Woot woot!
Today was awesome! I was a little drained by the meds, but I crawled out of bed around 10:30 and met my friend Candice for what is becoming our bi-weekly dog park excursion. We always take Leo, her two dogs, and her baby Audrey, who is now a whopping 11 months old! Sometimes her husband comes, too, but usually it’s just us girls. There’s a fantastic, huge off-leash dog park in Redmond, and we just walk the entire loop around it and chat about life and play with Audrey. I’ve never had a baby who I see with this level of frequency. It is so much fun to watch her grow! Every week she’s a little bigger, a little more engaged with the world. Today she could totally look me in the eye, hold eye contact, and smile.
Candice has to go back to work full-time soon, and she’s worried about what she’s going to do with Audrey on the days that she and her husband are working the same hours. I was like, “Well, I mean, I know I don’t have a lot of experience with babies, but I’m willing to help out in a pinch.” I thought for sure she’d be like, “Oh, no, thanks, but, yeah, you know nothing about babies.” Instead she was like, “Why don’t you come over to my house for a couple hours and I’ll teach you how to do everything, and then you can babysit.” I know it seems like a simple thing, but I was just so honored that someone would find me trustworthy enough to take care of such a small baby. Not that there’s any reason I’m not trustworthy, but, still. It felt huge to be trusted like that. Like I’m finally a grown woman or something. I’m so excited to get to help with Audrey! I love being helpful!
After the park, I met up with my friends Gillian and Katherine for brunch. The service was horrific, but the food was delish. Katherine and I have had totally opposite schedules lately, so it was the first time I’d really gotten to chat with her in months. She’s so awesome. She always makes me laugh, and she’s one of those people who really just makes me feel less alone in this world.
I came home and vegged for awhile, and then my friend Joyce texted me to say she was having some people over for dinner. Joyce and I were set up on a “friend date” a few months ago by one of my girlfriends from high school, who went to college with Joyce, realized we both lived in Seattle, and realized that we’d adore each other. I’d never met any of her other friends, but she had a perfect-sized group of people over, just the right amount for a great dinner party, and I ended up really loving everyone there. They all had fascinating life stories and experiences, they were all very smart and funny, and I ended up staying until past 10 pm. Joyce has traveled the world as an anthropologist, and her apartment just has the absolute coolest decorations. She had a print on the wall from some artist in New York — she told me her name, Mayra Something, but I forget it now — and it was just brilliant. I need to email her and find out all of what it said, but I remember this line, handwritten: “I happen to exist. End of discussion.”
Brilliant, right?
I happen to exist. End of discussion.
Here’s what I’ve noticed: I am quietly becoming one of the strongest people I know. It wasn’t until just a couple years ago that I was even open to the possibility that I was a strong person. I thought I was the antithesis. I thought I was fragile, breakable, small. I recall sobbing on the phone to my mother after a boyfriend broke up with me about three years ago. “I can’t do this, Mom,” I said. “I can’t go back into the world alone. I’m not strong enough.” My mother said simply, “Yes, you are. You are stronger than you know, much stronger.” I didn’t believe her, but right then I became open to believing her. I became open to the idea that I might have strength.
I’ve been single since that break-up, and I’ve been through a lot in that time. I’ve been through a lot in my life, having battled mental illness since I was a young teenager. And what I’ve noticed is that every time I go through a really rough period, a time that I don’t know how I’ll survive, that I don’t really think I can live through, something inside me steels. I always survive. Sometimes I look back on it and I don’t know how I survived, but I did. I went into battle mode, and I fought. And I can feel it when I come out of it. I can feel my insides, like an outline of my chest cavity and my spine and my neck, turn hard, like metal. Like armor. Like I’m a little bit stronger this time. Like I’m prepared for the next one, prepared for anything. And what I can see now is that I’ve become a little soldier underneath my skin. I am malleable and I am brave and I am tough.
I happen to exist.
End of discussion.
