for something i could cook on sunday that wouldn't really require much effort. i spotted a pack of andouille sausage that i'd bought with some vague idea of making "cajun" pasta at some point. the sausage went into the fridge to start defrosting while i went to my recipe files for ideas.
i realized that making something in the crock pot would be a great idea because i could do all of the prep either late saturday night or whenever i got up sunday morning, and it'd be done by the time i was ready to have a late lunch or early dinner. that helped narrow things down a bit.
this was the first recipe i found in on my laptop that looked promising...until i realized it had no seasoning. none. i just looked at it again while copying the link here and there is no salt, no pepper, no garlic, no herbs, nothing. obviously this would not do.
off i went to my folder of hard copy recipes, where i found this one. i didn't really want red beans and rice per se, but at least this recipe had more seasoning and other things i could make work.
what i wound up with was a combination of elements from these two recipes. here's what made it into the crock pot for 4 hours on low:
- 1 package (16 or 20 ounces - can't really remember right now) of andouille sausage, cooked and broken up into pieces
- 1/2 pound of shredded cooked chicken (the jewel near me sells "leftover" shredded chicken from the rotisserie chickens in the deli case. i've used it before for other things, like nachos, and it was fine, so i decided to buy some for this as well)
- 1 red bell pepper, chopped
- 1 yellow bell pepper, chopped
- 1 large(ish) sweet onion, chopped
- 2 ginormous cloves of garlic (i used a garlic press, but you could mince them the old fashioned way)
- 1 15 ounce can of red kidney beans, drained and rinsed
- 1 14.5 ounce can of fire-roasted diced tomatoes
- 2 small stalks of celery, chopped
- 1 12 ounce can of beer (i had a yuengling in the fridge, so that's what i used)
- salt and pepper (i eyeballed both - no actual measurements)
- creole seasoning, which i also eyeballed - maybe a tablespoon and some change? i dunno.
- dried thyme - this was also eyeballed but i doubt if i even used a full teaspoon, really
- a couple sprinkles of garlic powder (b/c garlic)
Sunday, March 20, 2016
on: being a disappointment to family
i saw a tweet a few days ago that discussed being a disappointment to your family. i said it kinda depended on how one would define both "disappointment" and "family." y'all know that i think of a good number of you as family - i've said countless times that the family i've created is preferable to the one i was born into, and i stand by that.
here's the thing about being a familial disappointment, though: i've learned that i can still function and be myself without worrying as much about their expectations. don't get me wrong - there is still a really small part of me that wishes, and probably will always wish, that i could fit into the box certain family members set up for me decades ago. but i don't, and i won't, and i likely never will, and that's ok.
one of the things i mentioned in response to that tweet was how, in my opinion, my independence plays a large part in the how and why of my family tends to be disappointed. it's noteworthy to me because they raised me to take care of myself and be independent and resilient and all those other things, and yet the fact that i'm independent enough to not rely on them is always in the background.
i told myself when i finished high school that i wouldn't move back in with a sibling of mine unless i absolutely positively had to, and i've stuck by that. even through the eviction/couch-sitting/quasi-nannying period of 2011-2012, going "home" was a last resort that i only seriously considered for the briefest of moments. see, i knew and still know that going home would be the end of that independence. not just because of the relative geographic isolation, but feeling like i had to fit into the box of expectations and, well, y'all know how stubborn i can be. that would not end well.
i gave up on being the "good little girl" decades ago. it was me - or at least i tried to make it work - when i was younger and lived at home and didn't have any autonomy. this is not to say that i've developed into a super duper evil person, although we all know i can be an outright bitch at times. :P
y'know how i keep saying that i'm working on meeting (and occasionally leaving) people where they are? i have to remind myself to do the same thing with my family. i remember ages ago being upset that they just didn't get me the way i thought they should, and i had to make peace with the fact that they probably never will. hell, i don't really get them 100%, either, and i am more than ok with that. i can meet them where they are and then leave them there because if i've learned nothing else, it's that i can't expect everyone to travel on this journey the same way i am. it's unfair to everyone involved and if that means disappointing someone as you try to be your best, most authentic self, then so be it.
here's the thing about being a familial disappointment, though: i've learned that i can still function and be myself without worrying as much about their expectations. don't get me wrong - there is still a really small part of me that wishes, and probably will always wish, that i could fit into the box certain family members set up for me decades ago. but i don't, and i won't, and i likely never will, and that's ok.
one of the things i mentioned in response to that tweet was how, in my opinion, my independence plays a large part in the how and why of my family tends to be disappointed. it's noteworthy to me because they raised me to take care of myself and be independent and resilient and all those other things, and yet the fact that i'm independent enough to not rely on them is always in the background.
i told myself when i finished high school that i wouldn't move back in with a sibling of mine unless i absolutely positively had to, and i've stuck by that. even through the eviction/couch-sitting/quasi-nannying period of 2011-2012, going "home" was a last resort that i only seriously considered for the briefest of moments. see, i knew and still know that going home would be the end of that independence. not just because of the relative geographic isolation, but feeling like i had to fit into the box of expectations and, well, y'all know how stubborn i can be. that would not end well.
i gave up on being the "good little girl" decades ago. it was me - or at least i tried to make it work - when i was younger and lived at home and didn't have any autonomy. this is not to say that i've developed into a super duper evil person, although we all know i can be an outright bitch at times. :P
y'know how i keep saying that i'm working on meeting (and occasionally leaving) people where they are? i have to remind myself to do the same thing with my family. i remember ages ago being upset that they just didn't get me the way i thought they should, and i had to make peace with the fact that they probably never will. hell, i don't really get them 100%, either, and i am more than ok with that. i can meet them where they are and then leave them there because if i've learned nothing else, it's that i can't expect everyone to travel on this journey the same way i am. it's unfair to everyone involved and if that means disappointing someone as you try to be your best, most authentic self, then so be it.
Saturday, February 27, 2016
on: resilience, patience, and other things in progress
[editor's note: this is really long and some of it may be borderline tmi for some of y'all.
also, i apologize if my blabbing about all of this here and not directly one-on-one with any of you makes you feel some kind of way. most, if not all, of you know how to find me outside of the blog if you want/need to chat or yell at me about any or all of this. it's a lot, as you'll see, and putting it all out here seemed to be the best way for me to process/deal with a lot of it. please don't take my not coming to you individually and/or offline as an insult or an affront to our friendship. i love y'all like i love bacon and chocolate and ll cool j and books and quiet time and alcohol.]
quasi-landlord and i were having dinner a few weeks ago with her other tenant. the two of them joined a fitness center recently and they were going on about the various classes and services offered. apparently they have access to a steam room, which quasi-landlord said no to because she's somewhat claustrophobic. i can understand that - what if something goes wrong and you can't get out of the room, etc.
"not unless eulalia was there. maybe i'd go in if she was with me."
me: what? i don't understand.
"i mean, i know that if something went wrong and you were there, things would be ok somehow."
me: are you calling me an optimist? b/c i know you know better than that.
"no, no. you just have this...resilience about you. even when things are falling apart, you manage to figure something out and you keep going."
me: ok. i guess. sure. i suppose that's true.
patience, on the other hand? i swear the universe has been and is continuing to conspire to teach me a lesson or 50 on patience. my life feels like one big exercise in delayed gratification and, given the way the past 4-5 years has played out, that makes sense. i get it. i couldn't come back to chicago until it was time. the full-time job search took way longer than i ever thought it would. now, of course, i'm chomping at the bit to do all of the things and reestablish myself as a functioning adult in my own space. that resilient part has to come in occasionally and remind me that even baby steps still count as progress, even though i feel like things aren't moving fast enough. like i'm not doing enough despite evidence to the contrary. a friend of mine shared this post earlier this week and i almost started crying at my desk because that whole lack of patience thing is so very real for me.
like the whole moving thing. i was a very responsible adult and used a sizable chunk of my bonus from work to make a settlement offer to my former landlord, which they accepted. once i have a copy of the court order vacating their judgment against me, that's one major thing i can get removed from my credit report and i'll feel a little better about apartment hunting without that blemish on my record. this is a good thing. this is a very good thing, especially since my tax refund basically covered all but $400 or so of what i used from my bonus to pay this. it was all sorta kinda free money, right? this is awesome. i'm excited, and yet i feel like i'm still floundering because i'm not out there looking for places and shopping for a new bed and other furniture. then i feel silly for beating myself up and then i get impatient b/c i wouldn't feel so damn silly if things would just hurry the fuck up already.
another reason for the moving delay is the surgery i need to schedule to have my fibroids removed. i knew when my gynecologist first diagnosed them back in 2010 that this would need to happen. i am trying to convince myself to just have a full hysterectomy because if i'm going under the knife, they might as well take all of my reproductive equipment.
y'all. i am freaking the entire fuck out about this. if you know about my hospital phobia, then you probably understand why i'm just like "holy fucking shit i can't believe i'm doing this" even though i haven't even scheduled an official surgery consult, let alone the actual surgery. i probably don't even need the full hysterectomy, but, again, if i'm going in, just do it all at once. i know at least two people who were diagnosed with uterine or ovarian cancer after just having their fibroids zapped away vs. a full hysterectomy and that is NOT a life i want to be about. #fuckcancer all day, every day.
i refuse to accept any blame for being scared about this. both of my parents went into hospitals and never came out alive. i just powered through my father's birthday and the anniversary of his death, and the anniversary of my mother's death is coming up on tuesday and james' death anniversary is next week and...hold on. i need to remember how to breathe properly.
*pause for station identification and/or to take a drink*
ok. sorry about the interruption. where were we? oh, right - freaking out about a surgery that isn't even on my calendar yet. the only thing that is keeping me from full out panicking all the time about it is knowing that i have a support system in place that will make sure i get to/from the hospital and bring me tacos and make sure i actually attempt to follow doctor's orders. also i can work from home (yes i have already thought this part through even though i haven't talked to my boss about it yet b/c, again, no surgery date). that's resilience for you, i guess - thinking shit through to something that could be construed as a logical conclusion so you know wtf you're getting into.
here's the thing, though. being resilient and trying to maintain a modicum of patience ain't easy. if you've been reading for a while, you know i've become more committed to following my empath/caregiver tendencies. i know it's been paying off, but what i didn't know is how fucking taxing being resilient can be when you're trying to be in tune with your feelings and those of the people you care about. my patience reaches a breaking point b/c i just want everyone to be ok. like, if y'all are good, then i can focus on my own shit and process it and then come back and help y'all out if necessary. but if we're all sorta kinda broken and fucked up, i am more likely to tune into what other folks are feeling/thinking and what they need and push my own shit to the side. yes, i know that's unhealthy. if you follow me on twitter, you've probably seen how that impacts my sleep pattern (or lack thereof).
this past week was exhausting. i was working yesterday and at one point, i told one of my teammates that i felt like i was juggling all of my projects in the air and one or more of them was going to drop and everything would be screwed up. he, of course, told me that no such thing would happen because i'd pull everything off and it'd be fine just like it always is. i'm not so sure about that. this week may have been the first time since i started in this position where i honestly felt like i wouldn't be able to do my job the way i'm supposed to. that a deadline might get missed. that something might go horribly awry. i still kinda feel that way, honestly.
i know i wouldn't feel that strongly about work if i wasn't so stressed out about everything else in my life. the downside of being all resilient is that you get all kinds of things thrown at you and no one expects you to flinch. you will just deal with all of it and come out shining and everyone will just be like "oh, eulalia, you always manage to pull through!"
being resilient wears me out and i think i really hit the tipping point this week. trying to power through all of my shit and everyone else's shit was a bit too much. plus my social calendar was packed this week, so i was out every night after work like i have a life or something. and the hits kept coming. every time i thought "ok, i have a grip on what's going on and i can deal with this," i'd find out about something else that happened to someone, or i'd have an anti-epiphany of my own, and i'd throw up my hands and add it to my pile of things to tackle.
and then my lack of patience kicks in. "why do i have to be the one tackling all of this shit? i need some of this shit to get resolved so we're not all walking around stressed out. i need a vacation. i should take a vacation. no, it'd be silly to spend money on a vacation when i'm saving up for my own place. but if i'm not moving anytime soon, i might as well book a flight somewhere. i haven't been on plane since may 2010. i deserve. no. sit your ass down and keep working and keep being resilient and trying to be patient because all the chips are going to fall like they're supposed to."
i swear that internal dialogue happens about once a week normally. this week? at least a few times a day. i was so fucking over everything and yet i caught myself still trying to be tuned in to what other folks needed. never mind that i was (am) sleep-deprived and, if i'm being really honest, would love nothing more than to leave all of this at someone else's feet and go be a carefree black girl for at least a day.
please let me be clear. i do not want any of you to feel like you can't come to me if/when things are bothering you. please don't feel like you're upsetting me, or that you're a burden, or that you need to deal with all of it by yourself. you know better. you know you can email or call or text or dm or tweet or leave a comment here or send a letter or a postcard or a letter or schedule a lunch/dinner/coffee/drinks date or what the fuck ever and you can tell me what's up. that's not going to change. i promise.
what i need to change, though, is how much of these things i internalize and start thinking i can fix or solve or otherwise address. on a cerebral level, i know that not everything is my problem. the empath in me knows that it's my job to stand with you (besides you, behind you, whatever) while you're going through things. i'd do that for a fair number of you even if i wasn't committed to being an empath/caregiver, b/c we're friends and that's just what the fuck we do. we show up and we stand up for each other. this is how it is and this is how it should be.
but - and this is difficult to type, let alone admit to myself and to y'all - there is a limit. this week left me reeling and i cannot function like this. it's not fair to me and it's not fair to y'all. at least i was honest enough to tell some of you this week (and possibly longer than that) that no, i wasn't okay and no, i wasn't really in a space where i could talk about it. we all know past me would've thrown up a grin and lied and said everything was fine even though my heart was shattering for reasons i couldn't even articulate.
don't get me wrong. my heart is still shattering and there are things i didn't write about tonight that are still weighing heavy on me but since they're not really my stories to tell, i'm keeping all of them close to the proverbial vest.
i can say that this is the most relaxed i've felt all week, though. never mind that there are giant knots in my back and stress/hormones have done a number on my face all week and i have no fucking clue what's going to happen next. i might actually get more than 5 continuous hours of quality sleep tonight. i should probably start winding down if that's gonna happen, huh?
i love y'all. remember: we are seen and we are heard and we are safe and we are loved and we are stronger than we think. good night.
also, i apologize if my blabbing about all of this here and not directly one-on-one with any of you makes you feel some kind of way. most, if not all, of you know how to find me outside of the blog if you want/need to chat or yell at me about any or all of this. it's a lot, as you'll see, and putting it all out here seemed to be the best way for me to process/deal with a lot of it. please don't take my not coming to you individually and/or offline as an insult or an affront to our friendship. i love y'all like i love bacon and chocolate and ll cool j and books and quiet time and alcohol.]
quasi-landlord and i were having dinner a few weeks ago with her other tenant. the two of them joined a fitness center recently and they were going on about the various classes and services offered. apparently they have access to a steam room, which quasi-landlord said no to because she's somewhat claustrophobic. i can understand that - what if something goes wrong and you can't get out of the room, etc.
