Thursday, June 10, 2010

these little reminders

do you ever wake up with anxiety? out of nowhere, trailing bits and pieces of your subconscious like the remnants of a traveling circus, torn and lackluster. the inefficiency of it worries me. no tangible problem attached to it, merely a feeling of something not quite right.
there are things to worry about, yes. there are always things to worry about.
and now i'm worried about not worrying specifically enough.
that perhaps there is an undercurrent moving towards my dangling feet. or something in the bottom of the lake, jason in a ski mask, waiting for me to take a summer vacation and play out every cliche i've ever known.
until i look at pictures of my life.

ben's daughter, azure, taught finn pattycake.
i met azure when she was finn's age. back when we spent a good amount of time in hollywood, right off sunset.she was on his shoulders, he had walked over with her from his apartment to talk to our acting coach, deke. she was large eyed and quiet, taking us in with a healthy amount of trepidation. all of us waving hands at her, tickling feet without permission. all of us in awe of her.
memorial day, we had a picnic. each of us, the adults, worn out yet intent on seeing each other.
i watched ben's daughter make my daughter giggle.
as i look at this now i realize my anxiety is born of these things. these perfect moments. because i want to slap my hands together and giggle and make them stay forever.
i want to remember how the baby on ben's shoulders stared me straight in the eye years ago, only to turn around as a young girl and hug me goodbye, thanking me for lunch.
i want to take these firsts of finn's and frame them. not just the pictures, but the moments themselves. wrap them in vellum, dated and archived. so that when she needs to be reminded that life is full of the most wonderful surprises, there they will be. curated and preserved.

or maybe i just need them for myself.


  1. I remember when we met at James B's one time (for VO I think) and she kept calling you "Beanbag Girl" because you were sitting on the beanbag. It's all like water slipping through your fingers. Try as I might I cant help being anxious too...

  2. Yes! This is exactly how I feel.

  3. Exactly! It's born from the bittersweet knowledge that even there is so much beauty, it is always passing away. Anxiety for me feels so much like loss sometimes. Unfortunately it has made me rather obsessive compulsive in my old age...

  4. I agree with Bex, anxiety does feel so much like loss. But there will be more memories to be had....many, many more.

    These photos are so sweet, by the way. So is the memory your shared to go along with them.

  5. That anxiety is a pretty constant visitor around here. I think for the reasons you mentioned. It's less than it used to be, but it still shows up, and when it does, taking stock of those moments helps.

  6. I want to project and yet I'm trying to learn to be gentler with the world. I'm wondering philisophically if this is a natural phase of motherhood because I went through it, am coming out of it. Or perhaps it is just that you see, your eyes are open, you receive these moments and recognize their value. Which ever way, you live richly and Finn will too as a consequence. There is no wall tall enough though, and so we have to be sated with the moment. There is no box big enough for all the vellum in the world.

    I laugh at myself. I started a scrapbook years and years ago for my husband and myself. I wrote, took photos, saved theatre tickets and all of that, and then came the ultra-sounds. And now, of course, he and I are no longer together but that doesn't mean our time together was without worth. There was good in my intentions then in preserving. But now I wonder a goodly amount what on earth to do with this stuff. I guess I'm trying to say, the truth resides in the self and even then, truth of self changes over time.

    So much for not projecting.

    I do mean it. No bullshit. I do believe you live beautifully.


  7. The anxiety of being, existing, reaching out, pulling back, loving, wanting loving back, being a mother-- all of this stays with you in different degrees all the days of your life. I am still anxious for you every day at various times - at a memory, at something unforeseen in your future, at the varying steps we go through just to exist. I'd love to tell you that this is just a phase - but I won't lie to you - I honestly think it will hover about you forever. But that's not a bad thing - it's because we love so - I'm not sure if intensely is the right word - but it's all encompassing with our family - she's your baby - and you're my baby.
    I love you muchly Kritter. Mom

  8. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and something just feels... Wrong. This overwhelming feeling that something bad has or will happen. I can't relax until I call my parents, boyfriend and best friend to make sure they're ok. It's paralyzing. And nothing is ever wrong.

  9. this is so true for me. some days i just wake afraid.

  10. I didn't use to have anxiety, but I certainly do now! The older my son gets, the more my anxiety comes up out of nowhere at the worst possible times. Like when I'm leaving the state to attend a training. Or when my son isn't answering his cell phone and he's an hour late getting home...

    I love the story about azure! It's so beautiful to watch kids grow up...but a bittersweet happiness...

  11. just catchin' up around these parts. I've been gone for a while.

    this post made me tear up and get all tight-chested. I get you, sister.



use your kind words.