March 14

Today is an important day. First of all daylight saving time started, and that means we made it through another cold, dark winter. Or in my case, just dark. Perks of California living. There is honestly just about nothing better than when it starts to stay light at night time. Today I spent 47 minutes outside on my bike. After all the problems with anemia, dizziness, depression etc..., it’s amazing to be able to go outside and do something I love and enjoy it. Tonight, Taylor Swift won her third Album of the Year Grammy. I love to see her thriving. 

On a more serious note, my Grandma died a year ago today which started a series of really difficult things for me, not all of which have resolved. But I've made it through a lot of them which is, to me, something I can say I'm proud of. 

An Actual Nightmare I Had

I was sitting in a chair in a room with a paramedic. I didn’t know him. Suddenly, he pointed out that I was having an a symptomatic spontaneous tension pneumothorax on the right side. Sure enough he was right. At that point, I became short of breath. My blood pressure was 60/42. They were setting up for a chest tube, but I knew I was about to code. I yelled out “Needle!” (Which obviously means needle decompression). I passed out on the ground. The paramedic couldn’t remember where to do it. “Above the second or third rib?! I can’t remember!” I mustered the strength to wheeze, “Third.” He puts the needle in.  It helps. I can breathe. The surgeon removes the needle because thet are going to set up for a chest tube. Then the surgeon decides I shouldn’t get a chest tube until after CT, and first he wants a lateral chest X-ray. I’m sitting there and the pneumothorax starts to expand and expand. I’m turning gray. I can’t breathe. 

I wake up panting and freaking out and am so wound up I can’t fall back asleep. 

This is what happens when I dream about work, which thankfully isn’t often. I assume other people dream about not having the deck of slides for that presentation or showing up naked to work. I dream about dying in a very specific and real way. I would like a dream refund, please. 

On reading and watching tragedies. Also, spoiler alerts.

I’m reading a book called They Both Die at the End. 

I don’t know what it’s about but I can imagine it doesn’t have a happy ending. I’ve always had an affinity for books that are what my mom calls “oppressive.” My mother’s nickname is Pollyanna, so you can imagine that she doesn’t share this affinity. One of my favorite books as a kid was from the Scholastic book fair in fourth grade called Mick Harte was Here. On the first page, maybe even the first line?  his sister (the narrator) tells you that Mick died. She’s writing a book about how he died; he wasn’t wearing a helmet and got hit by a car on his bike. (Was this also a precursor to my life in trauma? Probably). 

I also remember as an eight year old loving the movie ET. You know how everyone was afraid of that movie as a kid? Not me. The part where they are doing CPR and then shocking ET and then he comes back to life! My little heart rejoiced. 

For the last 13 years I’ve been slowly working my way through The Complete Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway. Not a one has had a happy ending. In the first one, the wife accidentally shoots and kills her husband on a hunting trip. In the second, a teenager accidentally gets stabbed in the femoral artery while pretend playing matador and bleeds out in minutes. These are the things I read. 

The Fault in Our Stars

Me Before You 

Books that make me sob my eyes out. 

I love an emotional and meaningful death. Dobby in Harry Potter is one example. Also Snape. 

I am pro catharsis. 

So I think it’s strange how I recently read The Song of Achilles and was surprisingly sad at the end because he died. Well not just he died, but that he died because of hubris. That’s the problem though! I knew he died because, hello, I watched Hercules as a kid. I took 9th grade English and knew about Greek tragedies and such. I don’t know why I was expecting something different out of this book, but I was so disappointed in Achilles. He should have made better choices! But he didn’t. He died. 

I was so disappointed in him that I picked up They Both Die at the End. How is this supposed to make me feel better?? 

Licorice Straw

Airport snacks. Don’t panic because it’s Pepsi. They didn’t have Diet Coke. I drink my soda like a grown up. 

Mourner’s Kaddish

I read this poem after Ruth Bader Ginsberg died. Her death sparked something in me. A death and a rebirth. I felt so frustrated at the hypocrisy that lead to appointment of a new Supreme Court judge prior to the election. I felt so frustrated by the general state of politics and Coronavirus denial that I deleted all my social media. I realized that if I wanted to feel less angry, I’d have to do it away from the vitriol I kept reading online. And I haven’t been back. Right now I have no intention of going back. That’s not to say that I’ll never feel like social media has a place in my life, but right now the time away has been cool and refreshing. 

Today on my way back to California after helping my mom recover from a knee replacement, I saw this poem. 

