If you know me, you know that I have tendencies very like Kate Winslet's character in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I am impulsive and vagabondy and wouldn't mind at all being a book slave at Barnes and Noble. Also think I would look hot with blue hair.
I said a final farewell to my social media vices once and for all in early February, and went dark on FB, Instagram and this blog all at once. And I was lonely. And I felt isolated. And was not invited to parties. And... began living in the moment. Every moment. Just for the sake of living in them.
This is not poetry. This is a very hard way to live sometimes. Because the immediate validation of 30 other Mamas clucking their empathy over a photo of Knox sitting in a pile of empty board game boxes like a psychopath while the content lie strewn and mixed up all over my living room is very comforting. My people, my social group, my village, my fellow parents, agree with me that the next 45 minutes of my life are going to suck. And not only that, but I can count on some follow up texts or emails filled with smiles asking how many beers it took to clean up the mess?
Solidarity. Comfort. A virtual shoulder. A long distance hand reaching out for my tired face and stroking my cheek with understanding and care. A boot in the ass. An encouraging quote. Friendship. We are in this together. Pennsylvania and Colorado (or Illinois or New York or Louisiana) aren't that far apart.
Social media made that easier, and for that I will always love my IG account. My friend in San Francisco watched Pursy and Knox put their shoes on and run in the backyard via my posted photos. I couldn't give up that connection with my dearests across the country, so I started texting one photo a week that I call Whimsical Wednesday and send it to a select few of near and far friends that I want to see some intimate moment of my day. It might be a picture of the babes eating breakfast, or my freshly organized spice cabinet, or the tweenage boy I saw at the zoo wearing an acid wash jean vest. Some small way to keep our lives connected.
And then I was chatting with my favorite Anglican priest (chosen as my favorite from the host of Anglican priests circling my social group) and he mentioned that he hadn't read anything from me in a while. And I felt sad. And I realized that writing is something that I miss when I don't do it. At the end of a crazy day, I long for a little more energy to sit down and verbally process. To capture some random thought I had or heard and wanted to remember. Letters I want to write. Conversations with Purslane and Knox that I want to read again in a year or two and marvel at the evolution of humankind.
Not being connected to Facebook, and this blog not neatly fitting into any category that folks would read if not intimately connected to me, makes this space feel confidential. You have to want to come here and care about what I have to say. I like that.
And here are two photos from the past week that make my heart sing.
|Sunrise in the Strip District with my favorite. We shopped for flowers and goat cheese, drank coffee and talked about love and loss. And marveled at how we have both come to think of Pittsburgh as "home".|
|Purslane Claire turns four. My friend Kirsten captured this moment right before Pursy blew out the candle on her ice cream sundae. Look at that little girl. She blows my mind and explodes my heart on the daily.|