both sides now

From what I understand, the last legs of a marathon are a particular challenge where one is tempted to say fuck-it and just give-up already. Honestly, it would just be so much easier. "Hitting the wall," is a well-documented phenomenon in endurance sports. I joined a friend on the last leg of their marathon once in Volcano, running together and he used to go out 25 miles a day as a regular thing. At the end of this marathon, the resolve had fallen away from his eyes.

Even Jesus had his doubts in the Garden of Gethsemane (not that I’m comparing myself exactly). And so often that’s what coaches and doulas are for — seeing it through the final push. Perhaps that's why the marathon has become such a powerful analogy for life: just as the finish line comes into view, the temptation to quit can become almost overwhelming.

Yesterday was that coupled with my period starting and an incoming head cold that made me foggy and tired and crabby. I think the gravity of the week just tanked my immune system and I haven’t been sleeping so well.  I’m sorry to complain. I’ve also been talking more about period stuff in the effort to normalize it. It’s not something that was talked about growing up.  I want my boys and daughter to be able to have these conversations.

I’ve spent my whole life coordinating, planning, cajoling, designing, curating, project managing and implementing --- with my family, in my relationships and in my work. We joke that Virgos have a special way with this and A-Types even more, but to be honest, it’s beginning to wear on me. After years of time and money and emotional energy I’m becoming more selective in how I spend my time.

Because this last year and a half has been the most difficult of my life, I've been very intentional about the redesign—about how I rebuild after everything went up in flames (the 50% or so that's mine to shape). And in the wake of so much conflict, I’ve been trying to facilitate connection and relationship with family and old friends and new friends. There have been so many casualties along the way.

The thing is I really want the people that are important in my life to know and understand the other people that are important in my life. And maybe it shouldn’t really matter, but to me it does. At 44, I've learned to trust my own judgment again. I hope, with time, the people who love me will come to trust it too.

I’ve been battling for much of my life and the people that know me know that.  I don’t want to create conflict where it doesn’t exist, but I show up every time where it’s needed. And this last round has been full-on survival mode.

And I’ve been so surprised by the lack of involvement by some of the people who have known me the longest and best. And even more surprised by the follow-through of the people who I am just coming to know in this new phase of life. Honestly, I’m not sure what shape I wanted all this to take since it’s all new territory, but I’m pretty clear on the choices I’m making and why they matter so much.

I think what I’m saying is, I have enough to give my attention to now without having to create new things to add to that. Like this big ass family party I was planning for the Virgos in September. Our family has such great parties and I was excited to return to LA and everybody again with some good friends in tow. Kind of a celebration of our survival since it seems like everyone has really been having a hard year. But now I’m rethinking it. Why am I doing this? Why am I creating another task that’s going to make me frustrated with everyone? Why go back to the same  empty well for water?

I’m not mad, but I do feel sad and mad sometimes about it all and I say so out loud. But what I am is fatigued with it, having to do everything myself. I know I can, but I’m surprised and I think it’s an issue of my expectations of others, in who I have been for them and who I would hope they would be for me. It’s not just that. It’s a reevaluation of how I engage people overall. How much am I carrying for all of us? Right now it’s enough to just carry myself.

When I got back to Hawaii some months ago, I spent a lot of time just scream crying in the car at the top of my lungs until I eventually lost my voice.  It felt like my guts were ripped open and on fire. I couldn't catch my breath - I'd grab at things around me as if to stop the spinning. Life as I knew it was over, everything was saturated with memories and I couldn't go near the home I had spent 10 years building or my pets or the people I loved.

What I’ve been trying to do since is to make sure that there is as much love and play and lighthearted fun as possible to offset the amount of heaviness and hardship in this big transition. If there's 100 lbs of horror show, I had to make show there would be 100 lbs of joy to counterbalance.

I think it might be a muscle I’m trying to exercise, turning my face to the light and sloughing off unsolicited opinions from those with a peripheral view.  Especially if they are terribly concerned and afraid of not knowing what’s gonna happen next. I can’t afford to do that —- to be afraid with them or explain and reassure them as to why they needn’t be. I walked it through yesterday from start to finish, and at some point someone showed up to walk alongside me. Imagine that -- showing up just to walk alongside me without trying to compete for my attention or warn me or alter my course.

So thank you to those who have been showing up. Thank you to those who call to check in and who wrote such beautiful letters. Reading them actually was a reminder of some of my longest standing relationships and their stories. It gives me life.

Court is tomorrow at 10am and I don't really know who's going to show up, or if they'll let me talk, or what will happen. I just have to be ready. I suspect a number of disparaging things will be said about me by the opposition, to discredit me and justify the current narrative of my being dangerous and crazy. I'm going to just ignore that and focus on what's most true -- that last year our lives exploded in a brutal and horrifying way with so much fallout and I went off the rails. But I'm the same person I've essentially always been and we are all doing our best to reconstruct in the aftermath.

Now I think as far as planning  family parties, and trying to coordinate connection and trying to communicate what’s going on and trying to create assurances that things are OK, I'm going to have to opt out at this point—not out of anger, but out of self-preservation. My energy belongs to building the life that's in front of me now.

With love and light.