neighbourhood watch

the creep and the weirdo are still living next door. the super isn’t sure when the next eviction-hearing date is, but hopefully it’s soon.

the weirdo’s hoarding continues, and each week there’s some newly scavenged piece of furniture sitting in the hallway outside his door. given the spread of bed bugs in toronto, and the fact that they can be found in discarded furniture, i worry. a lot.

so, on tuesday and with the blessing of the super, i sent the property management company an email, requesting that they perhaps “remind” tenants of the key hazard of secondhand items brought home from the curb or a dumpster – namely: bed bugs.

less than 24 hours later, a letter was slipped under my door. it was from the landlord, thanking me for my suggestion and advising me that a memo *will* be sent to all tenants.

and, this morning, that memo was, indeed, distributed to each unit! i was stunned. in a good way.

after years of living in hell house, where complaints to management went unrecognized and action was certainly never taken to remedy any of the myriad problems in the building, this was a delightful, refreshing and reassuring surprise.

slices

last week, my friend lou wrote about one’s life experience being like a pie, and how the people with whom we share our lives are like its slices. how big or small a slice they occupy depends on all kinds of factors but, ultimately, we choose our ingredients and their portion size.

your husband of 30 years is probably a bigger piece than, say, your next-door neighbour. the teacher who first inspired you to follow your dreams might be a heartier slice than the girl who used to tease you about your freckles. or not. who knows? your dog could make up a more sizable pie wedge than all your friends put together. and so on.

her post resonated with me because i’ve spent a lot of time pondering relationships lately.

weighing my slices.

examining how i’ve divided my pie.

seams

last night, just after 10pm, my mom ironed one of my shirts.

all day, she’d been fighting the cold i unknowingly passed on to her last week. i’d initially thought the sneezing and coughing i had were allergies, and by the time i realized they were the product of upper-respiratory cooties they’d already spread.

we’d spent the day out shopping and, by the time we got home, it was late afternoon, so i decided to just stay over. we’d watched The Event together, she’d taken her dose of nighttime cold medicine and she was on her way to bed, but we both remembered that i’d washed one of my dress shirts earlier, and it needed to be ironed before it dried completely.

i’m an ironing novice. most of the clothes i own are machine washable and tumble-dry-able. i don’t own an iron, nor an ironing board and, even if i did, i’m more apt to crease the living daylights out of something than to actually make it look pretty and smooth.

so, on the rare occasions when i do have to iron, it’s not without supervision.

and i tend to go v-e-r-y v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y, lest i singe a shirt or pair of pants or myself as i carefully move inch by inch. (irons scare me, frankly.)

last night, though, neither of us really felt like enduring the achingly slow process of me getting through the ironing of a single item of clothing.

“why don’t i just do it?” mom said. “it’ll take me two minutes.”

given that she was already feeling under the weather, i felt guilty and said, “yeah, but you shouldn’t have to iron my shirt for me.”

picking up the iron to begin, she said, “there will come a day when you’ll have to do your own ironing. let me do it for you while i can.”

in that moment, i suddenly felt a wave of terror and sadness sweep over my heart, and i quickly swallowed the tears that instantly welled in my eyes.

don't worry

don’t worry

don’t worry.

i won’t call your name when you pass.

i won’t ask how you are.

i won’t tap at your window.

i won’t wait for your laughter.

i won’t wonder if you think of me.

don’t worry, i know.

i glimpsed your veiled expression.

i watched you slowly walk away.

i saw you press the door closed gently.

i heard you quietly fasten the latch

when you thought i stopped listening.

i felt your whispered goodbye

fall softly around my shoulders

as the porch light went dark.

don’t worry, i understand.

i was sorry.

i am sorry.

i won’t try anymore.

don’t worry.

* * * 

© yepimawriter 2010

baking with mom

how to get a free bag of two-bite brownies at the grocery store

1. go to the grocery store.

2. plan to buy sensible food items. things with protein and fibre and vitamins and all sorts of other things that would no doubt please your dietician sister.

3. as you gather the aforementioned sensible food items, realize you also crave dessert but have nary a single dessert item at home.

4. decide to remedy #3 immediately.

5. weigh your dessert options: cookies? cake? cupcakes? pie? tarts? already made? bake at home? all of the above? realize you’re losing yourself in a sugar-and-chocolate-craving daydream and make your way towards the two-bite brownies.

