who even knows anymore

Chicken and rice and the dimples in your smile

Bean bags and jumbo jenga and

That classic rock playing on the speaker in the living room – all the songs that are too good not to sing out loud, but not bad enough for karaoke.

Tomorrow marks three birthdays without my wonderful, beautiful, strong, intelligent, funny, generous, kind, brave, incomparable dad.

The last birthday of mine that we were together, in 2021, he asked me where I wanted to go out to eat to celebrate. I said I think I’d rather go to your house, and have your chicken and rice. Would that be OK? Would you make me chicken and rice, Dad? I didn’t want to go out, I wanted to go home, to just be with my people and eat warm nourishing food that I knew was made with love, and sit and marinate in this beautiful life of ours.

And my dad smiled a big wide smile at my request, and I watched as he inflated a bit the way some men do when they’re proud, but in a humble way. Of course he would do that. He would love to do that. I kissed his cheek, delighted.

So we gathered at his house, informal and comfortable with bare-foot kids and the TV on mute and my brother with his arm over the back of the chair, telling a story about some kid he knew in middle school. We talked and we laughed and it was loud, the chicken and rice was better than the cake and I told everyone as much, and we hugged and took pictures but not enough of them together.

My heart swells tonight, full of love and joy and grief and pain. I’m so glad I chose to spend that birthday with family, in a sacred place, engaged in conversation and eating comfort food. It’s insane how quickly my world imploded, how unaware we could be of how fragile it all was. Tomorrow I will not eat chicken and rice, because no one makes it like my dad, but I will remember my last birthday as a whole person, and send a kiss to the heavens and hope it reaches him.

love month 2

I love science.

I love painting.

I love extra salty movie theater popcorn.

I love nicknames.

I love rainy days when I’m cozy and warm inside.

I love imagination.

I love cultures.

I love breakfast nooks, and breakfast.

I love witty dialogue.

I love symbolism.

I love antiques.

I love eskimo kisses.

I love salty tears.

I love grand gestures and embarrassing speeches.

I love texture.

I love color.

I love mystery.

I love being kissed on the palm of the hand, or cheek, or forehead.

I love newness.

I love comfort.

I love falling asleep on someone warm.

I love strength.

I love openness.

I love silliness, limerick, and rhyme.

I love spices.

I love that infinitesimal hazy moment between dream and consciousness.

I love home.

I love the natural smell of a person.

I love when a foreign thing feels familiar.

I love deja vu.

I love the scratch of a pencil on sketch paper.

I love.

I love.

I love.

love month

I love history.

I love the stars.

I love language.

I love theory, hypothetical, legend, ideas, possibility.

I love a good strong Irish breakfast tea, slow brewed and then poured over ice.

I love nostalgia.

I love old books.

I love when a person’s eyes crinkle at the corners when they smile.

I love photographs.

I love freckles.

I love laughter.

I love discipline. I love spontaneity. I love contradiction.

I love the way my sons can give themselves over completely to a giggle.

I love family.

I love sunrise at the beach.

I love curiosity, and questions, and the quest that comes before the answers.

I love an underdog story.

I love baking.

I love nature.

I love poetry.

I love music.

I love secrets, and stories, and reasons.

I love delicate, precious, intricate things.

I love.

I love.

I love.

Fast and Curious

I fasted from social media for 21 days – January 7-27. Why would anyone do that? Why would I do that? I like social. I particularly like Instagram, and I watch a few YouTube videos every day. Have a question? YouTube it. Look cute? Tell the world on insta. Nothing harmful about it, right?

Well yes… and no? 

Recently I have noticed that my screen time was up – I mean all the way up like Carl Fredrickson – as high as 14 hours per day. (How many hours am I even awake?) I have been feeling burdened, also, about what kind of example that sets for my kids. I was having some ill-effects, also, including moodiness, drowsiness, poor or blurry vision, poor memory, poor sleep, and mostly I was concerned that even when my kids were talking to me – or to the side of my face while I looked at my phone like a straight-up zombie (Mombie?) – and I wanted to climb out of the dark, insensate, waking coma that my days had become. I am ashamed to admit how much I was in my phone, but it was a lot. 

