This Body is Bullshit

Last week I had one of those 11-hour workdays that eats your soul. I got home, dropped everything, and decided the only logical next step was a bath. Just me, the tub, and extra epsom salt.

Right as I was about to sink in, Drew called. I figured I’d call him back later, but a few minutes into soaking, the phone rang again. This time I answered. A little small talk, then he goes, “Are you in the bathtub?” and starts laughing — because, yes, I absolutely was.

“Well,” he says, “I’m in your driveway.”

Turns out he and Jan had been at Costco and decided to stop by. So there I was, naked in the tub with my best friend and his mom in my driveway. I hollered down to Matt, who was half-asleep on the couch, to get the door. Jan, Drew, Matt, and I ended up having a great little visit, hanging out in the garage because Drew didn’t feel like dealing with his ramp. Totally unplanned — and I usually hate drop-ins — but honestly, it was nice. A surprise bit of joy on a random weeknight.

Then there’s my dad. And poor Kathy. We went to a No Kings protest last weekend — my first one, though they’ve done several rallies before. I thought it would be fun and empowering, and it was… but more emotional than I expected. Megan gave me a too-potent gummy. Kathy tried to convince Dad to wear gym shoes, but of course he refused. He wanted his cowboy boots.

Now he’s got this old-man shuffle, and those boots didn’t help. Watching him try to navigate curbs and crowds was painful — he looked frail, unsteady, old. It broke my heart. Still, he loved every minute of it. He’s stubborn and vain — I’m convinced he thinks the boots make him taller — and he’s developed this weird habit of plucking hairs off the top of his nose. It’s disgusting, and Kathy and I are constantly on him to stop.

She’s been trying to talk to him about his drinking too. He swears he’ll only drink on Saturdays now, but we’ll see how long that lasts. When she was out of town, I gave him “drinks” — zero alcohol — and he didn’t even notice. It’s exhausting keeping tabs, but if it were up to me, I’d keep him home every night. Then again, that would probably kill him faster than the booze.

My body’s been staging its own protest lately — joint pain, muscle aches, fatigue. It’s like every part of me is tired. My neck, shoulders, back, hips, knees, hands, feet — all sore, all at once. I did something I never do: Googled bone cancer. I don’t actually think I have it, but it was one of those late-night doom scrolls when I couldn’t sleep. Fucking stupid.

In between managing pain and family chaos, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want from the rest of my life. I keep saying I want more — more meaning, more adventure, more curiosity. I want to learn things, really learn them. I’ve been reading, listening to podcasts, watching documentaries. Half the time I feel intellectually lazy, like I can’t keep up. I hate small talk, but I’m not always confident enough to speak on big issues either. I’d love to learn languages, travel, experience other cultures. I wish I were more adventurous with food, but I’m a picky eater with a bad gag reflex — so, baby steps.

Work’s been heavy too. I’m seriously thinking about asking to step away from my Hillside 5 responsibilities. It’s not that it’s hard — it’s just draining me in ways I can’t explain. I get anxious before going there, and that’s not how I want to feel about work. I’ve been at Dynamic for fifteen years. I’m turning fifty. I used to want to move up, become a manager. Not anymore. I just want to do my job well, protect the family, keep things running, and not lose myself in the process. I’m proud of what I do — I just want to keep doing it without feeling like it’s eating me alive. But I don’t want to disappoint Johnny or Nancy.

I had dinner with Nancy recently. We always have these deep, winding conversations when we do get together. I feel for her. She carries a lot — loneliness, heartbreak, old wounds that don’t heal. When she’s good, she’s amazing. When she’s off, she’s sharp. We’ve both changed, but there’s still love there. She’s a fellow breast-cancer survivor, and we used to be thick as thieves. Life just… shifted. She mentioned wanting to take a trip, which would be great, but she’s in a very different financial world than I am. I know she’d probably offer to pay, but that just makes me feel guilty. Still, I love her.

Speaking of my breast-cancer circle — my best friend Donna is doing incredible. She’s been through hell and back, but she’s handled cancer like a total badass while dealing with the grief of losing her mom. She’s in the home stretch now, one surgery left. She hates that she’s gained a few pounds, but she looks amazing — better, actually, though she prefers being bone skinny. She’s got great muscles though. I wish she could see herself the way I do: strong, beautiful, brave. She’s sensitive, though, and sometimes that strength makes me worry about what she’s hiding underneath. She holds so much stress in her tiny frame. It’s not good for her. I try to help her see the glass half full, but she’s the opposite too often. I just want to hug the shit out of her.

Then there’s Grace. She’s been kind of elusive lately. I worry when she goes quiet like that. She feels things so deeply, and sometimes I can sense when she’s struggling, even from miles away. I know she’s twenty-six and living her life, but part of me still spirals — wondering if she’s slipping into a depressive spell or talking to that ex again. He’s no good for her. But I have to remind myself — she’s her own person. I can’t helicopter her into happiness.

On the bright side, Matt and I are in a better place than we were. We’re learning to meet each other where we are. I heard this analogy recently — some people are ferns, some are cactuses. Ferns need constant watering and attention. Cactuses just need light and space. Maybe that’s us — a fern and a cactus trying to share a pot. It’s not easy, but we’re figuring it out.

I’ve become intentional about how I spend my time and, with Matt’s “suggestion”, money. I skipped a close friend’s 50th birthday party last weekend, which I felt guilty about. But by the time I factored in dry cleaning for what I wanted to wear, a gift, dinner, drinks, and the casino, it probably would’ve been a $300 night. That’s my new weekly budget! So instead, I stayed home, guilt-free. We’ll have breakfast soon, and she gets it.

My cousin Jennifer had to put her dog down — the same day as the anniversary of losing Kirby. Brutal. I changed my FB profile picture to one of all the Malek girls together — my mom’s side. It feels like another lifetime when we were all under one roof. Aunt Susie hosted, as always. She’s still the glue, holding the family together, even as we lose a few pieces. We’re doing our annual pumpkin carving this weekend.

By the time I get off work tonight, it’ll be dark and cold — no hammock weather anymore. I’ll probably stop to make a few returns, then head home for a quick dinner before Pilates at 7. I wish I could squeeze in a manicure, but that’s not happening. Honestly, that’s fine. A night that ends with movement and some quiet is good enough for me right now.

I’m trying hard to live intentionally — to lead with joy instead of worry, to stay curious, compassionate, and grounded. To take care of myself without guilt. I’m naturally a “cup half full” person, even if the cup’s a little cracked these days. Anger, bitterness, control — they’re just wasted energy. I like this path. It’s interesting how aware I am of the physical changes, and how aging — oddly enough — is opening my mind.

So maybe this isn’t some grand finish to the week. But it’s still something steady.
A quiet exhale.
And hope for that mani-pedi.