Millennial Problems…

You’ve rewritten and edited your 8 word sentence for about 40 minutes now. You’re writing it out in your notes app so she can’t see how long you’ve been typing. Just to double check, you text it to your best friend to make sure it’s a good response. She has already received screen shots from you of the entire conversation. She changes one thing and okay’s the message. She always has your best interest at heart and you trust her, so you take her advice. You reread it. And reread it again. No amount of rewording will make you less anxious about actually sending it. At some point you have to bite the bullet. Your finger hovers over the send button and you take those last 10 seconds to reread it one last time. Just do it. Sent. It’s out of your hands. Your stomach flutters briefly knowing you just gave away control of the conversation and you immediately wish you had it back. Now pry your mind away from the conversation. Rethinking it will only make you feel more out of control. Get back to work. At first you’re checking for a response every minute or two, then every five or ten. Maybe she’s busy and hasn’t seen your text yet, you speculate. An hour has gone by, you just realized, and a wave panic passes through your head and to your stomach. The more time that passes the less confident you feel. You entertain the numerous ways your message could have been received. Three hours pass. What if she took it the wrong way. Damn it, you shouldn’t have said that. This is seriously the worst case scenario. Maybe she’s not going to respond at all. You try to believe that so you can regain at least a little control over yourself. Four hours in and you’re certain that you wont hear back from her. Then your screen lights up. Victory! The relief is tremendous. A smile spreads across your face, you’re back in the drivers seat.  You open your notes app and start thinking of a way to respond…

Dear Alexis,

I’ve been waiting a long time to be your aunt. The moment you came into this world, you were intrinsically loved by by so many people. Lucky for you, you’ve become the newest addition to a pretty cool family. I wish I could have been there the day you were born, but I FaceTime’d with you from New York just moments after. I finally met you when you were almost three weeks old. Your mom surprised me at the airport with you. I swear I felt my heart jumping out of my chest when I saw you through the glass. I could see in her eyes, that you being here alive and healthy was all she needed to be happy.

I wanted to stop time the day I had to go back to New York.  Your mom brought you over to say goodbye. I had been saving a song for you and finally played it that day right before I left.  It’s called Never Grow Up. Google it. Your mom and I sat on my bed, watching you, this new, tiny, six-pound person, sleeping so peacefully.  The song fit perfectly. I will always have this clear snapshot in my head of that moment. New mom, new baby, fear, excitement, anticipation, so much love.  By then end of the song, your mom and I both had tears streaming down our faces.

As I flew home, I started a list of all the things we will do together. We will read books and make forts. Bake cookies, but mostly just eat the dough. We will wear our pajamas to the movie theaters and throw tea parties with your cousins and favorite teddy bears. And when you’re a teenager, I will spend hours driving around with you when you’re upset. No talking, just screaming angry girl-power songs at the top of our lungs until you feel better. Your mom used to do that with me.

You’ve been given a very special mom, Alexis. I’ve never seen her love or care about anything the way she cares about you. When she was eight or nine she would carry me around on her hip, pretending to be my mom and I idolized her. She introduced me to ballet and Britney Spears, two things that I love to this day, and she always allowed her annoying little sister to tag along. She will love any gift you give her, just add glitter and I’ve never met a better keeper of secrets. Most importantly though, her love will always be unconditional. Period. I hope you get her open-minded heart, her tiny button nose and her endless kindness and generosity.

Your mom said that you’ll get this letter when you turn 18 (oh my god, that means I’m 42!). I have no idea who you are right now, while you’re reading this letter, but I do know that no matter what, you’re still intrinsically loved by all those people. I know that being 18 is not easy, but I will always be here to take you out for ice cream and sympathetically listen to you complain about your mom. And when you have questions, please know that you can ask me anything, anytime, and I promise to never judge you. The world is an amazing place, and I can’t wait to watch you explore it and figure out who you are. I love you Bubbles.

Here are a few of my favorite pictures I’ve taken of you so far!

Ok, I didn’t take this one, but this was the moment I first met you at the airport

You were so small, you even fit in your stocking! You were only about 6 or 7 lbs. at one month.

You were so cooperative at this age!

Nana was shocked to find you!

Christmas day 2013. You were our newest little Christmas Angel.

We had a photo shoot one day when I was watching you.

I loved putting you in tutus!

So beautiful.

You were all dressed up for your mom’s birthday.

You came to San Francisco and stayed with me and Marnie for a weekend. We had so much fun playing house with you. We even took you to Whole Foods and pretended like you were our baby.

This was you yesterday, on your first birthday. Your brother was stealing some of your cake!

We love you so much, Lexi, and we always will.

Fathers Day 2013

Happy Fathers Day Dad!

Mothers Day 2013

You Covered the World Grey

Last night was intense. You were different. You had a black eye and you’ve lost so much weight. The way you cried was strange. It was inhibited and unnatural. You acted like everything had to be hidden. You were hidden.

And I know you weren’t crying because you missed me or you wanted me back. You were crying because you finally want this, too. You’ve decided to let go and change is scary. You said this break-up is going to be a time of growth for us both and I knew you were right.

Everything you said had this urgency about it, like this might be the last time we speak.  You said I always felt like water to you, like I was slipping through your hands. You were emotionally detached from your words as you spoke and they became this messy flow of contradicting thoughts. You’re tired of caring, you said, and you’re ready to be done. You don’t want a friendship or any relationship with me. You even started telling me about some new girl you’ve been seeing.  The sex, you told me, is different with her. I didn’t imagine it would be the same. You were deliberate and cold and you didn’t care how you were making me feel.  As much as you loved me, you wanted to hurt me. I wished they canceled each other out.