"not unless eulalia was there. maybe i'd go in if she was with me."
me: what? i don't understand.
"i mean, i know that if something went wrong and you were there, things would be ok somehow."
me: are you calling me an optimist? b/c i know you know better than that.
"no, no. you just have this...resilience about you. even when things are falling apart, you manage to figure something out and you keep going."
me: ok. i guess. sure. i suppose that's true.
patience, on the other hand? i swear the universe has been and is continuing to conspire to teach me a lesson or 50 on patience. my life feels like one big exercise in delayed gratification and, given the way the past 4-5 years has played out, that makes sense. i get it. i couldn't come back to chicago until it was time. the full-time job search took way longer than i ever thought it would. now, of course, i'm chomping at the bit to do all of the things and reestablish myself as a functioning adult in my own space. that resilient part has to come in occasionally and remind me that even baby steps still count as progress, even though i feel like things aren't moving fast enough. like i'm not doing enough despite evidence to the contrary. a friend of mine shared this post earlier this week and i almost started crying at my desk because that whole lack of patience thing is so very real for me.
like the whole moving thing. i was a very responsible adult and used a sizable chunk of my bonus from work to make a settlement offer to my former landlord, which they accepted. once i have a copy of the court order vacating their judgment against me, that's one major thing i can get removed from my credit report and i'll feel a little better about apartment hunting without that blemish on my record. this is a good thing. this is a very good thing, especially since my tax refund basically covered all but $400 or so of what i used from my bonus to pay this. it was all sorta kinda free money, right? this is awesome. i'm excited, and yet i feel like i'm still floundering because i'm not out there looking for places and shopping for a new bed and other furniture. then i feel silly for beating myself up and then i get impatient b/c i wouldn't feel so damn silly if things would just hurry the fuck up already.
another reason for the moving delay is the surgery i need to schedule to have my fibroids removed. i knew when my gynecologist first diagnosed them back in 2010 that this would need to happen. i am trying to convince myself to just have a full hysterectomy because if i'm going under the knife, they might as well take all of my reproductive equipment.
y'all. i am freaking the entire fuck out about this. if you know about my hospital phobia, then you probably understand why i'm just like "holy fucking shit i can't believe i'm doing this" even though i haven't even scheduled an official surgery consult, let alone the actual surgery. i probably don't even need the full hysterectomy, but, again, if i'm going in, just do it all at once. i know at least two people who were diagnosed with uterine or ovarian cancer after just having their fibroids zapped away vs. a full hysterectomy and that is NOT a life i want to be about. #fuckcancer all day, every day.
i refuse to accept any blame for being scared about this. both of my parents went into hospitals and never came out alive. i just powered through my father's birthday and the anniversary of his death, and the anniversary of my mother's death is coming up on tuesday and james' death anniversary is next week and...hold on. i need to remember how to breathe properly.
*pause for station identification and/or to take a drink*
ok. sorry about the interruption. where were we? oh, right - freaking out about a surgery that isn't even on my calendar yet. the only thing that is keeping me from full out panicking all the time about it is knowing that i have a support system in place that will make sure i get to/from the hospital and bring me tacos and make sure i actually attempt to follow doctor's orders. also i can work from home (yes i have already thought this part through even though i haven't talked to my boss about it yet b/c, again, no surgery date). that's resilience for you, i guess - thinking shit through to something that could be construed as a logical conclusion so you know wtf you're getting into.
here's the thing, though. being resilient and trying to maintain a modicum of patience ain't easy. if you've been reading for a while, you know i've become more committed to following my empath/caregiver tendencies. i know it's been paying off, but what i didn't know is how fucking taxing being resilient can be when you're trying to be in tune with your feelings and those of the people you care about. my patience reaches a breaking point b/c i just want everyone to be ok. like, if y'all are good, then i can focus on my own shit and process it and then come back and help y'all out if necessary. but if we're all sorta kinda broken and fucked up, i am more likely to tune into what other folks are feeling/thinking and what they need and push my own shit to the side. yes, i know that's unhealthy. if you follow me on twitter, you've probably seen how that impacts my sleep pattern (or lack thereof).
this past week was exhausting. i was working yesterday and at one point, i told one of my teammates that i felt like i was juggling all of my projects in the air and one or more of them was going to drop and everything would be screwed up. he, of course, told me that no such thing would happen because i'd pull everything off and it'd be fine just like it always is. i'm not so sure about that. this week may have been the first time since i started in this position where i honestly felt like i wouldn't be able to do my job the way i'm supposed to. that a deadline might get missed. that something might go horribly awry. i still kinda feel that way, honestly.
i know i wouldn't feel that strongly about work if i wasn't so stressed out about everything else in my life. the downside of being all resilient is that you get all kinds of things thrown at you and no one expects you to flinch. you will just deal with all of it and come out shining and everyone will just be like "oh, eulalia, you always manage to pull through!"
being resilient wears me out and i think i really hit the tipping point this week. trying to power through all of my shit and everyone else's shit was a bit too much. plus my social calendar was packed this week, so i was out every night after work like i have a life or something. and the hits kept coming. every time i thought "ok, i have a grip on what's going on and i can deal with this," i'd find out about something else that happened to someone, or i'd have an anti-epiphany of my own, and i'd throw up my hands and add it to my pile of things to tackle.
and then my lack of patience kicks in. "why do i have to be the one tackling all of this shit? i need some of this shit to get resolved so we're not all walking around stressed out. i need a vacation. i should take a vacation. no, it'd be silly to spend money on a vacation when i'm saving up for my own place. but if i'm not moving anytime soon, i might as well book a flight somewhere. i haven't been on plane since may 2010. i deserve. no. sit your ass down and keep working and keep being resilient and trying to be patient because all the chips are going to fall like they're supposed to."
i swear that internal dialogue happens about once a week normally. this week? at least a few times a day. i was so fucking over everything and yet i caught myself still trying to be tuned in to what other folks needed. never mind that i was (am) sleep-deprived and, if i'm being really honest, would love nothing more than to leave all of this at someone else's feet and go be a carefree black girl for at least a day.
please let me be clear. i do not want any of you to feel like you can't come to me if/when things are bothering you. please don't feel like you're upsetting me, or that you're a burden, or that you need to deal with all of it by yourself. you know better. you know you can email or call or text or dm or tweet or leave a comment here or send a letter or a postcard or a letter or schedule a lunch/dinner/coffee/drinks date or what the fuck ever and you can tell me what's up. that's not going to change. i promise.
what i need to change, though, is how much of these things i internalize and start thinking i can fix or solve or otherwise address. on a cerebral level, i know that not everything is my problem. the empath in me knows that it's my job to stand with you (besides you, behind you, whatever) while you're going through things. i'd do that for a fair number of you even if i wasn't committed to being an empath/caregiver, b/c we're friends and that's just what the fuck we do. we show up and we stand up for each other. this is how it is and this is how it should be.
but - and this is difficult to type, let alone admit to myself and to y'all - there is a limit. this week left me reeling and i cannot function like this. it's not fair to me and it's not fair to y'all. at least i was honest enough to tell some of you this week (and possibly longer than that) that no, i wasn't okay and no, i wasn't really in a space where i could talk about it. we all know past me would've thrown up a grin and lied and said everything was fine even though my heart was shattering for reasons i couldn't even articulate.
don't get me wrong. my heart is still shattering and there are things i didn't write about tonight that are still weighing heavy on me but since they're not really my stories to tell, i'm keeping all of them close to the proverbial vest.
i can say that this is the most relaxed i've felt all week, though. never mind that there are giant knots in my back and stress/hormones have done a number on my face all week and i have no fucking clue what's going to happen next. i might actually get more than 5 continuous hours of quality sleep tonight. i should probably start winding down if that's gonna happen, huh?
i love y'all. remember: we are seen and we are heard and we are safe and we are loved and we are stronger than we think. good night.
Tuesday, February 02, 2016
recipe review: sausage and cheddar muffins
trying these muffins out was a bit of a no-brainer. i was home on #adventuresindogsitting duty last friday night, so i had plenty of time to make dinner and do laundry and then try this recipe out.
thing i learned while making sure i had everything i needed for this recipe: quasi-landlord doesn't have a muffin tin. i'm pretty sure i have one packed away somewhere. quasi-landlord's other tenant had a couple of jumbo muffin tins and also some "muffin-top" tins, so i decided to just make 6 giant muffins instead of the normal 12. i used more than the cup of sausage called for in the recipe, and i didn't really measure the cheese, so i probably wound up with a little bit more than a cup of cheese total.
y'all. i put a couple of these in the freezer so i wouldn't eat them all over the weekend. they're so good. quasi-landlord's other tenant tried one out and immediately asked me for the recipe. i used "regular" pork breakfast sausage, but i might try turkey or chicken breakfast sausage the next time around. i'm also thinking about using some sort italian sausage and mozzarella cheese, or maybe parmesan, or some combination thereof because in my head, that sounds fucking delicious. if it turns out that these freeze decently, then it is entirely possible that i will be making these on a regular basis so i have an easy option for breakfast during the week.
thing i learned while making sure i had everything i needed for this recipe: quasi-landlord doesn't have a muffin tin. i'm pretty sure i have one packed away somewhere. quasi-landlord's other tenant had a couple of jumbo muffin tins and also some "muffin-top" tins, so i decided to just make 6 giant muffins instead of the normal 12. i used more than the cup of sausage called for in the recipe, and i didn't really measure the cheese, so i probably wound up with a little bit more than a cup of cheese total.
y'all. i put a couple of these in the freezer so i wouldn't eat them all over the weekend. they're so good. quasi-landlord's other tenant tried one out and immediately asked me for the recipe. i used "regular" pork breakfast sausage, but i might try turkey or chicken breakfast sausage the next time around. i'm also thinking about using some sort italian sausage and mozzarella cheese, or maybe parmesan, or some combination thereof because in my head, that sounds fucking delicious. if it turns out that these freeze decently, then it is entirely possible that i will be making these on a regular basis so i have an easy option for breakfast during the week.
it's the most wonderfully depressing and emo time of the year!
january kinda sucked for a lot of people, so i was happy to see it go. i then realized that my glee would be short-lived, as february and march are historically difficult months for me and this year will be no different. my annual wallowing in all of the feelings has nothing to do with the weather, though.
dealing with those three anniversaries would be enough, but this year marks the first anniversary of lori's death (february 4, 2015) and just typing that makes me want to cry.
every year at the beginning of february, i tell myself that if i can make it to march 15 without completely falling apart, then i'll be ok. i am usually able to get through those 6 weeks or so without any major meltdowns. sure, there's crying and there are days when i just wanna wallow in my feels, but nothing too traumatic.
i'm not so sure about this year, which is why i'm writing about it and putting it out here for y'all to see. i might need to lean on y'all more than usual between now and the ides of march.
when i was at the bar later tonight, my friend asked if i was ok. i said yes and they immediately called bullshit, b/c they saw something in my expression that wasn't quite right. i amended my answer, saying that i was ok overall but that i had some things on my mind, which was true. i was still processing the wave of grief from earlier and trying to figure out how the hell i'm gonna get through the next month or so without sobbing myself silly.
i don't know if it'll help that i currently have plans on lori & my father's death dates. maybe it'll be distracting enough that i won't completely fall to pieces and if i do, maybe i'll be lucky enough to do it in private and just sob myself to sleep.
this is one of the many reasons why i tell people that there is no timetable or proper way to grieve. i know i can still be knocked flat (figuratively and literally) by grief after all of these years and therefore everyone should be allowed the space to mourn in a way that feels right for them.
i have no idea what's going to feel right for me this year. i know enough to know that i owe it to myself and to y'all to be a bit more vocal about how this season (for lack of a better term) impacts me so it's not completely out of left field when (not even gonna lie and say "if") i have some sort of reaction.
so, yeah. happy february! :P
i don't know exactly when the death anniversaries of my mother and father started to impact me as an adult. my father died on february 27, 1997. my mother died on march 1, 1984. maybe it was after james died in march of 2009 (march 8, for those playing along at home) that i realized that hey, there's a method to this sadness.now i get to embark on my yearly quest to power through february and march without falling apart. whee!— auntie lori is my og (@queeneulalia) February 1, 2016
dealing with those three anniversaries would be enough, but this year marks the first anniversary of lori's death (february 4, 2015) and just typing that makes me want to cry.