6. examine the best-before dates on all the bags: sept. 22nd, sept. 25th and sept. 27th. begin putting a bag of the sept. 27th brownies into your basket, because clearly they are the freshest, but stop yourself when you realize the sign on the rack says “$3.99.” hem and haw over whether you really, truly want to pay $3.99 for a bag of brownies.

7. begin to put the bag back, but stop as soon as you realize that, despite the sign, these identically sized bags of two-bite brownies are, in fact, all priced differently.

8. survey the bags more closely until you discover all the sept. 25th bags are $2.99, but the rest of the brownies are all priced at $3.99. tell yourself there was obviously a sale at some point, and no one had bothered to correct the mis-priced bags when it was over. since $2.99 is a better price than $3.99, topple off the fence to the “buy the brownies!” side, take a sept. 25th bag and press on.

9. as you wander off, suddenly realize the store you’re in has a scanner guarantee, so that if an item scans at the incorrect price upon checkout, you get that item free. FREE! begin to get very excited about the possibility the assorted prices on the brownie racks mean your bag of two-bite brownies might turn out to cost you much much less than $2.99.

10. proceed to the checkout, trying not to tip your hand about the bakery gaffe. secretly hope the brownies scan at $3.99 and practice your “surprised” face so your shameless scheme for free brownies is somewhat less obvious to the cashier.

11. wait in line.

12. watch carefully as the cashier runs each of your items over the scanner. feel your heart skip a beat when she reaches for the bag of two-bite brownies and quickly sweeps them past the infra-red lights.

13. practically leap across the conveyor belt to point out that the bag of two-bite brownies scanned in at $3.99 when, in fact, “they’re supposed to be $2.99.”

14. witness the cashier sigh as she picks up your bag of two-bite brownies to call the bakery for a price check. gently point out the price tag right on the front of the bag. the price tag that very clearly reads “$2.99 – best before sept. 25/10.” feel time stand still, just for a nanosecond.

15. hear the words you’d so hoped to hear. “oh. then this is free. if it scans in wrong, you get it free.” feign surprise and a careful mélange of gratitude and glee. it’s always important to be happy about one’s good fortune.

16. collect your things, thanks the cashier and wish her a nice day, and then head home from the grocery store with your free bag of two-bite brownies and a little extra spring in your step.

a post in fourteen seconds

it's been cold in toronto lately (yay!), but the heat isn't yet on in my apartment building... so i've been FREEZING at night. last night, i wore longjohns under my pyjamas, a toque and socks to bed, where i slept under three blankets. and was still too chilled to sleep comfortably.

i'm going to a film at the scotiabank theatre today. they had a report of bed bugs there a couple of weeks ago. i'm trying not to hyperventilate.

in related news, YB discovered yesterday that a woman working in her (very very small, one-room) office, and who sits next to her, has bed bugs. both trix and her boss are very concerned, given how easily they can be transported.

i had a wonderful coffee meet-up with my DC film festival friend last night. we chatted about life and movies (and even bed bugs!) for three hours.

time to go...

days

last week, i had a rather dramatic epiphany. it came about after a passing comment from my therapist grew in my head until it seemed like a much bigger deal than it ever actually was. it was by no means anything terrible or hurtful or harsh or negative. just a fleeting remark that, unbeknownst to her, climbed on my back and then junk-punched me a little as i made my way home.

but with that self-thrown cold bucket of water in my face came something unexpectedly good. in fact, the epiphany not only coincided with my self-imposed new year’s day, it spurred what turned into a remarkably productive past six days or so, and a much-needed change in perspective.

in short, i realized that i’d been spending a lot of time waiting for a day that will never come.

a day that doesn’t exist.

i'd been waiting for The Perfect Day.

in all these months of darkness, i’d basically put off life because i was waiting for this magical perfect day to arrive with sunshine and rainbows and puppies and ice cream and a chorus of angels. i was waiting for a day when i wasn’t sad anymore, when i didn’t feel depressed anymore, when i would wake up feeling completely wonderful and amazing and awesome and energized. when i felt better, i thought, then i’d do stuff. i’d start writing again. i’d start pitching editors. i’d start moving myself forward in leaps and bounds.

but while i’d been waiting under my cloud for The Perfect Day, countless ordinary, usable days were disappearing, one after another. time was still marching on, and i was wasting more and more of it. that, in turn, just compounded the problem.

