well then THAT happened - 2023 Edition

I haven’t done one of these since 2018 and honestly I’m glad. Those seem to be years I’m not ready to look back on. The great big Stay at Home. It has forever changed my relationship with the world and I’m still working my way through it. I don’t like pretending it never happened but I also don’t need to process it online with everyone else. Somethings are just for me.

What a bummer way to start, right? Here’s a palate cleanser.

I put this sweater on Bean once a year for about 10 minutes and try and take pictures while he curses me and tells me he’s writing me out of the will.

2023 started with a quiet rainy January, like most years really. Until we went to Kauai with the Campbells, some of our favorite traveling companions. Then it was a quiet and warm January filled with watching sunsets from the beach 10 steps from our rental, reading by the pool and going down a waterslide for the first time in maybe 25 years.

Existential Crises were cataloged in my notes app.

Sadia was healing up well and most of my favorite moments from this year were from Salon Days at her house with Aaren or running random errands at Target.

I continued working at home and at this point I am no longer suitable for working outside the home.

at some point this happened but I barely remember it. time becomes a weird pudding when you live and work inside and only crawl out of your hobbit hole to go to the gym or to see one of the three friends you have in the city.

what a death trap. a beautiful death trap.

i continued training with Adriana and the gym has taken on a new meaning for me now that it’s been over a year with them. i call out when i don’t have it in me to go and i say it. "I’m sorry I can’t make it, I don’t have it in me.” , “I’m currently trapped under a dog and cannot get up.”, “I have to stay at home because my womb is on fire.” or “the outside world is horrible today” or “my body is telling me to eat mac and cheese instead of lifting heavy things.”

I hit personal records for both my deadlift and bench press this year and I couldn’t have done it without them and the community that lifts with me. I grumble about going and on the way home i’m grateful to the point of tears. My eating disorder was so tied to the gym and workouts and I didn’t really think I’d be able to go back without sinking into the dark hole of tracking metrics and keeping score. I thought the only way to be safe was to just never step foot in a gym again. What a relief to know that there is another way, a different way and a place to go where no one will talk about about what they’re not eating or how much weight they’ve lost.

I’m still planted firmly in the Fuck Cardio Club. That might change. It might not. I’m not concerned about it.

My knees are still a work in progress. The left is so much better than it has been but now the right is angry that it’s been doing all the heavy lifting while the left figured it’s shit out.

But it’s something that I’m actively working on and feeling progress with though girl dinner really does look like this sometimes.

this year is still the year of the hammock.

we did a whirlwind trip back east for my cousin’s wedding that included a 4 hour delayed red eye the morning of the wedding and an ill timed weed gummy consumption but we still managed to look cute.

how is my dad the shortest member of my immediate family now?

I’m officially now 1000+ days into a Duolingo streak and they are now aware of all my life happenings and it’s totally creepy.

This year I had some fun summertime Sage hang time.

When summer hits Portland now, it’s a race against time to get another portable AC Unit lest you want to die in your home a perfectly baked basque cheesecake.

I turned 47 this year. I think that’s right. I don’t have the brainpower to do math. I’m at the “Does it really matter?” portion of life. I have one new grey hair and I’m keeping it. I need people to remember that I am closer to 50 than they think I am so they stop inviting me out past 6PM or think that I can tolerate standing room only shows.

yes. i think it’s time for orthopedic shoes.

what does it mean when your local urgent care is your first happy birthday text you receive?

This summer can only be defined by the chaos of my uncle’s quick decline and charlie randomly tearing a ligament in his back knee. june, july and august were a blur of stress, sadness, relief…maybe every emotion possible. I flew back home for the funeral and realized that the times we’re all together now are for weddings or funerals and i want more than that for us.

i hate that this is an instagram story i had to screenshot. i hate phones and my want to document yet i hate being that person with the phone. it’s complicated.

Charlie got a new ride so he could keep off that knee before and after his surgery. We were now those people with a dog in a stroller. Shout out to all the moms who have to do this with an extra little in tow. I learned first hand how hard it is to manage Bean on a leash and Charlie in a stroller when faced with having to open a door or even take on a high curb.

He eventually had surgery. I found him like this the morning after, passed out like an 18 year old after one too many wine coolers.

I got through the chaos in the same way I got through the pandemic.

pick your poison. i am a weed gummy enthusiast.

Charlie was a champ throughout his recovery while I was a hot mess, literally and figuratively. I loved how he enjoyed being the Red Baron on our walks though, not letting anything stop him from being his scamp self.

i kept writing, whether it was in a class

or the writing group some of my old wild writing friends and teacher started up to keep the practice alive. picking poems for our group got me into actively reading poetry again and that’s been such a balm for all the chaos.

