Better Late Than Never (Or Pregnant)

Dear Lorenzo,

As well you know (because I brag about it as much as is humanly possible) I have better than 20/20 vision. I've been tested more than once and each time the results are the same: in spite of my age, MS diagnosis, and years of reading in the dark, my eyesight is really, really good. 

It is good enough to clearly make out the list of daily disciplines I keep taped to the mirror atop my bureau.

And it is good enough to glean the disappointment reflected back at me each and every time I don't accomplish these tasks.

The first four items on my list are the easiest of the day: "three things, vitamin, antidepressant, 40 minutes". In the almost four years since you've been gone, or rather, in the almost three years since I've been able to get off of the futon again, I've made a habit of starting my day by writing down three things for which I am grateful. After that, I eat a banana (your breakfast of choice every single day for the almost decade that we lived together), take my antidepressant and vitamin, and then get my ass on the elliptical for at least 40 minutes. After that, the list begins to get progressively harder. "Blue dot, MP/equivalent". The blue dot refers to my Weight Watchers goal. If I eat within my allotted Smartpoints (calories) for the day, I get a blue dot on my Weight Watchers calendar. (I know, I know, it's a waste of money, I'm fine the way I am, and I should just love myself regardless. Lorenzo, I sat on a couch and ate myself into a stupor for the entire first year after you died. Cut me some slack, please.) That blue dot is extremely hard for me to attain. On a good day I'm a snacker, on a bad day I'm a hide-myself-under-the-covers, binge eating, bottomless pit and I've had a lot of bad days since you've been gone. I rejoined Weight Watchers because I like the accountability, support and structure it provides. As I write this blog I'm having the closest thing to dinner I'm going to consume tonight, an Amstel Light, so like it or not I need a lot of help in this area.

MP/equivalent refers to Marco Polo. Each day I try to reach out to someone via the Marco Polo app or a text message to let them know that I'm thinking about them. This sounds a lot easier than it actually is. I'm doing MUCH better these days but given a chance, I still prefer keeping my interactions with others to a minimum. The only person I actually talk to on the phone is my mother. I'm close to a lot of people but for the most part, they know not to call me. I'm working on it but I still prefer the one-sidedness of video chatting apps like Marco Polo. It's a pretty good way for an emotional recluse to keep in touch.

Prompt is the very last item on my list, which is telling because for the past 30 years it's been the very last consideration in my life. It's what I make the least amount of time for, though I claim to love it more than anything else. Prompt means writing, as in, PICK UP THE BOOK OF WRITER'S PROMPTS FAREEDA SENT ME AND WRITE

I was a writer a long, long time ago but like so many other girls I know, the minute puberty started I lost my way. (This is why I walk Amira to theater class four days a week no matter how tired I am, no matter how frigid the temperature; to ensure she doesn't stop doing what she loves like I did.) I've had the same dream my entire life but was always too afraid to pursue it. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I don't want to keep looking at that reflection in the mirror with disdain or disappointment that I let another day go by in which I didn't accomplish the very thing I allege makes me the happiest.

So here I am.

And I know I'm not the only middle-aged woman out there with a head filled with "what ifs" and a heart filled with unpursued passions. I've spent a lot of time being ashamed of myself for this but...

I won't waste another second on that bullshit.

It may have taken more than 30 years for me to get here but at least I GOT HERE.

And I'm ready to share every moment of this journey with you.