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Jun 23, 2021Liked by Heather Havrilesky

Let’s just say I had a ‘day’ yesterday ending with me puking on the boots of four fireman who came to save me after passing out at the gym for doing all of 15 minutes of cardio. Give me a fucking break. I’m not a gym rat or an overachiever. I’m a middle aged woman who’s looking to drop a few pounds and move her body. I just have a ‘thing’ with a fancy name for passing out where if the planets align(some combination of I’m dehydrated or too hot or too stressed or sleep deprived or I have had a glass of wine) then I pass out. Not so bad as long as I don’t hit my head. It’s only happened to me about 10 times in 5 decades. This thing I have will not kill me. My heart is fine and works as it should. But when I pass out, I’m exposed for the world to see and my previous meal usually exits my body and I sweat like a pig through my clothes. And I’m sure I stink at this point. And I’m so out of it I can’t hold my head up and the most I can say is one syllable with Herculean effort to get it out. That’s what happens when your brain is starved of oxygen, even for a few seconds. The clicker of the whole day is that these fireman used to be my patients where I worked as a nurse in occupational health and they are brave and strong and handsome and a little touched in the head to do what they do. But I respect the hell out of them and have had crushes on a few. So meeting your crush who shows up to save you and you stink and are covered in puke is not gonna get me any dates. And as the firemen were scooping me into a stretcher, I was praying to God that I don’t end up in video on some mean, millennial’s Twitter page (who is way too young to know that at some point life will hand their young body it’s ass possibly covered in puke) with the tag line, “Look at the lady that puked on my elliptical machine at my gym today?” And my entire family is dead.(No pity party please. They weren’t the best when they were alive so I am essentially an adult orphan and I’m fine with that except for days like these. The only person I could call to drive me home from the ER was my ex beau. I’m lucky he is kind and will come to pick me up off the floor if I need it. But he doesn’t get me at all which is why he is an ex.

So in a very long and windy post, as I recover today, still to weak and wobbly to stand in the shower, sitting with some dried puke still in my hair, your writing and keen observations and musings about life are the only thing that moved me from the spectacle of shame yesterday to laughing out loud and being so damn grateful there is another soul who totally gets me and encourages us to fly out freak flags. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for you.

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One of the happiest days of my life was when I realized I’d been a stage-five clinger in my close friendships as a child. For years I had this narrative in my head of victimhood, that X and Y and Z best friend had all ditched me for no reason and why did everyone always leave?

Recently it hit me so clearly. I got zero affection and very little attention from my parents growing up. So anyone who actually wanted to spend time with me and listen to what I had to say? BEST FRIEND FOREVER omg I made us t-shirts and if you say you might want to hang out this weekend I’m going to call you ten times in a row until you answer, or maybe just show up at your house. No wonder they got tired of me. I was so lonely and so, so desperate for human connection. Not being a victim, and understanding why things happened the way they did, is so wonderful.

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I wish I had seen all my (many) rock bottoms as parties and not funerals. I think that perspective is so beautiful!

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I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed reading this. I laughed out loud... especially when you called yourself a concubine. I’m stealing it, wife sounds a lil too OT to me. I’m saving this post for my inner working dog tripping on her leash. I’m putting on my hippie “party” dress which looks more like stretched out sweatpants, loose lipped elastic and a wrinkly tank top—you should know it’s 58° in Chicago today with snow forecasted on Tuesday. Life is a fickle figment of my fragility that’s melding in a dull acceptance of most things. Non-judgment, right? Snow, cherry blossoms, who cares?! The party is this “polluted factory of a mind” if I choose to show up. Which means I always have a party to go to so FOMO has suddenly vanished. Heather, you are one of my fav humans. xx

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Thank you for the vocabulary to think of myself as a “working breed”. I too will wreck stuff when I’m understimulated and have always beaten myself up about it. Not to have to think of myself as damaged and deranged is a wonderful gift you have given people with this breed of brain.

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I'm glad I'm not the only one that had zero interest in men while I was at university. Turns out some of those guys weren't too bad at all. Though they were pretty boring. And honestly, probably not at all equipped to deal with a complex and thoughtful individual as a girlfriend. But at least they try, and even though it's mediocre, sometimes it's enough.

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I wish I'd gotten to where she is when I was 32.

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"Inside the polluted factory of my mind, attention always comes with punishment." - a perfect articulation of something i've been picking at and trying to wrap my head around in therapy recently. really helped untangle a few things, so thank you!!!

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