Dear Person(s) I Care About

I want you to know I just took a forty-five-minute shower. My hair is wet, my feet are be-socked, and the lotion I put on smells like black cedar or some such. A scent named after the color of the shirt you're wearing and your favorite tree, anyway. White sequoia. Orange maple. Buffalo plaid gingko. Anyway, I bring this up because I spent three-quarters of an hour trying to think of a way to start this letter, and the best thing I came up with was, "I'm good."

As you know, I struggle with depression and anxiety. The past few years have been challenging, and there were days I refused to get out of bed. Brush my hair. Be a human. Things have changed, though. In March, I started working at Axis Architecture + Interiors, an architecture and design firm in downtown Indianapolis. My title? Marketing coordinator. My duties? Writing proposals, managing the website, and instructing co-workers on why they don't need to put two spaces after a period.* It's been a delight, and I could not have asked for a better "work family." My co-workers are patient, creative, innovative, and empathetic, and I would readily defend all of them.

Strange things happened at the office.

In addition to my full-time gig, I also freelance. (You can find my byline on 100 Resilient Cities, Indianapolis Monthly, Kit, Midwest Living, and Visit Indy, among others.) I also write for a jet boat company in Madison, Indiana. In September, they invited me on a two-day tour of the Ohio and Kentucky rivers. Definitely a highlight of 2017.

I'm on a boat! (Not pictured: Me on the boat.)





This year was also the year I started writing weird crap comedy. I took a few classes through Second City, did stand-up here and there, and dabbled in improv and sketch comedy. I have no desire to be famous, but I do participate in a monthly comedy show here in Indy. Although I still get nervous before every show, my legs no longer shake while onstage. [Insert flashback to any, or all, year(s) of high school.]

Writing was not the only thing that pulled me out of my "funk." Through it all, Ty has been my closest companion and confidante. We crossed the four-year mark in August, and for our anniversary, he gave me a "we go together like cats and more cats" card. (The man gets me.) This past year, we participated in Chicago's annual Bike the Drive event, traveled to Washington, D.C., and re-watched the first 11 seasons of The Simpsons. I have no idea what we'll do in 2018, but I will say this: Ty always makes me laugh, and is ever-selfless and loyal. He's known as "Uncle Ty" to my nephew, Max, who turned two earlier this year. The little tyke has a penchant for guitars and crayons, and I'm curious to see how his creativity expands as he ages.

It took us four years and four drinks, but we finally got a good selfie.








Anyway, I'm just as unsure on how to finish this letter as I was on how to start it. What I'm trying to say is this: I'm happy. 2017 was the year I went without a car, ran multiple half-marathons, and started using Benefiber. I also learned a few things: 1. I will cut myself if I aggressively Windex the bathroom mirror. 2. I can't pull off eucalyptus-scented lotion. (Best stick with buffalo plaid gingko.) 3. Gratitude goes a long way. I could not be where I am today – emotionally, physically, grammatically – without you. Thank you for believing in me, continuing to care for me, and loving me for who I am, and who I could be. You are one of the many reasons my heart is full, and I wish you and your loved ones the most wonderful, happiest of times. 


* Unless you're using a manual typewriter, put only one space after a period.**
** This is the hill I want to die on. 

1 comments:

  1. I'm so happy you're happy - you and Ty both really look it in that last photo. big hugs and heres to a happy 2018 xx

    ReplyDelete

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