every year at the beginning of february, i tell myself that if i can make it to march 15 without completely falling apart, then i'll be ok. i am usually able to get through those 6 weeks or so without any major meltdowns. sure, there's crying and there are days when i just wanna wallow in my feels, but nothing too traumatic.
i'm not so sure about this year, which is why i'm writing about it and putting it out here for y'all to see. i might need to lean on y'all more than usual between now and the ides of march.
my annual swan dives into a pile of emo have already started. i was at work earlier and a song came on that reminded me of some recent conversations i've had both with myself and with some other people, and i felt that being an empath/caregiver wasn't really worth it if i couldn't actually fix at least some of the things we're dealing with. i wanted to reach out to someone who would basically put me in check and remind me that i am not here to solve the world's problems and that there's only so much i can do. i wanted that person to be james, or lori, and the reminder that i couldn't text or call them just about shattered me. i was already missing james thanks to a different song i'd listened to earlier in the day, so i was already susceptible to a grief fit or whatever one would call it. i managed to pull it together by watching highlights of game 6 of the 2013 stanley cup final, which will always make me shed happy tears b/c holy shit that was awesome.gonna try to be better about reaching out for support or just saying i need to stfu for a while during this timeframe. i know y'all got me.— auntie lori is my og (@queeneulalia) February 1, 2016
when i was at the bar later tonight, my friend asked if i was ok. i said yes and they immediately called bullshit, b/c they saw something in my expression that wasn't quite right. i amended my answer, saying that i was ok overall but that i had some things on my mind, which was true. i was still processing the wave of grief from earlier and trying to figure out how the hell i'm gonna get through the next month or so without sobbing myself silly.
i don't know if it'll help that i currently have plans on lori & my father's death dates. maybe it'll be distracting enough that i won't completely fall to pieces and if i do, maybe i'll be lucky enough to do it in private and just sob myself to sleep.
this is one of the many reasons why i tell people that there is no timetable or proper way to grieve. i know i can still be knocked flat (figuratively and literally) by grief after all of these years and therefore everyone should be allowed the space to mourn in a way that feels right for them.
i have no idea what's going to feel right for me this year. i know enough to know that i owe it to myself and to y'all to be a bit more vocal about how this season (for lack of a better term) impacts me so it's not completely out of left field when (not even gonna lie and say "if") i have some sort of reaction.
so, yeah. happy february! :P
Friday, January 29, 2016
imagining home
"a house, even borrowed for a little, but all your own, would mean a place to imagine and be safe." © sandra cisneros
— gwendolyn/maya/zora (@queeneulalia) January 26, 2016i came across that line while finishing sandra cisneros' book this week. i totally agree with the notion of a house, if not somewhere to call home, being a place to imagine and to be safe. no argument from me on that one.
during the past week or so, i have been wrestling with the fact that i won't be moving out as soon as i'd hoped. i was aiming for the second quarter of this year, and while it's still possible on paper, it just doesn't make sense. at my checkup last week (the same one i alluded to in my attitude of gratitude post a while back), my doctor and i pretty much confirmed that this is the year for my fibroids to come out. surgery has been an option on the table since i was first diagnosed with fibroids some 5-6 years ago, but, y'know, i was kinda preoccupied with other stuff and therefore surgery wasn't super high on my priority list.
surgery still isn't super high on my priority list, if i'm going to be honest, but i have resigned myself to the fact that it should happen sooner rather than later. hence the delay in moving. i spent a lot of time weighing the pros and cons of moving out and then having surgery, or having the surgery while i'm still here with quasi-landlord and then moving out. the latter just makes more sense. quasi-landlord works from home and can drive me to/from the hospital and anywhere else i need to go. i can work remotely if i'm not ready to go back to work right away. depending on the surgical option my doctors and i decide to go with, i could be out for a couple of days or a couple of weeks. i know without any doubt that if i asked y'all for help, we'd make it work, but just thinking about the stress of getting settled into a new place and then having surgery was enough to make me want to pull out my hair.
none of this is set in stone. i haven't even followed up on the referral my gynecologist gave me to see which surgical option is the most viable. but, me being me, i had to start thinking ahead in an attempt to figure out what was going to make the most sense in the not-so-short term. of course quasi-landlord is all "you can stay as long as you need to and if you have the surgery before you move, that's fine," which almost made me cry even though i knew that was gonna be her response all along.
my overall goal of being back into a place of my own in time for my birthday is still viable. i just have to be ok with getting some other shit handled first. what's a little more delayed gratification, right?
Saturday, January 23, 2016
recipe review: jamaican country ribs
thanks to quasi-landlord's current dietary restrictions, we're sometimes left with ingredients that she can't eat and that i more than likely forgot we had in the house. like black beans. there were a few cans of black beans lying around and quasi-landlord can't eat them, so she reminded me of their existence so i could do something with them at some point.
off i went to my recipe files while i happened to be making a grocery list. jewel had pork country ribs on sale, so my original thought was to buy a couple packs and freeze them for later use. then i found this recipe and realized i could make it this weekend. i bought a red bell pepper instead of the green pepper called for in this recipe, because organic red peppers were on sale for less than what i would have paid for either an organic or a "conventional" green pepper. 5 cloves of garlic instead of 4 because garlic is delicious and the cloves i had were on the small side. i didn't bother with the scallions at the end because lazy. oh, and i used a tablespoon of arrowroot instead of flour because i was out of flour.
i didn't want to buy jerk seasoning because my spicy food tolerance is practically nonexistent and i didn't want to be stuck with a bottle of something that i couldn't actually use. i did a little digging and found a recipe for a jerk seasoning blend that i figured i could adapt for my own purposes. turns out we didn't have any onion powder, so that was omitted. i used maybe 1.5 teaspoons of cayenne pepper and skipped the crushed red pepper altogether because i'm a wimp like that. the seasoning isn't really that spicy, which means i probably could have added another 1/2 teaspoon or so of cayenne pepper and been ok. i still have some seasoning left and will probably use it on some chicken thighs or chicken wings. maybe i'll add more pepper then to see what happens.
in the midst of doing my prep work last night, i decided to rub some of the seasoning on the ribs and refrigerate them overnight. i do not regret this decision; in fact, i recommend you follow my lead on this if you have the time before making this recipe.
end result? i'm happy. there are plenty of leftovers so i'll get to see if the flavors develop more as the food sits.
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
a not even remotely close to complete list of things i'm grateful for right now
i feel as if it has been ages since i've blogged or tweeted about #attitudeofgratitude. i've been in a weird mood the past couple of hours, like i'm waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop on something or just an overall pending sense of DOOM. maybe it's because i'm going to the doctor for my annual exam on thursday, even though i was just there in november to confirm that my fibroids haven't morphed into something more life-threatening. that's something to be grateful for right there, obviously. also grateful that i have health insurance that is accepted by both of my main doctors, so i can go have my annual exams and any other follow-up visits or tests or prescriptions and not go overboard with worrying about how it's gonna get paid for.
but i digress just a tiny bit. i tweeted a few minutes before i started writing this post, basically saying that i need to go back to being about that #attitudeofgratitude life. just because i have plenty, and oh boy do i mean PLENTY, of things to be worried and concerned and stressed about, doesn't mean i can't take a minute or two to focus on some of the good.
like my job. i have been at this job for a little more than 6 months now and even though i still don't have a full grasp on all of the things i think i should know by now, i'm doing good work. i know this because i have a manager who is actually capable of sharing feedback, both positive and negative. my teammates are cool and i like to think that i've gained the respect of some of the other teams i work with on a regular basis. i'm not saying this is going to be the job i'm in for the rest of my life, but i like where i am right now, career-wise.
my job also helps me boost my #attitudeofgratitude in other ways. the steady paycheck is a big help. i'm able to donate to charities and other worthy causes. i can pay my bills on time if i choose to, if not a little bit early. tonight i bought theatre tickets for quasi-landlord's birthday next month, and i didn't even flinch about the (admittedly discounted) cost or if i had enough in the bank to cover the expense because i know the money's there. i can treat myself to nice dinners or hang out with friends or decide that yes, i do want to go out for lunch or stop and get tacos on the way home from work (b/c tacos) and not worry myself silly about the cost. there is such a blessing in that, and if you were around back in my couch-surfing and quasi-nannying days, then you know that this isn't something i take lightly.
i am thankful for my friends, which might sound a bit repetitive given yesterday's post, but it's true. you guys are some of the most talented and intelligent and hilarious and just flat out wonderful people i know, and i am beyond grateful that i get to be a part of your lives. it's no exaggeration to say that i literally wouldn't be in this place right now if it weren't for some of y'all. i love you to the moon and back and i can't wait to see what kind of adventures we have together in the coming year.
i also love that we're still able to dream big. that sometimes i will share a totally ridiculous idea and we will run with it. or that one of you will share something and i'll be all "yes this is a great idea let's do it!" regardless of the logistics or cost or anything rational along those lines.
we haven't let life beat us up to the point where our imaginations have gone dormant. we're still here, thinking and dreaming and plotting to take over the world. if we miss, we're here to hold each other up and come up with a new plan. when it feels like the world is attacking us, we're here to hold each other up. when those voices in our heads get a little too loud, we're here to hold each other up even if we're just being silently supportive.
we're here. we are here. i am so fucking grateful that we are here. we are here and we are seen and we are heard and we are loved and we are more than enough and i am thankful. amen.
but i digress just a tiny bit. i tweeted a few minutes before i started writing this post, basically saying that i need to go back to being about that #attitudeofgratitude life. just because i have plenty, and oh boy do i mean PLENTY, of things to be worried and concerned and stressed about, doesn't mean i can't take a minute or two to focus on some of the good.
like my job. i have been at this job for a little more than 6 months now and even though i still don't have a full grasp on all of the things i think i should know by now, i'm doing good work. i know this because i have a manager who is actually capable of sharing feedback, both positive and negative. my teammates are cool and i like to think that i've gained the respect of some of the other teams i work with on a regular basis. i'm not saying this is going to be the job i'm in for the rest of my life, but i like where i am right now, career-wise.
my job also helps me boost my #attitudeofgratitude in other ways. the steady paycheck is a big help. i'm able to donate to charities and other worthy causes. i can pay my bills on time if i choose to, if not a little bit early. tonight i bought theatre tickets for quasi-landlord's birthday next month, and i didn't even flinch about the (admittedly discounted) cost or if i had enough in the bank to cover the expense because i know the money's there. i can treat myself to nice dinners or hang out with friends or decide that yes, i do want to go out for lunch or stop and get tacos on the way home from work (b/c tacos) and not worry myself silly about the cost. there is such a blessing in that, and if you were around back in my couch-surfing and quasi-nannying days, then you know that this isn't something i take lightly.
i am thankful for my friends, which might sound a bit repetitive given yesterday's post, but it's true. you guys are some of the most talented and intelligent and hilarious and just flat out wonderful people i know, and i am beyond grateful that i get to be a part of your lives. it's no exaggeration to say that i literally wouldn't be in this place right now if it weren't for some of y'all. i love you to the moon and back and i can't wait to see what kind of adventures we have together in the coming year.
i also love that we're still able to dream big. that sometimes i will share a totally ridiculous idea and we will run with it. or that one of you will share something and i'll be all "yes this is a great idea let's do it!" regardless of the logistics or cost or anything rational along those lines.
we haven't let life beat us up to the point where our imaginations have gone dormant. we're still here, thinking and dreaming and plotting to take over the world. if we miss, we're here to hold each other up and come up with a new plan. when it feels like the world is attacking us, we're here to hold each other up. when those voices in our heads get a little too loud, we're here to hold each other up even if we're just being silently supportive.
we're here. we are here. i am so fucking grateful that we are here. we are here and we are seen and we are heard and we are loved and we are more than enough and i am thankful. amen.
Monday, January 18, 2016
on: the friend(s) who got away
a friend of mine sent me this article a few days ago and asked me to share my thoughts once i'd had a chance to read it. since i'd been meaning to write a new post for at least the past week and a half, if not longer, i figured this was as good a reason as any.
and yet sometimes the best possible thing we can do is let some of those friends drift away. sometimes it's due to a major break, like the one the author describes in her article. other times it's because life just gets in the way and it's hard to keep track and keep in touch.
i've experienced both. i identified so strongly with the author's "breakup" with her friend because similar circumstances led to my falling out with my former bff. like the author, i've resigned myself to knowing that former bff and i will probably never talk to each other again, and if we do, it'll be nothing like it was when our friendship was active and intact. the last time we saw each other, i laid into her with a laundry list of reasons why i was pissed the entire fuck off at her, even though i knew my yelling wouldn't change anything about her behavior. and it didn't.
maybe that's our charge for 2016. to show up, to tell the truth, and to be kind. i already know i won't always be successful at it, but i can at least try, especially since i know that i can count on y'all to remind me of how valuable our friendships are and therefore i shouldn't completely fuck them up. :-)
"If our friends are the family we choose, then wouldn’t it stand to reason that our old friends must be treasured?"you would think so, right? with all of the work we put into choosing our friends, we'd want (need?) to hold our dearest friends as close as we can.
and yet sometimes the best possible thing we can do is let some of those friends drift away. sometimes it's due to a major break, like the one the author describes in her article. other times it's because life just gets in the way and it's hard to keep track and keep in touch.
i've experienced both. i identified so strongly with the author's "breakup" with her friend because similar circumstances led to my falling out with my former bff. like the author, i've resigned myself to knowing that former bff and i will probably never talk to each other again, and if we do, it'll be nothing like it was when our friendship was active and intact. the last time we saw each other, i laid into her with a laundry list of reasons why i was pissed the entire fuck off at her, even though i knew my yelling wouldn't change anything about her behavior. and it didn't.
