Once upon a time, I had a friend.
We had our own little language. We would speak like ESL Polish Grandmothers.
She was Baby Who I was Mommy Who.
Say this with me, in a thick eastern European accent “whoo-cur”
Hooker, we called each other Hooker. Nicely.
I kept Hot Pockets in her freezer, next to the vodka. I had keys and kept a suitcase there too.
In said suitcase was … dun dun duh… THE VELOUR TRACKSUIT OF SADNESS.
Kinda like non-traveling pants, with more crying and sloth.
We were strippers, matchy match track suits are kinda like a uniform. This one had special powers.
Whomsoever weareth the tracksuit was the saddest girl of all and thereby choseth what we order for takeout and which episode of Sex and the City we watched and also gets to be drunker than the non-wearer. Years went by like this. This is how I spent my Saturn Return.
I met Baby Who shortly after St. Anthony, she was with me the whole time.
And I stayed with her A LOT.
You know, marriage falling apart and all, cheating husband to cheat on.
She and I had the depression. She was medicated, I was not.
She wore her damage like badges of honor.
I liked to shake it off and then do the bad thing again, and again, and again.
We were good and co-dependent, fo sho’.
We put the fun in dysfunctional and the ass in classy.
She is the one who dubbed my pathological truth bending/lying my “truthiness” and helped me conquer it.
She also wasn’t the only one who preferred me sad. I lost her, I miss her some days.
Or do I?
I think I miss that time and space to a degree. I had no responsibilities when I was with her. We went to work, got drunk made money came home and whined about it. I had no one to look after but me (and her, when me became tiresome), no wood to stack, no floods, just room to be me. And vodka, she always had the good vodka.
The pendulum swung, as it does. Way too far that way.
Co-dependence is bad mmmm kay?
I was thinking, ‘if I could go back’… seriously, I would just leave us alone, except to maybe make us go to work more. And I wouldn’t let her get irrevocable chocolate something on the tracksuit.
I still propose a change. 7 years in the same place doing the same thing. We held each other up but there was no forward momentum.
Now I use the power of the internet to check on my friends.
We pick each other up.
There is less passing around of the vodka and chocolate and more passing around of inspiration, wherever we may find it.
I was tripping towards the Bell Jar (Sylvia Plath) and someone tagged me in an article.
Changed everything (in the moment and for many moments after)
So I am going to leave this here.
Jada Pinkett-Smith wrote the following words and I find them to be gospel truth.
I promised Jen I would leave this here so we could always find it
This (above) is my favorite arrangement of the 26 letters we have been given to use
and what I strive to be.
This, because this woman Sabrina Benaim, is beyond brave.
Depression is real and I have never gotten close to describing it the way she does.
And this. Because ‘the truth IS always the Anti-Venom’
“Could you not see the consequences of treading in your doubt?
Hope is always the antidote’.
Ubiquitous Synergy Seeker
In case I was unclear, the theme today is borrowed.
Only the intro is my original work.
All else is sourced, the best of my knowledge, with proper credit.
We all just want to be heard.