August 18, 2018

I had a great time with friends tonight and simultaneously realized I am 95 years old on the inside and want to be home in pajamas by 10. WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN???

I genuinely tried to talk my friends out of going out after we watched THE LION KING in the park like children. We ended up going out. It was lovely, but I swear to you the minute one of my friends yawned, I pointed at her and was like, “YES” then said I felt the same and was ready to go. I left before her.

On another note, I think sometimes people don’t live up to our expectations, however low we feel they are, and it can be really hard to accept and navigate. I give 100% to every thing I do. If I commit to a project, a person, a lifestyle, a sport, an activity, to help someone with something, etc. I will go to the ends of the earth to be successful at it. Apparently, not everyone is like that. I feel pretty frustrated by this realization because even though no one has to be AS committed as I am, I cannot believe people want to half-ass things or agree to do something but not really do it. WHAT? Don’t agree to it. People are counting on you. Don’t accept responsibilities. Don’t pursue a difficult career. Don’t claim you’ll do something. If you are a flaky, non-committal, irresponsible, half-assing, low-effort, inconsiderate, unreliable person, don’t agree to anything with any other humans. People deserve to be able to count on others, however large or small that thing is. I know that it might seem easier to agree sometimes and then work out the excuses later, but that’s crap and also only works when you’re low on the invite list to an acquaintance’s party where they won’t notice your absence.

Honestly. I want to be able to count on other people. I know we’re taught to look out for ourselves, but it’s in everyone’s best interest to be present and to follow through. Everyone wins. I cannot see a downside. BE A PERSON. SHOW THE FUCK UP. That is all.

Day 69 – Unreliable People and Pajamas

August 17, 2018

Did I get out of pajamas today? Yes. Did I leave my house? Also, yes. BUT – I left for no more than 40 minutes (to go to the grocery store) and I changed from pajamas into workout clothes so when I sat on the couch, I felt better about myself. So.

There are definitely days where I feel more like my old self, and today was somewhat that day. But I was done by 2:30 PM. I tried to keep my spirits up, but it’s hard when I want to be successful and productive, but I find myself focusing on how sad I am. How do I change my focus? I usually use cake and cookies, but I’m trying not to do that right now. SO HOW DO OTHER PEOPLE DO IT? How does anyone focus on the good rather than the debilitating sadness? I swear I feel like I’m trying my best, but it doesn’t seem to be working all that well.

On a happier note, I did three crosswords last night before I fell asleep on the couch. Is that a happier note? Unclear, but maybe it’s a small win.

Day 68 – Trying My Best

August 14, 2018

Another tough day. When will it get easier? When will I be able to function normally again? Ever?

I tried to write today but couldn’t due to stressful circumstances and the endless grief. Then I tried to watch Netflix to distract myself, but instead bit off all my fingernails that I’d finally grown out and ate a bag of Milanos. Wouldn’t want to stop there, so I also ate half a baguette and drank 5 glasses of iced tea and a bag of Smart Food, THEN I finally put on a bra at 8 PM to leave the house and realized I haven’t showered in 4 days. I left anyway.

Grief is hard. It’s very distracting and emotionally draining and devastating and makes it nearly impossible to do anything useful with your time. I’m supposed to have a script done by tomorrow, but I can’t focus on it and just keep randomly cutting out lines of dialogue or deleting sections or adding new ones in that don’t make sense and don’t fit. So I took an appropriate-length 30 page script and turned it into 40 pages and then got distracted by cookies and stress.

Day 65 – Grief Sucks

August 13, 2018

Here’s the thing… The thing is… I can’t articulate the thing. I spent the evening at a work-related workshop I got invited to, and I can’t quite capture my feelings. On the one hand, it felt good to be in a space working on my craft. On the other hand, I don’t think I had a lot to contribute tonight. Maybe I was off my game. Maybe the material wasn’t accessible to me. Maybe the writing worked well enough that it was easy to ignore the flaws but not so well that it blew me away. Mediocrity, or something just north of there, is easy to gloss over because it’s hard to correct.

So, instead, I ate chips and thought about whether or not my stuff would land. Would I be mediocre without a solution? I had no notes for the first person, but I honestly thought it was okay. It felt like a scene I’d seen before (do NOT pardon the pun), so it must work because someone has put money behind that at one time or another and it probably met with some level of success. So who am I to say it doesn’t work? It DOES work, it just isn’t exactly what I would want it to be. But who am I?