"The strongest friendships are ones that have withstood the test of confrontation. It isn’t easy, I know. Our voices shake. Our palms grow damp. Our hearts beat a little faster. But when we tell our friends the truth of our hearts—even when it’s scary, especially when it’s scary—we are allowing ourselves to be seen and known."there's so much truth to this. i am probably more transparent on this blog (and twitter, to a somewhat lesser extent) than i am in real life, but i would like to think that it's a work in progress. that most of my friendships are at a point where we can own up to our shit and, if necessary, call each other out on our shit. it's not easy and i'm not sure it should be at times. and that's ok.
"You don’t need to like each other all the time. Just show up. Tell the truth. And be kind."i swear so much of being a good friend can be defined by simply showing up. sometimes i just need to know that someone else is there, even if i can't articulate why i need someone there. i think we all do.
maybe that's our charge for 2016. to show up, to tell the truth, and to be kind. i already know i won't always be successful at it, but i can at least try, especially since i know that i can count on y'all to remind me of how valuable our friendships are and therefore i shouldn't completely fuck them up. :-)
Sunday, January 03, 2016
recipe review: sausage and pepper pot with collard greens
i decided to make my collards and black-eyed peas on new year's eve, since i'd be gone for most of the day on new year's day and didn't want to worry about having to cook them this weekend. as has become a tradition in and of itself, i wanted to find a recipe i hadn't tried yet to start the year off. this one looked appealing enough, so i decided to go with it.
here's what i did differently (because as y'all know, i almost always do something differently with these recipes):
here's what i did differently (because as y'all know, i almost always do something differently with these recipes):
- i used italian sausage instead of turkey sausage because italian sausage was on sale when i went grocery shopping
- yellow instead of green bell peppers because i wanted a bit more color
- 3 garlic cloves because garlic is fucking delicious
- i added a can of drained and rinsed black-eyed peas to the pot when the sausage went back in
i let the collards cook way longer than the "simmer for 10 minutes" because i like my greens to be a bit more on the tender side. oh, and i used salt and pepper and possibly some seasoning blend that i randomly grabbed while i was in the kitchen, but i didn't measure any of them.
i think i can scale back on the chicken broth (maybe 4-5 cups instead of 6) and on the peppers (one of each, maybe?) if i decided to make this again.
oh, and this serves way more than 4 - probably closer to 8. there are two containers of this in the freezer and i'm sure each of those containers has 2 servings, plus whatever i ate and kept in the fridge this weekend.
merry new year!
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
on: leaving and redefining "home"
yesterday, i read a tweet from a woman that really struck a chord with me. she was basically saying how she needed to go on a journey to become who she wanted to be and that she couldn't do that at home. i can so identify with that.
as longtime readers and friends know, "home" has always been a bit of a tenuous concept for me. i actually wrote about this a couple of years ago and it still rings true.
there are those people who wonder(ed) why i didn't just move back home when my life started falling apart in earnest back in 2011. the simplest answer is that i don't really consider any of my siblings' domiciles as "home" for me. moving in with one of them would be disastrous. this is my life and i know it sounds incredibly selfish, but i need to live it on my terms. i can not afford to move back or look back. i have worked too hard during the past 20 years and some change to make myself into the person i am and i don't want to risk reverting to the person i was in high school when they still had a major influence on me. hell, the fact that i still haven't actually told them about everything that happened with the eviction and couch surfing and bouncing around should speak volumes. i mean it when i say that i love my family, but it's best if i continue to love them from a distance.
in hindsight, that stretch of time i spent couch surfing and quasi-nannying and housesitting and whatever else it took for me to get back "home" to chicago taught me a lot. it showed me once again that i have some of the most amazing friends on the planet. it reminded me that i am way more resilient and resourceful than i tend to give myself credit for. it was difficult and if you were around back then, you know there was crying and gnashing of teeth and i might've pulled out some of my hair and banged my head on both proverbial and literal walls. there were times when i could not figure out how the hell i was going to make this shit work. there were a lot of times when i thought i'd fucked everything up beyond repair and i might actually have to phone "home." that was enough to make me cry even more, to be quite honest.
chalk one up to my tenacity, or stubbornness, or both. some positive things happened and i made some steps forward and look at me now. i am hoping to be in a place of my own by my 40th birthday and there's no way i would have publicly committed to that kind of timetable a few years ago. hell, just reading that sentence has me freaking out a bit like "omg what if it doesn't happen by then?" it's ok. i am in a stable place and i have the luxury of time to figure out what i really want to do in terms of moving and i don't need to rush into anything.
this has been one helluva journey and if i'm truthful with myself, i wouldn't trade it for "moving back home" at all. no way. i think it laid a lot of the groundwork for the whole "this is all part of the work" thing i've been focused on this year. it was worth it. i'm proud of myself and thankful for y'all at the same damn time. :-)
as longtime readers and friends know, "home" has always been a bit of a tenuous concept for me. i actually wrote about this a couple of years ago and it still rings true.
there are those people who wonder(ed) why i didn't just move back home when my life started falling apart in earnest back in 2011. the simplest answer is that i don't really consider any of my siblings' domiciles as "home" for me. moving in with one of them would be disastrous. this is my life and i know it sounds incredibly selfish, but i need to live it on my terms. i can not afford to move back or look back. i have worked too hard during the past 20 years and some change to make myself into the person i am and i don't want to risk reverting to the person i was in high school when they still had a major influence on me. hell, the fact that i still haven't actually told them about everything that happened with the eviction and couch surfing and bouncing around should speak volumes. i mean it when i say that i love my family, but it's best if i continue to love them from a distance.
in hindsight, that stretch of time i spent couch surfing and quasi-nannying and housesitting and whatever else it took for me to get back "home" to chicago taught me a lot. it showed me once again that i have some of the most amazing friends on the planet. it reminded me that i am way more resilient and resourceful than i tend to give myself credit for. it was difficult and if you were around back then, you know there was crying and gnashing of teeth and i might've pulled out some of my hair and banged my head on both proverbial and literal walls. there were times when i could not figure out how the hell i was going to make this shit work. there were a lot of times when i thought i'd fucked everything up beyond repair and i might actually have to phone "home." that was enough to make me cry even more, to be quite honest.
chalk one up to my tenacity, or stubbornness, or both. some positive things happened and i made some steps forward and look at me now. i am hoping to be in a place of my own by my 40th birthday and there's no way i would have publicly committed to that kind of timetable a few years ago. hell, just reading that sentence has me freaking out a bit like "omg what if it doesn't happen by then?" it's ok. i am in a stable place and i have the luxury of time to figure out what i really want to do in terms of moving and i don't need to rush into anything.
this has been one helluva journey and if i'm truthful with myself, i wouldn't trade it for "moving back home" at all. no way. i think it laid a lot of the groundwork for the whole "this is all part of the work" thing i've been focused on this year. it was worth it. i'm proud of myself and thankful for y'all at the same damn time. :-)
Saturday, December 19, 2015
a song* for you on saturday
(*-no actual songs here)
it's no secret that i am one of the biggest and best (worst?) enablers my friends can possibly have. you can have an idea that, on its face, sounds like the most ridiculous or silly or impossible thing in the history of everything, and i will be the cheerleader in your corner like "do it! #embracethecrazy! let's go!"
i have told countless friends to take care of themselves because there's no way they can be there for other people if they're not their best selves. i believe that. i really do. i know in my heart of hearts that for me, dispensing black girl magic is impossible if i don't at least feel a little magical myself. this is a thing that is true.
i also know that yesterday i stayed in bed and didn't get into the shower until about 1:45pm. that is not normal behavior for me. i shower every day the good lord sees fit to bless me with because hygiene is important. even if i'm not leaving the house, i will shower and throw on something that resembles clothing and proceed with full laziness.
i woke up around 4am friday morning and once my brain realized that hey, i'd only been asleep for about 2 hours at that point, i passed back out. i was awake again around 7am and pretty much spent the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon alternating between sleep, dreaming, crying, daydreaming, and just being quiet.
the crying part kinda took me aback because, well, it was the morning after my birthday and i felt like i was in a pretty good place emotionally. in one of those quiet moments, i realized i was worried about that crying fit because i didn't want to revisit that weekend in october when i really thought i was going to end it all. i didn't want to allow myself the luxury, silly as that sounds, of breaking all the way down.
but i did. i rolled around in this bed and cried and dreamed and slept and daydreamed and thought and stayed quiet. a part of my brain was all "OMFG why aren't you up and moving?" and i had to remind myself that i didn't have anywhere to be until about 6pm or so. yes, i felt a bit guilty b/c i knew housekeeping would eventually want/need to come in and refresh my room and i was throwing the staff off schedule, but it's not the first time i've been that guy and i got over that relatively quickly.
i remembered a day off i had when i was still living in skokie. i'd talked myself into not getting out of bed until i absolutely had to and i don't think i showered until well after 3pm that day. a friend came over later that day and when i told them about my morning/afternoon, they were kinda surprised because they know how i roll even on my off days. i wasn't sick. i'd just decided to let whatever emo feels i was having that day take over until i felt like i could shower and get moving.
i think that's what happened yesterday morning/afternoon. i wasn't feeling depressed. i wasn't sad. a part of me was just like, "oh, fuck it. you don't have anything scheduled and you're not at home and you don't have to wear pants and SO THE FUCK WHAT if you just wanna stay in bed for hours and hours and hours?" don't get me wrong, guys. i tried getting up a couple of times and my body was just like "NOPE" and i said ok.
giving myself permission to wallow is still something i struggle with, obviously. by no means do i want or need to wear a superwoman cape b/c that shit is fucking exhausting and i am not built for that life. that much i know about myself. i also know that sometimes i have to shut the entire fuck up and take my own advice. if my body and brain agree that it's a perfect time for me to have some feelings and stay in bed because i won't be interrupted, then i should probably honor that.
not everything needs to be scheduled. bff was kinda shocked when i said that i didn't have a totally packed schedule for my birthday week(end). i told her that i knew i was going to want/need a little time to decompress so i could be ready to power through the rest of the year and get ready for 2016 and whatever it was going to throw at me. she got it, even though i didn't really believe myself when i said it.
i mean, really. how i am going to keep telling people that they deserve every and all good things that come their way if i can't or won't convince myself that i deserve that same kind of greatness? take today, for example. i decided that i wanted to watch sports and drink wine and not wear pants this afternoon, and i am doing just that. it is as glorious as it sounds. i deserve it. i know i'm going home tomorrow and going back to work on monday and real life will be all "here, have some fuckshit" and i will need to be ready. said fuckshit might not even be directed at me, but i want/need to be prepared just in case. "you can't be good to other people if you're not good to yourself" or some variation thereof is a thing i have said/typed to who knows how many people this year. i know i have to do the same.
this is me owning my shit, which has been one of the major themes of 2015 for me. as a dear friend told me earlier this year when i was going on and on about meeting people where they are (another major theme), i have to also meet myself where i am and be ok with whatever and wherever that is. it's not easy, but it's worth doing because it's part of the work (yup, another theme this year).
and now i will go pour myself another glass of wine (yes, i am actually using a wine glass today) and continue watching sports and remain pantsless for as long as possible.
it's no secret that i am one of the biggest and best (worst?) enablers my friends can possibly have. you can have an idea that, on its face, sounds like the most ridiculous or silly or impossible thing in the history of everything, and i will be the cheerleader in your corner like "do it! #embracethecrazy! let's go!"
i have told countless friends to take care of themselves because there's no way they can be there for other people if they're not their best selves. i believe that. i really do. i know in my heart of hearts that for me, dispensing black girl magic is impossible if i don't at least feel a little magical myself. this is a thing that is true.
i also know that yesterday i stayed in bed and didn't get into the shower until about 1:45pm. that is not normal behavior for me. i shower every day the good lord sees fit to bless me with because hygiene is important. even if i'm not leaving the house, i will shower and throw on something that resembles clothing and proceed with full laziness.
i woke up around 4am friday morning and once my brain realized that hey, i'd only been asleep for about 2 hours at that point, i passed back out. i was awake again around 7am and pretty much spent the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon alternating between sleep, dreaming, crying, daydreaming, and just being quiet.
the crying part kinda took me aback because, well, it was the morning after my birthday and i felt like i was in a pretty good place emotionally. in one of those quiet moments, i realized i was worried about that crying fit because i didn't want to revisit that weekend in october when i really thought i was going to end it all. i didn't want to allow myself the luxury, silly as that sounds, of breaking all the way down.
but i did. i rolled around in this bed and cried and dreamed and slept and daydreamed and thought and stayed quiet. a part of my brain was all "OMFG why aren't you up and moving?" and i had to remind myself that i didn't have anywhere to be until about 6pm or so. yes, i felt a bit guilty b/c i knew housekeeping would eventually want/need to come in and refresh my room and i was throwing the staff off schedule, but it's not the first time i've been that guy and i got over that relatively quickly.
i remembered a day off i had when i was still living in skokie. i'd talked myself into not getting out of bed until i absolutely had to and i don't think i showered until well after 3pm that day. a friend came over later that day and when i told them about my morning/afternoon, they were kinda surprised because they know how i roll even on my off days. i wasn't sick. i'd just decided to let whatever emo feels i was having that day take over until i felt like i could shower and get moving.
i think that's what happened yesterday morning/afternoon. i wasn't feeling depressed. i wasn't sad. a part of me was just like, "oh, fuck it. you don't have anything scheduled and you're not at home and you don't have to wear pants and SO THE FUCK WHAT if you just wanna stay in bed for hours and hours and hours?" don't get me wrong, guys. i tried getting up a couple of times and my body was just like "NOPE" and i said ok.
giving myself permission to wallow is still something i struggle with, obviously. by no means do i want or need to wear a superwoman cape b/c that shit is fucking exhausting and i am not built for that life. that much i know about myself. i also know that sometimes i have to shut the entire fuck up and take my own advice. if my body and brain agree that it's a perfect time for me to have some feelings and stay in bed because i won't be interrupted, then i should probably honor that.
not everything needs to be scheduled. bff was kinda shocked when i said that i didn't have a totally packed schedule for my birthday week(end). i told her that i knew i was going to want/need a little time to decompress so i could be ready to power through the rest of the year and get ready for 2016 and whatever it was going to throw at me. she got it, even though i didn't really believe myself when i said it.
i mean, really. how i am going to keep telling people that they deserve every and all good things that come their way if i can't or won't convince myself that i deserve that same kind of greatness? take today, for example. i decided that i wanted to watch sports and drink wine and not wear pants this afternoon, and i am doing just that. it is as glorious as it sounds. i deserve it. i know i'm going home tomorrow and going back to work on monday and real life will be all "here, have some fuckshit" and i will need to be ready. said fuckshit might not even be directed at me, but i want/need to be prepared just in case. "you can't be good to other people if you're not good to yourself" or some variation thereof is a thing i have said/typed to who knows how many people this year. i know i have to do the same.
this is me owning my shit, which has been one of the major themes of 2015 for me. as a dear friend told me earlier this year when i was going on and on about meeting people where they are (another major theme), i have to also meet myself where i am and be ok with whatever and wherever that is. it's not easy, but it's worth doing because it's part of the work (yup, another theme this year).
and now i will go pour myself another glass of wine (yes, i am actually using a wine glass today) and continue watching sports and remain pantsless for as long as possible.
