42

there is still joy

I know we all said that the panic of the first hundred days were the point, and that we would stay grounded, and not get stuck in reactivity, and not ride the news cycle like a rollercoaster of nightmares. And I did the things we said we would do, I signed off social media and I went to a sweet local meeting and I gathered my loved ones. But I also had trouble eating, and sobbed into the phone late at night when I thought the government might keep my love from flying safely to me. My body and my mind were still on the hellish roller coaster because I still got news of my most loved ones being endangered and dehumanized. And I panicked about their safety and accidentally believed that joy was done for good, there was now only grief and resolve and going dark to band together and survive.

And then my love came to visit me, and held me, and took me to NYC for my birthday where we ate impossibly good food and saw a show about love on Broadway. It felt extravagant but also somehow grounding because the pleasure of good tasting food and moving story-telling are maybe the whole point of life, and I think those will keep existing in the world we dream of beyond this dying one, and even during the struggle to make that world real. We still have stories and food and being held.

I also got fitted for a bra by an elder Jewish lady on the upper west side and had an existential crisis because she told me my actual size and brought me comfortable bras that fit, and I didn’t know my breasts had gotten this big even though they’ve been there all along (she didn’t make them bigger, only saw them as they are). I am finding this very hard to fit into my self-conception because in my mind I am still a small chested tomboy who will never feel sexy or curvy or feminine like other women do, or find bras that fit my body right because I’m somehow different.

But also this new bra that fits (but is 3 sizes bigger than I expected) is a glimmer of . . . possibility? Because if a thing l thought was impossible is actually ALREADY TRUE and I just didn’t realize it then . . . what else?? Are there other things I thought weren’t for me that could in fact be for me? Like non sports bras, and not being single, and wishing for basic things like sharing a house with my love?

I know it is the Aquarian/almost Pisces in me that needs everything about me to be singular and different and unique and weird - and I think my radical move for 42 is claiming my basic side. This is middle age babyyy, i can wear a bra that fits and daydream of domesticity, and for me that is edgy AF. I can think of myself as . . . a woman?? In . . . a couple?!? And also still a radical, because I think right now radical means we will do anything to center and fight for love and safety and queer freedom.

Anyway I’m here in my new bra vowing to stay in the present moment, even when the present moment is a wave of physical panic, and to ride the wave to the other side and let the basic bitch human animal of my body love what it loves

Happy birthday to me, I love you all