I know nothing about Aries season other than we’re in it, and everything seems to be shaking: romantic relationships, friendships, work statuses, moods, my ass at Flannel Fridays…

Spring is here, y’all, and in the wise words of cleaning-connoisseur Marie Kondo, we must throw away anything that doesn’t spark joy. It’s not meant to be easy. After all, I can barely detach myself from the sentimental value of even the most miniscule things that should be thrown away: like, how do I part with even one of my way too many hawaiian shirts when (1) they are a part of my Hawaiian Princess identity and (2) they come with distinct memories from that one time I wore each one? Throwing things out signifies the end of an era and suggests an end to the sweet, sweet indulgence of memories that come with them. Thankfully, it also signifies the beginning of a new era, whatever that is for you. Whatever era you’re in, embrace it. Recently at a bonfire with friends, I came to the conclusion that I’m at the beginning of my “make plans every second of every day era.” To my GCal: glow up bby. 

Spring is the season of reevaluation. It provides us time to reflect on why we bought or brought certain items or people into our lives, detach ourselves from those that don’t bring us joy or provide any value, and decide how to move forward. Spring cleaning erases the clutter, the drama, the unnecessary stressors and it reinforces what’s actually important and meaningful in life. 

Believe it or not, spring cleaning the people in your life is probably the most pivotal cleanse you should do. Perhaps a good way to make it fun is to turn it into a classic game of fuck, marry, and kill. But to keep it more socially acceptable, let’s rephrase that into: keep, change, and ditch. 

The sorting of relationships can go something like this: 

1. The keep pile: this is reserved for the best of the best, the people that check all the boxes. Are they empathetic? Are they genuine? Generous and kind? Do they reciprocate the energy you pour into planning dates and hangs together? Name three specific reasons you’re grateful to have them in your life. Can’t name three reasons? Maybe there’s no reason to keep them in your keep pile. 
2. The change pile: this is reserved for the people you find yourself defending to your friends; the ones where you find yourself saying: “I promise they can change!” Let’s be real, if you find yourself saying this time and time again, the change is unlikely. Maybe they take four days to respond to your text but you’re convinced it’s because they’re super busy. Maybe the person is extra vanilla but you’re willing to do the whole therapizing thing to help them “grow.” Maybe, just maybe it’s time for a reality check, but in the meantime, you’re willing to give them another chance. You’re willing to keep them in this happy medium – between the keep and the ditch piles – at least until the next reevaluation season. 
3. The discard pile: this pile is reserved for the walking red flags. The people that you know you’d be better without. The ones that selfishly don’t think about anyone but themselves. The ones that you find yourself bitching about nine times out of ten. As hard as it may seem, it’s important to take inventory of what you need out of your relationships, to redefine your expectations, and ultimately, to inch towards a less stressful future by ditching the people that actually leave more damage in your life, despite you trying to constantly swiffer up their mess. As my Sidebraid Sister would say: “Let go.” Life will feel that much more precious when you get rid of toxic people. 

The sun is peeking in through the clouds and spring is here. Keep only the piles you care deeply about – the ones that fill you with joy and provide you energy to keep moving forward.

I started as an altar kid in the 5th grade. I was so ready for it, too. After all, unlike most kids who play pretend – pretend house, pretend doctor, pretend teacher – my brother Matt and I always played pretend church. I shit you not. It was our idea of a good time at the time. And after years of practice playing pretend, I was so confident that I’d be an all-star Alter Kid. Also unlike most kids, who dream about becoming President one day, I was convinced I would be the first woman Priest of the Catholic Church one day. And obviously, being an Alter Kid would do me well on my resume towards priesthood.

I don’t know which part I was most excited about: having another excuse to spend time with Angie, the 7th grade basketball prodigy at St. Ferdinand who in retrospect, I definitely had a major crunch on, or being able to earn the occasional $10-$25 tip “working” weddings and funerals. And so I prayed. I prayed for more straight people to get married and at the same time, for more deaths, and I was desperate to be paired to altar serve with Angie at any opportunity. Naturally, it was really cool hangin’ with a 7th grader.