Friday, December 18, 2015
for a colored girl who had a rainbow connection on her birthday
i was in my hotel room last night flipping channels (there's a channel called planes trains and automobiles and i totally got sucked into watching it for a good half hour or so) before i went to bed and "the muppet movie" was on amc. it was technically no longer my birthday since it was after midnight, but i was still counting it as a birthday miracle.
i love the muppet movie. it is one of my all-time favorite movies. i mean that without any irony. i love that movie even though i cry at the ending every single time like i don't already know that "the rainbow connection" won't hit me directly in the feels.
so to close out my birthday with the last few minutes of one of my favorite movies was great, especially since i actually heard from more family members than i thought i would on my birthday.
my family, my brothers in particular, hated the muppet movie. family legend has it that my parents took me to see the muppet movie in theaters and when it was over, i bawled b/c i wanted to see it again. my father had to bribe my brothers (i feel like this is something james would've had to do as the youngest brother, but maybe all 3 of them were involved) to take me back the next day to see the muppet movie again.
i have no idea how my family feels about the muppet movie these days. i honestly have no idea how they feel about a lot of things and i'm ok with that. what i know is that yesterday was my birthday and they managed to get their collective acts together and call/text me to wish me a happy birthday and actually mean it. and then i closed out my celebration by crying while singing "the rainbow connection" for the 5011th time. it was almost too perfect and i tweeted that i had to tell this story today b/c i knew i was a bit too sleepy (and, let's be honest, a bit too unsober) to do the story justice last night.
thanks, universe. you sure know how to make a girl feel special on her special day. more of those kinds of awesome coincidences and not so much the ones that completely suck, mmkay? thanks.
i love the muppet movie. it is one of my all-time favorite movies. i mean that without any irony. i love that movie even though i cry at the ending every single time like i don't already know that "the rainbow connection" won't hit me directly in the feels.
so to close out my birthday with the last few minutes of one of my favorite movies was great, especially since i actually heard from more family members than i thought i would on my birthday.
my family, my brothers in particular, hated the muppet movie. family legend has it that my parents took me to see the muppet movie in theaters and when it was over, i bawled b/c i wanted to see it again. my father had to bribe my brothers (i feel like this is something james would've had to do as the youngest brother, but maybe all 3 of them were involved) to take me back the next day to see the muppet movie again.
i have no idea how my family feels about the muppet movie these days. i honestly have no idea how they feel about a lot of things and i'm ok with that. what i know is that yesterday was my birthday and they managed to get their collective acts together and call/text me to wish me a happy birthday and actually mean it. and then i closed out my celebration by crying while singing "the rainbow connection" for the 5011th time. it was almost too perfect and i tweeted that i had to tell this story today b/c i knew i was a bit too sleepy (and, let's be honest, a bit too unsober) to do the story justice last night.
thanks, universe. you sure know how to make a girl feel special on her special day. more of those kinds of awesome coincidences and not so much the ones that completely suck, mmkay? thanks.
Thursday, December 17, 2015
39
i woke up feeling like prince akeem: "why yes, it IS my birthday!"
where are my royal bathers and rose petal bearers?!?
— eulalia (@queeneulalia) December 17, 2015
holy shit i am now 39 years old. i just read through my blog entries from 2015 and i can't believe i'm here. no, really. those suicidal thoughts i had in october could have developed into something much more serious and dangerous, if not deadly.
i'm glad i'm still here. i'm glad that a lot of the things i've been working on this year, like meeting people where they are and owning up to shit and making peace with this empath/caregiver walk of mine, have proven to be the things that i really should be focusing on. i'm glad that i still get to play enabler and cheerleader for so many of you. that we're all working on embracing the crazy and dreaming big and living our lives as fully as we can.
the coming year (fucking hell i'm going to be 40 next year!) is shaping up to be a helluva ride. i'm excited and, not even gonna lie, a little scared at the same time. i don't know how things are going to play out, let alone if they're going to play out in my favor or how i would like them to, but i am going to try my damnedest to trust the process.
thanks for sticking around for another year. hopefully we can look back on 2015 (after punching it in the face) and laugh ourselves silly about some of it when it's all said and done.
Wednesday, December 09, 2015
wake me up when december ends
december's always a fun month for me. not just because of #alldecembereverything (birthday in 8 days! wheeeee!), but because i tend to start looking forward to the coming year and seriously thinking about what i want and about what's realistic for me.
i have some goals for 2016 that appear to be a bit lofty, but i think i can nail most of them before i turn 40 next year. (yes, i'm old. shut up.)
some of them are easy enough on their face, like getting a tattoo (it'll be my first one) and maybe throwing myself a massive birthday party (it is a milestone birthday next year, after all) and continuing to pay down my debt (thank god for baby steps).
but then there's moving.
i am so ready to move, and yet i occasionally wonder if i'm pushing myself too much. never mind that my goal since being evicted in 2011 was to get back into a place of my own.
it's that nagging voice of self-doubt. the one that says wanting more is absurd. that i should be glad for my current situation and just be content with its stability.
y'all know me, though. that's not how i tend to roll. one of the primary reasons why i've managed to hold on for so long during the past few years is because i had/have an ultimate goal in mind. something to keep working toward and striving for.
maybe part of it is not knowing what my next major goal is after i'm in a place of my own again. my type-a minus personality likes order and structure and not having a firm plan of attack is enough to make my skin crawl. that's a constant battle, really - giving myself permission to be flexible and go with the flow vs. needing to know what's gonna happen next.
i have some goals for 2016 that appear to be a bit lofty, but i think i can nail most of them before i turn 40 next year. (yes, i'm old. shut up.)
some of them are easy enough on their face, like getting a tattoo (it'll be my first one) and maybe throwing myself a massive birthday party (it is a milestone birthday next year, after all) and continuing to pay down my debt (thank god for baby steps).
but then there's moving.
i am so ready to move, and yet i occasionally wonder if i'm pushing myself too much. never mind that my goal since being evicted in 2011 was to get back into a place of my own.
it's that nagging voice of self-doubt. the one that says wanting more is absurd. that i should be glad for my current situation and just be content with its stability.
y'all know me, though. that's not how i tend to roll. one of the primary reasons why i've managed to hold on for so long during the past few years is because i had/have an ultimate goal in mind. something to keep working toward and striving for.
maybe part of it is not knowing what my next major goal is after i'm in a place of my own again. my type-a minus personality likes order and structure and not having a firm plan of attack is enough to make my skin crawl. that's a constant battle, really - giving myself permission to be flexible and go with the flow vs. needing to know what's gonna happen next.
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
on: thanksgiving and hitting the road
as the #thanksgivingwithblackfamilies hashtag started to take off on twitter last night and as i was trying to go the fuck to sleep, i got to thinking about just how often i actually spend thanksgiving (or any "major" holiday, really) with my family.
before my father died, thanksgiving was a holiday we almost always without fail spent together. i can not tell you the number of times we'd hit the road the night before thanksgiving to go down to st. louis to see my paternal grandmother and all our 5011 cousins/aunts/uncles/other relatives that lived in and around st. louis. sometimes we'd go up to michigan to see some other relatives who lived right outside of kalamazoo. it was rare for us, at least as far as i can recall, to actually be at home in chicago on thanksgiving.
even while i was at northwestern, i knew that as soon as i was done with classes and work on that wednesday before thanksgiving, daddy would be on his way to pick me up or i'd be on my way to the train to head home because we were going SOMEWHERE. i had a friend who lived near st. louis and she tagged along for the ride one year. good times.
i can probably count on one hand the number of times i've had thanksgiving with my relatives since daddy died. i'm pretty sure i stayed in the dorm senior year and went somewhere in downtown evanston for thanksgiving year. while troy & i were married, we either went down south to see his family or we stayed home. after the divorce, i have either stayed home or hung out with other friends.
this is not a lament. please don't take this as a "woe is me i haven't had thanksgiving with my family in forever and i really miss them" kind of thing. if i really wanted to go, i would. trust me. as dysfunctional as we are, i know i could call/text and say "hey, what y'all cooking for thanksgiving and what time are we eating?" and once they got over the shock because i never call them, we'd figure it out. and that's ok.
but i haven't had to. last year i hung out with some friends and then went home to dinner with quasi-landlord and her friends and family. this year, i'm hitting the road with friends to go visit some other friends and when i tell y'all that i am excited about this trip? it's time for a break for all kinds of reasons for a lot of us and i'm glad things worked out so i can actually hit the road.
so among the oh-so-many other things i have to be thankful for this year, i can add having the family i've created through the years so i don't necessarily have to feel alone during thanksgiving. i can be thankful for the chance to get out of town, even if it's only for a few days.
before my father died, thanksgiving was a holiday we almost always without fail spent together. i can not tell you the number of times we'd hit the road the night before thanksgiving to go down to st. louis to see my paternal grandmother and all our 5011 cousins/aunts/uncles/other relatives that lived in and around st. louis. sometimes we'd go up to michigan to see some other relatives who lived right outside of kalamazoo. it was rare for us, at least as far as i can recall, to actually be at home in chicago on thanksgiving.
even while i was at northwestern, i knew that as soon as i was done with classes and work on that wednesday before thanksgiving, daddy would be on his way to pick me up or i'd be on my way to the train to head home because we were going SOMEWHERE. i had a friend who lived near st. louis and she tagged along for the ride one year. good times.
i can probably count on one hand the number of times i've had thanksgiving with my relatives since daddy died. i'm pretty sure i stayed in the dorm senior year and went somewhere in downtown evanston for thanksgiving year. while troy & i were married, we either went down south to see his family or we stayed home. after the divorce, i have either stayed home or hung out with other friends.
this is not a lament. please don't take this as a "woe is me i haven't had thanksgiving with my family in forever and i really miss them" kind of thing. if i really wanted to go, i would. trust me. as dysfunctional as we are, i know i could call/text and say "hey, what y'all cooking for thanksgiving and what time are we eating?" and once they got over the shock because i never call them, we'd figure it out. and that's ok.
but i haven't had to. last year i hung out with some friends and then went home to dinner with quasi-landlord and her friends and family. this year, i'm hitting the road with friends to go visit some other friends and when i tell y'all that i am excited about this trip? it's time for a break for all kinds of reasons for a lot of us and i'm glad things worked out so i can actually hit the road.
so among the oh-so-many other things i have to be thankful for this year, i can add having the family i've created through the years so i don't necessarily have to feel alone during thanksgiving. i can be thankful for the chance to get out of town, even if it's only for a few days.
Monday, November 23, 2015
#alldecembereverything: the 2015 edition
i know, i know - i start this celebration earlier and earlier with each passing year. this year's early start isn't technically my fault though. quasi-landlord offered to take me to dinner and to see one of my favorite musicals as an early birthday present this past saturday, and since when am i going to turn down dinner and a show, especially on someone else's dime?
that said, here's the (still sorta kinda in progress) list of #alldecembereverything activities. i'll add/edit as things pop up and as plans get firmed up.
tuesday, december 1 - chef's table at replay beer & bourbon and elixir in andersonville. tickets ($35 all inclusive) are still available as of this writing.
thursday, december 3 - bourbon women chicago holiday sip & shop at plum market in old town. if you're a member like i am, tickets are $10; non-member tickets are $15. registration is still open as of this writing.
thursday, december 3 through sunday, december 6 - one of a kind show at merchandise mart. you can keep an eye on goldstar for discounted tickets; they're currently sold out but it's possible that additional discounted tickets will be released. i will probably go friday night after work or on saturday, and i think i have one extra free ticket, so if you want in, let me know.
monday, december 14 - higher: renee fleming & patricia barber perform the music of patricia barber at the harris theater in millennium park. discounted tickets on goldstar are currently sold out, but as above, additional discounted tickets may be added if you want to keep an eye on them.
tuesday, december 15 - "self-portrait in a kanye mirror" at the museum of contemporary art. this event is included with museum admission, which just happens to be free on tuesdays for illinois residents.
thursday, december 17 - HOLY CRAP I'M 39 as of this date.
thursday, december 24 - there's been no discussion yet b/c it's still kinda early, but i'm pretty sure jesusjack will once again be a thing. you know you wanna come to the casino and sing happy birthday to jesus at midnight. :-)
in addition to the events listed above, there will likely be some sort of football and/or hockey watching between now and january. stay tuned.
that said, here's the (still sorta kinda in progress) list of #alldecembereverything activities. i'll add/edit as things pop up and as plans get firmed up.
tuesday, december 1 - chef's table at replay beer & bourbon and elixir in andersonville. tickets ($35 all inclusive) are still available as of this writing.
thursday, december 3 - bourbon women chicago holiday sip & shop at plum market in old town. if you're a member like i am, tickets are $10; non-member tickets are $15. registration is still open as of this writing.
thursday, december 3 through sunday, december 6 - one of a kind show at merchandise mart. you can keep an eye on goldstar for discounted tickets; they're currently sold out but it's possible that additional discounted tickets will be released. i will probably go friday night after work or on saturday, and i think i have one extra free ticket, so if you want in, let me know.
monday, december 14 - higher: renee fleming & patricia barber perform the music of patricia barber at the harris theater in millennium park. discounted tickets on goldstar are currently sold out, but as above, additional discounted tickets may be added if you want to keep an eye on them.
tuesday, december 15 - "self-portrait in a kanye mirror" at the museum of contemporary art. this event is included with museum admission, which just happens to be free on tuesdays for illinois residents.
thursday, december 17 - HOLY CRAP I'M 39 as of this date.
thursday, december 24 - there's been no discussion yet b/c it's still kinda early, but i'm pretty sure jesusjack will once again be a thing. you know you wanna come to the casino and sing happy birthday to jesus at midnight. :-)
in addition to the events listed above, there will likely be some sort of football and/or hockey watching between now and january. stay tuned.