I don’t think there is a better poem about death out there. I once saw an obituary where the family said “if you want to honor our dad, go out and pet a dog.” When I die, I hope that’s what people do. Give me away in love. 

2020, Musically Speaking

On October 15, Wildflowers and All the Rest by Tom Petty was released. In college, I dated a guy who loved Tom Petty with every fiber of his being (You’re  welcome for using that phrase. He would be happy that I did, I think. When he was telling me about his siblings on like our 4th date he said, “E____ loves Michael Jackson.” That was her defining characteristic. Loving Tom Petty was one of his. Probably it still is. I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him in a decade. He’s married to not me, poor guy. But I don’t think you really “grow out of” loving Tom Petty). Anyway, as a result of dating the Tom Petty fan, I listened to even more Tom Petty than I had before. Before that it had been limited to Wildflowers (introduced to me by a nice guy who gave me a ride to FHE at BYU my first week in Provo “You play the guitar?! You’ll love this album!” He said everything with exclamation points. But, like, in a good way. I don’t remember his name. Maybe Mark?), and Greatest Hits. I bought Greatest Hits after a family Thanksgiving trip to Arizona when Mary Jane’s Last Dance came on the radio and I waited in the car at the gas station or restaurant or whatever it was in Flagstaff  until the announcer said the name of the song. Shazam didn’t exist yet. Smart phones weren’t a thing yet either. I am practically elderly. After the trip, I bought the CD on half.com. Because I’m hip. 

But it turns out that Tom Petty originally wanted Wildflowers to have 25 songs on it. They told him no. Because they were crazy. But also that means that I could have a lovely October of 2020. I recommend you pick up the album. Listen to the song California. It is my life theme song currently. Cause I just moved here. 

Not only could I listen to Tom Petty, but when I was packing up my stuff to move, I found a stack of MIX CD’S!! like from 2005ish. Mostly made by myself for myself. Because that’s what we did back then. But then there were a bunch made by men I dated in my late teens and early twenties. So on my drive to California you better believe that I was enjoying some pop punk given to me by that red head guy that my friend mama set me up with. She called me: “I’m at a party with a six foot red head, and I want to give him your number.” I mean who says no to that?? Probably people who aren’t 20. But I didn’t. Because this was back when I used to write songs on the guitar. One of my songs ended with the line “all that I want is a six six redhead who will carry me to my bed when I’ve got the flu or when I feel the way I do today.” This guy turned out to be six six and a red head. And kind of goofy. But he had really great taste in music, which is really what mattered. And we went on a bike ride and to a concert. And he kissed me after a baseball game, which is exactly how one should kiss me, hello. I mean unless the Rockies just got swept by the Red Sox in the World Series because that happened a bit later and I would NOT have been happy about being kissed right then. In fact, I watched that game with a guy who afterward told me via text he didn’t think we were compatible. I’m obviously a really great person because I said “glad we’re on the same page.”  

So I have a whole stack of mix cd’s to get through. Or can we just call them mixtapes because it’s cooler? There’s even one called “Petty for Liz” from the first dude. 

Now the other delightful thing about music this year is Taylor Swift’s unexpected release of Folklore. Which I’ve been listening to over and over. Since I’m apparently waxing nostalgic for the 2000’s, remember when your iPod would keep track of your Top 25 most played? That whole album would be in my top 25 because I listen to it all the time. I miss having the ability to see how many times I had listened to a song. Although maybe now one if you will tell me a way that I can see that? Also, why did I find that number so interesting?? I still would. But why? Is it actually healthy to verify that I’ve listened to that album over 100 times? I mean, obviously yes. Because imagine how happy my soul is. 

Now, I have two last thoughts. I stumbled upon a song by Machine Gun Kelly yesterday called my ex’s best friend.  It was a pop punk song. POP PUNK. WHAT IS THIS?! 2007 again? I can only hope! But in my head I was wondering “isn’t he a rapper?” So I googled it. And yes. Apparently he’s a rapper who made an album with Travis Barker of Blink 182. While reading about MGK (That’s what the cool kids call Machine Gun Kelly. I told you, I’m hip. A guy I went out with last week told me I am “the most hipster girl he knows” even. Which means he probably doesn’t know very many girls. I buy my clothes at Old Navy for crying out loud. But still. I AM hip), I read that MGK and Eminem had a beef. Because everyone and Eminem have beef. Literally everyone. 

