In my youthful- no-rent-money-but-had-a-new-baby days, I didn’t even have a checking account. So when I asked my friend Kelly when we’d hang out next and she pulled out a HANDWRITTEN planner from her bag, my head exploded!
WHAT WAS THIS? I sat in her office watching her eyeball the next few weeks ahead of her - meetings, errands, dinners, trips, blah, blah, blah. I couldn’t believe it! Here was a full grown adult woman pulling out a spiral bound planner looking for an open night just for me. I sat in anticipation, excited to see her write my name in one of those blank squares, a silent contract dedicating 5:15 pm until 6:45 pm on a Tuesday for just me. WOW. Was I in a movie?
I thought about that calendar for days. Was a planner the official symbol that you’re a responsible adult? Where would one even buy something like that? Did you get one when you opened a checking account? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I was scared that I’d leave my baby on the bus and here was someone just walking around with the future sitting in their purse.
My life would remain planner-less deep into adulthood. Of course, like most people, I was buy curious (yes, I know what I did there). I fingered all sorts of calendars (WOW! I DID IT AGAIN) - leather bound ones, big thick hard ones, pretty soft ones in plastic - hoping that the right one would magically jump on my face (HAPPY PRIDE BITCHES) changing my life forever. Sadly, it never happened.
The calendar was an elusive creature until a divorce and Google calendars made it a reality. It started slow - custody schedules matching up with roller derby practice. Increasingly, I kept adding things - school events, doctor appointments, attempts at playdates, meetings with teachers, working overtime, and on, and on. By the time the pandemic hit, I was so committed to a busy schedule and my calendar, I was tripling up - working at a bar while hosting a show where I forced my friends to visit me.
It wasn’t until we were all under the stay-at-home order that I realized how much I loved being at home and hated the calendar. I spent so much of my life trying to survive and make my life mean something that I forgot the value of sitting down and simply shutting the fuck up….ENTER THERAPY.
Being forced to stay indoors, reminded me that I grew up as an indoor kid and that’s who I am at heart. I liked being at home with my dog and my dude and for a period of time, without children. It was the first time in my life when I realized that I have never been interested in a home life because all of my homes felt chaotic and unsafe. I’m not saying that in my childhood, I was in any danger, but I was a child living with a child with no adults to guide us. My next few living situations were messy and abusive, resulting in me living in the basement of my ex’s condo for years before I moved in with Mike. Even at his place, we tried to make our lives work in a one bedroom with two young children and a cat who tried to murder me on more than one occasion.
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During the pandemic, I started to see that we built a life together in this small brick bungalow covered in ivy, littered with Costco folding chairs on the porch. I picked up knitting again, took long walks with the dog, and held a book in my hand for the first time in years. I liked the home cooked meals or my friends huddling in our backyard around our makeshift fireplace even though I hated how it was built and where. THANKS MIKE - STILL PISSED. I even liked the attempts at connecting online with wine meetups and singing with Karaoke Club from my dining room. I added plants inside and ordered pieces of furniture that I sent back because WAYFAIR CAN SUCK MY D***.
At some point, I thought I wanted to come back into the world, but now that we are here, I kinda hate it.
As a city worker, I was the last to leave our office and the first to return. Months after being back in the slog, listening to my friends moan and cry about having to go back to the office for 3 days a week made me want to rip out my ears and slap their faces with them. I also understood the pain. Life administration is so much easier when you work from home. After completing a work task, I could take a break and switch the laundry. Now, if I want to take a break, I can wander around Costco and feel sad watching disillusioned middle aged men buy their work wardrobe right next to tubs of seafood salad.
Now, I’m back at staring at my calendar trying to figure out how to manage my time because my ass has to be in a chair eight hours everyday. That’s not really a complaint since I do like my job and I feel lucky that I have one, but in order to be in the office where someone is paying attention to my attendance shifts things. For 40 hours a week, I have one goal and only that one goal - to show up in the same spot. Between this and my renewed love for home life, I am having a hard time returning to calendar life.