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
recipe review: sweet potato & sausage soup
i had a package of italian sausage in the freezer and decided i needed to make a meal around it. i didn't want just pasta and tomato sauce and sausage, because that seemed too simple and i knew i'd actually have time to cook tonight since i'm not working tomorrow. i considered roasting the sausage with some grapes, but i remembered that i've done that before and i sorta kinda wanted to try something new, so off to the recipe files i went.
there were a couple of contenders, but i decided on this sweet potato & sausage soup. there's nothing about it i don't like: sweet potato, sausage, garlic, pasta, spinach...these are all among my favorite things.
here's what i did differently:
there were a couple of contenders, but i decided on this sweet potato & sausage soup. there's nothing about it i don't like: sweet potato, sausage, garlic, pasta, spinach...these are all among my favorite things.
here's what i did differently:
- i used a cup of whole wheat gemelli instead of small pasta shells because that's what i had on hand
- only 2 garlic cloves (i know, i was as shocked as you are) because these cloves were on the large side and also because quasi-landlord got a new garlic press and holy shit we get so much more garlic out of that thing now
- 1 sweet potato that weighed in at slightly more than 3/4 of a pound
- the package of italian sausage was 20oz, so slightly more than a pound
- reduced sodium chicken broth just b/c it's my preference
- 2 5oz bags of spinach/arugula mix because spinach and arugula are fucking delicious and also because the 5oz bags were the only spinach/arugula blends available when i went to the store tonight
oh, and i added a bit of trader joe's 21 seasoning salute (think mrs. dash) and a bit of creole seasoning at the end, in addition to the salt and pepper i used throughout. no measurements on the seasonings b/c i was just eyeballing and tasting as i went. i was worried about the sweet potatoes not cooking all the way through, but they did and were practically falling apart.
this definitely serves 6 - i had two bowls because i was starving and also because i'm getting blood work done tomorrow and therefore i have to start fasting later tonight, and there are easily 4 more servings left. i'm going to freeze most of it. hopefully it stands up whenever i thaw it out.
i would definitely make this again. maybe instead of pasta, i'd use some white beans - or maybe use them in addition to the pasta to make it a bit more filling. i'm sure this would work with chicken or turkey italian sausage if that's how you'd like to roll. obviously you'd use vegetable broth and skip the sausage altogether if you wanna try to make it vegetarian-friendly.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
making life better, one step at a time
i've been mulling this idea around for the past week or two: what if we all did one thing each day to make life better? it could be your life. it could be someone else's life. the thing in question doesn't have to be grandiose in scale. it can be tiny. you could be the only person who even knows that you did something, or you could broadcast it to the world.
i'm not sure where this idea came from, honestly. i think it's more about being mindful about steps i can take, big, small, or otherwise, to make my life better and/or improve the lives of others. i'm choosing to look at it as part of my empath/caregiver role - finding ways to improve while still being supportive. or something. i don't know.
who's with me on this? from now until the end of the year, let's all try to do at least one thing every day to make life better, either for yourself or for someone else. i haven't decided if i want to start keeping a list of these things yet, but if i do, it'll probably be here and/or on twitter. if you want to report on your progress, please feel free.
this could be fun. it could be enlightening. it could also really suck b/c we put too much pressure on ourselves to do something meaningful every day. i recognize that, hence the earlier point about your gesture not necessarily needing to be grand. you can define the gesture and you can define if you did it for yourself or for someone else or some combination thereof. i'm all about self-directed action here. :-)
i'm not sure where this idea came from, honestly. i think it's more about being mindful about steps i can take, big, small, or otherwise, to make my life better and/or improve the lives of others. i'm choosing to look at it as part of my empath/caregiver role - finding ways to improve while still being supportive. or something. i don't know.
who's with me on this? from now until the end of the year, let's all try to do at least one thing every day to make life better, either for yourself or for someone else. i haven't decided if i want to start keeping a list of these things yet, but if i do, it'll probably be here and/or on twitter. if you want to report on your progress, please feel free.
this could be fun. it could be enlightening. it could also really suck b/c we put too much pressure on ourselves to do something meaningful every day. i recognize that, hence the earlier point about your gesture not necessarily needing to be grand. you can define the gesture and you can define if you did it for yourself or for someone else or some combination thereof. i'm all about self-directed action here. :-)
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
on: seeing and being seen
[note: i originally jotted these thoughts a couple of weeks ago, and had decided to save them for later. given yesterday's events in missouri, i figured now was as good a time as any.]
10-31 6:20pm
it's not so much wanting to be noticed so much as it is not wanting to be rendered invisible. for me, anyway. it could also be true for other people of color or other marginalized folks or...i dunno.
i don't need to stand out anymore than i already do. i just want to be acknowledged. to not feel like my humanity is brushed aside or ignored or trampled on.
i know in my heart of hears that this isn't asking too much, and yet it feels like an ongoing battle. for every black lives matter, there's an all lives matter. for every black girls are magic, there is a what about xyz girls and their magic.
but we do matter. we are magical. what you see as "ugh get over it already" is us proclaiming our worth and our value to folks who would love to forget that we're even around. too bad.
10-31 6:20pm
it's not so much wanting to be noticed so much as it is not wanting to be rendered invisible. for me, anyway. it could also be true for other people of color or other marginalized folks or...i dunno.
i don't need to stand out anymore than i already do. i just want to be acknowledged. to not feel like my humanity is brushed aside or ignored or trampled on.
i know in my heart of hears that this isn't asking too much, and yet it feels like an ongoing battle. for every black lives matter, there's an all lives matter. for every black girls are magic, there is a what about xyz girls and their magic.
but we do matter. we are magical. what you see as "ugh get over it already" is us proclaiming our worth and our value to folks who would love to forget that we're even around. too bad.
Saturday, October 31, 2015
two weeks later...
[TW: a whole lot of depressing shit, with some mentions of suicide thrown in for good measure]
so, um, it's been an eventful two weeks or so over here, to say the least. thanks to everyone who reached out and checked up, and also thanks to those who expressed their support by keeping a distance because they know that's how we roll. i love y'all for it and i am thankful.
i don't know what's next. i am trying my damnedest to be ok with not knowing what's next, but my type a-minus personality is getting in my way. y'all know i need some semblance of order in at least some areas of my life, and the past couple of weeks have been anything but orderly or ordinary.
(if you have no idea what the hell i'm talking about when i refer to the events of two weeks ago, please go read this and then come back.)
as i was saying, the past 2 weeks have been a whirlwind and i don't really know what's next and i'm trying to be ok with the not knowing.
i'm trying to be ok, period. some days are easier than others. i thought i was doing ok last sunday, but as you'll see below from the stuff i scribbled throughout the day, i wasn't fully back to myself.
note that i'm italicizing last week's scribbles as a way of marking them as separate from this main entry.
10-25 1:51pm
writing for when you look down at your wrists a week after your first suicidal episode in more than 20 years and you think maybe you should get matching tattoos on both wrists because then you won't be as likely to slit your wrists.
yes, this is my life right now. at least i'm still around to write about it, right? right.
~5:10pm
writing for when you play carl thomas' "emotional" at the bar and your friends are excited but they don't really get how true and how real some of the lyrics are for you. you almost wanna say something, but it's kinda taking all you have to keep your facade going and therefore you just sit on it for the moment.
~5:17pm
shall we talk about how i'm trying to be present and have fun and be supportive because a friend is in mourning and it's getting harder and harder to fake it because i am so fucking fed up with everything?
i'm not sure people really get how fucking difficult this shit is and it's sorta kinda my fault for not being able to verbalize how hard things are and it's not fair to expect everyone else to pick up on that shit, and yet...
i'm tired. i had the best of intentions and yet i am so fucking tired. how the fuck am i supposed to be the one who looks out for everyone else if i can't keep my shit together?
amazing how the folks who you would think would know better would be more in tune with what's going on, and yet it's the folks who have enough distance to be observant enough to check up on you like "hey, i know you're not ok, but i'm here if you need me." how does that even work?
how am i supposed to be about this empath life if it's talking all i have (and i really do mean ALL) to keep myself upright? how is this supposed to work? how am i supposed to keep moving forward when all i wanna do is fall down and give up?
how am i supposed to keep moving forward when all i wanna do is fall down and give up?
how am i supposed to keep moving forward when i swear on all things holy and slightly unholy that all i wanna do is fall down and give up?
i thought i was ready. i thought i was better. i thought i could power through this weekend and not fall apart, because other people wanted/needed me to have my shit together so i could be there for them. i'm not even sure how this is supposed to work anymore. i'm tired. i am so very tired. i'm not sure i have the words to articulate just how tired i am at the moment.
this has to stop. i know enough to know that i cannot function well like this. somehow, someway, i need to pull myself together, and not just at work, so i can get back to whatever quasi-normal i was at before, say, last saturday. i don't know how that's supposed to work and, if i'm honest with myself, i'm not entirely convinced i want it to work, but whatever.
this is all part of the work, right? pulling yourself to the side to fall apart because god forbid anyone see your moment of weakness - or better still, they don't see it and you're just like "really? how'd you miss that?" but you can't get mad about it because this is your job. you're the strong one. you're the one who holds everyone else up and when people do bother to inquire about you, it's always in public and therefore you smile and nod like everything is beautiful even though you can feel yourself shattering on the inside, because what else are you gonna do?
i've apologized via email to the friends who got caught up in last sunday's madness. attempting to grin and bear it when they knew good and damn well i wasn't ok wasn't fair to them, and lying and saying i was fine when i clearly wasn't definitely wasn't fair. i fucked that all the way up. if you're reading this, let me apologize again. i'm sorry. i am really and truly sorry.
another theme this year, along with meeting and leaving people where they are, is owning up to your shit. taking ownership of your good, bad, ugly, mediocre, brilliant, nonsensical, whatever moments. being mature enough to say "yeah, that's on me" even when there's no benefit to doing so. faults and all. flaws and all. fuck-ups and all. it's all part of the work, i think.
and yeah, it would've been easy for me to leave all that stuff in my notebook and not share it, but there's a part of me that truly believes that someone out there might be battling through similar shit and their path and pain might be eased a bit by knowing they're not alone in this. i might be wrong, but i'm going with it for now.
have i mentioned how much i love just going with things and not having at least a partial plan of attack? my type a-minus personality is having a fucking field day with this shit. :P
so, um, it's been an eventful two weeks or so over here, to say the least. thanks to everyone who reached out and checked up, and also thanks to those who expressed their support by keeping a distance because they know that's how we roll. i love y'all for it and i am thankful.
i don't know what's next. i am trying my damnedest to be ok with not knowing what's next, but my type a-minus personality is getting in my way. y'all know i need some semblance of order in at least some areas of my life, and the past couple of weeks have been anything but orderly or ordinary.
(if you have no idea what the hell i'm talking about when i refer to the events of two weeks ago, please go read this and then come back.)
as i was saying, the past 2 weeks have been a whirlwind and i don't really know what's next and i'm trying to be ok with the not knowing.
i'm trying to be ok, period. some days are easier than others. i thought i was doing ok last sunday, but as you'll see below from the stuff i scribbled throughout the day, i wasn't fully back to myself.
note that i'm italicizing last week's scribbles as a way of marking them as separate from this main entry.
10-25 1:51pm
writing for when you look down at your wrists a week after your first suicidal episode in more than 20 years and you think maybe you should get matching tattoos on both wrists because then you won't be as likely to slit your wrists.
yes, this is my life right now. at least i'm still around to write about it, right? right.
~5:10pm
writing for when you play carl thomas' "emotional" at the bar and your friends are excited but they don't really get how true and how real some of the lyrics are for you. you almost wanna say something, but it's kinda taking all you have to keep your facade going and therefore you just sit on it for the moment.