But you guys. Eminem’s surprise album Music To Be Murdered By came out January 17, 2020. TWENTY TWENTY. Which is scientific proof that this is the longest year of anyone’s life. But especially mine. When Eminem’s album came out I still had a job and coronavirus hadn’t even really happened to the US yet. It feels like a different lifetime. I was still dating that one guy. It was a different lifetime.  If the year is gonna be all warped, I might as well listen to Tom Petty and mixtapes in my car and celebrate every surprise album release because honestly, this year I’m just gonna take what I can get. 

Being Human is Not a Sin

I want to talk about something that made me really sad. 

My friend and I were having a chat on Marco Polo and she was talking about her severe anxiety. She told me how she’s not in therapy and how she knows what she needs to do to fix it. Exercise. Eat well. Go to bed earlier. She talked about going to bed late as if it were a sin. Something rebellious she needed to give up in order to become more like God. 

Then tonight another woman talked about how she sometimes eats too much. How her favorite sin is gluttony. How the only time she can overcome this is through prayer and so much work on her part. 

See, here’s the thing. 

One thing I refuse to believe about God is that God wants us to repent for being human.  I do not believe that God thinks we need to REPENT when we stay up later than we meant to. I do not believe that food is a moral choice. I DO NOT BELIEVE THAT BEING ANXIOUS OR DEPRESSED IS SOMETHING WE SHOULD FIX BY PRAYING IT AWAY. 

When I listened to these dear women speaking, I wanted to hug their bodies until they could feel my hug in their very souls. I want them to feel and know what I feel and know: that God is love. 

Perhaps it’s the woman in me who has been through cognitive behavioral therapy, perhaps it is just my compassion for people who are suffering, maybe it is my hard-won, deeply therapized self-compassion, but I do not believe that things that are behaviorally human are necessarily sinful. And I believe that if we have behaviors that we want to change, we should view them as exactly what they are: behaviors. They are not moral failings and character flaws and things we need to tell God we are sorry about at the end of the day. They are behaviors. Behaviors that humans can change if we choose. But they are not inherently moral. They have nothing to do with how much we love other people. How kind and generous we are. 

And if I want to change a behavior, wouldn’t it be so much more compassionate if I went about it cognitively without the weight of moral judgment?? If I worked on it behaviorally without any judgment attached?  Wouldn’t it be easier if I gave myself permission to be human and permission to sometimes stay up too late and eat too much because THAT’S WHAT’S IT MEANS TO BE HUMAN? and then I could work on small changes to behavior that over time helped me with going to bed earlier?

And then if I wanted to pray for anything, it would be for God’s grace to descend on me as I try to be more kind and patient and loving and forgiving. Because of the world needs anything, it’s that. 

Notes from Therapy Today

What if this was the only thing I ever learned at therapy? That would be worth it. But this was only one of the very important things I walked away with today. If you feel stagnant or you want more from life, I recommend therapy. Therapy has changed my life. ❤️

Look Again.

My boyfriend, the one I’ve been dating just about since my last post, broke up with me recently. When I say it was out of nowhere, I mean it was the most unexpected breakup I’ve ever experienced in my life. I spent a full 36 hours feeling shell shocked before I had a moment inspired by (500) Days of Summer. 

We had been working on avoidant communication patterns. At therapy, as well as in small interactions where I tried to teach him that it is okay to deliver news to someone that will let them down. Even if that someone is me. It’s okay to hurt my feelings. It’s better to do so sooner than later. That he deserved to express his feelings honestly and that a partner in a relationship deserves to hear how you truly feel about things. 

And then, in the culmination of avoidant communication, he broke up with me and didn’t really tell me why. At first I wanted a reason. But as I “looked again,” I don’t actually think that I need a reason.  When I looked back on things, I did so through the lens of avoidant communication. I was able to see that even if I don’t really know the reason for the breakup, for me, a breakup is reason enough. I don’t want to be with someone who can’t or won’t communicate openly about problems and feelings. Big or small. I want clarity and honesty and genuineness and kindness. Avoidance isn’t kindness. It’s dishonesty. Being nice when it isn’t honest isn’t actually being nice. It’s a lie. 

And so I add that to another of my hard-learned lessons in life. And I say again: people can change. Problems can be solved. Many problems can be solved fairly quickly by solving a basic communication issue. With a few sessions of therapy. But if only one person wants to solve problems, relationships can’t be successful. I can’t do the emotional work of two people. And in that way, he probably saved me a lot of time and effort trying to fix issues that weren’t mine to fix. Doing work that wasn’t my work. 

And now I am free to clear my chalk board and start looking for architect jobs. Metaphorically speaking. 

Waiting for a flight after ankle surgery

Legs up the wall for the ankle swelling.