My resume read something like this:

Altar Kid, Chicago, 2003-2005

⁃ Carried heavy cross down the aisle, resulting in stronger affinity towards the guy nailed to it (and simultaneously strengthened my arm muscles)

⁃ Held the Bible up for the priest, maintaining perfect posture

⁃ Assisted Priest and nuns as needed; for example, that one time when the Blood of Christ spilled

⁃ Provided excellent customer service for all church goers

What can I say? I was just your basic Catholic school girl: one who wore an embarrassing, plaid skort everyday with a white polo. Except one day a week (my favorite day of the week) when I got to wear sweats and a t-shirt for gym class. (In the timeless words of Princess Nokia, “Who that is ho? That girl is a tomboy.”) Maybe that’s why I made it a career goal to become a priest vs. a nun at the time – I’ve always been a little boy(ish) at heart.

Thankfully, my journey towards priesthood ended abruptly after just a few years when the Priest told me girls could no longer be alter servers. Jokes on you, Jesus. I’m gay and wish I were Jewish now.

I don’t know about you.. but I’m feelin’ (20)22 was a reminder that everything is going to be alright. 

Personally, my year hasn’t been full of monumental changes, yet I feel so grateful for the growth, the memories, and the miniscule changes that came my way. For example: 

• I moved down the block from one Andersonville apartment to another! I now have a really cool landlord and a really huge TV and a decorative mantle and a living room that can fit a 9-foot Christmas tree and a guest room and so much space for two monster kittens to run around when they get the zoomies and I can take baths! My lovely girlfriend and I built a lovely home that feels so homey, which makes me happy.
• I started a new job and kept it for (nearly) a full year! Imagine that… I actually learned that I don’t live to work and that work is not my identity nor the love of my life. It is an important part of my life, only because it takes up the most time in my life, and [money] is what will ultimately help me have a more financially comfy future. But that’s it.
• I went down on one of my many meds by the tiniest bit! Abilify gives me the ability to be a fully functioning, stable human, and I went from taking 1.5 tablets to 1. Is it because I complained about having to chop one in half every other day? Maybe.. But look, I feel like the more I distance myself from 2020 (thank goodness that’s with every minute that passes), the more I come closer to returning to “myself” as I said back then. I’m happy with how far I’ve come and I’m happy with how happy I feel most every day.
• I now have bleach blonde hair that just so happens to look just like Betty Who’s! Not to rub it in for those that didn’t join me, but I went to the AT&T National Coming Out Day celebration where Betty Who performed. Not only was I standing front row, but she also took my hand as we slowly fell in love… (sorry Katie!) and said, “I like your hair. It looks a lot like mine.” Then we took a picture together, (siblings or dating am I right?). And it looks like I’ll have to stay a blondie forever now. Or at least for as long as my new BFF Betty is.
• I started climbing and played beach volleyball and purchased a ping pong table! Plot twist: I have hobbies now.
• I started mismatching my earrings! Edgy.
• I got my first tattoo! Also, edgy. The tattoo was a great first tattoo and means a lot to me. Accepting suggestions for my next ones.
• I made new friends and strengthened relationships with old ones! If you know me at all, you should know that my favorite hobby is making friends at queer events around the city. So thank you queer events and queer places! Thank you slo’mo, Flannel Friday, Fletcher, Nobody’s Darling, Late Night Chicks, etc. etc. Thank you to my new friends who actually weren’t freaked out by my awkward platonic pick-up line: “Hey, we should be friends!” More importantly though, my best friends became bestier by day. I’d be a mashed potato without my friends, whatever that means.. Thank you to my friends, for keeping me smiling non-stop. I have a hard time not smiling when with friends, even when I’m trying my best to be mad for whatever reason.

