The power of the written word, and selfishness vs self-regard

When I'm down, I truly don't know what to do but write. I don't know how better to process and excise feelings of crappiness, loneliness, anger, worry, frustration. Interestingly, but perhaps commonly, it is the negative feelings which need expression in written rather than spoken form. When I'm happy or excited, I want nothing more than a good song to dance to or a good friend with an open ear. For me, at least, that's why periods of gloom feel especially lonely; not only have I learned over the years that most people don't actually want to hear about your sadness, rough day or true challenge, but also, words often escape those feelings which run counter to simple happiness. Social media has both ameliorated and made more acute these worlds-apart poles. A person you knew from long ago but haven't seen in years or even an individual you've never actually met is as likely to provide you the love and support you need and want as is the person you see daily or people you consider your closest friends. I am struck, in those moments, by how awful it feels when a good friend not a mile down the street doesn't respond to my struggle or sadness but how comforted I am by someone far away, perhaps a stranger in a non-virtual world, who writes with concern and care and an "I get it!"

At the end of the day, this is why I continue writing Em-i-lis. I am a multi-faceted woman who loves to eat, cook, drink, mother, garden and live, but who also knows what it is like to feel alone in each or all of those endeavors. As such, if, through my writing, I can help even one other person feel less alone, less scared, less shitty, more supported, more validated, then my daily (almost) shares/vents/musings/opines are completely worth it.

Over the past few months, I have spent a good deal of time assessing the very real amount of time, each day, I have and how best I can, should and want to spend it. Giving of myself to unappreciative others just doesn't fit in this equation anymore, and it is with a real sense of loss that I decided that. It is in my nature -and it is how I think the world would optimally function- to interact with the many communities of which I'm part with an open spirit; to do as much for them as I can; to give to them thoughtfully and generously; to serve as a Gore-tex thread in the quilt each is. I say this in the humblest and sincerest of ways; seeking laudatory acknowledgement is not my style. But some degree of self-preservation is, and as my life progresses, I realize more and more what there is and is not room and energy for.

It's taken a long while for me to understand the difference between selfishness and self-regard. The former ignores the needs and value of others while the latter urges you not to forget the YOU. At BlogHer, we were encouraged to consider why we were, each of us, doing what we were: who was deciding the parameters of success we each tried to meet? Before he died, Steve Jobs urged us all not just to live life but to create a life in which others could live: who's to say your or my sense of what best constitutes living isn't the way to go?

And so, as I wonder if I'm over-sensitive, if I spend too much time trying to make the life I'm living meaningful and valuable and really worth something, I come back to this: if you don't feel, deep down, that you are what you most want to be, regardless of whether or not that makes or loses you friends or popularity, then perhaps you -I!-  need to reconsider what you give to and ask of others and the world around you.

 

I might have overdone it in the garden

The past few days in DC have been the kind of beautiful that makes you think you've hit the climatic jackpot by living here. DC was settled on a swamp? You couldn't make someone believe that right now (except for the mosquitos which never stop swarming). Blue skies, cool nights, seemingly no humidity, sunshine; hell, the city even smells good. After the intense heat of July and then the 100+ sauna that was everyday I was in Louisiana, this has been an incredible respite. I've been a neglectful gardener this summer: I gave into the white fly attack in my greens bed and finally just ripped them out and tossed them into the compost; my tomatoes look unbelievably scraggly though that's really more a function of approaching the end of their season; the grass is threadbare as if it's an old duvet on its very last leg; the flowers have given up; the hostas and astilbe called it quits weeks ago.

But today, the rejuvenating cool lingering into the afternoon, I decided to get back out there. After yoga (such a flipping godsend), I stopped by the nursery for some herb replacements and a trunk-full of pretty annuals from the sale table: the yard deserved some bling. We all headed outside for a team effort at cleaning and tending, and I got the superb idea to remove all the plants AND bulbs from my largest bed, till/fertilize/condition the soil and then replant everything in a prettier fashion. The bed encircles our enormous Sugar Maple and so needs extra love because the Maple is a selfish, ravenous beast.

This was a really BIG job but I had a definite deadline: we are hosting a playdate for some new PK students tomorrow and so I felt pressure to finish. Oh.my.lord. I completed the job but it took hours and afterwards I had Oliver apply menthol rub to my tired back. A great sense of accomplishment shines through the fatigue though, and I look forward to enjoying a large glass of cold white wine tonight.

The boys and I took a break midway through for cones of the s'mores ice cream I finished up this morning. It is sublime.

www.em-i-lis.com

Back to the races

I would be lying if I said home has remained a Zen state since the boys returned. Oh my lawd!! The talking is as if to make up for lost time, we've already been to the pediatrician for Ol and cleaned up one of the most explosive, large-scale pukes ever. I am definitely having to reset myself and could not help but take a nap earlier today. While I am so happy to see them, the remaining weeks until school resumes are sure to exhaust and challenge. www.em-i-lis.com

Last night, Mom and I went to Wolf Trap (a great, open-air venue for concerts and performances in Virginia) to hear Diana Ross. We'd bought tickets just the night before in a fit of enthused spontaneity which refused to acknowledge price inflation and the fact that she woke up at 4a yesterday to fly the boys home. It was totally worth it! Diana was incredible, a 69-year-old star from a time when that really meant something. She had a huge band -including two drummers- and changed from outfit to glamorous outfit SIX times. Sequins, feathers, floor-length diva-flair was everywhere: fiery red, coronet blue, a black gown with a neon-yellow boa coat, orange... She sang so many hits (except Reflections; so sad), and the almost-best was the crowd. Everyone was psyched, knew all the words, sang them with abandon, danced the night away in both standing and seated positions. There were young gals, older men and everything in between. We had an absolute ball and on the way home, bought Reflections from iTunes and played it the whole way.

This morning we all started in on a harder-than-get-out puzzle of Hedwig and the Harry Potter crest, went out and gorged on tacos and tonight I'm cooking a feast of short ribs, hominy salad, watermelon and feta stacks with serrano vinaigrette and dessert TBD. Sadly, Mom heads back home tomorrow.

If you love avocados, tomorrow's One Day Deal at participating Whole Foods is: Hass avocados, $1 each.