2020: A Marriage Autopsy

Okay. Gonna just DO THIS. After I email my daily work log, then take a shower, then a little mascara. And the hair. Gotta do something with the hair, and then I’m going to start this project. Because if I don’t…. if I don’t? If I don’t, then the exact same life that I’ve been living with the thousands of projects I’ve started and then stopped will continue as is, and I just don’t think I can take that any more. SOMETHING big is happening, and refusing to acknowledge that has placed me here. So? We shall see.

I need to get rid of “Boomer Judy.” I’m embarrassed. But maybe the struggle to remove that persona is part of what I need to be doing here? Ugh. Okay. First things first. Then, this. You’ll find a new vid here tomorrow. I’m committing to that. Just that.

DAMN YOU, FACEBOOK!

HOW EMBARRASSING! After much procrastinating, I finally posted something, I thought, but it didn’t show up where it was supposed to… was in my feed? Not a post? Where is it? Great. I had been searching for the “perfect” way to reappear on my page so that friends and fam would see me, know I’m alive and in so doing get an idea of how I was feeling.

But Facebook, besides destroying what was left of our Democracy (cuz he actually lived his motto, ‘move fast and break things,’ thanks, Zuck!) actually made posting a complicated ordeal, for fuck’s sake! Now my blog, I KNOW is messed up, because THIS THING is INSANELY complicated; as you can see, I can’t even shrink my headline which is something like 180 pt font, because I have to learn CSS in order to do that, but I expected a learning curve with this stupid blog, but not Facefucking Book! (that’s GOT to be a porn thing, yeah?) Grrrrr! I’m just gonna post it here and then get back to pretending to work. It’s Andrea Balt who was able to capture my feelings in words, and I’m gratefully reproducing some of them here:

“…making peace with this uncertainty, the trust that we are all interconnected and we will get through this somehow and come out to the other side more humble, kind, creative and aware…

“I think I’ve finally made it to STAGE 5 – ACCEPTANCE just in the last few days:

The reassurance that while a way of life is dying – maybe around us, maybe with us, maybe because of us – something will also start to live again – maybe for us, maybe through us, maybe in us.”

She then says, “Let yourself feel it all. There is no other way but through the fire. 

Some people will be more affected than others by this crisis. Some will never recover while others will barely feel it. 

Wherever you are on the spectrum, please know that your feelings matter, your pain matters, your life matters. Your story is the only one you will ever experience in your skin. 

You have the right to feel scared, uncertain, powerless, alone. 

You also have the right to feel okay, inspired and creative, to be at peace and thriving and connected, despite the reigning isolation and confusion. 

You have the right to laugh and cry many times over, in the course of a single day – which now feels like a year. 

None of us has been here before.  

Tears have been flowing for me almost every day since the Age of Isolation started (including a few times in the middle of this email) – sometimes for no apparent reason, and yet for all the reasons. I wipe them off and keep on typing.

As one of my favorite poets, Rainer Maria Rilke, put it…

Let everything happen to you
Beauty and terror
Just keep going
No feeling is final.

So this is not a rant on how to stay positive on the outside, while you’re scared and lonely and angry inside, but a story of hope amid the fear and confusion.

They say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger… I don’t know if that’s always the case. Sometimes it weakens and exhausts you and leaves you full of scars. 

But I do think it makes you truer to yourself, to others and to life. And it’s that truth, that heart to heart with life, with others and myself that I am after.”

Thanks, Andrea Balt, for your words for my feelings.

Sometimes someone else's words are the right ones to describe your feelings. Thank you, Andrea Balt.

help i'm in free fall

2020. THE YEAR OF CLEAR VISION. The year to move everything off my “Wuzgonna” list and do it. Because suddenly it felt like there were many more years in the rear view mirror than in front of me, and if I was going to “manifest” those goddamn “goals, which are dreams with a plan,” then if not now, when?

I can't ask for help. There is something sticky and immovable inside that prevents me from doing so.

SO I DID. I started eating super healthy and logging each meal, each snack and even each bite in my “Lose It!” app, and as I watched the number on the scale move downward, I started walking around the block and working out with weights in the “Women Only” workout room at my gym until I had lost enough weight to gain enough confidence to walk into a Zumba class. As soon as I did, I was infused with rhythmic energy that eventually led to becoming a Certified Zumba instructor and Before & After pic that my daughter created and texted to me that was suitably dramatic enough to post:

I’m terrified that my After pic is going to be my Before pic before this COVID shit is over

Got my headshots. Subscribed to all the casting rags. Showed up at the gym at least 5 times a week and became one of those gym rats and did not care a whit if that annoyed anyone. This was MY LIFE, and I was grabbing it by the balls and squeezing! Uh….

Actually, that’s a terrible metaphor.

But things were starting to HAPPEN.

Randomly assigned 3 essays: Disciplined, Feisty & Funny. Random?




DAMN YOU, FACEBOOK!

HOW EMBARRASSING! After much procrastinating, I finally posted something, I thought, but it didn’t show up where it was supposed to… was in my feed? Not a post? Where is it? Great. I had been searching for the “perfect” way to reappear on my page so that friends and fam would see me, know I’m …

It started snowing.

On the first snow day of our “new normal”, baking cookies is not optional. It’s the only thing to do in this house, which is why I’m searching for the premiere oatmeal cookie recipe.