I learned a lot this year too. I learned that I like my coffee with Coffee Mate’s coconut creme creamer just as much as I like my coffee plain, with extra oat milk. I learned that my spice tolerance has gone up, and I even like Cholula hot sauce. I learned that the decision of which stickers make the cut for my giant water bottle is an important one. I learned that I will forever follow recipes to the tee, even when adding a pinch of salt is quicker than measuring a teaspoon. I learned that BeReal is still staged to an extent. I learned that my “About me” section on my blog is actually outdated. I learned that setting boundaries makes for a better, more uplifting time overall. I learned that you can never have too many doctor visits, and that maybe they’ll even eliminate a diagnosis you thought you’ve had your entire life (or find a new one..). I learned the power of vulnerability: when we feel the most fragile and unsure, we have the choice to find what’s meant to be through honest, tough conversations. I learned that most everything is temporary: jobs, sunshine, grief, flowers, family…I learned just how much friendships can evolve: some fade overtime, some strengthen. Some strangers quickly turn into lifelong friends. 

Relationships – both romantic and platonic – can require different amounts of effort at different times. I had the hardest year of my life a couple years ago, and I leaned on my friends and partner more than I wish I had to. I recognize that some very important people in my life faced life’s changes a lot more than I did this year. Whether those were good changes or challenging changes, there’s something comforting in knowing that we are there for each other through it all, whenever the time comes. This year, I cried less overall, though I cried most when seeing my friends sad or hurting.

Not to put one of the most thoughtful people I know in the spotlight but here I am. Let’s call her Goosey. Goosey (a clever pseudonym that will definitely disguise this person’s true identity) read my entire blog, start to finish, when I barely knew her real name. We’ve become better friends since then, thank heavens! One memorable ice-breaker she once asked me was: What’s something positive that has happened to you recently? I don’t know why, but that question has stuck with me. I couldn’t think of a damn thing that’s happened to me. So instead, I answered about how my friend’s recent news of getting into business school was something positive in MY life. I quickly realized how important it is seeing the success and happiness of people I care about. 

This year, I have seen so many friends taking scary leaps in life and following their happy paths. I’m excited for them, and I’m excited for me to be able to witness their successes first-hand. And that, my friends, has been my greatest joy and the most positive thing that has happened to me this year.

Throwback [Thursday] to that time my co-workers and I stumbled upon Latin Night at a bar in Philly, only to realize I was the only one who couldn’t dance (in general but especially to Latin music). Still, there was something deeply liberating about my bashful attempt to dance with two left feet. That night was a subtle reminder that mediocrity can be just as powerful as excellence. And maybe excellence isn’t exactly what we perceive it to be or what the Merriam-Webster dictionary says: eminently good – standing above others. Maybe excellence is meant to be measured by levels of happiness rather than a comparison to others.

Although we’re just inching into the season, the fall foliage is once again adding its colorful touch to the beauty around us. Amongst the beauty, I’m learning to identify and appreciate my subtle strengths, like bringing people together and embracing my awkward moves. At Latin Night, dancing alongside a duo that made “Suavemente” look suave AF, I felt happy, and with that, came excellence.

I don’t always give myself enough credit. I consistently seek to pretty up my work resume while failing to recognize that my personal resume is equally important. Finding a deeper motive in life involves identifying factors that not only bring you joy, but that also makes you jive. While I’m still figuring out the pieces to sculpt a passion unbeknownst to me, I’m practicing patience and surrounding myself with people that can already dance.

I wrote this piece when I felt I reached my creative peak. In retrospect, I want this post cemented into my blog and brain as a reminder not to give up on my wish to write a memoir one day. Perhaps I’ll title it: two minds that don’t think (nor write) alike. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this gem written circa February 2020:

I wish my parents told me
 of all their financial instability 
before I started pursuing my college degree.

—

I wish my parents told me
 that the intermittent hundred dollar deposits into my bank account were not within budget, because my teenage brain could barely mutter a thank you. Instead, my brain buried its gratitude under towers of textbooks, thinking that the only way I could ever afford to repay hundreds would be by investing them into each exam. 

_ 

I wish my parents told me 
that each time I swiped the credit card in their name I selfishly shifted any zeros that were barely even left, to the left, until all that was left was just, zero. And with each swipe, I slashed away time not knowing we didn’t have a dime to our name. How foolish was I to assume retirement as a human right.