~5:17pm
shall we talk about how i'm trying to be present and have fun and be supportive because a friend is in mourning and it's getting harder and harder to fake it because i am so fucking fed up with everything?
i'm not sure people really get how fucking difficult this shit is and it's sorta kinda my fault for not being able to verbalize how hard things are and it's not fair to expect everyone else to pick up on that shit, and yet...
i'm tired. i had the best of intentions and yet i am so fucking tired. how the fuck am i supposed to be the one who looks out for everyone else if i can't keep my shit together?
amazing how the folks who you would think would know better would be more in tune with what's going on, and yet it's the folks who have enough distance to be observant enough to check up on you like "hey, i know you're not ok, but i'm here if you need me." how does that even work?
how am i supposed to be about this empath life if it's talking all i have (and i really do mean ALL) to keep myself upright? how is this supposed to work? how am i supposed to keep moving forward when all i wanna do is fall down and give up?
how am i supposed to keep moving forward when all i wanna do is fall down and give up?
how am i supposed to keep moving forward when i swear on all things holy and slightly unholy that all i wanna do is fall down and give up?
i thought i was ready. i thought i was better. i thought i could power through this weekend and not fall apart, because other people wanted/needed me to have my shit together so i could be there for them. i'm not even sure how this is supposed to work anymore. i'm tired. i am so very tired. i'm not sure i have the words to articulate just how tired i am at the moment.
this has to stop. i know enough to know that i cannot function well like this. somehow, someway, i need to pull myself together, and not just at work, so i can get back to whatever quasi-normal i was at before, say, last saturday. i don't know how that's supposed to work and, if i'm honest with myself, i'm not entirely convinced i want it to work, but whatever.
this is all part of the work, right? pulling yourself to the side to fall apart because god forbid anyone see your moment of weakness - or better still, they don't see it and you're just like "really? how'd you miss that?" but you can't get mad about it because this is your job. you're the strong one. you're the one who holds everyone else up and when people do bother to inquire about you, it's always in public and therefore you smile and nod like everything is beautiful even though you can feel yourself shattering on the inside, because what else are you gonna do?
i've apologized via email to the friends who got caught up in last sunday's madness. attempting to grin and bear it when they knew good and damn well i wasn't ok wasn't fair to them, and lying and saying i was fine when i clearly wasn't definitely wasn't fair. i fucked that all the way up. if you're reading this, let me apologize again. i'm sorry. i am really and truly sorry.
another theme this year, along with meeting and leaving people where they are, is owning up to your shit. taking ownership of your good, bad, ugly, mediocre, brilliant, nonsensical, whatever moments. being mature enough to say "yeah, that's on me" even when there's no benefit to doing so. faults and all. flaws and all. fuck-ups and all. it's all part of the work, i think.
and yeah, it would've been easy for me to leave all that stuff in my notebook and not share it, but there's a part of me that truly believes that someone out there might be battling through similar shit and their path and pain might be eased a bit by knowing they're not alone in this. i might be wrong, but i'm going with it for now.
have i mentioned how much i love just going with things and not having at least a partial plan of attack? my type a-minus personality is having a fucking field day with this shit. :P
Monday, October 26, 2015
and now, a selection from the poetry committee
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
Monday, October 19, 2015
tired of being weak and sick of being strong
[TW: suicide]
saturday night was the first time i have seriously contemplated suicide in more than 20 years.
it started innocently enough. i'd booked a staycation weekend b/c i wanted a bit of a break from real life. i was having a drink in my hotel room, as one does on a saturday night while watching sports, and i felt my old friend anxiety trying to creep in.
"ok, fine," i said. "let's go ahead and have all of the anxiety. i don't have to worry about my right hand burning up with tension because i'm not typing anything and if i start shaking, no one's around to see it."
do you know how difficult it is to watch a hockey game while you're sobbing on the floor? i literally slid out of the chair and onto the floor at one point and when i tell you that this was a particularly ugly cry, please believe me. i cried so much that i was dehydrated and had to down half a bottle of water as soon as i was mobile again.
i got up, though, and i kept drinking (and hydrating) and watching sports, and i figured that mini-breakdown was the end of it. but it wasn't.
"remember me? i came to hang out with you on your 17th birthday! let's talk."
oh for fuck's sake i am not THAT drunk. go away.
"no, really! it's been decades! you're in a hotel room. who cares if housekeeping discovers your body on the floor or in the tub?"
are you serious? i think i have a couple of xanax and my migraine meds and maybe some other OTC meds and a bottle of whiskey. do you really think i'm gonna consume all those just so i can get my stomach pumped later? what sense does that make?
"what sense does it make continuing to fight a battle you're not sure you can win?"
......
"why are you still trying so hard? who really gives a good damn if you make it?"
.......
"see? you can't even answer me! i was right all those years ago, and i'm right now. break one of those glasses and cut your wrists."
yeah, no. i don't like the sight of blood and i'm not a big fan of pain.
"you sure you don't have any other pills with you? just take all of them and drink all of that whiskey and hey, do those windows open?"
i'm on the 3rd floor.
"ok, so take the pills and drink the booze and jump anyway and sit outside and freeze until someone finds you later."
i...i don't think i want to do that.
"who's gonna notice? have you really left that large of a legacy to think you're important enough to be missed?"
..........
"no one cares. no one cared about your poor motherless child shtick when you were 17, and you've said yourself that your current path is difficult and adulting is bullshit."
yes, those are things i have said, but...
"no buts! do it!"
no.
"i'm sorry, what did you say?"
no. i am unsober and therefore i am susceptible to making poor decisions but i'm not that far gone. no.
"you sure? you really think people are gonna care enough to keep you around?"
yeah. yeah, i do. now go away and let me finish my drink in relative peace.
that was part one. after hockey was over and i went out for a greasy dinner because i knew i needed something to soak up all of that booze, i eventually went to bed.
_____________________________________________________
1:30am.
hm. a little early for a panic attack, but i did pass out before midnight and therefore the timing might be a bit off.
oh, this is one of those panic attacks where i can't stop crying. ok.
no, wait, i have to start pacing around the room while i'm crying. can i sit down now? it's kinda hard to remain upright when i'm crying so hard i can barely see straight.
dammit, panic-induced nausea, who invited you? good thing this bathroom floor is nice and cool. i'll just curl up here for a moment until i can stop crying and my stomach feels like it's done contributing to this panic attack party.
ok. gonna drink some water and some ginger ale (way to be prepared, past me) and go back to bed.
"o hai!"
fuck me running. it's *squints at clock* 3am. are we really doing this right now?
"yup! who cares if you wake up crying in the middle of the night on a regular basis? you know there's a way to end this once and for all."
didn't i say earlier that i wasn't ready to give up yet?
"yeah, yeah, that's what they all say, until they see things my way and give in. you're just like them."
no. i am many things and i am very vulnerable at this point, but i am not just like them.
"sure you are. why else would i be here?"
...........
"gotcha! now go grab those pills and let's party."
no.
"DO IT!"
no. i am going back to bed and i will eventually fall asleep once my heart stops racing and i will get up in the morning and go to brunch and continue to live my life.
"you're faking it, you know. you're not really happy."
of course i'm not really happy. that's not news.
"you wouldn't have to worry about this shit if you were dead."
this is a valid point, but i'm not quite ready to concede the battle just yet.
"ok, if you say so..."
i do. please leave. it's late and i'm sober and exhausted and i would like to get some sleep now.
_____________________________________________________
at some point, i did manage to get some sleep, and i did get up the next morning and go to brunch, and i am continuing to live my life, as evidenced by the fact that i am able to share this with you right now.
the title of this post came to me earlier on saturday before the anxiety really kicked in. it's true for so many of us, i think - that we're tired of being weak and sick of being strong. i can only speak for me when i say that somehow, i just find a way to keep going. that's what i did on my 17th birthday. that's what i did on saturday. hopefully that's what i'll continue to do.
saturday night was the first time i have seriously contemplated suicide in more than 20 years.
it started innocently enough. i'd booked a staycation weekend b/c i wanted a bit of a break from real life. i was having a drink in my hotel room, as one does on a saturday night while watching sports, and i felt my old friend anxiety trying to creep in.
"ok, fine," i said. "let's go ahead and have all of the anxiety. i don't have to worry about my right hand burning up with tension because i'm not typing anything and if i start shaking, no one's around to see it."
do you know how difficult it is to watch a hockey game while you're sobbing on the floor? i literally slid out of the chair and onto the floor at one point and when i tell you that this was a particularly ugly cry, please believe me. i cried so much that i was dehydrated and had to down half a bottle of water as soon as i was mobile again.
i got up, though, and i kept drinking (and hydrating) and watching sports, and i figured that mini-breakdown was the end of it. but it wasn't.
"remember me? i came to hang out with you on your 17th birthday! let's talk."
oh for fuck's sake i am not THAT drunk. go away.
"no, really! it's been decades! you're in a hotel room. who cares if housekeeping discovers your body on the floor or in the tub?"
are you serious? i think i have a couple of xanax and my migraine meds and maybe some other OTC meds and a bottle of whiskey. do you really think i'm gonna consume all those just so i can get my stomach pumped later? what sense does that make?
"what sense does it make continuing to fight a battle you're not sure you can win?"
......
"why are you still trying so hard? who really gives a good damn if you make it?"
.......
"see? you can't even answer me! i was right all those years ago, and i'm right now. break one of those glasses and cut your wrists."
yeah, no. i don't like the sight of blood and i'm not a big fan of pain.
"you sure you don't have any other pills with you? just take all of them and drink all of that whiskey and hey, do those windows open?"
i'm on the 3rd floor.
"ok, so take the pills and drink the booze and jump anyway and sit outside and freeze until someone finds you later."
i...i don't think i want to do that.
"who's gonna notice? have you really left that large of a legacy to think you're important enough to be missed?"
..........
"no one cares. no one cared about your poor motherless child shtick when you were 17, and you've said yourself that your current path is difficult and adulting is bullshit."
yes, those are things i have said, but...
"no buts! do it!"
no.
"i'm sorry, what did you say?"
no. i am unsober and therefore i am susceptible to making poor decisions but i'm not that far gone. no.
"you sure? you really think people are gonna care enough to keep you around?"
yeah. yeah, i do. now go away and let me finish my drink in relative peace.
that was part one. after hockey was over and i went out for a greasy dinner because i knew i needed something to soak up all of that booze, i eventually went to bed.
_____________________________________________________
1:30am.
hm. a little early for a panic attack, but i did pass out before midnight and therefore the timing might be a bit off.
oh, this is one of those panic attacks where i can't stop crying. ok.
no, wait, i have to start pacing around the room while i'm crying. can i sit down now? it's kinda hard to remain upright when i'm crying so hard i can barely see straight.
dammit, panic-induced nausea, who invited you? good thing this bathroom floor is nice and cool. i'll just curl up here for a moment until i can stop crying and my stomach feels like it's done contributing to this panic attack party.
ok. gonna drink some water and some ginger ale (way to be prepared, past me) and go back to bed.
"o hai!"
fuck me running. it's *squints at clock* 3am. are we really doing this right now?
"yup! who cares if you wake up crying in the middle of the night on a regular basis? you know there's a way to end this once and for all."
didn't i say earlier that i wasn't ready to give up yet?
"yeah, yeah, that's what they all say, until they see things my way and give in. you're just like them."
no. i am many things and i am very vulnerable at this point, but i am not just like them.
"sure you are. why else would i be here?"
...........
"gotcha! now go grab those pills and let's party."
no.
"DO IT!"
no. i am going back to bed and i will eventually fall asleep once my heart stops racing and i will get up in the morning and go to brunch and continue to live my life.
"you're faking it, you know. you're not really happy."
of course i'm not really happy. that's not news.
"you wouldn't have to worry about this shit if you were dead."
this is a valid point, but i'm not quite ready to concede the battle just yet.
"ok, if you say so..."
i do. please leave. it's late and i'm sober and exhausted and i would like to get some sleep now.
_____________________________________________________
at some point, i did manage to get some sleep, and i did get up the next morning and go to brunch, and i am continuing to live my life, as evidenced by the fact that i am able to share this with you right now.
the title of this post came to me earlier on saturday before the anxiety really kicked in. it's true for so many of us, i think - that we're tired of being weak and sick of being strong. i can only speak for me when i say that somehow, i just find a way to keep going. that's what i did on my 17th birthday. that's what i did on saturday. hopefully that's what i'll continue to do.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
confessions of a recovering gladiator
hi.
my name is eulalia, and i am a recovering gladiator.
the new season of "scandal" starts tomorrow and i'm having difficulty getting excited about it. i will more than likely watch the premiere, but it won't be necessarily be appointment television with me glued to the couch for the whole hour and live-tweeting the whole thing. i'm sure there are a number of you who will be greatly relieved by this news, especially if you've followed me on twitter during previous seasons of "scandal" and have seen just how active my feed can be for that hour and some change each week.
i've been trying to figure out the rationale for my decline in devotion, aside from the shark jumpage (if you're a fan and you watched last season, especially the finale, then you're probably nodding your head in agreement right now), and it occurred to me that it's easier for me to let go of "scandal" now than it would have been when the show first started.
