No Editing On My Account

I've got something on my mind, it's been bothering me all week, specifically since last Thursday's post. It stems from when I had the girls over for art night.

During the conversation that night, we discussed the passing of one of their colleagues. Later, after the girls left, Danny and I had a long conversation about death. What I didn't know at the time of the conversation with Danny, was that he was already upset when he came home, which spurred a lot of questions regarding mortality. I then shared with him the sad story I had heard from Art Night, and things got pretty deep from there.

He had been watching the movie, Rocky (the newest Rocky - he just mentioned over my shoulder), and he started thinking about our situation. The main character's wife had passed away and he was trying to go on with his life without her. The fact that Rocky's wife was dead, in the movie, wasn't a major part in the storyline, but it hit Danny incredibly hard on a personal note. During the movie Rocky visited his wife's grave, and that image hit Dan deeply.

Danny recently explained why he was so upset (the movie), and that's why he was already in a morbid mood. Then, once we got to talking that night we were emotional together. I was emotionally raw for my grieving friends, and unable to shake the fact that the gentleman passed away so quickly. My heart genuinely hurt for his family, and his children, even though I'd never met them. I wish I could say that I can compartmentalize, and put things away mentally, but I can't. I couldn't help but think about my own mortality, and that's how I got to writing that post.

Since that post, the girls have apologized for mentioning the passing of the gentleman, and I feel absolutely horrible. I told them that I want people to be able to talk to me about everything in their own lives. I want my friends to feel comfortable talking to me, or in front of me, with their own stories. I want to be a sounding board, or a shoulder to lean on. I would be crushed if my friends felt like they had to edit their lives on my account.

I have the most wonderful friends, and I care so deeply for them. In fact, I can't even imagine getting through this without them by my side. I don't want them to feel responsible for any sadness, because that couldn't be further from the truth. 

Sometimes a sad story, a movie, or even a song can conjure up some serious emotions, but that doesn't mean that we don't want to feel them. That conversation with Danny was incredibly eye opening. We hadn't yet talked directly about my mortality, and he had never shared his fears. He's an incredibly deep, thoughtful man, and never wants me to worry. The fact that he let down his guard, and opened up to me was humbling. It pained me to think about how hard this is for him, and at the same time I was so honored that he loves me so much.

Marsala Tandoori Naan

I've been running (or "slogging" if you will) lately, and I've lost a lot of my stamina. I'm not sure what's going on. I've started limiting my coffee to one cup every few days, and I've removed most processed foods (other than some canned goods, and select breads).

I'm living off of vegetables, marsala tandoori naan (you do NOT want to run next to me on the treadmill...it doesn't take much, but it's coming out of my pores) and quinoa. This week Danny and I are starting to cook whole beans. I don't have a pressure cooker, and it's going to delay the cooking process, but maybe I'll find one at a garage sale or something.

Although I feel clean, healthy, and refreshed, I am also incredibly hungry. Maybe it's because I want to eat what everyone else is eating. That maybe in my mind I feel hungry.

Danny and I went to dinner at Jenny and Bryan's house tonight. We brought pizza - the meal of champions - because they're always cooking dinner for us. Not exactly the healthiest choice, but it sounded delicious at the time. Of course, I can't eat pizza since I'm lactose intolerant, and regardless, I'm still panicked that my food is trying to kill me. So I rudely brought a cabbage salad, quinoa and a jalapeno humus. I knew that in the eight years of friendship, Jenny would care less if I brought my own food - but why didn't I just cook them the same thing that I had in the fridge? Why am I afraid to serve my food? I guess I feel like I'm shoving it down my friend's throats. At one point Jenny said, "That doesn't look half bad." And then I felt like a complete jerk. That maybe they wanted a healthy meal too. Sometimes I think I'm doing something nice when in reality I'm over thinking things.

My mom used to always tell me that you should always invite people even if you think they're going to say, "No." At least they'll know that you wanted them to come.

Maybe it can also be said for quinoa.