–


I wish my parents told me
 that funding a flight to “family weekend” was a plight suffered, yet somehow paid. 
And maybe, just maybe, their daughter’s education from an institution as renowned as Yale would one day actually afford them bail from the burden reflected on their bank statements.


—


I wish my parents told me to use my two cents in determining who I was standing next to on campus. 
I wish I didn’t allow them to send me even just two cents because it made zero sense to keep stringing along this false sense of reality when I failed to recognize that legacy so often correlates with popularity and presents opportunity so insurmountable it’s actually foreign to my ancestors’ vocabulary. And maybe it was just the jealousy in me that refused to admit my 1stGen identity. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the institution’s responsibility to admit to the inherent inequity that was so felt by my family.


–


I wish my parents told me
 that money is no longer taboo.
 That I no longer had to worry about generating revenue. 
That we could press “redo.” Together. 
So we could hold conversations beyond the topic of weather.
 So I could feel family in my heart forever.


Hurricane.


–


Dad, I wish I could tell you 
that I want to take the cane that’s been your necessary sidekick for years and kick it into the water where the waves would wash away the stroke you didn’t ask for. I would then teach you the butterfly stroke, because I know if you could have any superpower it would be to fly, if you could only regain freedom to flap your wings again.


Paralyzed.


–


Mom, I wish I could tell you
 that your work ethic is something I idolized.
 That the millions of houses that your bare hands tirelessly cleaned my entire life are now all entirely spotless forever. So please don’t stress anymore. Because if I could somehow take the gay in me to win us the lottery, I know how happy we could be. And you could finally, finally, just relax.


Jackpot.


–


Mom and dad, I wish I could tell you
 that I’m thankful for everything you taught.
 That I’m indebted to the depths of your sacrifices that sought a better life for your kids.
 That I really do love you even when it’s a struggle to say aloud. 
And maybe, just maybe, one day we could all just be one again.


Family.


Welcome back, warmer days. You make me want to dance and spin around in circles amidst a terrain of tulips while singing terribly at the top of my lungs:

“Summertime summertime, crazy lazy summertime…”

Okay, maybe lazy is far from my kind of lifestyle. Crazy, on the other hand… well, just hand me a pint of a hazy IPA and I’ll tell you how I went from comically crazy to crazy cool, or so I like to think.

You can soon find me in my swim trunks (maybe sweatshorts) and muscle tees as I seize the days full of sunshine, showing off the baby biceps that my 3lb. peloton weights helped me build.

Hello to a spring of scribbling down notes that will somehow, someday blossom into a sea of blog posts that have been on a prudent pause, no thanks to the cold nights and COVID days and crappy moods. Goodbye, [seasonal] depression. Goodbye to the darkness that starts at 4pm. Hello to a spring of sunburns and a plethora of aloe vera. Or should I say, (H)aloe, vera nice to see the sun again and the fun that it brings.

I can’t wait to wait in all of the lines to get into upcoming summerfests, polishing up my most noticeable weakness: patience. I can’t wait to watch people happily kicking around soccer balls and swimming into the waves of Lake Michigan. I can’t wait to play beach volleyball and to learn how to stop on rollerblades without having to run full-speed into a wall. I can’t wait to become a regular at Nobody’s Darling and to hang on for dear life while on a boat again! I can’t wait to tailor each second of time in a way that encapsulates each minute and each memory.

Ahead of us is a time for beginnings, but to begin requires us to relish the moments that seep through, to feed the growth of the new. So bottom’s up, my friends. Let’s make this season the one I won’t forget even if I get my brain shocked.

Wearing white in the winter is a crime I don’t fully understand, because it beautifully blends in with the snowflakes. But I’m a not a trendsetter, so instead, I wear my white pants all summer to make up for the off-season they inevitably face. And when they come back into play, I realize I’m too broke to invest in overpriced tide-to-go pens, because I’ve been spending all my dollar bills on festivals and drinking with friends which is all good and well, until a stranger accidentally bumps into me at a fest while I’m holding Pinot Noir. Now I wholeheartedly regret not purchasing that tide-to-go pen.

