3 things from the past week | 1

1. Does every other woman worry about turning into their mother as much as I do? It seems irrational; how much space I allow this worry to occupy in my mind. I suppose I’ve always been hyper-sensitive to what I do and say and how I act towards Dom, because what if I become her? She’s an amazing woman, but I see so much anger and dissatisfaction in her that I don’t want to carry on my own shoulders.
2. I weigh the most I’ve ever weighed in my life. I’m supremely unhappy about this and yet I have no motivation to change it. Not yet, anyway. I suppose I keep waiting for something to happen to snap me out of it and make me care… but it hasn’t happened yet.
My mother in law is obsessed with weight and appearances. She’ll be the first one to point out if I’ve gone passed the point of no return. Until then, I complain to myself each morning post-shower, but continue to do nothing about it.
3. My mother recently ran into one of my high school english teachers and told her I’d become a writer. I was shocked to know my mother had told her that. I guess if I’m not doing it full-time it doesn’t feel like the truth. But that’s silly. I’ve been a writer my whole adult life. Before that, even. It’s the one thing that has and always will ring true.

Excerpts from my Journal | 07

Last month Dom and I spent a night in the mountains. I didn’t notice until two days later that he’d brought home one of the small lotion containers from the lodge. I’d gone looking for lotion, my hands were dry. So I used some of it. And that scent… that deep, spicy scent… I just can’t figure out what it’s reminding me of. Was it cologne that a past boyfriend wore? A favorite candle long burned out?
Every evening before bed, now, I put on some of it. I’m desperate that one of these times it will come to me. Where in my past it had its place.
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Here’s what going on three days without Dom has taught me. One: I feel his absence so fully that it almost presses against my lungs. Two: I really do love being at home. We have–finally–built a home that is truly ours. Three: I wake in the night and I reach out for him. Five: this was good for me. A chance to miss him. Maybe it will be good for him, too.
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Can people really change?
Because all I can think about is that I desperately want to be a better version of myself.

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Thanks for reading,
rdg

I’m on a Roll

I don’t want to jinx anything, but, when it comes to books, I’m on a roll.

It started early this year with Lucky You by Erika Carter—which was so beautifully written. There’s something about young women trying to find themselves and make sense of their messy lives that always gets me. And then I jumped right into History of Wolves by Emily Fridlund. The writing was exquisite and the characters so well-formed that I didn’t even mind being left with unanswered questions in the end. Shortly after that, I read All The Ugly and Wonderful Things by Bryn Greenwood, which was so uncomfortable and beautiful and attitude-altering that I will probably always get chills when I think about it. From there, there was Dark Matter (devoured) and The Animators (truly a touching story of the vulnerability of women and friendship) and I’ve put the smallest dent into The Possessions in the past twenty-four hours. 

These would be the books that sit out on my bedside table (if I had one—but seriously, I’m in the market for one, I’m just so damn picky and cheap) because I never want to be too far away from them. And beside them would be the perfect reading lamp (that is evading me) and a collection of my favorite pens (that, in another word, my toddler wouldn’t run off with). A glass of water. Lip balm. Hand lotion. Now I’ve gone off topic…

All of this is just to say: there are truly some incredible books out there. And I’ve read five of them already this year.