It's. A. Little. Too. Much.
I think they ate waffles yesterday, too. I wish I made eggs.
I can’t forget their water bottles this morning.
Ugh, I should check in on news in Minnesota. And Iran. After school drop-off.
Did my best friend with a new baby get any sleep last night? I’ll text her later.
When is payroll due? I never replied to that guy yesterday.
Is my rental car booked for my conference next week? I’ll check today.
Why is my phone almost dead? I have to find a charger.
I should delete social media for the week. But then how will I get the news?
I can’t forget to email those two clients an update this morning.
Am I working out today? I need to.
OK we are going to be late. Are those the right uniforms?
My brain.
Is everyone pretending the world is normal so they can try to function as usual? Constant thinking and consuming has depleted me of the energy I want and need for creative and cup-filling times. The best, and strangest, thing for my mind was the 9-hour-long Verizon service outage yesterday. I sat in my daughter’s WiFi-free dance studio and read my book (highly recommend) without tapping on the phone screen to light it up and search for a number on my messages icon. There won’t be a number; no one can reach me. Nothing, including news — good or bad — can reach me either. Maybe I need a break from all of this news. All of this “stuff.”
When we returned from dance, my parents (visiting Florida for the week) were inside with my son. They were eating pasta and laughing, sort of, about my Dad’s confusion over his inoperative phone. He assumed that after my 9-year-old son played a song on it during their short drive to soccer practice, he somehow also disconnected it from the network and hung him out to dry: an old man, phone-less, confused, and still in charge of this kid who he thought ruined his life. Eventually, a parent at practice updated him on the service snafu so he stopped yelling onto the field asking my kid what’s wrong with his phone. Sigh.
My bestie and I were texting last night about the vulnerability of the world. Nothing like a massive communication disruption to get people thinking about the potential for life’s great inconveniences. “Between this and nonstop brutal news, times somehow feel like they’re inching toward that Covid-era feeling.” How do we navigate fragile times? My nervous system has historically been shot by chaos. But I know that I can protect my peace better now, and I need to. We have to invest in ourselves, our people, our homes. We must treat the simplest joys like ginormous gifts. A really cold vodka martini with a friend. Your kids pulling something out of their backpack that they can’t wait to show you. The sunset being top-notch on your walk. Oof. All of that is just the best stuff if you really think about it. The universe is like: here’s your sign to go within, sink deep, and remember what matters. The noise is a distraction. The really wonderful things are happening right in your living room.
When I first had kids it drove me crazy to hear people suggest that I enjoy every minute. That’s not possible, or healthy. And I don’t. What I realize I can do, however, is make the most of very small yet profound moments that move me. I’ve taken things for granted and I know I don’t want to. Snow on trees (versus complaining I’m freezing) and waves crashing (versus screaming at my kids to be careful). You get it. I’m feeling pulled toward inwardness, and if you are, too, then maybe we take our collective sign to spend some time in sun or snow, and just be.
The road to peace is a bumpy one for me. If you read my beta blocker story, you know your girl has tried some things. Thanks to my dentist, I sleep with a very chic (OK thick) mouthguard to stop me from grinding my teeth all night. I am still basically prying my jaw open when I wake up in the morning, but, hey, at least my teeth aren’t chipped once my mouth actually relaxes enough to open it? Tomorrow’s Friday: here’s to a shorter mental load list in the morning, and some emotional distance between us and the news. If you see something simple and wonderful tomorrow, take is as your sign of gratitude awareness and I’ll do the same. And if you see me taking my alone time out there in the world, contemplating and soaking in what I’m drawn to, and it just so happens to be at Jersey Mike’s with a BLT, mind your business.
(Thanks for welcoming me back after a long personal writing hiatus. Soon enough, I plan to write about the time I thought I was dying this summer after sinus surgery, some work evolutions, and what it feels like to be closer to 40 than 30 when you’re really only 20. If anyone more than my husband and 3 friends read this, you’re the best.)
Skiing with my little guy in the ADKs on my birthday over break! I dropped my white mitten in the snow after this photo and never found it. I quit after this run to warm my fingers with a bucket of french fries - oops.
This blog was originally posted on Meg’s Substack, subscribe to follow along and read all of her essays there.