Okay, maybe classifying wearing white in the winter as a crime is an exaggeration but catfishing for sure should be. I can’t think of any catfishing stories that have a happy ending (except for in the movie Love Hard – which I highly recommend watching!). I was catfished once before. I fell hard for a person that was very good with words and seemed like a kind and caring mom. I was young, naive, and loved kids so I figured I could take on a parental role too. Months passed. I loved the texts and phone calls we had. I couldn’t wait to meet her. One excuse led to another and little did I know, I would never meet her. After falling hard, I was ghosted and I wholeheartedly regret ever thinking that relationship would last.

When my mind went on a little vacation of its own, it resulted in all the irresponsible decisions that felt right at the time, but that left me in the deepest hole of regret, a hole I couldn’t dig myself out of. I overspent on multiple plane tickets, soulcycle classes, unnecessarily pricey grocery trips, generous recurring donations. I wrote a lot of erratic things I would never dare to write otherwise that I couldn’t untype after clicking send or submit. I suppose that’s the beauty and curse of having a keyboard at our fingertips at all times. I nearly ruined the relationships that were most precious to me. I wholeheartedly regretted that vacation, and I was relieved when I returned home from it. Yet the regret outweighed the relief, and now I had to face the repercussions. Reflecting back, all I can say is: I can’t believe I did that.

I wish I could wish away regret. Regret makes me feel like I made a wrong decision in my past, when at the time, I couldn’t predict what the future held. However, I could presume that each move I make just opens one of two doors: one that leads towards happiness and the other that leads towards regret. If only I could drill shut the door towards regret, so that I never had to enter its indescribable misery. That feeling of frustration that you just want to flush down the toilet along with all the shit that reminds you that you can’t get rid of regret; you can only choose to forget it exists.

Regret evokes a variety of emotions: sometimes embarrassment, sometimes anger, sometimes frustration, sometimes angst, sometimes loss. When I’m drowning in the depths of regret, I reprimand myself for not realizing the better option the first time around. Regret. We’ve all been there, felt that. That time where you can’t help but think what if, if only, how I wish I could’ve, should’ve… Re-enacting the times that later result in regret is impossible. We must recognize that regret is rooted in something you can’t change, something that’s a part of your past, but that has the potential to inform and improve your future.

Dear future self:

It took courage to uncover the confidence that you now carry with such great poise after you’ve been poisoned into thinking that your beautiful, tenacious spirit had been bruised when in fact, it’s just been blossoming into a better, bolder you.

Bold enough to bury the barriers holding you back from writing with ease just because you’re trying to appease the audience – aka your friends – who fought tooth & nail to bring back joy when in fact, joy never left it just took a left turn down a rocky road.

It took patience to learn that your job isn’t what makes you cool, yet it’s your job to cool the voice telling you that your confidence has been shot when in fact, the only thing shot are the three pointers that you still manage to drain after being given a diagnosis that should actually be deemed a super power.

Powerful enough to be a hero without a cape who doesn’t save others but saves yourself from that time when your mind was acting drunk when in fact, it was just a sobering reminder reassuring you that resilience flows through your veins.

It took a lot time with a therapist who knows you better than your own mother to learn that your creative muscles can still be flexed they just need some training, even though you think your confidence is waning when in fact, the only thing that’s waning are the insecurities that instilled doubt in you.

I dare you to not dampen the enthusiasm everyone knows you to have even as you smile with a devil on your shoulder telling you you’re not good enough or cool enough when in fact, you’re smart enough to know that you never lost your confidence in the first place, you just misplaced it while cleaning the manic mess that was out of your control.

Now that you’re in control, you’re no longer looking for confidence because you found the courage to choose it.

Happy cuffing season, folks!

