Observables #15

what I'm watching, wearing and reading in my Tuesday routine

I wake up from yet another round of chaotic dreams. Simon sets a cup of coffee beside the bed. I’m grateful that it’s there—the coffee—in my favourite mint green mug, a daily gift from my husband. But I also feel strongly that because I love this moment so much, it’s only going down hill from here. Ugh, my mind.

I pull myself up to standing, wishing I had a robe that was cosy. I search the bedroom for something to keep me warm and opt for sweat pants and one of Simon’s shirts, which I can convince myself is a robe. I head toward Violet’s room where she will be sitting in front of her closet asking the world what she should wear, but not open to suggestions (from the world).

I wander down to the kitchen and start scrounging for snacks to complete the lunches that Simon has started. Sometimes there are so many options to choose from: sea weed, granola bars and individual containers of hummus. Sometimes I have to be inventive: how about a pickle and three sad rice cakes? Hm?

I put a filter into each of the girls’ masks to make them three layers, I fill their water bottles, I make toast or yogurt parfaits for them to grab on their way out the door as Simon drives them like cattle, yelling, “The first bell has gone!”

Then I am alone. I make my own breakfast and sit in the dark and scroll the news and articles I want to catch up on. My friend reminds me of the Bad Art Friend drama that was inundating the internet a couple weeks ago. My sister tweets to me about how Amazon is changing the novel. Then when I can’t procrastinate anymore, I open my computer and start to write whatever project is on my white board. Sometimes I start at my desk, but usually the desk is for the afternoon; the morning is for the couch when I am not fully awake and my thoughts are more fluid. I’m not waiting for inspiration, I’m just doing my job.

If it’s going well, I write for a couple of hours. If I’m struggling, I take too many breaks and start cleaning things, shifting piles, searching the freezer for ends of bread to toast. On those better days when I am staying rooted in one place, I feel victorious. The demons are circling (always circling), but they aren’t scaring me off. I’m working the order of words, compiling sentences, making something pleasing to me—that’s the only thing I can do. When I have completed the task I set for myself, I will have progressed…an inch. Welcome to the writer’s life!

Around 1 p.m. I might stop to do an exercise video. I like The Class because it reminds me of authentic movement from theatre school, and the founder tells me to flush out the stagnant and stale things and to notice what I notice. (Okay!) I’m looking for that kind of gentle encouragement when I exercise, with a side of therapy. I tried dance cardio but she kept yelling, Let’s go, Beauty, which felt like an assault.

At 3 o’clock I grab a jacket from the coat rack—maybe my Bolivian shirt jacket—and head to pick up Violet from the bus.

This is my second favourite time after the coffee, doing a simple thing that the demons don’t need to join me for (phew). I don’t listen to a podcast or check my phone. I just meander toward the spot where I will stand and wave with a smile on my face, greeting the little one I love.

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This week’s Sister On! episode is all about that big emotion: shame. It’s not so bad… just another feeling. Stay tuned!