It’s been a rough week for me, and I sense many in my community as well. Financial stress, interpersonal crises, getting lost in my brain, which is sometimes more of a Hell than a Home.
Not always.
Mentally, I am here:
Today is Marting Luther King Jr. Day, and as a part of remembering King and his legacy I reflect on the quote: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that.”
I love this quote for a multitude of reasons, one of which is that it is a beautiful and powerful roadmap of how to effect change. Not only in our community, but also in ourselves.
I think this is why gratitude practices have been proven to spark change in one’s neurological makeup: We are capable of re-wiring our brains just by taking a moment to speak into the darkness the things that bring light.
As I have worked on my upcoming memoir, I have had plenty of time to cry/ panic attack/ get nauseated by the horrible things that led me to that place, and the darkness that I found while I was there. I have shared many of these things publicly, and today, in light (no pun intended) of the quote I just shared, I’d like to share a moment of light.
This essay is titled “Flowers in a Mason Jar on Your Windowsill.”
I hope it encourages you to reflect on a moment of light in your life, too.
Somehow or another I had a couple family members that I had not burned bridges with. For my twenty-first birthday I received a $10 bill from my aunt and uncle, I received a $50 Visa gift card that I used for my two college application fees, and I received one $100 bill from my grandmother.
One Tuesday after treatment Wendy drove Alexandra and I to Trader Joe’s. We all parted and went our separate ways, Wendy to find oat milk, Alexandra to find some cheap wine, and I to peruse the pumpkin spice seasonal specials. You see, Lauren McNeese in a Trader Joe’s in September is happier than a kid in a candy store.
All too soon, Wendy texted me that she and Alexandra were standing outside waiting for me, and would I mind making my way to the front to check out? I walked to the only register without a line, a middle-aged woman beaming at me. I helped unload a couple of items before she took over, making small talk. When it was time to pay I sheepishly pulled out the $100 bill from my wallet. I hated paying with large bills. It was true that I had just paid my college application fees with a Visa gift card and that I had exactly $37.68 in checking and savings combined. We don’t have a sports bra that isn’t suffocating, but we were about to have all the pumpkin spice shit in the fucking Trader Joe’s.
I felt the compulsive need to explain why I was paying with such a large bill. “It’s my Trader Joe’s birthday run,” I said, smiling nervously as I handed her the bill. I didn’t–I don’t–think of this as a lie. It was my birthday money, after all, so is it not fair to deem it my “birthday run?”
The cashier signaled to a coworker and whispered something in her ear before turning to me and resuming our small talk, finishing putting my bags in the cart and handing me my change all the while. “Do you get embarrassed easily?” she asked, smiling widely.
“No,” I chuckled, unsure where this was headed. I didn’t have to wonder for long, though.
She rang a bell above the cash register and shouted “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” She handed me a bouquet of flowers her coworker had scurried back over to her side with. I thanked her as I felt my face turning red and quickly walked through the sliding doors, pushing my cart, carrying my bouquet, and laughing anxiously.
I will forever wish I had a picture of Wendy and Alexandra’s faces in that moment, but no matter. The image is cemented in my mind nonetheless.
“What just happened?” said Wendy.
“Tell you later. Let’s get out of here.”
—
Lauren_McNeese:
Venmo from a friend with the caption of “☕.” Venmo to a friend with the caption of “get in bitch we’re going to Jenni’s.” Light autumnal mornings. Light autumnal breezes. New music releases from friends. New music recs from friends.
Early morning coffee dates. Evening FaceTime coffee dates. Brunch at the flying biscuit on a Sunday morning. Seeing yourself make progress in treatment. Stepping down in treatment.
Running a 5K with two friends and your dad before vomiting and then walking a 5K with two friends and your dad. Cope ahead plans. Dialectical behavioral therapy. Memes. Christmas pajamas in September.
Late night walks. Healthy Challenge with supportive friends and supportive coaches. Writing the next great American novel. Reading some current great American novels. Making plans to go to my happy place for Thanksgiving. Open Art Studio. Yoga with Emma. TJ’s chai in my favorite mug.
Having a hard day and a friend calling me and reading me Matt Haig. Friday night game night. Pumpkin treats. Iced London fogs. Planning for my future. Knowing that Jesus died for me so that I could have a relationship with Him.