Now lez be real, cuffing season isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. We all dream of snuggling for three straight months next to the love of our lives near the fireplace in your plaid onesie with a steaming hot cocoa in hand and a Kasey Musgraves album playing ever so softly in the background. I know what you’re thinking: Martha, you’re madly cuffed – who are you to talk? Well people, cuffing szn can take on many different forms. When I think of cuffing szn, I think a few things:

First, fine, I admit it. Cuffing season means being with that special someone, even if it’s to create a corona-tionship until the sun finally stops setting at 4pm. If you know me, you know how much I love playing Cupid; as we inch our way into the peak find-someone-or-you’ll-be-cold-all-winter months, I solemnly swear that I will do everything in my power to wingwoman the shit out of any friends that need it! And once it gets too cold to trek to DS Tequila (rip Bird Cage), my basically voluntary free labor as wingwoman comes to an end. In preparation for that time, I recommend exercising your thumb to improve the efficiency of your left and right swiping skills, perfecting and updating your dating profiles with some cute fallzie portrait mode pics and perhaps adding a poem that will win over your next potential soulmate. Here’s a quick example:

Hello, I’m queer.

Cuffing season is here

The cold winter months are way too near.

I’m ready for some warm apple cider and I’m putting away the ice cold beer.

Will you be my cuddy buddy heading into the new year?

I also want to make something very clear to all my queerdos: I’m not here to stereotype or anything but I do not advise becoming that Uhaul lez right away. Or at least not until you’ve approved your newfound lover’s wall art taste, confirmed that they know how to keep a toilet bowl clean, smelled their morning breath, and know for sure that you’re willing to do each other’s dirty laundry. Finally, if you don’t find that special someone this cuffing szn, so what? Do not obsess over having to find someone to keep you warm this winter; I got you. As Michael Bublè would say, “I just haven’t met you yet…” And yes, fam, before you ask: I’m always happy to provide you with some (highly questionable) relationship advice.

Second, cuffing season is about staying warm and finding solace in my already solidified friendships and forming new ones. Needless to say, my next favorite thing to do aside from playing Cupid is making new friends. When you consider your friends your chosen family, there’s something special about each one, new and old. The beauty of friends is, I can choose to go out with my friends, I can choose to stay in with my friends, I can choose to snuggle platonically with my friends. I’m incomparably lucky for having such genuine, beautiful, caring friends who fill my life with laughter, conversation, weirdness and fun. In short, this cuffing season is a great time to reflect on your relationships; text that college roommate you haven’t spoken to in months or years, sharpie in a coffee date with an old coworker you’ve been meaning to catch up with, fluff your your social GCal with more one-on-one dates with your close friends…

Finally, cuffing season might as well be synonymous with seasonal depression. The days get dark. The wind whips through the cracks of broken windows. We layer up as the temperature drops sub zero. Meanwhile, leaves fall like tears off their branches, leaving trees bare and cold. Hope seems shattered as if it was buried in the brinks of spring. The only Vitamin C we get is listening to “Graduation”, crying as you realize you’re older than all the ages she sings of. And on that note, I’m no certified therapist and can’t offer any wise solutions other than creating that Spotify playlist and sitting there, one with your feelings. So below I share a few songs from my “feels” playlist along with some lyrics that are particularly relatable.

1. Mary Lambert: Secrets

My shit’s not in order

I’m overweight, I’m always late

I’ve got too many things to say

I rock mom jeans, cat earrings

Extrapolate my feelings

My family is dysfunctional
But we have a good time killing each other

…

I can’t think straight, I’m so gay

Sometimes I cry a whole day

I care a lot, use an analog clock

And never know when to stop

And I’m passive aggressive

I’m scared of the dark and the dentist

I love my butt and won’t shut up

And I never really grew up

They tell us from the time we’re young

To hide the things that we don’t like about ourselves

Inside ourselves

I know I’m not the only one

Who spent so long attempting to be someone else

Well, I’m over it

I don’t care if the world knows what my secrets are…

2. MisterWives SUPERBLOOM

Resilient little thing, just like mama made you

No one needs to save you..