then, last week, i suddenly realized i couldn’t keep waiting... that i needed to start something even if i didn’t feel like it. even if i didn’t think i could or i should. even if it wasn’t The Perfect Day.

because The Perfect Day, especially in the context in which i’d imagined it, doesn’t exist, and i could spend the rest of my life waiting for it to get here. and, more importantly, because i realized i already possess the capabilities i thought i would only be able to access if i was happy.

maybe it seems like an obvious realization, and one i probably should have had a lot sooner, but it hit me when it hit me.

i clued in that it’s in taking those first few steps – no matter how seemingly small or insignificant or challenging, and no matter how much sitting there a while longer or going to take a nap seem like better ideas – that the joints creak and crack and loosen. the muscles start working. the blood begins pumping. and, slowly but steadily, movement becomes more fluid. more organic. more constant. when i described it to my therapist, she agreed that the same applies to medical patients with physical ailments: forcing activity and exercise when they don’t want to do it, or don’t feel well enough to do it, is what actually aids the healing process which, in turn, makes them feel better which, in turn, makes the exercise easier and helps them continue.

here i’d been waiting for this distinct, dramatic, glorious and Perfect night-to-day change to suddenly happen within me before i’d do anything, when, really, what i needed to be doing was figuring out how to work with the dusk, the dawn, the overcast mornings and the chilly afternoons.

which is what i’ve started doing now. and which is why i got more done last week than i have in the last two months.

(oh, and a quick post-script: when i saw my therapist this week, i brought up her comment, we discussed everything at length and i felt so much better.)

just stand there and look pretty

friday facts, figures and fluff

* tomorrow is my mom’s birthday, so YB and i are taking her out for the day. we’ll start with a Caravan of Free Things, where we go from store to store to redeem “free on your birthday” items – so, a dozen free bagels at What a Bagel!, free eye make-up at Sephora and a free lunch at Tucker’s (mom’s choice). then, we’ll do some shopping, stop at this bakery to pick up some cake and retire to trix’s house for coffee.

* the weather has been fantastically cool and crisp and sunny for the past few days, and i LOVE it. temperatures hovering around 18ºC daily, with overnight lows near 10ºC. uh-may-zing. i’m wearing socks and shoes and sweaters again. i pulled out my flannel pyjamas, added a blanket to the bed and have been having the most wonderful sleeps in recent nights. autumn is definitely in the air, and some of the trees have begun turning. i suspect a fall leaves outing will be in the cards within two weeks.

* with the end of summer comes the end of some of my favourite TV shows, like Big Brother and The Next Food Network Star. regarding the former, i kind of hope hayden wins (which is shocking given how much i disliked him three months ago); regarding the latter, i think aarti will be the most successful NFNS winner they’ve ever had... and i’m glad because i lurrrrrrrved her.

* in related news, i watched the premiere of Nikita last night and was surprised to see my favourite walking location (mount pleasant cemetery) featured prominently as an attempted-assassination spot.

* for some unknown reason, perhaps one related to the dramatic shifts in weather (from hot to cold to hot to cold), large chunks of plaster have bubbled up and fallen off the walls in some of the hallways in my building. there are two giant patches of broken wall in the hallway outside my door, and i suspect that the creep and/or the weirdo next door have been making it worse by picking at the “wounds” each time they pass. the super says she’s waiting for the temperatures to stabilize before she gets them repaired.

* i am absolutely terrified of bed bugs, and i have no idea why everyone else isn’t as scared or as vigilant about preventing their spread.

* last night, i had my recurring hell house dream again... the one where, for some reason, i’m living in my current apartment but realize i still have things stored in my old place that i then need to retrieve. i haven’t had that dream in a long time. in this version, the dream started with me already in the HH apartment, which was still fully furnished with all my stuff. but in the kitchen were boxes and boxes of “valuables” that i’d apparently decided to leave behind permanently – things i’ve never actually owned in real life, but that i’d amassed in my dreamlife. silver and gold goblets, ornate jewelry... boxes of the stuff. and, in the dream, two things were most prominent: 1. a deep feeling of “we need to get out of here, pronto!”, because i recognized that i’d moved out YEARS prior and didn’t belong there anymore; and 2. a sense of “WHY did i leave these things here??????”

