February 15th, 2024
The coffee is my favorite at this specific cafe in Rittenhouse Square. My favorite place is over in Old City, and it’s my favorite because of the people, values, and community. I don’t get over there as often as I want to, hence my occupancy at my second favorite cafe. Favorite for strong coffee. Their iced beverages and hot drinks always hit the spot. Today is no different.
I dip my zucchini bread in my hot cappuccino and revel in the slow moments of this morning. One of my favorite buses dropped me off before work. I love having routines, and bus routes remind me of each neighborhood I spent time in Philly. But so much has changed since I lived in this part of Philly.
I miss the bakeries, moms with fancy strollers, and the cute buildings. My work is close by, and I mentally prepare for a morning shift.
I caught up with a friend yesterday, and we always talk a mile a minute. She reminds me of friends from college, where all our conversations were full of laughs, long walks, and surprised faces.
An emotional hangover is in the air with a side of red. Yesterday was Valentine's Day. I transitioned my coat from my usual green puffer to a nice red peacoat. It feels too festive, but I like it because my mom gave me it. It also feels like an extra security blanket while having my period in case something happens.
I wonder if I might move back to my favorite neighborhood next to my second favorite cafe. Life is happening all around me while friends catch up and talk about haircut appointments and doctors chat about a conference coming up. The baristas are kind and laugh with you about waking up slowly and feeling like a zombie.
Somehow, the same routines exist, but everything is so different. Maybe not so much. I’m listening to a sad girl starter pack playlist but wishing I was getting massages and facials like the girl sitting next to me. But it’s not my life, and my small but effective skincare routine and physical therapy are some affordable alternatives.
I typed this note on my phone because I forgot to bring my laptop today. Also, my desire to write lately has come and gone in fleeting moments with a lack of follow-through. Sometimes, I sit with thoughts and drafts in my substack.
When I was living with my parents, I went to a cafe and specifically would go to write. I made the space for writing at the time because I needed it. I also needed to get out of the house. However, anytime I leave the house, I spend too much on a coffee and a treat. So maybe I will have to opt for one or the other. And stick to a writing plan because I need it. I wonder about our clients and their lives. How are they attending a yoga class on a Thursday morning? Is it wealth or prioritizing their health or remote work or a day off? Retirement? I head to the studio. I hope this note makes it out of my phone.
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Somewhere in between February and March
Limbo describes my mental state of mind. Mentally okay enough to wake up, clean the bathrooms, shower, and talk with friends. Emotionally stable enough to know things will improve with time. But also sitting fearfully in a doctor's office with the first flare-up my weak back and bulging discs have experienced in years. My discs are screaming out to make sure I take care of myself. The doctor asks me questions about myself, and instead of shying away from how I feel — I say how hard things have been.
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March 14th, 2024
I hope to keep returning to my writing to remind myself how things can improve with time. A month has passed, four physical therapy appointments later, one therapy intake later, and two possible job opportunities later. My anxiety still analyzes the same thought for an hour.
We are eager to celebrate the wins and console one another for our losses. But what about the bland Wednesday afternoon two months after you celebrate a promotion? A week after you decide to quit your job? Two years after your parent dies? The dreaded in-between time. Limbo. Waiting for the next LinkedIn post, Facebook engagement announcement, or phone call with an eager voice on the other line. What about the Thursday morning when you forgot to brush your teeth? The day where you slept for 12 hours straight?
I dance in this limbo for some time. We face off each day, testing each other to see who will break. Will Sarah give up? Will the recruiter message me? Will I wake up with a pep in my step? Will I want to die today?
We circle each other on the dance floor of my life. Waiting for the right moment to move. We dance and flow together as one. Limbo. More like a tango to survive.