Wallflower in the spring

Oh, they can’t contain you

Through the cracks, you break through

Ah-na-na, ah-na-na, ah-na-na

I deserve congratulations

‘Cause I came out the other side

I’ve been having revelations

And I’m gon’ let them shine

I deserve congratulations

I’d never thought that I’d survive

If you tell me I won’t make it

That’s when I, that’s when I

Superbloom…

3. Jess Glynne: Don’t Be so Hard on Yourself

Let’s go back to simplicity

I feel like I’ve been missin’ me

Was not who I’m supposed to be

I felt this darkness over me

We all get there eventually

I never knew where I belonged

But I was right and you were wrong

Been tellin’ myself all along

Don’t be so hard on yourself, no

Learn to forgive, learn to let go

Everyone trips, everyone falls

So don’t be so hard on yourself, no

‘Cause I’m just tired of marchin’ on my own

Kind of frail, I feel it in my bones

Won’t let my heart, my heart turn into stone

So don’t be so hard on yourself, no

I’m standin’ on top of the world, right where I wanna be

So how can this dark cloud keep raining over me?…

4. Maren Morris: The Bones

We’re in the homestretch of the high times

We took a hard left

But we’re alright

Yeah, life sure can try to put love through it, but

We built this right, so nothing’s ever gonna move it

When the bones are good, the rest don’t matter

Yeah, the paint could peel, the glass could shatter

Let it break ’cause you and I remain the same

When there ain’t a crack in the foundation

Baby, I know any storm we’re facing

Will blow right over while we stay put

The house don’t fall when the bones are good

Call it dumb luck, but baby, you and I

Can’t even mess it up although we both try

No, it don’t always go the way we planned it

But the wolves came and went and we’re still standing…

5. Olivia Rodrigo: hope ur okay

I knew a boy once, when I was small

A tow-head blond, with eyes of salt

He played the drum in the marching band

His parents cared more about the Bible

Than being good to their own child

He wore long sleeves ’cause of his dad

And somehow, we fell out of touch

Hope he took his bad deal and made a royal flush

Don’t know if I’ll see you again someday

But if you’re out there, I hope that you’re okay

My middle school friend grew up alone

She raised her brothers on her own

Her parents hated who she loved

She couldn’t wait to go to college

She was tired ’cause she was brought

Into a world where family was merely blood

Does she know how proud I am she was created

With the courage to unlearn all of their hatred

We don’t talk much but I just gotta say

“I miss you, and I hope that you’re okay”

Note to self, circa 2020:

This year will be the toughest year of your whole life. All you’ll look forward to is bedtime so the next day can come and so you won’t have to worry about today. There will be nothing but time and you’ll spend it staring at the clock, trying to put words on paper. Writer’s block. The words will come. They’ll just need some nourishment, careful thought and time. Until they blossom into whatever they’re meant to be. There will be no pressure. They’re meant to be imperfect. Just like you. Just like that first tattoo that you’ve been waiting on your whole life: an imperfect flower, that sleeps in its flowerbed and grows in it too. Just like humans do; they grow. They show growth. Even when failure seems to take over, you’ll overcome the feeling. You’ll strive for success but what if you fall into failure? How will you catch yourself from falling into the deep end? There will be no end; only new beginnings. You’ll find failures. Because failures render growth and the opportunity to improve, even when you have nothing to prove to anyone but yourself.

This year will be the toughest year of your whole life. You’ll wish on every star and every constellation. To forever be in a controlled state of elation. You didn’t sign up to be doctors’ fascination. Yet the diagnosis will be a tough pill to swallow, literally, knowing your reliance on the tiny pill infused with science. You’ll throw pennies into the well wishing to be well; well enough to remember that misfortune is not your fault. You’ll spend a fortune throwing coins into the wishing well. Well, it’ll work. You’ll be fortunate to have your chosen family that recognizes resilience when you don’t even recognize your own reflection in the mirror.

End.

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Note to chosen family, circa 2021:

Best friend, if we were on a plane together and the oxygen masks came down, just know that I’d make sure yours is on first before checking on my own, even though the flight attendant would tell me otherwise. During my worst year, you caught every tear I tried to throw in the trash with your bare hands, when I barely believed in hope. You were literally the light at the end of the tunnel and I had tunnel vision, envisioning everything but the secret to healing from trauma: friends. To be the light in someone else’s time of darkness is friendship at its purest.

Last year was the toughest year of my whole life. One blog post will never be enough to contain my gratitude but it seems like a good place to start. Thanks to you, I healed.

Thank you.