Are You Getting Off at the Statue?

There's a bus stop in town across the street from the state library. It's a huge transfer spot. I remember giddily waiting for a bus with my first boyfriend, Doug, during our first date. Catching the bus after a museum symposium with Charlie a couple of decades later.

My favoritest memory, though, is from high school. It could have been any afternoon on any given weekday when I was in the tenth grade. Blythe, Cedric, La'akea, and I would often catch the city bus from Terminal to downtown and grab snacks at Jack in the Box or Orange Julius ("two strawberry Julii, please!") or Blythe's mom's workplace. Others would make frequent cameos-- Shani, Wendy, Merf?

But I remember us sprawled out on the lawn of that bus stop, all of us waiting for our separate busses to take us home. The sun low in the sky, the heat still gross. If I strain hard enough, I'm sure I could remember bits of conversation, but I won't do that.

Just envisioning us sitting together on that lawn, now as an adult, makes me smile. It makes me wistful. And what did we really have in common at the time except Honors English and TheBus?

It really didn't matter, did it? For that year, my tenth grade year of high school, we were a bunch. We adventured together and ate together. WE CAUGHT THE BUS TOGETHER. 

I haven't spoken with Blythe or Cedric in many years, and La'akea-- I miss him being in the world. If we were 15 years old right now, we'd likely have choke selfies taken at bus stops and fast food restaurants. In reality, I don't think a single photo of all of us together exists.

Just know, friends, what a treasured piece of history this is for me, and that I think of you fondly, especially when I drive past that bus stop. 

Side note: these days, I avoid catching the bus at this stop-- so many people! And I sure as SHIT would not even think about sitting on the grass-- ew! Also, while I can't find any photos of us together (and I don't think I have a picture of La'akea at all), I have tons of pics of ME at bus stops. Here's one:

 

Tougher Than It Is (My Love, Just a Reminder)

You know how sometimes these big things happen and you're like, "Whoa! Didn't see that coming AT ALL?"

Well, what if you were given clues that you didn't recognize? What if the universe was trying to tell you all along, but you couldn't see or hear or understand what it was presenting to you? What if you were ignoring the signs?

I have been strugglebussing for a couple of weeks now. Managing my mental and physical health has been very effortful, and it's super frustrating. How did I reinjur my elbow by squeezing my stupid Scrub Daddy? Why is my back twinging on an easy afternoon walk? Why am I low-key freaking out about the small things? Why is everything that happens pointing to my imminent death and/or destruction?

And I don't have definitive answers, but I have ideas, and at the top of the list is that I'm not paying attention to what my body (aka the universe) has been telling me. My brain, she is clever and she loves words. She loves puzzles. She delights in being clever and she really REALLY loves me.

Her mouth, though, isn't always kind. Her mouth says, "OMG, what now? Again? What did you do and what do I gotta do now to fix it?" What she doesn't say, though, is that she's afraid that she won't know how to fix it. Won't know how to make it better. She doesn't say out loud that she fears she isn't enough. What if she fails me?

So she says drink more water, stretch, eat a healthier snack, go to bed earlier, put down your phone. She says spend more time with your family, your friends. Go outside, take a walk, meditate. Take some ibuprofen, get a massage.

What she doesn't say-- what she doesn't wanna do-- is pay attention to my pain. My brain greets discomfort as irritations, "What NOW?" instead of a friend in need, "Come here, beautiful, let me give you a hug." Because she's scared that what I need, she can't provide for.

I have been doing all the things I know I'm supposed to do for great mental and physical health. I exercise and socialize and hydrate and eat healthy. I stretch and roll and walk. I even started jogging(ish)! I meditate and read and journal. 

But I haven't been listening.

And all these injuries? That's my body telling me something. It's been telling me what it needed, and my brain was like, "What are you talking about? We've been doing the things! All of them! You're so ungrateful." Like that's supposed to sustain my relationship with myself? Giving it what I think it needs rather than what it's actually asking for. 

I cried like crazy yesterday morning, realizing what I've been doing. Realizing that I have been unkind to myself. I have been resistant rather than responsive, and there is no relaxation in resistance, I've been told.

My goal for the next bunch of moments-- as many as I can manage-- is to meet myself with compassion and tenderness. To (re)discover what brings me comfort. To maintain curiosity instead of judgment. And then reconnect my actions to my intentions to my actual needs.

But really, for right now, it's just to meet myself with love and patience and tenderness.