“The Orange
At lunchtime I bought a huge orange—
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
They got quarters and I had a half.
And that orange, it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
This is peace and contentment. It’s new.
The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all the jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I’m glad I exist.
— Wendy Cope”
I feel I want to explain to you what we’re doing here, before we get into the things we’re here to see and hear and talk about. Let’s start there.
I have been on a sort of quest to find my footing for the last while. 2023 was a rough year. About a year ago, I started therapy. I was unhappy and too scared to admit it. How could I be unhappy? I am healthy, I have a beautiful family, a home, and I am financially comfortable. I could not possibly be unhappy, I had no right to be. When I finally decided to take the leap and talk to someone, things started shifting.
Months went by, as I went through stages of understanding and grief. I opened threads that were tied tight and sealed deep down within me. I revisited memories and finally cried about things that happened decades ago. At first, all of me was really stuck in understanding “why” it all had happened, why me, and why that way. I searched for all the whys I could possibly try to find. I found some, but not many. Spring came and summer went by, and I was consumed by a steady low drum of anger. Not loud enough to make me yell, not quiet enough to give me room to be. I wanted to change the past, and change people, but I couldn’t, and that hurt so bad.
As I got familiar with the feeling of being powerless about it all, I rarely regretted having started the journey, though. The more I dug, different pieces of the puzzle appeared, out of order, some with no place yet, but all were parts of me that I had left behind somewhere — feelings that were long lost, or never felt, compassion for me and for others, long-awaited understanding. The only way out was, and still is, through. I started giving myself more room to feel, and cry, and show others that I was going through something. The ones closest to me have been hanging in there with me in this journey, and I am so grateful for it.
Somewhere along this path, I noticed that social media was putting unnecessary pressure on me. I wanted to be a part of my friends’ lives, but the world of irrelevant information that came with it was too much for my addicted-prone neurodivergent brain. So, I left, and things got… quiet. It hasn’t been that long, and, although, I certainly enjoy the feeling of not having spent hours scrolling every day without an end in sight, I do miss the ability to share and receive short updates from friends and family — A newborn’s first smiles, a special night out with loved ones, graduations, engagements, random photo dumps.
That’s where this place comes in. A home for sharing memories, away from the algorithm’s dementors. A place to slow down and reflect about life, and how it’s actually been, good and bad and the 90% that is in between. A place to share with a small, but really special group of people. A pause in between scrolls, to just be. A short read, like grabbing a coffee, or going for a walk. And, once you’re done, if you’re ever so inclined, hit reply and send me an update about your world, I’d love to read it.