Prior to the pandemic, I’ve had the stamina and puissance to push and push and push! AND YES I’M USING PUISSANCE BECAUSE IT’S PRIDE MONTH - YAY PUISSANCES!! I used to have the power to go from a full time job to grabbing the kids and getting them where they needed to go then arriving at a second job and then meeting friends after and then stopping at the grocery before going to bed at 2 am - NO PROBLEM! Now, if I have to work a full day and do anything after 7 pm, I immediately pass.
During the stay-at-home order, I had another development in therapy - addressing my drinking. I don’t have a lot of talents, but the top one is drinking most people under the table from 5 pm until 2 am and getting up at 7 am to start my day without a hangover. It’s impressive, but not great! I stopped feeling proud of that person. I knew I wouldn’t quit drinking but I knew that I needed to calm down before I Edgar Allan Poe’d it and died next to a Chicago city sewer by phrenitis. A basic tool used in changing your behavior, specifically in addiction recovery, is to stop putting yourself in situations that will tempt you. This means that I had to cut out a few days of socializing a week, to be dry, and spend time thinking and reflecting on how I would move forward.
Another thing I lost is my tolerance for small talk. I’m done. I really learned the value of one-on-one conversations and digging deeper into relationships. I’m not that excited to sit in groups of people and hear everyone scream over each other, which is fun, but not all the time. When I have time with a friend or family, I’m more interested in spending time with them alone rather than in a big group where I can high five 10 folks at once and walk away feeling like I’ve met the friend obligation. Which also means…..adding more dates to the calendar.
This week, I literally am booked almost every night for two weeks. I’m excited for all things that are happening (especially Tyler Childers - please watch this video also pride related) and at the same time resentful that my Stabler and Benson time is postponed when we’re so close to solving the case of the murdered woman linked to the Christian anti-abortion fun house!
I am incredibly lucky to have a job, a home, a dog that is obsessed with me. I’m lucky to have kids I like and friends who nurture my heart. I am lucky to be healthy and REALLY FUCKIN’ FUNNY, but goddamn I do hate this calendar crap. I want to return to when I was a kid and called someone and said, “What are you doing tonight?” Then we’d run around the mall or take a walk around the block.
Until I can figure out how to get back to that space, just throw out some dates and I’ll see if they match up to mine.
OBSESSED:
Listening: This is not on repeat, but I really loved that Eminem dropped this song two weeks ago. I could write a whole thing about him, but I’m gonna own my love for him with no apologies, nor does he give a f***, which is exactly why I love him - so punk rock.
Streaming: I just told you! I don’t have any tv time this week! LOL
Reading: Demon Copperhead was nearing the end when Spotify was like TIMES UP, BITCH. Luckily, I was like they must have some work around for this and they did! Here’s your link to Top Up Hours. Now that I’m done, I miss this mofo and I definitely did not cry at the end.
Obsessing: I love SPAM and the whole history of it (Spam Band, anyone) but I didn’t know this about Cheetos.
Crocheting: I’ve had to pause in this world lately. I WANT TO BE CROCHETING! WAHHHHHHHH.
Patryk’s Gripe Corner
My bestie Patryk asked if he could have a corner of my newsletter for griping. I’m obsessed with Patryk’s need to improve everything. He blames it on his Polish culture but, I think it’s his love of dissatisfaction.
The proper way to signal that you’re done eating is to place your knife and fork side-by-side on your plate. Please don’t bunch up and throw your cloth napkin onto a dirty plate hence making someone’s clean-up job more difficult.
for some reason, you writing about looking at calendars to buy reminded me that walking through target yesterday looking for vitamins, i happened across an isle of vibrators. I did a triple take, and then just decided i bettter walk down the isle to confirm my eyes weren't lying and see if I needed any of those too.
Your polyamorous friends are nodding in vigorous agreement to all of this! Honestly the worst part for me in grad school has been oh, got some blank space on that calendar there? More time for school work!