I felt exhausted and hurt the entire time you were here. I was disappointed in you. Betrayed.  You left me no room to respond. You made it clear that you’re moving on. I hated you last night, but I didn’t want you to leave. I get it. You’ve given up, and somehow, I never thought you would. I thought one of us would always resist this. How can we both give up at the same time?

Where does this leave us?  We’re not friends, but I know everything about you. I know your quirks and flaws and how you spend all your free time. Now suddenly, we’re not allowed to see each other or talk. We’re supposed to act like strangers and forget.  How do you unlearn someone you know so well?  Maybe one day we will be strangers, if that’s even possible.

Once you left, I realized why you had come over in the first place. It’s the same reason I sometimes drive the long way home, so that I pass by your apartment.  And it’s why I write you letters with no intention of sending them.  You were sad, and you didn’t know where else to go. I’ve been feeling that way, too. You’ve suddenly become inaccessible to me and I don’t know what to do with myself.  I’m still trying to get used to a world where you don’t exist. I still care about you and love you, but I wish I didn’t.

I sat there for a while, staring at my bed where you had been sitting. I thought back to high school, when we started dating. We were so young. I wasn’t gay but I knew I loved you.  It didn’t make sense and it didn’t have to, at least not to me. There were countless fights and unsuccessful explanations with my sister and parents. I hated trying to describe myself with labels because I never felt like they fit. I fought with everyone to be with you. I struggled with myself a lot, too. I was scared of other people and how it made me look.  It all seemed hopeless at the time.

Before we dated, I saw the world the way our parents teach it to us. It was clear. It was good or bad, black or white. Everything seemed to fit into a certain place and have a name.   Then you came and shook everything up. You covered the world grey.

We’ve changed a lot over the past four years.  In retrospect, we could have handled things better back then. We were dramatic with our secrets and the running away. We lied a lot to be together and it all felt justified in the name of love.   I think we held on so tightly to each other because we felt like we had earned it.  We worked so hard to be together, that we forgot we had the option to give up.

Unfamiliar Territory

I somehow agreed to moving from West Hollywood to New York City with my partner after dating for a whopping 8 months. She’d been accepted to an awesome MBA program in Manhattan and I hated my job, so it worked. Yes, U-Haul’ing, I know… Probably the biggest reason I agreed was that we had agreed to move back to California in two years, after her program ended. You can do anything for two years.

My parents and siblings did not think this was a good idea (I have 4 older, opinionated siblings). This was completely unfamiliar territory for them. Nobody in my family has ever lived outside of California. I know that no parent wants to send their child into a situation without being able to offer some kind of road map. With all of their doubts, I constantly had to act like I’d never been so sure of any decision in my life. I acted like 100% of me wanted to go, but it was probably more like 51%.

I was just scared. I had no idea what I was doing. I mean literally, like the actual process. Like how will we get to our apartment once we arrive with so much luggage? And what about furniture? How will we furnish it and get groceries without a car? Also, I’m directionally challenged. How will i learn to navigate a place that operates so differently from what I know? I hate trains. 3,000 miles is far. I cant just drive home when I’m feeling sick and want my mom to take care of me. Or what if Marnie and I break up? Will I stay there, on my own or move back? What if I can’t find a new job? Or make new friends? What if I regret missing out on everything here, like seeing all of my nieces milestones?

The night before leaving, I was hanging out with my sister talking and squishing stuff anywhere it would fit. I couldn’t focus on anything she was saying, I just felt so nervous. She finally got in my face and with her best older-sister, genuinely concerned look, she asked me if I was scared. I started bawling. I was so insanely far out of my comfort zone. I felt like I was giving up so much by choosing to go. Like everything was starting to speed in one direction and I couldn’t make it stop or even slow it down. I was a ball of emotion from that point. As my mom and sisters drove me to the airport, my sisters were unsually quiet and my mom kept tearing up. She told me about 342 times that it wasn’t to late to change my mind. Seeing her scared for me helped me pull my shit together. I didn’t cry at all the day I was leaving. I wanted to show her that she had absolutely nothing to worry about. Then as soon as her car started to roll away, I had a panic attack (literally).

It was dark when we arrived at the Kalahari, our 400-unit two-tower building and were welcomed by a smiling doorman. We had finally made it! Throughout the process of getting there, I stopped feeling scared, it just all became new and exciting. It was strange to look around knowing that this will all become home for me. We set down our suitcases, one of which contained our temporary blow-up mattress, in the empty apartment and left to explore the neighborhood.

Our first week here was entirely dedicated finding and buying everything that wasn’t worth shipping across the country. We found a bed, lamps, a kitchen table and chairs, a couch and small things, too, like light bulbs and shampoo.  Harder than finding all those things, though, was figuring out how to get it all back to our apartment without a car. Cabs, trains, moving services, generous people with cars and Amazon-second-day-delivery all became part of the process.

Okay, I’ve been here for 7 months now and here’s what I’ve learned about NYC so far:

• Cabs tell you if they are full, off duty, or picking-up depending on which light is lit up on top of their car
• If delivery is a possibility – YOU USE IT
• Local trains stop often and are slow and express trains are faster and for farther distances
• Times Square is similar to a less sexual version of Las Vegas
• It is completely normal for organizations here to be over 100 years old
• People connect here in a really beautiful way, partly because they’re forced and I’ve never experienced connections like this in Cali
• If the subway station has a green bulb outside of it, you can buy/refill your card in that station
• If a  town-car (aka a gypsy cab) offers to drive you to your destination, negotiate the price BEFORE you get in
• There never needs to be a sober driver
• You can get any food you want delivered at 4 a. m. (extremely dangerous)