I’m not looking forward to most of what’s lying ahead.
But this next month is not so bad. I’m going to Puerto Rico on the 12th, then Barcelona on the 25th. But coupled with these trips to exotic places is the worry of what lies just beyond: work that hasn’t been done well enough, fear that I have not measured up and must move onto something else. It’s exhausting thinking about it.
I just read a book about a writer was dealing with a bizarre autoimmune disease which made her exhausted and confused all the time, and she knew, absolutely know, she was better than this, that she could work optimally and be super-effective. I felt for her predicqament but I also wondered, how did she know she could be more? Because she once was a rising New Yorker editor in her twenties? How did she know she was supposed to get back into that kind of role? I wonder what lies ahead for me and wish I had that same, Type A certainty of what could be accomplished.
Most of the time, as I’ve recounted to friends, what drives me from one date to the next is a trip somewhere, not even an exciting trip, just going somewhere which will enable a brief escape from routine.
I just got off the phone with my sister, who helped settle her husband’s Ukrainian relatives in Ireland. She was saying the big problem was that no one knew when Ukraine would resolve, that there was no way to look forward to the end, since the end was amorphous and maybe there was no home to go back to. My heart went out to these poor refugees, but then later in the conversation somehow the topic turned to how I needed to leave White Plains, and maybe I should go to Seattle or New Zealand or even Ireland, and it became abundantly clear that there could never be any grounding anywhere. I fear being settled in one place because this might mean that this is where I will die, there will never be anywhere else, and I always want there to be somewhere else.
I think one of the few moments of bliss I experience is when I go running along the ocean or hiking in the mountains and there’s this moment where you’re staring at the horizon, and you can see it will just giving you more, that it’s worth it to go a little farther up the trail, or along the shore because that view of the next horizon could be so worth it. That’s what I find exciting.
So let’s really think about what lies ahead and I will forecast my family’s future: I predict I will move away from White Plains in six years, probably to the Pacific Northwest. I predict Henry will graduate from law school and realize he’s not that excited by law and will end up doing something like public policy in a local government. I predict Niek will end up going to college in the northeast and will major in something like history or English, because that’s just what he likes. I predict Ted will get better, and will end up being in almost the best shape of his life, because this is the person that he is, that’s what he cares about it, and makes him who he is.
And me? I do not know what will happen to me. The best case scenario is I’ve published a book, the worst case is I’m at Trader Joe’s, but either one will be fine in the end because that is resiliency.
— siobhan
But this next month is not so bad. I’m going to Puerto Rico on the 12th, then Barcelona on the 25th. But coupled with these trips to exotic places is the worry of what lies just beyond: work that hasn’t been done well enough, fear that I have not measured up and must move onto something else. It’s exhausting thinking about it.
I just read a book about a writer was dealing with a bizarre autoimmune disease which made her exhausted and confused all the time, and she knew, absolutely know, she was better than this, that she could work optimally and be super-effective. I felt for her predicqament but I also wondered, how did she know she could be more? Because she once was a rising New Yorker editor in her twenties? How did she know she was supposed to get back into that kind of role? I wonder what lies ahead for me and wish I had that same, Type A certainty of what could be accomplished.
Most of the time, as I’ve recounted to friends, what drives me from one date to the next is a trip somewhere, not even an exciting trip, just going somewhere which will enable a brief escape from routine.
I just got off the phone with my sister, who helped settle her husband’s Ukrainian relatives in Ireland. She was saying the big problem was that no one knew when Ukraine would resolve, that there was no way to look forward to the end, since the end was amorphous and maybe there was no home to go back to. My heart went out to these poor refugees, but then later in the conversation somehow the topic turned to how I needed to leave White Plains, and maybe I should go to Seattle or New Zealand or even Ireland, and it became abundantly clear that there could never be any grounding anywhere. I fear being settled in one place because this might mean that this is where I will die, there will never be anywhere else, and I always want there to be somewhere else.
I think one of the few moments of bliss I experience is when I go running along the ocean or hiking in the mountains and there’s this moment where you’re staring at the horizon, and you can see it will just giving you more, that it’s worth it to go a little farther up the trail, or along the shore because that view of the next horizon could be so worth it. That’s what I find exciting.
So let’s really think about what lies ahead and I will forecast my family’s future: I predict I will move away from White Plains in six years, probably to the Pacific Northwest. I predict Henry will graduate from law school and realize he’s not that excited by law and will end up doing something like public policy in a local government. I predict Niek will end up going to college in the northeast and will major in something like history or English, because that’s just what he likes. I predict Ted will get better, and will end up being in almost the best shape of his life, because this is the person that he is, that’s what he cares about it, and makes him who he is.
And me? I do not know what will happen to me. The best case scenario is I’ve published a book, the worst case is I’m at Trader Joe’s, but either one will be fine in the end because that is resiliency.
— siobhan
I hear the calm resiliency in your writing!
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