The 21 day challenge was issued by my church pastor: Please join us for 21 days of prayer and fasting to begin this new year. As soon as I heard about it, I knew I wanted to do it, and instead of fasting from food (not a good idea for me due to past issues with ED and because I work out pretty strenuously some days) I decided to fast from socials, and get my screen time down in general. This is the area of my life where I am the least disciplined, and I was actually scared that I would not be able to do it – which let me know that I really needed to try. My goals were simply to be more present, in my life and especially with my kids, to use the time I would be in my phone to make real connection and to create, to pray more, and I had one thing in particular I was bringing to God daily, and I wanted him to bless and keep me through it, so that was on my heart as I fasted each day, also. 

The following is a record of how it went.

Rules: During this time, I was not “allowed” to use Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, or Reddit apps and I tried my best not to use the phone mindlessly in general. That meant not picking up my phone immediately upon waking, no podcasts while driving/getting ready for work, no mindless scrolling of any kind, I had to use texting or calls (ick) to communicate. Other than that, I was free to use other apps as I needed to and I do use my phone for work so that was still fine. Mostly I used my phone related to bible, workouts, and cooking. I also used my “Notes” app anytime something popped to mind that I thought I might want to write down later (this post is later).

My observations:

  • Thinking about the prayer and fasting as I walk out to my car today (1/10/24). I noticed that a worship song called “You are worthy” is in my head. It’s just me singing “you are worthy, you are worthy Oh Lord” over and over in a loop in my head, as I don’t know the rest. I contemplate that we humans are created for companionship with God, we were created to worship. So… is this like a factory reset? Is a social media detox like returning back to, or closer to, our purposed state?
  • The other thought I had (still 1/10/24) is that I noticed yesterday and today that my screen time overall is down 62% from my “normal” usage. My first thought is, “good golly, I spend a lot of time on Instagram”. But I think it’s more than that: I think that being sober from the internet makes me want to see just how clearheaded I can get. I’m less likely to pick up my phone for texts or Amazon orders or to check emails because I don’t want to feel attached to it, and I feel less of a need to be attached to it.
  • 1/11/24 Fewer selfies. I guess because I have no place to post them? No one to “prove” my workout to or share my deeply profound thoughts with. Except if I decide to do that in my actual real life… Went to my regular dance studio and started to take a boomerang, and I can’t, and who would want to see it anyway? Prevention of self-absorption. Less documenting of the banal.
  • I have noticed today that I sometimes have more anxiety. Or maybe the same amount of anxiety, but I feel it more. Nothing to numb it or distract.
  • Today 1/12/24 I got bored. Boredom’s gift is creativity. On a whim, and after enthusiastic agreement from them, I started reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone aloud to my kids. One night we all dressed up as characters from the book, using items from our own wardrobes, and guessed who we all were, and took turns reading. It was fun. It was connection. It was also private, un-photographed, and undocumented (except here).
  • Bargaining, but not in the way you’d expect. Each time I go to pick up my phone, I ask myself, “do I really want to rack up screen time just for ______? A YouTube workout, for example, will cost me 30-45 minutes. And yes, YT is technically not allowed but on freezing dark mornings at home I do sometimes lift weights and follow along. 
  • 1/12/24 Prayer doesn’t come easier. This one is a wee bit surprising to me. I thought with all the free time and some newfound discipline I would be spending a lot more time in prayer, or at least want to. Studying God’s word is still not my first instinct or reflex in the morning and it doesn’t feel great to admit that, but I’m working on it.
  • Less gossip is a major side effect. 1/15/24. Some things happen or conversations are had, and I can’t skip over to the DMs and say “guess who I saw” or “you won’t believe this message I got”… not that I do that often but a LOT of people who are “in my life” are really only on this little hand-held TV. So I don’t know what’s going on with them organically. That’s weird. The gossip thing is good, too, but also it’s a challenge not to “chat” with any friends after years of doing it.
  • 1/19/24 If God doesn’t fill your heart (and your time) something else will. Meaning that when you leave it open, you’re giving opportunity for lots of things/people/ideas/behaviors to be introduced or take hold. There are so many things vying for your attention and your (extremely limited) time on earth. What is the most important thing? You can tell by how you spend the most time, right? Who or what is sovereign for you? (This is me asking myself, not judging anyone else.)
  • 1/19/24 Related to that last thought, and I think super important to note: Social media is certainly not the only way to waste time. On a screen or otherwise, it’s easy to find distraction, and removing social media does not automatically mean you are doing it right.
  • 1/23/24 Social media is boring, I keep thinking. I am not missing it and I have not felt as tempted or as torn as I believed I would. I seriously was nervous to commit to this challenge, or to tell anyone I was doing it, because I thought I’d have major withdrawals and fail at it. Also, and this is a great one, I’m not as “influenced”. I have noticed this week that the only thing I have purchased from the internet, aside from some items for my kids, is books. 

