Sometimes, like now, when I’m watching a movie, my squirrels want to play. I think of a thousand things I could write about. I mull over all of life’s issues, both good and bad.

Let’s start with a movie recommendation: Dan in Real Life. Like when Bill Murray tried to do straight work in The Razor’s Edge in the 80s, it’s sometimes difficult to put aside Steve Carell’s comedic genius and see him for an actor, plain and simple. If you can get there, though, you can see the something more. And that smile. If I were Steve Carell’s wife, I would feel blessed that every day I could watch that incredible smile consume his face and brighten a room.

I’ve got a lot to do. A lot to process. I feel really stuck, but that’s just because I tend to see the glass half empty. That may sound dark, but one of the best parts of being me is seeing the glass half empty, but still having hope that it will be filled. Make sense? My first inclination is to assume that things suck, but if I can rally and reason I can start to believe that things are good.

I spend time making lists. As Joanne sings in Rent, “I make lists in my sleep, baby”. My brain makes lists even when I’m not listening. My hands make lists and then put them in places I won’t see or use them. My iPhone has lists that I don’t consult. Yet the automatic list making goes on. There is comfort in listing. Pathologize away, call it what you will, but the squirrels will have their lists.

Maybe I should name my squirrel and then I could just blame things on her. Sasha? Tiffany? Evangeline? What is a good name for a squirrel? Casey? Lilly? Amandine?

See, now I’m making lists of squirrel names. How fun. How me.

I am facing changes. I seem to put them in my way (shut up, you!). I “boxcar” a bunch of stuff and then I’m overwhelmed and then I get depressed. I try to be cognitive about things, to tell myself what’s real instead of just believing everything I think.

What the squirrel (Theresa? Simone?) says:

You’re fat and you have high blood pressure. You’ve been dodging that bullet for years, ignoring it really, and you can’t ignore it any more. You have to get things under control. Why can’t you get things under control? Why aren’t you more disciplined? How will you ever get into a routine that’s healthy when you get sad every time you try to give up the things that are bad for you? How can you get healthy when food is your solace? You give in every time. You can’t even go two days without breaking your promise to do whatever new plan you’ve come up with.


What the rational mind says, when the squirrel is asleep or beaten into submission:

You can stay focused. You beat yourself up too soon. You know that love and forgiveness you spread around to others so willingly? Spread some your own way. This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for sticking to a plan. You have to find something to focus on, and then stay focused on it. You have to have a plan to forgive even when you think you’re not forgivable. That way, you don’t actually have far to fall when you fall. Take one thing at a time. You’re just freaked out now because you’re not going to be making much money in the next little while. Your self-esteem has always been most tested in those situations where you resent your circumstances, having been the one who put yourself there. You see? That way you’re wrong two ways, and you get to be both upset and righteous. And all the while you know you are okay. You know you’ll come through. You accept that life isn’t always roses, nor is it always fertilizer. You can take a deep breath, renew your ideas, clear your head, and walk into the new day.

Squirrel? What squirrel?

---

I just avoided making a huge bowl of brown-butter papardelle. This is a minor triumph. You see, I’m a pasta whore. The three food groups are (I believe): pasta, bread and butter. Someone told me once about something green and leafy . . . just kidding. I love vegetables. Just not with my pasta. I’m a butter-and-salt girl all the way.

I had, instead, about 3oz of yogurt with ½ tsp of raspberry jam. Yay for me.

---

I have 5 hours of massage tomorrow. I’m very grateful. My rent is paid. See? Things work out. In a way, I’d love to hibernate, to avoid touching any more people, to somehow employ some of my habitual avoidance techniques. In another, more important way, I need to power through. I can’t run away. I acknowledge fear as the perfect catalyst to the substrate of my talent.

---

That was the painkiller talking. I’m out, gonna sleep. Ciao for now.