Today she came home and started talking almost immediately and I swear sometimes it makes me want to rip my ears off. I try to be patient with her though.
She doesn’t understand. People don’t really want to know how she’s doing. They’re just being polite. When will she learn to say something simple like, “I’m doing okay. How are you?” have a little conversation in the pasta aisle at the grocery store, and carry on? But she answers them then comes home and replays conversations, reliving her awkwardness, all the things she shouldn’t have said. It’s painful to see how hard she can be on herself.
I try to teach her to be kinder to herself.
But also, I wish she’d cut it out. I give her a little nudge, suggest we go sit out on the deck now that it’s cooled off a little. Watch the deer. But she tells me to go on out there without her.
Listen, she knows she’s supposed to be writing a novel. I know she’s supposed to be writing a novel. And yet there she is, painting the dining room. Making 7am gluten free bread and midnight pesto and contemplating duck l’orange recipes for the weekend.
She’s going to queer happy hours where all the lesbians are a decade+ younger than her, driving hours out of the mountains just to sit on the beach. She’s convinced herself it’s okay to order and read 19th century/turn of the century sapphic literature because it might be considered research.
I can’t say a thing to her about any of this.
I suggest going into town. It’s a short walk, something we used to enjoy doing. But she plops down on the couch, sighs, and opens the New York Times puzzle app. She goes at it until she Queen Bees.
She didn’t write a Substack piece for this week. Between going to meetings, doing agent and editor work, procrasti-cooking, and jumping on numerous Kamala for President Zooms, she left it until the night before. She does write well under pressure, but she had nothing. So I decided to help out. It takes me a long time to type. She might get mad if she finds out that I’m writing a post for her.
But I love her, and I want to take some of the pressure off.
So, let me finish up here. I will need to post quickly because she’s going to be back any minute and I don’t want to get busted. I do usually like to proofread but I don’t have time so I’ll just give it a quick scan...
Oh shit! There’s a fucking typo in the title!
BUT SHE’S COMING! I’M HITTING POST NOW!
God. Dog. It’s all the Same.
OMG, I love this s post! Such a good dog/god you have to cover for you like that. 😉
Good dog. ❤️