"scandal" premiered during my quasi-nanny days in deerfield. i would record each week's episode and then watch it friday morning, usually while the twins were napping. i'd live-tweet in the sense of posting my reactions as i was watching each episode the day after. twitter was a huge lifeline for me in those days because it was a great way to stay connected with people and it didn't require a huge amount of thought, which worked because, as a lot of you may remember, i had a lot of shit going on back then.
when i started moving closer, and finally returned to the city, my obsession with "scandal" continued. in hindsight, i think the show was/is a great escape route. it's soapy and cheesy and just provocative enough to keep gladiators like me tuned in every week. it really was appointment television for me. any number of y'all can attest to the fact that i would arrange my schedule to make sure i was in front of a tv with my laptop and/or, once i finally got a smartphone, my phone, ready to tweet along with the cast and my fellow gladiators.
this upcoming season, though? i don't know. enough has changed in my life, the return to full-time employment being a large part of it, that i'm not sure i need that weekly escapism as much. i'm on twitter as much as i ever was, i think, but it's not coming from a sense of "omfg my life is in shambles and tweeting with y'all is the only thing that makes any sense right now" as it was a few years ago. i'm still stressed out about any number of things, but knowing that i have a steady paycheck and am slowly saving enough to move back out on my own is so wonderfully fantastic. i can go out for drinks or a impromptu dinner (as i've done twice this week already) and not panic about where the money is coming from or how my phone bill's gonna get paid and will i have enough money to get back and forth to work. these are blessings and i am grateful for all of them.
the fact that this new chapter of my life, unfinished as it is, coincides with the return of "scandal" is really nothing more than that - a coincidence. i just think it's interesting how a show, and how i interacted with that show, kept me going for so long. i think it's great that i feel like i'm in a place where i don't need that crutch as much as i once did. i won't go so far as to say that "scandal" is now just another tv show for me, but i can say that for this coming season, i'm more interested in the plot twists in my own life than in the ones on screen for that hour on thursday nights. i'm sure wine and popcorn, or some sort of booze and snacks, will still be involved somehow.
my name is eulalia, and i am a recovering gladiator.
the new season of "scandal" starts tomorrow and i'm having difficulty getting excited about it. i will more than likely watch the premiere, but it won't be necessarily be appointment television with me glued to the couch for the whole hour and live-tweeting the whole thing. i'm sure there are a number of you who will be greatly relieved by this news, especially if you've followed me on twitter during previous seasons of "scandal" and have seen just how active my feed can be for that hour and some change each week.
i've been trying to figure out the rationale for my decline in devotion, aside from the shark jumpage (if you're a fan and you watched last season, especially the finale, then you're probably nodding your head in agreement right now), and it occurred to me that it's easier for me to let go of "scandal" now than it would have been when the show first started.
"scandal" premiered during my quasi-nanny days in deerfield. i would record each week's episode and then watch it friday morning, usually while the twins were napping. i'd live-tweet in the sense of posting my reactions as i was watching each episode the day after. twitter was a huge lifeline for me in those days because it was a great way to stay connected with people and it didn't require a huge amount of thought, which worked because, as a lot of you may remember, i had a lot of shit going on back then.
when i started moving closer, and finally returned to the city, my obsession with "scandal" continued. in hindsight, i think the show was/is a great escape route. it's soapy and cheesy and just provocative enough to keep gladiators like me tuned in every week. it really was appointment television for me. any number of y'all can attest to the fact that i would arrange my schedule to make sure i was in front of a tv with my laptop and/or, once i finally got a smartphone, my phone, ready to tweet along with the cast and my fellow gladiators.
this upcoming season, though? i don't know. enough has changed in my life, the return to full-time employment being a large part of it, that i'm not sure i need that weekly escapism as much. i'm on twitter as much as i ever was, i think, but it's not coming from a sense of "omfg my life is in shambles and tweeting with y'all is the only thing that makes any sense right now" as it was a few years ago. i'm still stressed out about any number of things, but knowing that i have a steady paycheck and am slowly saving enough to move back out on my own is so wonderfully fantastic. i can go out for drinks or a impromptu dinner (as i've done twice this week already) and not panic about where the money is coming from or how my phone bill's gonna get paid and will i have enough money to get back and forth to work. these are blessings and i am grateful for all of them.
the fact that this new chapter of my life, unfinished as it is, coincides with the return of "scandal" is really nothing more than that - a coincidence. i just think it's interesting how a show, and how i interacted with that show, kept me going for so long. i think it's great that i feel like i'm in a place where i don't need that crutch as much as i once did. i won't go so far as to say that "scandal" is now just another tv show for me, but i can say that for this coming season, i'm more interested in the plot twists in my own life than in the ones on screen for that hour on thursday nights. i'm sure wine and popcorn, or some sort of booze and snacks, will still be involved somehow.
Thursday, September 17, 2015
grasping at and catching dreams
[TW: sexual abuse/assault/misconduct]
i saw a movie called "dreamcatcher." it knocked me for more of a loop than i expected. yes, i bought a ticket for this knowing that it would probably make me cry. and it did. what i didn't expect was to be transported back to the young girl i was, trying to make sense of things. i cried for the girls and women in the film, and i cried for myself, and i cried for so many other countless women and girls. it was actually kind of a combination cry, because i didn't completely lose my composure.
i sat there in the theater, seeing these women and girls in and around the city that i love (yes, we're talking about chicago), who'd gone through so much and still had so much to endure and i couldn't help but wonder about how the hell did i get so lucky? ok, maybe "lucky" isn't the best term, but let's go with it for now. bad things happened to me and, by most societal measures, i made it out ok. i graduated high school, picked up a degree or 3, i don't have any kids...all the check boxes are filled, y'know?
but what the fuck makes me so different from the women in the movie? how'd i make it through and they didn't or at least haven't made it yet? i couldn't piece it together. i'm still puzzling through it, to be honest. i may never figure it out and i'm trying to be ok with it. but, oh, i empathized with these women and girls, y'all. and when brenda, the subject of this documentary, admitted to having a few days during which she wasn't sure how to keep functioning and doing the work? that's a paraphrase, but damn if i didn't identify and start crying along with her and a couple other people in the theater.
i made a donation to the dreamcatcher foundation this week. that's how much the movie affected me. "dreamcatcher" is amazing, if a bit triggering, and if you're able to watch it if/when it comes to a theater near you, please do so. i'll pass you some kleenex. i was so keyed up after the movie that i didn't feel like i could go straight home, so i stopped at the bar and had a few drinks and caught up with a few friends. that's another post, though, about the whole not feeling like i can go home thing.
i went to the movies again last night. i'd missed previous screenings of "amy" around the city so i made sure to put this on my calendar and buy a ticket. i'm so glad i did, even though i spent half the movie just saying "oh, amy" to myself over and over. so many people failed amy throughout her life, and i'm glad the movie didn't gloss over it.
this is what i've been pondering since friday and again since last night. how is it that so many of us manage to grasp at and eventually catch our dreams, and so many more people are still trying to become mobile enough to even grasp at their dreams, let alone figure out how to catch at least one of them? it doesn't seem fair and yet i know this is how the world works, and so i am trying not to over-think it, but i guess that's part of this whole empath/caregiver thing - pondering the how/why of things are fucked up even while you're trying to do your best to make things even just a little bit better.
it's like i keep reminding myself - it's ok not to have all of the answers because i damn sure don't have all of the questions. just keep doing the work. keep pushing forward. it's not as easy as it sounds, trust me, but sometimes it's all we can do.
Saturday, August 22, 2015
recipe review: shrimp and broccoli rotini
sometimes i'll come across a recipe and i'll put it to the side to make eventually. this shrimp and broccoli rotini recipe was one i'd knew i'd be making sooner rather than later, especially since i had everything on hand except the shrimp. when quasi-landlord mentioned that she'd seen shrimp on sale at mariano's this week, it was time.
i used whole wheat fusilli instead of rotini b/c that's what was on hand. same goes for using frozen broccoli (shoutout to those giant bags of frozen broccoli at costco). the shrimp were 31-40 count and i wasn't motivated enough to take the tails off before making the dish. i used the zest and the juice of a whole lemon because lemon and shrimp and broccoli are awesome. i also added a clove of crushed garlic because garlic is also awesome and there wasn't any in this recipe which had to be an oversight. salt & pepper to taste, and even though i made this after lunch and therefore i'm not even remotely hungry right now, i had to take a couple bites. nom. would make again. would possibly add some white wine because that seems like something that would be delicious.
i used whole wheat fusilli instead of rotini b/c that's what was on hand. same goes for using frozen broccoli (shoutout to those giant bags of frozen broccoli at costco). the shrimp were 31-40 count and i wasn't motivated enough to take the tails off before making the dish. i used the zest and the juice of a whole lemon because lemon and shrimp and broccoli are awesome. i also added a clove of crushed garlic because garlic is also awesome and there wasn't any in this recipe which had to be an oversight. salt & pepper to taste, and even though i made this after lunch and therefore i'm not even remotely hungry right now, i had to take a couple bites. nom. would make again. would possibly add some white wine because that seems like something that would be delicious.
Monday, August 10, 2015
unhappy birthdays
lori would have been 54 on tuesday. james would have been 53 on wednesday. this is the first year without both of them around. that realization hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks this weekend, and i've been reeling ever since.
as accustomed as i am to dealing with the death of loved ones, i am still a bit angry over losing two of my favorite family members. lori wasn't technically family, in the sense that we shared no blood relations (that any of us knew about, anyway), but i claimed her like she was mine and she definitely claimed my family like it was hers.
every summer, lori would start in on what she wanted for her birthday. she'd remind us that her birthday was the day before james' and therefore we had no excuse for forgetting it.
y'all know me. i forgot it on a regular basis and she loved me anyway.
i didn't call them nearly as often i as probably should have, but james and lori loved me anyway. flaws and all, faults and all, fuckups and all.
their faith and their grace astonish me to this day. they loved god and while james wasn't as demonstrative as lori was about it, you knew. it wasn't a secret. it was nice to have that balance, actually, between auntie lori catching the holy ghost, complete with what i like to call "praise giggles," and "uncle" james, posted up somewhere quietly, at least by comparison, acknowledging his blessings.
their grace in how they dealt with their illnesses. how they never lost faith. how they inspired, and continue to inspire, so many of us to keep going. this is not to say that they didn't suffer, because they did. that they didn't complain, because they did. there was occasional wallowing because they were human and they were hurting and they were strong enough to admit when they were feeling weak.
i didn't visit james and lori nearly as much as i should have during their multiple hospital stays. they knew me and my hangups about hospitals and loved me anyway, even as i kept my distance.
james died 6 years ago and there are times when the pain is still as fresh as it was when i first found out. lori's death is only 6 months old and i still had her phone numbers in my phone until maybe a month or so ago.
it really, really sucks that they're not around anymore and, as you may have guessed, i am not dealing well with these birthdays this year. i am angry and confused and stressed about so many things and knowing that lori and james aren't around, even it i wasn't actively reaching out to them in that moment, really fucking sucks.
you see why i'm trying to aspire to their levels of grace and faith? life is really fucking difficult and while i am thankful to have james & lori as examples to look up to, i would much rather have them here. i know i'm lucky to have had such wonderful people in my life. it's just that sometimes, like this week, i wish that they'd gotten to stick around a little bit longer.
instead, i will keep working on developing and strengthening the crazy faith i need to deal with the lack of serenity that is my life. my brother is with me wherever i go, since it's his chain that i wear around my neck. lori's never far away, because i swear her spirit is just that big and, if i listen close enough, i can hear her laughing and talking shit and praising god all without missing a beat.
god, grant me the grace and wisdom to keep working on the crazy faith i need to confront the lack of serenity. may it be enough. amen.
as accustomed as i am to dealing with the death of loved ones, i am still a bit angry over losing two of my favorite family members. lori wasn't technically family, in the sense that we shared no blood relations (that any of us knew about, anyway), but i claimed her like she was mine and she definitely claimed my family like it was hers.
every summer, lori would start in on what she wanted for her birthday. she'd remind us that her birthday was the day before james' and therefore we had no excuse for forgetting it.
y'all know me. i forgot it on a regular basis and she loved me anyway.
i didn't call them nearly as often i as probably should have, but james and lori loved me anyway. flaws and all, faults and all, fuckups and all.
their faith and their grace astonish me to this day. they loved god and while james wasn't as demonstrative as lori was about it, you knew. it wasn't a secret. it was nice to have that balance, actually, between auntie lori catching the holy ghost, complete with what i like to call "praise giggles," and "uncle" james, posted up somewhere quietly, at least by comparison, acknowledging his blessings.
their grace in how they dealt with their illnesses. how they never lost faith. how they inspired, and continue to inspire, so many of us to keep going. this is not to say that they didn't suffer, because they did. that they didn't complain, because they did. there was occasional wallowing because they were human and they were hurting and they were strong enough to admit when they were feeling weak.
i didn't visit james and lori nearly as much as i should have during their multiple hospital stays. they knew me and my hangups about hospitals and loved me anyway, even as i kept my distance.
james died 6 years ago and there are times when the pain is still as fresh as it was when i first found out. lori's death is only 6 months old and i still had her phone numbers in my phone until maybe a month or so ago.
it really, really sucks that they're not around anymore and, as you may have guessed, i am not dealing well with these birthdays this year. i am angry and confused and stressed about so many things and knowing that lori and james aren't around, even it i wasn't actively reaching out to them in that moment, really fucking sucks.
you see why i'm trying to aspire to their levels of grace and faith? life is really fucking difficult and while i am thankful to have james & lori as examples to look up to, i would much rather have them here. i know i'm lucky to have had such wonderful people in my life. it's just that sometimes, like this week, i wish that they'd gotten to stick around a little bit longer.
instead, i will keep working on developing and strengthening the crazy faith i need to deal with the lack of serenity that is my life. my brother is with me wherever i go, since it's his chain that i wear around my neck. lori's never far away, because i swear her spirit is just that big and, if i listen close enough, i can hear her laughing and talking shit and praising god all without missing a beat.
god, grant me the grace and wisdom to keep working on the crazy faith i need to confront the lack of serenity. may it be enough. amen.
Friday, August 07, 2015
friends in low places, high places, and everywhere in between
funny how the universe works sometimes. i wrote that last post a couple of weeks ago and i swear that for almost every single day since then, i have have some sort of positive interaction with a friend of mine, whether in person or online or via text. if i was so inclined, i could sit here and look at my calendar from the past 2 weeks or so and point to each day and say "here's when i ran into so-and-so," or "i hung out with such-and-such," or "person xyz emailed or texted me and it made me smile."
my heart gets so damn full when things like that happen, and i try to use that as motivation to keep going. not gonna lie, though - i am tired. like right now, as i type this, i am waiting for the rest of my laundry to finish so i can fold it and put it away and then go the fuck to sleep for as long as i am able.
this is all part of the work. i swear i say that out loud to myself at least once a week. it's nice to be able to see the good in the midst of the madness, though. y'all keep me going in ways i can't articulate right now because did i mention that i'm fucking exhausted?
y'all be good.
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