Yesterday was my doctor’s appointment. I’ve been working on myself— I don’t typically go to the doctor above a certain weight, because I’m an A student, and I know that certain weights are not A student material. I don’t like a lecture, I don’t want bad test results, even if they’re health-related tests. I want my gold star and a get out of the doctor free card for another year. I feel the same way about the dentist, and the mechanic and almost any other professional provider. If there’s something wrong, I want it to be something I couldn’t reasonably do anything to prevent. And weight/lifestyle/genetic predispositions coming home to roost seem like they’re things I should be preventing.
When I was in high school, I had this friend. Nice guy. Sweet, soft-spoken, bright. He was a lineman on the football team— probably offensive and defensive. Bigger, kind of intense in the weight room, but a really good guy. We would chat and joke a lot.
The other night, I heard a song by Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton, about how “You Can’t Make Old Friends.” It’s a lovely song. I have some old friends I value highly… but I’m struggling a little with some of my old friends.
One of the podcasts I listen to always asks guests “what is saving your life right now?” It’s a good question. Frankly, a better question than I’m about to answer.
I have complained bitterly about some of the challenges of living with my mom (I mailed some of the pointless mail when we were out just the other night, actually! But she doesn’t send me with it alone regularly— brings it when we’re out together. I can deal with that.) But yesterday, we had such a reasonable conversation— when I got home, I told her my plan for dinner and said “are you hungry? Because I can start dinner now if you’re starved, but if not, I’d like to take care of a few things before I do that.”
I don’t spend a lot of time, anymore, worrying about whether I’m smart. That’s not to say that I’ve never had insecurity in this area, or that I think I’m smarter than everyone (or even anyone), or that I know everything about everything. But generally speaking, I’m not afraid that I’m stupid. I’ve satisfied any insecurity I had on that score.
After college, I came home and lived with my folks for 13 months. I swear I wasn’t a nightmare. I worked, I paid them a little something when I was able to do so, and it mostly went well. I did notice that even though I had been living off-campus with a roommate my senior year of college, I reverted somewhat, when I came home, and I felt bad about it.