dear love of my life,

i've been thinking of you of late.

and been unable to bring myself to write you.

i became self-conscious.

i think around the age of eighteen someone told me of a friend who had written letters at all the major events in her life and on the day of her wedding, presented it to her husband as her gift to him.

and i thought, perfection.

and i decided, i too, will do this. and thus began my own silent letter-writing-campaign.

and then this lovely, little blog came about. and i wouldn't change a word i've written and i wouldn't give any of it up for all the gold in the leprechaun's pot. but, i fear--i fear you might find these letters before it's time--before either of us is ready.

i keep thinking of john ashberry's at north farm:

Somewhere someone is traveling furiously toward you,

At incredible speed, traveling day and night,

Through blizzards and desert heat, across torrents,

through narrow passes.

But he will know where to find you,

Recognize you when he sees you

i read it and think, of course, has a more perfect idea ever existed? it's such a beautiful and comforting idea--all our lives we are moving rapidly toward this person.

and then we find them.

and then we find them. ay, there's the rub. i think about that moment--that moment of finding them--and all i can think of is junior year of physics and newton's first law of motion:

every object in a state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unless an external force is applied to it.

euf, of course.

hidden in that first law is the fact that the impact of that outside force cam be brutal.

so you've been traveling all your life in search of this person and then you find them and it's halting--that metaphorical slamming of the brakes. halting? no, not the right word. i mean the force of that stop--traumatic at best. and yes, it's thrilling and yes it's the beginning of everything, but in that moment and the immediate aftermath, i imagine it's nothing short of utterly terrifying

me too.

i'm scared too.

i mean, really scared.

it's a long time, this "till death do us part," no?

i know. me too.

but i'm asking you to be really courageous.

take the leap. okay?

i'll jump with you.

love, love, love, love,

me

pictures, as promised (it's a start).

i love weddings. 

why, you ask?

i'll tell you.

well, for the obvious reasons, of course. 

and.

because they are always tremendously enlightening experiences.

1. it really is probably for the best that i don't get married for another 30 years or so--my father was halfway to crazy by the time i arrived in rhode island with two of my cousins. and this was his niece getting married. not his daughter. 

2. do not leave the parking lot with the waterford crystal bowl sitting on top of the car. a broken bowl does not a good gift make. (good news: it made quite a thump, but did not break--just a wee of a scratch on the paper)

3. dancing makes everything better. and a good, short haircut swingin' to the beat gives even the poorest of dancers (me) the belief that they aren't half bad

evidence of any damage? hardly.

cousin mary and her lovely new husband, patrick.

my cousin brian with his fiancee, melissa and his mother. doesn't he look happy? he should, he caught a good one. 

with my aunt patti and cousin mike.

with popops.

cousin brian doing the footloose dance. goodness, i love my wacky family.

my brother (and new bostonian) with me, cousin brian and melissa.

cousin kevin (who spent the week with me in new york) and gorgeous sarah (fiancee of my cousin sean)

christmas card? check. the nuclear family and in a rare somewhat-photogenic moment.

hope you had a lovely weekend!

in a day.

on monday night i chopped all my hair off. 

i needed a change.

yesterday, i bought myself an unforgivably expensive purse (euf. thank you birthday money).

and this morning i packaged everything i own into plastic bags in preparation for the exterminator. turns out preparing for bed bug demolition is like moving (without any of the organization). 

everything can change in a day.

two weeks ago i looked in the mirror and began to cry. i saw myself. as i haven't seen myself in four years. 

you see, when ned pitches a tent and stakes a corner of my life.... well, my face is the first thing to change. it swells ever so slightly which changes the overall appearance. it's not a big change. just enough to change... everything. so i looked in the mirror and cried because i thought, oh my god, my mom's going to look at me and see her baby girl for the first time in four years. 

when this thing... this ned...first came about it took so much time to interpret him--to learn his language, and convey his meaning to those around me. so by the time everyone understood, i feared most for my mother. she thought it was her fault. she hated that she couldn't help me. if there is anything unforgivable about the time with my eating disorder, it is the pain i have put my mother through. i know because i'm tethered to her. when she is sad, i feel her sadness tenfold. i can't imagine what she has felt throughout this--this process. 

so, that's what i thought, yes, my mom's going to look at me and see her baby girl for the first time in four years. 

and then of course the bed bugs descended. and my birthday. and the impending arrival of my family (we have a wedding to go to tomorrow). and if you don't know it by now... i tend to not do so well with big events. i've dampened many an important holiday in the past (i seem to recall a very difficult thanksgiving two years ago) and with the arrival of all these things, ned crept back in. by small degrees i allowed his onset. 

this... thing that today i cannot give more of a name to than just that: thing, is a constant lesson--an experiment in humility. just as soon as i am ready to claim victory, i am reminded that there is no such thing as victory. there is only this day. and tomorrow. and an endless fight. and that's not necessarily bad. because the fight won't always be hard. but it will be. the difference between a very healthy me and a very... not healthy me is at most two inches on the battle map. 

have you ever noticed that laughing looks an awful lot like crying? and making love can resemble a fight between two people? this world is made of infinitesimally small lines that we all traverse each and every day. 

the past two weeks have been not so good. but last night when i had the impulse to cater to ned's wishes (yes, that pun was intended) i didn't. and that's all it takes. one moment of unbearable strength where you pull yourself over the cliff and begin the slowly and steady walk away from the edge. 

so whereas i was not okay yesterday, i am today. and so yes, everything can change in a day.

when i see my mother tomorrow, i may wish that my face still reflected what i saw in that mirror two weeks ago. and i may way wish i looked slightly better in my dress, but, c'est la vie. there will be time for that in the future. so for tomorrow i will smile and know that my eyes hold all the me my mother will ever need to see. 

