I saw Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear, by Elizabeth Gilbert, featured on the shelves near the checkout counter of our library, the literary equivalent of the candy that lines the checkout aisles of the supermarket. I will be honest – the beautiful cover is what first pulled me in, and after I read a few pages, I was interested enough in the content to check it out.
When I found it, I was in the thick of marriage stuff. I’ve found that for most things self care-related, I struggle to do things just for me if there is no other person who will directly benefit (although that is False Thinking, because when I take good care of myself, there are always 8 other people who will benefit from my better state of mind and body.)
I was reading relationship and marriage books, which was self care, but also marriage care, but I couldn’t make myself read Big Magic, which would have just been for me. Not me and the Chaplain, not me and the kids. I was a little afraid it would inspire me to do or make something, which would further use time I didn’t feel I had.
Perhaps lots of people have seen Nanette. I heard about it on a blog I follow, and I tucked the title away in the back of my head as something to check out if I ran out of things to watch. Blessedly, I forgot almost everything but the vaguest sense of what the blogger had said about the show before I started watching it, and went into it with no expectations.
Aside from Jim Gaffigan, who mostly makes me laugh and only sometimes causes me to squirm, I’ve had to stay away from stand-up comedy.
Mainly, much of it is completely offensive to me. After peeling layers back on our marriage, I am very tender right now, and pretty trigger-happy. I was going to say, not in a good way, but there is no good trigger happy, is there? So much stand-up makes my hair stand on end (Marlon Wayans, I’m looking at you). So I’ve stayed away.
But I unexpectedly came to the end of the season of the show I’d been watching at lunch time, and so yesterday, I did a quick search and found Nanette.
Since I had no idea what to expect, I got more than I hoped for. A powerful, funny, and painful show, Nanette tells an important story so effectively. I love things that aren’t easily categorized; life is full of amazing interconnection, and this show takes full advantage of this. It draws wide circles and then makes Venn Diagrams with them.
By the end, I loved Hannah Gadsby for her brains, her courage, and wit. I wished she lived closer so we could be friends.
If you have a little down time, this is a worthy and thoughtful piece of entertainment.
I have to note, Nanette does contain a fair amount of language, but it didn’t feel gratuitous, perhaps because of Gadsby’s lovely Australian accent.
When I was in college, I had a friend who apologized constantly. It was the first time I became aware of the mostly female habit of apologizing unnecessarily. In my friend’s case, it came to seem as if she were apologizing just for taking up space.
My self esteem wavered at that time, but I saw value in myself. Enough to recognize what I didn’t want: to be in a place where I was apologizing for existing. I determined not to let that happen.
I’d like to say I never apologized for anything that wasn’t my fault again after I made that decision, but my inner self has always taken the marathon route when it comes to personal growth. Slow and steady wins the race, right?
I have been especially guilty of it with the Chaplain. The Chaplain isn’t someone who wants or needs me to be sorry all the time. And we’re at the point now where I’ll catch myself starting to apologize and then I’ll stop myself aloud.
I have made big strides with how often I do it when I’m out in the public sphere.
But I also do it with my kids.
This July 4th felt a little icky.
I’ve been thinking about it, trying to nail it down. I know it began with the Election Season last fall and the toxic atmosphere online that caused me to take a step back from the news and finally be ready to quit Facebook.
My big kids are out of town staying with their aunt, and I have been home alone with the Littles. Granted, I was only alone with them for one day, Tuesday, since Monday was a travel day. Today, the Chaplain had off for the holiday and was here to help me out.
But Tuesday was the day I needed to recover from that traveling over the weekend and using a TON of social and emotional capital that I didn’t really have to spend. By the last day of the trip, I was feeling full of the meaning that comes from spending time with people with whom you have shared memories and a certain understanding.
I was also completely exhausted and had lost my voice.
And once we were home, my First Day Back was home alone with the Littles.
Today at lunch, I sat down with my lettuce wrap – strawberries, sunflower seeds, and the kind of fresh, CSA lettuce that my kids eat without dressing and then ask for seconds of – and I was going to watch another episode of Stranger Things.
If you’re familiar with the show, you’ll know why, after watching an episode yesterday, I decided I would take a break from it today. I love the 80’s vibe, but content is pretty intense. The Billy character is the spitting image, down to the red lips, wide blue eyes, long lashes, and wavy hair, of a young man I knew as a child. Watching the show is like time travel. But watching it every day feels like a bit much.
Today, I wanted something different, and for some reason, the Netflix original Queer Eye Season Two caught my eye. I never watched Season One. I didn’t watch the original version, either. I didn’t even really know what it was about.
When the show opened to the strains of “Amazing Grace,” my interest was piqued, but I was also pretty cautious. What point was the show trying to make? Where were they going with this?