* yesterday, i ordered more samples. i hope they make it through the postal system to get to me.

you’ve got (missing) mail

since at least march, random pieces of my mail have been going missing.

first, it was the case of my missing tax package. after a few frustrating phone calls, i was assured i probably wasn’t at risk for identity theft, and i chalked up the M.I.A. package to a glitch in the matrix.

then, a credit card arrived and was delivered to the wrong unit in the building. my super found the envelope, addressed to me and with my correct address on it, in the “returned mail” bin in our vestibule. another tenant had obviously received it in his/her box and then dumped it. had the super not found it, it could have been stolen or just thrown in the trash.

after that, over the next while, it was product samples that were disappearing en route to me. boxes of goodies sent to me just... wouldn’t arrive. this happened at least three times over about four months. hmmm. i initially suspected my neighbours might be intercepting my wares, since the packages were being left in the building’s common area instead of being delivered to my door but, after enough of these packages disappeared, i complained to canada post.

they forwarded my complaint to the depot supervisor for my area who, in turn, forwarded it directly to my mail carrier who, in turn, buzzed me to discuss the issue. she assured me she hasn’t had any packages for me during her tenure (no idea how long that’s been), and that she’ll buzz me if/when she ever does.

great.

five minutes later, i was talking to my super about the mail fiasco, and she revealed that, just two days prior, a BUNDLE of misdelivered mail had been left in our lobby. mail for a completely different address, not even for someone IN the building! what the hell?!

then, shortly thereafter, i got an email from a friend asking why i hadn’t yet responded to his wedding invitation. to which i replied, “WHAT wedding invitation?!?!?”

didn’t get that, either.

and it’s not like i wasn’t getting any mail – my mail was still coming, almost daily, just not in its entirety, obviously.

so, after learning about the missing wedding invitation, i sent another email to canada post who, in turn, forwarded it to the depot supervisor who, in turn, has said/done nothing. i expect they feel the issue has been resolved, but it hasn’t.

because, just yesterday, i learned that another envelope that had been sent to me – this one containing a magazine from a former editor – had been mailed weeks ago and just never got to me. i spoke with my mail carrier again yesterday, and she feigned shock and dismay. i say “feigned” because i get the feeling she thinks i’m overreacting... or that she knows i suspect SHE’S responsible for the wayward items and is playing dumb so i don’t lay into her.

i’m stumped as to what to do next.

where the eff is my mail?!?!

days of awe

i’ve decided my year ends later today.

for the past week or so, i’ve toyed with the idea of declaring my own new year’s eve and starting a brand new year at some random point other than midnight on december 31st. as we know, the end of the year is typically a very melancholy time for me, and i've been increasingly worried about how i'm going to handle this christmas and new year's after the emotionally challenging 2010 i've had thus far.

recently, i also found myself sliding down the slippery slope of, “well, it’s september now. that means the year is 2/3 done, and what do i have to show for it? absolutely nothing. how am i going to not fall into another dark hole come christmas? the bad will outweigh the good when i look back at 2010, no matter what i do.” and so on.

it was entirely counter-productive thinking, and i saw myself creating a self-fulfilling prophesy.

so, the notion of a self-imposed new year's was born.

and, frankly, i've had enough of what 2010's had to offer me up until now, anyway. i'm prepared to bid it adieu. i'm tired of all the sadness and regret and guilt and loneliness and shame and disappointment and everything else. i'm ready to heave all those things off my shoulders and move forward without them constantly weighing me down. the thought of carrying them through to january 1st -- and then reliving them all at once -- is just too exhausting a proposition.

so, i started thinking more about changing my own new year’s day. about taking the power away from december 31st. why should i look towards that date, or the entire month of december for that matter, with dread? what if i decided i was ending my year right now? that this is it -- it's over! -- so i might start fresh tomorrow morning with new hopes or goals or resolutions for the next 12 months? or the next 12 weeks? after all, i can start a new "year" whenever i choose.

then i remembered something i saw on, of all things, Oprah. it was an episode about grief, and the subject of significant dates came up. that is, how certain days in the year – birthdays, holidays, etc. – can trigger sadness and depression and despair because they serve as painful reminders of loss. and, even though my situation is somewhat different, the advice they gave was solid and sound.

namely, that memories and feelings will arise whenever they arise, not because of a date on a calendar. the specific date should not be allowed to hold power over you, nor should it be some kind of enormous black hole that looms on the horizon. it's not the day that rules, it's you.

the more i thought about it, the more i liked it... and then yesterday i realized that this evening is the start of rosh hashanah.