Oh! And! (Probably the very hardest part for me) - During the fast, I was not allowed to listen to any ambient noise. I have read recently about what effect listening to, for example, rain sounds while sleeping has on the brain, and I wanted to try to stop doing that. Some scientists believe that listening while sleeping may not allow the auditory system to shut off/rest at night, and may interrupt the natural sleep process over time. The jury is out on this, but I do know that I have become dependent on my light rain (shout out to The Relaxed Guy on YT!). In the spirit of breaking addiction/dependency, I had to at least try to sleep without it. 

(I also used to fall asleep to Pride and Prejudice every night. It’s a comfort thing, when you struggle with anxiety or any kind of trauma, at least in my experience, you crave routine and dependable things, so this was that for me. But just like the rain sounds, the flashing lights and constant stimuli even if I was not totally conscious, were possibly having ill effects and again, I wanted to know that I can live without them.)

Y’all… my dread over this one was REAL. I have loud neighbors, with barking dogs, and I just did not think I could live without my rain sounds. BUT the one I love to listen to is a 3 hour loop and that would mean I start the day in a deficit of 3 hours, and I wouldn’t have an accurate idea of time spent on phone, so I had to cut it off. And I did. Strictly. I can proudly say, three weeks later, that I did learn to sleep without it, and had maybe 3 nights of poor sleep out of the 21, so that feels like a win. Two of them I had some panic, but I got through it, and it’s super valuable to know that I can calm myself and regulate without any other assistance.

I am happy to report that I made it. My screen time was way down and I learned that I can live without the soul-draining device I’m constantly told I need in order to live. The bad news is, this past week since the fast ended, I’ve dove (diven?) head-first into the deep end. I caught up on messages and returned to scrolling and listening to music. I have not re-incorporated sleep sounds, and I do not plan to. Moving forward, I hope to fast again and for longer periods of time, as I like how it made me feel. I’d encourage anyone reading to give it a try and see how you feel after a couple of weeks being “unplugged”. 

x

Thoughts I’m having while drinking tea tonight…

Why do I talk about death so much?

Well… the most significant people in my life up to a point all passed away in the span of a few years, and all unexpectedly. No long illness or time to prepare. One day life is normal and the next day it’s shifted. Parallel. Other.

And they weren’t just significant in my eyes. They were cool people. Good folks. Strangers used to talk to me about my grandparents, my dad. Tell them hello for me, they’d say, or ‘I remember when’.  Now the people who knew them are dying too. The ones who shared dinners or saw them at church or remembered when. They are all leaving. So what happens if I don’t talk about my loved ones, don’t say their names, tell their stories? 

Some kind of metaphysical black hole, I think. I don’t want to find out.

When I talk about death I’m talking about the people I could point to, as a way to explain myself, as a map to who I am and how I got to be. They gave my life meaning, and me a sense of belonging. Now, I don’t have that, and I find myself grappling at the frayed edges of a faded papyrus chart, tracing my fingertips over ever-fainter sketches of a land that it seems only I have been to, trying to convince others that it does exist. It did exist. I’ve seen it. I was there.

I can never go back home, you see? Home has been buried, and cremated, and scattered out to sea. It was wonderful, and warm, and safe, and real. All I have left of all I have loved is a memory that feels like I dreamed it, made it up. Because no one else has seen it, or remembers it, or cares.

So I talk about it, to remind myself. To steady my heart, to try to re-orient myself with a world without them, without home. To remind others. I came from somewhere, even if that place is no longer. I remember it. It did exist. We were there.