This Body is Bullshit

Cup Half Full (Even When It’s Cracked)

I had an eleven-hour workday last week that ate my soul. Came straight home, drew a bath, added extra epsom salt, and was fully soaking when Drew called. I let it go. A few minutes later he called again. I picked up. Small talk, how’s it going — and then he goes: are you in the bathtub right now?

I was absolutely in the bathtub.

Turns out he and his mom Jan had just been at Costco and were sitting in my driveway. I jumped out, hollered for Matt — half asleep on the couch — and we ended up having this completely unplanned little visit, hanging out in the garage because Drew didn’t feel like dealing with his ramp. I am deeply antisocial during the week. I usually hate drop-ins with a passion. But Drew showing up on a random Tuesday while I was dripping wet and laughing? I loved every second of it. Some people just get a pass.

Still racking my brain about my dad and poor Kathy.

We went to the No Kings protest last weekend — their first one was not, but mine was. I was excited, and even more so when Mike and Megan said they’d come. Megan gave me a gummy that was significantly more potent than advertised. I rallied. Kathy tried to get my dad to wear gym shoes. He refused. Wore cowboy boots.

He’s got the old man shuffle going now — unsteady, not great on uneven ground — and those boots did absolutely nothing to help. Watching him navigate curbs and crowds was painful. He looked fragile in a way that caught me off guard. Frail. Old. It broke my heart a little. And yet he loved every single minute of it. Stood there proud as hell in those boots, probably because he thinks they make him taller.

He’s also developed this habit of plucking hairs off the top of his nose. Constantly. It is so bizarre and so gross and Kathy and I are on his case about it and he does not care even a little.

Kathy talked to him about the drinking. He swore he’d only drink on Saturdays now. We’ll see if he remembers that conversation. When she was out of town and I was on Dad Duty, I gave him drinks with zero alcohol in them. He didn’t notice the difference. He wanted to go out every single night — Kathy takes him out several times a week, which has to be exhausting and expensive. He is so spoiled and has absolutely no idea how good he has it with her. If it were me I’d be putting the hammer down. But it’s not me living with him every day, so I give him his virgin cocktail and bite my tongue.

My body has been staging its own protest — joint pain, muscle aches, fatigue hitting everything at once. Neck, shoulders, back, hips, knees, hands, feet. All of them, all the time. I did something I never do and Googled bone cancer at midnight. I don’t actually think I have it. It was just one of those late-night doom spirals when I couldn’t sleep. Fucking stupid. I closed the laptop and took a Xanax.

Work has been heavy in a different way too. I’m seriously thinking about asking to step back from my Hillside 5 responsibilities. It’s not that I can’t do it — it’s that I get anxious before going there, and that’s not how I want to feel about work I’ve been doing for fifteen years. I’m turning fifty. I used to want to move up, become a manager. That ship has sailed and I’m genuinely fine with it. I just want to do my job well, take care of my people, and not lose myself in the process. I just don’t want to disappoint Johnny or Nancy.

Speaking of Nancy — we had dinner recently. We always end up in these deep, winding conversations when we actually sit down together. I feel for her. She carries a lot — loneliness, old wounds that don’t heal clean. 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 mentioned wanting to take a trip together, which would be wonderful, but she’s in a very different financial world than I am. I know she’d probably offer to pay and that would just make me feel guilty. Still. I love her.

Donna — one of my breast cancer warrior sisters — is doing incredible. She was terrified at first but has handled everything like a total badass, all while grieving her mom at the same time. One surgery left. She’s frustrated about gaining a few pounds but she looks amazing — better, honestly, though she’ll disagree. Strong. Beautiful. I wish she could see herself the way I see her. She’s sensitive underneath all that strength and I sometimes worry about what she’s holding quietly. She doesn’t have to perform okay. Not with me. She knows that.

My cousin Jennifer had to put her dog down this week. It fell on the anniversary of Kirby’s death. That day always carries weight, and this made it heavier. I changed my Facebook profile picture to one of all the Malek girls — my mom’s whole side of the family together. It feels like another lifetime. Aunt Susie is always the one holding us together, even as we lose a few pieces along the way. We’re doing our annual pumpkin carving this weekend and I’m looking forward to it more than I expected.

Grace came to Sunday lunch with Matt’s family, which was good because she’s been quiet and a little distant lately. She goes through these phases where she pulls back and goes dark and I don’t like it. I worry. Maybe she’s overwhelmed. Maybe she’s talking to that ex again, which I hope to god she isn’t. But she’s twenty-six and she doesn’t need to talk to her mother every day and I know that. Knowing it and being okay with it are two different things.

I skipped a close friend’s 50th birthday celebration last weekend. I love her. But by the time I factored in dry cleaning, a gift, dinner at a new restaurant, and the casino, it would’ve been close to $300. That’s my weekly budget right now. We’re having breakfast in a few weeks and she gets it. I didn’t feel guilty, which is genuinely progress for me.

I’ve been trying to get intentional about time and money — two things that disappear if I’m not paying attention. I want more from life and I’m starting to actually think about what that means. Animals. Photography. National parks. The ocean. Learning things that make me feel curious instead of just busy. I’ve been listening to podcasts, reading, watching documentaries. I want to learn languages. Travel and actually speak to people in their own language. I’m not an adventurous eater — bad gag reflex, we don’t need to discuss it — but I want to be adventurous in every other sense of the word.

I heard something recently: some people are ferns and some are cactuses. They need completely different things to thrive. What nourishes one can drown the other. I’ve been sitting with that. I think it means something about a lot of things in my life right now.

By the time I get off work tonight it’ll be dark and cold — no more hammock weather. I’ll probably stop for a couple returns, go home, make dinner, and make it to 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 enough right now.

I’m a cup-half-full person, even when the cup’s a little cracked.

Still trying to figure out what the fern-and-cactus thing means for me.

And still hoping for that mani-pedi.