the jewish new year.

i’m not jewish, but the arrival of my realization could not have been more perfect. why not use this high holy time – one during which you’re meant to be introspective and repentant about the year that’s passed, and to plan for the year ahead – to start anew myself? to maybe close the door on the unpleasantness of the past eight months and just kind of wipe the slate clean a little early?

as i pondered, i decided to research rosh hashanah, and the most significant sign-from-the-universe thing i found was that the 10 days of rosh hashanah are commonly called “the days of awe.”

and, really, what better time to try to turn things around and head in a new direction than a period specifically named for wonder and amazement?

exactly.

happy new year!

a message from the cards

some of you may recall my friend YVL and the magic cards. i am always amazed at how freakishly appropriate and accurate they are, but i hadn’t sought their guidance in a few months.

today, YVL decided (on her own) to think of me and then pull a card to see what it might say about my life at the moment, and this is what was written on the one she pulled:

Issues
Identify and face your issues. Yes, it may feel uncomfortable at first, but how many times do you wish to travel the same road? Current issues that you have been working on are being resolved. Other forces are at work here, take your time and know that all the pieces of the jigsaw puzzles will slot in eventually.

and, once again, the cards don’t lie. as anyone who’s been reading this blog over the past month or so can attest, “issues” have certainly been at the forefront of my mind and my life. breaking ingrained patterns. learning how not to travel the same road(s) over and over again.

figuring out puzzle pieces and where they go, or looking to find ones that are missing.

and, somehow, having the cards confirm (or affirm?) what i'm experiencing was oddly comforting and somewhat inspiring.

clippings: parents' garden, later that same day

click to enlarge...

clippings: YB's garden, this afternoon

click to enlarge...

furthermore...

i'm dissolving feelings: the blog. ultimately, it was an idea that just never took hold and, really, once i sort of decided to quit hiding feelings here, it became redundant.

but i'm not deleting that blog, just leaving it be for now. i looked through its entries and pulled the three that i think mattered most, and have reposted them here in their proper chronological slots. you can read them if you'd like, or just skip 'em.

while part of me thinks it would be fun to let you pore through six months of entries to try to find the ones i just added, if you're so inclined you can simply:

click here for revelatory feelings.

click here for pre-birthday feelings.

click here for post-birthday feelings.

unfortunately, i wasn't able to transfer the comments, but they were all very much appreciated.

gone... but not forgotten

the universe really does work in mysterious ways sometimes.

my last blog entry, “emptying the cache,” discussed the contents of my brain, and how much accumulated emotional clutter fills its nooks and crannies. i talked about wanting to clear some of that stuff out, and about my seeming inability to do so.

this morning, in a weirdly ironic twist of e-fate, it seemed as though the universe had perhaps read my blog the other day and decided to facilitate a bit of a cobweb-dusting in its own, not-exactly-what-i-wanted-or-expected way.

in my ongoing waffling about facebook and whether i want to maintain or power-down my account, i’ve clicked “deactivate” a few times, but (as mentioned in a previous entry) have never been able to fully follow through. i googled to read about other people’s experiences leaving the site behind, and discovered how easy it is to just log back in and automatically reactivate everything if you change your mind... so long as the email address you’ve been using is still valid. you get a deactivation email to confirm, and a reactivation email to confirm if/when that time comes, so you need to be able to access those messages when they arrive.

well, the email address i’d been using for FB was an old one. one that i’d used often in the past to sign up for members-only websites and such, but one that i didn’t really check that often at all anymore. i hadn’t logged into that email account in a while, and decided i should probably make sure i still knew its password so that, if i did decide to deactivate FB, i could also REactivate it as needed.

so, i called up yahoo! mail, and entered my username and password.

and a screen popped up, notifying me that my entire account had been deleted due to inactivity.

wait. what?

evidently, per the automated message, i hadn’t logged in to that email account in more than four months, so yahoo! automatically deleted the whole thing.

all of it.

all the messages in my inbox, all my saved messages, everything.

gone.

i felt a big clunk as my stomach dropped.

though i barely used that account these days, i did have messages saved there that i actually wanted to save. little nuggets of my past that i’d kept for sentimental reasons and personal ones. events, moments, messages or people i wanted to remember.

the emails had been erased without my knowledge, and have now disappeared forever.