Also sometime this spring I started journaling again in earnest. For most of my life I had been a daily journal-er and at some point, drowning in work and poor life choices or falling in love and being blissfully happy, I stopped. I love that I’ve started again and my journals are now pieces of art. I reserve my worst writing for these pages. It’s what’s real, it’s what’s happening and when I’m 80 I’d like to look back and read about how much i hated flossing and what my skincare routine was in my 40s. (In my 20s it was drugstore face wash if i remembered. In my 30s it was non-existent. Now it is a 10 minute routine with 4-5 products that I am ashamed to say how much they cost.)

My notes app still held my weirdo dreams and thoughts on the go.

Jeff left me love notes when he traveled for work.

he still wears jeans to walk the dogs and when he leaves him on the floor i imagine he’s been raptured.

i am still in soft pants land and i don’t see this changing anytime soon, if ever. my favorite outfit of the year, most of it from Shift + Wheeler

This was the year I became an underwear model.

And a runway model.

This year’s Knockout PDX put on by Copper Union was a blast. I walked for both Teggings (their last show) and Shop Altar.

Despite it all, sometimes I wake up still feeling like trash about my body, what it looks like, what it can and cannot do and how much love and attention it needs. It’s a consistent practice to remember that no matter how I feel about my body, I must care for it, it’s the only one I have, it’s the only one I get, it’s gotten me here, it’s been with me and has never abandoned me no matter how many times I’ve tried to leave it because it was too painful to be in it. We are learning.

please play ‘Night in the Woods'‘, it’s one of the best story focused video games out there.

this was the year i sent my friends completely unhinged birthday cards.

Despite it all, I still managed to keep Bean entertained with memes.

This was the year Bean has decided that we are his people and that he might indeed be a lap dog. It only took 6 years.

i must have photo evidence of this cuddle and my reaction to it,

Sadia and I had some hashbrown dates and decided that the breakfast sandwiches here are ok but the hashbrowns are where it’s at.

this was the year i decided - fuck it, i need bangs again.

tattoos seem to come in twos. in 2018 I got 2 tattoos within months of each other. same happened this year as i began writing about ghosts and identifying as a houseplant.

I’m sure my mom will grab my arm, give a harumph when she sees them and walk away. It’s fine. I’ve accepted my role as the family clown.

I can’t lie. I’m nervous that when I pass that my journals will be read unless I come up with an elaborate plan to have them spontaneously burst into flames upon my demise.

This was the year I learned that video games teach me patience and when I can get over being awful at something it can actually be fun.

Spiritfarer is still one of the most beautiful games I’ve ever played.

I’ve switched out and tried new meds this year that have helped but have also had some unfortunate side effects.

I’ve thought long and hard about what I want to do with the rest of my life and if it’s ok for me to not want more than this little life. I went to an informational about becoming a Death Doula. I’ve contemplated becoming a glorified trip sitter (but the field is so new and expensive with the legalization of psilocybin, there are barriers to entry and to training). I was so sure of these paths at the beginning of the year and then found myself choosing to…not do anything.

As it currently stands. My life is dope and I do dope shit. My life is fueled by a lot of luck, some heavy lifting and learning i did in my 20s and 30s, having an amazing partner and more freedom than I’ve ever had in my entire life to just…exist. It’s so special. I don’t want to jinx it. I want to keep writing and learning and spending time with the people i love and letting go of the people who i don’t. The more grace i give myself, the more i have the capacity to give grace to everyone else. It’s like the lens keeps widening and I am here for it, ready to say yes.

This fall i said yes to dental surgery 2 days before Christmas knowing we weren’t going anywhere or doing anything and I knew I could move the appointment but figured it was the perfect time for quiet recovery.

i didn’t have anything removed, just some gum flap (ewww) stuff.

During this down time we put together the biggest lego set we’ve ever done, complete with electrical.

I started today as I’ve always started, finding pants in the dark, stumbling down the stairs to feed the dogs and laying around for an hour trying to figure out breakfast. Food is still hard sometimes. I’m still seeing Aaron, my dietician, for help in this department, though I’m wondering if I’m ready to manage it on my own. Divesting from diet culture and recovering from my eating disorder is one thing but figuring out how to feed myself after all that mishegoss is a chore. I have hope though. I’ll figure it out because it’s worth it to me to find a way to live in this body that makes room for pleasure and joy.
That’s really what I want for next year. More room for more joy. More pictures of my dogs. Like these.

And I will for sure complain and be dramatic about it all.

The world is full of horrors and awfulness. The world is full of good things like hot fudge, pancakes and sunny days that aren’t too hot and evenings where you hit a 190 lb deadlift and husbands who carry your laundry to the basement for you and mornings where the coffee actually works and makes you feel like a whole complete human.

these two photos are the same.

I want all the good things for me and for you. It’s the same wish I have every year. I want you to have a good one, a better one. There are so many fears as we head into an election year. When all else fails, take off your pants and lay down and breathe. At least that’s what works for me (if i’m even wearing pants to begin with).

i love you. I mean it.