________________________________

back in high school i listed in on a lecture by a visiting shakespearean scholar. 

this is what he said:

the average american has a vocabulary of about 3,000 words.

the most educated americans possess about 6,000.

language fails us. all the time. every day. is it any wonder people suffer from any form of mental illness--when there aren't enough words to aptly express the full gamut of human emotion?

shakespeare's vocabulary? culled from all his plays and sonnets?

36,000. 

holy moly. 36,000 words. 

the man made them up. if it didn't exist. he created it. 

so on this day i wish i had all those 36,000 words to thank you all for your kind birthday wishes. i'd like to thank each and every one of you individually (and am hoping to... eventually) but for now i leave you all with just these two words.

thank you.

my birthday was a lovely oasis in the midst of these past two weeks. it's funny, 24 has gotten off to a rocky start. but i've never been so hopeful or so positive about what's just around the bend.

thank you. all of you. this thing--this blogging community--changes my life each and every day and helps me heal in a way unlike anything else.

love and thanks to you all,

meg

_______________________________

ps: one of the best birthday gifts i received was the knowledge that president barack obama was known as "barry" back in college. 

barry.

awesome.

my gift to you:

proof of this!

_______________________________

post ps: i am a child of october. october is the month the gods of baseball reign. the yanks took down the twins 7-2 in the first game.

game two is tonight.

let's go yankees. 

who i am at 24.

this morning i woke up to a new year. 

i buttoned up my brand new, crisp-as-they-come, white blouse, took a good long look in the mirror and decided that yes, 24 felt different in the best possible way. i was different. better. immediately, i knew.

then i gave one squirt of smashbox foundation into my waiting hand and ended up with five gloriously large makeup blobs all over my brand new shirt--my never-been-worn shirt. and i was brought back to reality. this would not be the year of the immaculately clean white blouse. a new year, a new day does not a different person make. i am still the girl who gets make-up on her shirt (or food--more often food), stumbles over her words, and does not realize that the restaurant has not been serving broccoli now for a full 34 days (as my boss so kindly pointed out). 

and you know what? thank God above for my persistent little foibles. they're glorious. and i love them.

my girlfriend from high school and i were speaking on the phone today. about boys. (what all young, twenty-something women most love to discuss). and she mentioned a boy she had dated several years ago that she would be meeting up with soon. she expressed trepidation about the time elapsed and said, i'm not same person i was at fifteen. to which i replied, thank God,  whitney. thank God we're not the same people. 

okay, so i am different today. and i'll be different tomorrow. each day brings a new and exciting adventure. 

i may not be so young as i was last year. but i have a year's worth of knowledge along with a new number. and for the first time in my life i feel like i am on the precipice of... everything. 

so 24. who am i. well, here goes.

if i could have a constant supply of anything for the rest of my life it would be flowers and paper toweling. 

at the grocery store, i most love coming away with the tall, slender bottles of pellegrino. it makes me feel...french.

i hiccup any time i've had too much food or eaten too quickly. so... often. very, very often. 

there is a direct correlation between the quality of my mood and the cleanliness of my home.

laughter. above all, i need laughter. small hiccups of laughs and roaring guffaws. when i think of the man i'll marry there is so much i dream of. but the only thing i know--i mean really know--is that he'll laugh at my jokes and my constant mistakes. and himself. oh for a man who can laugh at himself! he'll make me laugh and for this i'll love him as though our lives depend on it. 

i'd like to tell you that ned isn't following me into this new year. but he is. two weeks ago i would have said, no, no way. but with the onset of bed bugs and thus a disrupted sleep cycle, he has taken taken this opportunity to creep back in. when i am healthy it's as though i've found a little pocket of air in which to breathe--and i ride it for as long as i can. it's a sweet spot where ned can't touch me. and i know that in the process of recovering it's important to fall out of the pocket so that i can figure out how to get back to it quickly. so i'm trying to give thanks for the fall out. but giving thanks isn't always so easy. nor is finding my way back in. 

back in april i gave myself a year to fail, to fall on my ass again and again. and i'm doing it and loving it. and i've still got a good six months. 

i promised myself that come 24 i would take pictures. all the time. every day. it would take work and practice, but i would make it a habit. and it would be a crushing blow to ned. but i'm not feeling very picture pretty today. so i make this promise. it will be a week late, but come this weekend i will post some photos. full length photos. photos that pretty or not will show you who i am in a way that my words cannot. 

i feel good about this age. this 24 number will be a good one. ned will end. and i will fall in love. (that's my divination for the future...i guess we'll see if my predictions are on point!). 

ps: i have a crush on a man who snaps his fingers. and when he does it's strong and clear and reminds me of my father and this inspires great confidence. 

photo via sabino.

in new york.

yesterday morning i woke up itching away. 

it was 4 am. 

and i had gone to bed wearing shoes.

all i wanted to do was take a hot shower.

and our hot water had been turned off.

this was a low point. 

a very, very, low point.

but i made the decision to have a good day.

and then learned that sometimes even making the decision does not a good day ensure.

but last night?

well, last night i slept until the gentle ding ding ding of my alarm. 

i then took a piping hot shower, drank in the autumnal air, and knew it would be a good day.

often, people here in manhattan want to know why i moved so far north. and this whole bed bug thing has increased the rapidity of those questions. 

well, to them i say this:

bed bugs and all i wouldn't change a thing. because this morning when i went for my jog, this is what i saw:

and yes. this was in new york city.