Somewhere, Somebody's Sick of Her • Freelance by Jen

I read this once, at the end of a relationship and thought something smugly wounded, like: “NO SHIT. Be careful what you wish for, ladies.”

I was in my 30s then. I drank. And I convinced myself, pretty easily, that I was in the right, overall, as a person.

The first half of my 40s, on the other hand, has convinced me exactly opposite. I’m a mess. And as much as I’ve consciously tried not to continue as such, I’m regularly reminded, via Facebook memories or just a bad flashback, that I was just really an all-around disaster of a person.

I have plenty of time to think about this now, is the point. I tried to get lost in movies, but I’ve passed the 100-new-movies-since-unemployment mark and cracked the code to winning Yahtzee tournaments, so those dual achievements have really freed up some headspace.

What’s weirder is that the internet knows my thoughts in a newly invasive way. I wonder, IN MY OWN HEAD because people don’t need to be knowin everything, if something is weird, and within a few days, my daily email at mindbodygreen.com confirms that it’s totally normal, or that I’m totally on the right path in some way.

Recent scorching topics include:

Quarantine Constipation (it’s real!)

Having Weird Dreams? Well, Pandemic.

Bar Soap vs Liquid Soap: Was the money you just spent through Etsy since the farmers markets are closed worth it?

And then, today, I brushed my teeth, put my phone in the drawer, grabbed the toothpaste, and headed outside before I realized what had happened. And then I was washed in a wave of sadness for the toothpaste, as I wondered about products being even more quarantined than people are really, and how they rarely leave their one tiny space unless they’re being used or thrown away, and how callous that is of people, and how much research has REALLY been done on whether products have feelings, I mean, plants and flowers scream when you pull them from the earth so…

And then, when I started to put products in my fridge after my weekly terrifying sojourn for absolute necessities at the store, I decided I had to totally clean out and wash the inside of the fridge again and then had a few moments when I thought, holy shit, haven’t I already done this since I’ve been home or was it only the freezer? Have I been home long enough for TWO COMPLETE CLEANOUTS? Why doesn’t this BOTHER ME? HOW AM I GOING TO BE ABLE TO HANDLE A LIFE OUTSIDE MY HOUSE AGAIN IF I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER THIS ONE THING. Ooooh, I’m hungry.

Anyway, I’m so SICK of my own shit! My feelings toward myself right now are benevolent patience, like you would treat an elderly relative who’s stayed at your house a little too long but you still are pretty sure they’re leaving next week so you’re almost there. It’s all I can do not to ask Josh every few minutes how he can possibly not be sick of me, because oh my GOD, I am.

But I’ve mastered a few things. First, I’m able to wear one of two pair of black leggings every day and always have a clean pair on. I just wear my robe during the wash. Side note, my robe is getting washed at least weekly, and I’m wearing it less than I was the first few weeks. Second, I made myself access all those classes through LinkedIn and find one that didn’t make me want to hammer my head against the table, so I’m finally learning the more subtle nuances of typography, as well as what a little sasspot that instructor Ina is about her fonts. I may even be able to USE some of it to keep this from looking like a whole bunch of blah.

And, finally, I’ve learned that I can’t promote my love of Premier Protein drinks enough. They’re so incredibly easy to drink, and the containers can be burned after using. This contradicts my desire to re-use things and drink out of my gallon reusable water jug every day, but here we are.

Also, my achievement, in addition to my securing of the new “Game Show” backdrop in Yahtzee, is that I got to see this little guy blossom. And it’s just beautiful.