i was given the option of reactivating the account, which i did, but once i had access again the account was still completely empty. everything had been cleared out in one fell e-swoop, and that was that. (and p.s. – nowhere did it ever say “caution: log in at least once every four months or the contents of your account will be toast!”, so thanks for the heads-up, yahoo!.)

for about a half-hour afterwards, i felt quite sad. because of my own inaction, i’d lost these small, special-to-me things that i’d saved for years, and there was nothing i could do to retrieve any of them. assorted pieces of my life were gone in a click. the blame spiral began to swirl and i could feel myself running on the hamster wheel of “woulda, coulda, shoulda, if only.”

but the more i thought about it, the more i realized that the universe was probably just giving me what i needed, and perhaps doing for me what i couldn’t seem to do for myself. i started to think about why i’d held on to these messages, and reexamined what it really was that i’d lost by having them disappear. i think the answers to those questions will likely be part of a bigger blog entry to come at some point but, for now, i do realize that my memories of those events, moments and people in my life are intact even if the messages – the physical “evidence” that they existed, that they happened – may be gone.

so, i mourned the loss of the emails, and studied my lesson. i’ve since changed my email info on facebook to a more frequented address, so that walking out the door AND still being allowed back if i so choose in is still an option. and, if nothing else, i’d like to think this involuntary electronic housecleaning was perhaps simply one of those “i’m doing this for your own good” nudges from the cosmos.

emptying the cache

i am an emotional hoarder.

i do not hoard objects or possessions; i hoard emotions. i am a pack rat of feelings.

like those who hoard material things until they’re swallowed whole by old newspapers and crumpled beer cans and hideous tchotchkes from a thousand garage sales, i have vast, hidden chambers and hallways in my head and heart stacked floor to ceiling with emotional junk. alphabetized, dated, cross-referenced. i can wander through them for hours, revisiting my own history and watching filmstrips of days gone by like clark griswold in the attic.

but it’s not my life’s treasures and triumphs and joys that occupy the bulk of those chambers and hallways – it’s a jumbled, crowded collection of regrets and mistakes, all my worries and fears, every sadness and heartbreak and hurt that’s been saved. framed pictures of my shortcomings, boxes of previous missteps, broken recordings of words i wish i could take back, empty jars i’d hoped to fill with better choices and trash bags bulging from the anxieties they contain. there are extensive card catalogues overflowing with the full spectrum of my own negative emotions or experiences, and i can shuffle through them to call one up at will, often triggered by who knows what. a song. a thought. a name. a word. a moment. i can tell you the where, when, who and how of each feeling as if it happened yesterday. but, like the epic amounts of waste amassed by a typical hoarder, these are things that, for the most part, i never let anyone see.

sometimes, i’m struck by one fleeting twinge of remorse or embarrassment and then compelled to dig through the contents of those chambers and hallways to find more. it’s like a compulsion – misery does love company, after all. pull at the one thread until the whole sweater comes unraveled. remember a single flaw and immediately remind yourself of all the others like it. before long, that dripping faucet becomes a flood. and, no matter how unwise or unhealthy or unproductive it might be, stopping that familiar, futile journey down that well-worn path is often challenging. just the other night, one lone glint of a memory popped into my head as i was trying to fall asleep, and a seemingly insignificant seed of contrition grew into a towering oak of self-criticism within an hour.

for whatever reason, i seem to be unable or unconsciously unwilling to clean these things all out and throw them away. “let it go” is a skill i have not yet been able to grasp, let alone master. so everything stays. fermenting. and, as time marches on, the more room devoted to darkness, the harder it is to find space for the light.

i’m not sure why i maintain these stores of negativity, or why i can’t rid myself of them, or why i stroll through the cramped corridors of the less-than-sunny times in my past as often or as easily as i do. part of it is, perhaps, an effort to understand and learn, as though i might somehow figure out the perfect answer to what to do next if i just think long enough and hard enough about what i’ve done before. regardless, in doing so, this horde of hoarded emotions has begun to define me. it’s started to become who i am instead of who i once was. realizing this has been a slow but revelatory process.

i fully recognize this problematic trait within myself, and can completely understand its inherent destructiveness. it’s one of the issues i’m addressing via therapy and i’m hoping i can eventually run a giant dyson through the whole mess and clear at least some of it out. in the meantime, i’m trying to create pockets of clarity amid the chaos, and learning how to better sort what’s valuable and meaningful and worth keeping from what’s irrelevant and useless and, ultimately, toxic.