Should I tell her that if I wrote it, I’d want it to show more push and pull, more fighting, more struggle, more frustration, more lightness, more everything? Or should I smile and nod while eating a seemingly endless bag of chips, which is what I actually did?!

And then there’s that very real moment where I had to wonder – really, really wonder – if what I would bring in is actually better. Or worse. Or the same. Or neither. I listened and I watched and I felt like I was truly being faced with things that needed a lot of work. Great. Let’s work them. But why these are all working writers and directors? What are they doing differently than I am? Maybe they’re not bitching about it online… Hard to know for sure. I don’t know anything anymore.

But then I left my confused state behind in that theatre momentarily when I got a text from my parents bringing me back down to the reality of my life. I hate those texts. I hate that I look at my phone afraid I’ll have one. I hate that I hate hearing from them and I hate that I hate the way even a confused moment can seem “good” in comparison. I just wanted a normal moment where I thought about my career and not about the pain and the struggle and the fears and the deep down awfulness of the rest of everything. Thank goodness for modern technology reminding me that that’s not possible.

Day 64 – I Don’t Know Anything Anymore

August 11, 2018

Some days are much harder than others. This one had a lot of ups and downs. I had a ton of sad moments where I fought back tears and a ton of happy ones where I laughed until I cried. So, either way, there were tears. Maybe that’s just life. Maybe that’s everyone.

I missed posting this. Accountability.

Day 62 – Tears

August 5, 2018

If we adapt, does that mean we forget? If we can go on with our lives, does that mean we don’t care? I struggle with this a lot. I am not okay.

There is not a day that goes by where I don’t regret how things went or ever feel like my old self or feel okay in any way. But I also laugh. I think about my future. I take naps and walks and buy clothes I like. I book trips and go out to dinner. I take vacations. I watch Parks & Rec with a smile on my face. I dream of waffles. I do all the mundane things, too. I do my dishes and clean my bathroom and try to remember the last time I washed my sheets. I text my friends about their everyday problems, and I genuinely want to help them even though a second later it all seems so silly. Lose 5 pounds. Don’t lose 5 pounds. Who cares?!

I cry at inopportune times over chicken piccata or walking down the sidewalk. I can’t watch certain commercials (I’m looking at you, Sarah McLachlan) without it ruining my whole day and I can’t visit certain places (so long, Hawaii) without having a mental breakdown. I think in equal parts with a brain of absolute all-encompassing grief and with hope for my life and future. Devastation is like that, maybe. Maybe everyone goes through this. Maybe we have to survive, because we’re animals, and that’s what we do. And survival means adapting. Means moving on. Means ignoring or forgetting. But then we’re humans again, and we can’t imagine that we could ever have moved on.

I think my mom feels the same way, but we don’t talk about it.

Day 56 – Grief and Comic Relief

August 3, 2018

Oh my lord. I just saw “Eighth Grade” and I swear I’ve never had so many feels. All the feels. The actress and storyline are so essentially relatable and loveable and cringy and cute. I laughed, I cried, I remembered all the times kids were mean to me…

Growing up is never easy. Life isn’t fair. Someone said those things to me on repeat as a kid, usually my mom probably, but nothing reminds you so obviously of that fact until you see a cinematic throwback to experiences that mirrored your own to make you sit up and hate/love the person in front of you as you beg her not to make a bad decision.

I don’t think we ever stop growing up. When I look back on me and my decisions a year ago, a week ago, yesterday, I immediately cringe and try to find a hole to go crawl into. I stay up and night and wonder WHY IN THE NAME OF GOD DID I SAY THAT? THAT’S SO EMBARRASSING. And then I think of something I DID that was actually worse than what I said and all I can think is, AND THAT, TOO? CAN YOU JUST BE NORMAL FOR ONCE?

No, no I cannot be. I must be weird, it’s my only option, it seems. I must draw awkward and embarrassing attention to myself. I must relive those moments when I’m trying to sleep and get jolted awake again from the horrible memories. I must push people away with my awkwardness and then wonder why I don’t have any friends. Some people have to keep up their perfect Instagram stories. This is just my cross to bear…

Day 54 – Eighth Grade and Growing Up