This Body is Bullshit

I had breakfast with my cousin Greg this weekend—which is kind of a miracle, because usually I only see him at funerals or weddings. The kid grew up on the East Coast, lives in Florida now, and still somehow looks exactly like his dad. (Which is wild, considering his dad—my mom’s brother—died tragically when Greg was just a baby. Hawaii. Drowning. His whole family on the beach. A nightmare I’ll never forget.)

Greg and I are twelve years apart, but that never mattered. He’s always been the kind of guy you can just talk to—open, no bullshit, no awkwardness. He seems to be in a good place now, and he’s basically a great stepdad, kind of like Matt. He deserves happiness. What I really want is to know the woman he’s with sees it—that she respects him, doesn’t take advantage, and actually gets how sweet, hard-working, and kind he is. He’s a fucking catch, and I will fight anyone who doesn’t treat him that way.

On the way home, I stopped in at Starbucks where Maggie was working. She’s one of those people who spreads herself way too thin with work and family, but she looked good—better than the last time I saw her. Sweet as ever. Honestly, she was probably checking in on me as much as I was checking in on her. We spotted a bald eagle while talking, which totally derailed me because… animals. I cannot focus when there’s wildlife around. I’m out here craning my neck like David Attenborough while she’s trying to update me on life. Fittingly, we might’ve been talking about ADHD at the time.

Last night was our block party. There was a little collective side-eye going in, everyone wondering if our neighbor with the ongoing mental health crises might show up and start shit. They didn’t—and honestly, thank God—because the turnout was great. Fourth year running and probably the biggest yet. People stayed until 10. Me? I bailed at 7:30. My social stamina outside my inner circle is pathetic. Still, it was nice to see familiar faces and meet a few new ones. I missed Carol and Vito, though—it wasn’t the same without them.

This morning, I snagged a last-minute spot in Pilates off the waitlist, and it made my whole day. Afterward, I meal-prepped, cleaned out a couple cabinets, and now I’m stretched out in the hammock. God, I wish I could do this more often. I don’t understand people who go go go all weekend. My weekends are my only chance to cram in errands and chores since I don’t get work-from-home days, so if I want downtime, I have to literally force myself to schedule it.

I’ve been making a point to catch up with people too. Briefly chatted with Natalie, had a great phone call with my Aunt June (who’s starting to remind me of my grandma more and more), and a long, heart-filling conversation with Aunt Susie while Frank was recovering from his procedure. Poor guy was a wreck from the anesthesia for two and a half days, but he’s finally back to his pompous little self. Susie, though—she’s the glue. She keeps us connected, carries more than her fair share, and still makes time to check in on everyone. She’s a damn beacon.

And honestly? She might be my biggest blog fan. She makes me feel good about writing this, even when I don’t really want to talk about it. She gives me confidence, and I have a feeling she’s shared it with a few more people than I realize. So, if you’re new here—hi. Just know this is therapy for me. It’s messy, it’s honest, and I try not to let it turn into a “woe is me” pity party. But it’s real.

Then, like an asshole, I remembered I’d missed my cousin Bryon’s birthday. He’s one of my favorites on my stepdad’s side, and he’s always so damn thoughtful about birthdays. Meanwhile, I forget his. Classic. Hopefully I’ll see him next weekend with his new wife Laura, who’s absolutely lovely, and maybe we can celebrate properly. Ken’s supposed to be in town too, so fingers crossed for a family gathering.

Now it’s Sunday night and the Sunday Scaries are creeping in. Tomorrow will probably be another one of those Mondays where I feel like I need a crane to get out of bed. I want to get back to walking this week, keep my Pilates streak going, try to feel a little more human.

But for now, it’s me, my hammock, and the 70 TikToks Grace has sent me that I still need to catch up on.