Posted on by shirindawna · 16 Comments

the call is coming from inside the house.

this is a hard one to write.

my head is still spinning and i don’t even know where to start, but writing is my therapy so i need to get it out…

earlier this week, someone i considered a close friend expressed that my public breastfeeding (of my almost 4 year old) makes her uncomfortable and voted that i wean my child. (it is an election year after all, things are gonna get weird).

i very clearly stated that i’m not at all uncomfortable. and there is no need to spend time with me if it’s an issue for her.

also, and here’s the part that matters to me, my body went through infertility. and cancer. it survived. and is alive! and i will never ever feel shame for using my breasts, AS INTENDED.

when i shared with her that this mattered to me deeply…that i still feel like my body failed me with cancer, and not being about to get and stay pregnant on my own. after miscarriages, and years, and tears, it’s finally something my body can do and provide for my child. i’m proud of that. i’m thrilled about that. i was not able to use my own eggs to have my child. i LOVE that my body produces milk and nourishment and comfort for him. her response was something along the lines of: my feelings are my own and not attached to your story.

true.

and so dismissive.

i don’t expect my friends to agree with every choice i make ~ that would be crazy…AND i was terribly hurt by the nature of her response. if your feelings are your own and you’re not attaching them to my story, then why did you feel the need to share with me? what exactly was the goal? if not to shame me and try and make me feel weird about my choices? (which i don’t. and won’t. i feel hurt and sad that a “friend” is so judgmental and quick to dismiss vulnerability.)

even more unfortunate is that my husband watched her roll her eyes the last time we were together and i breastfed my son.

(before you ask, yes. she’s a mom.)

the funny thing is, my husband always assumed someone would say something to me about breastfeeding at some point.

…we just NEVER ever thought it was going to come from someone who was inside our circle.

i honestly thought we were past the point of telling women what to do with their bodies. this will never compute for me. a completely asexual activity (literally, feeding my child) is somehow seen as something…inappropriate?

what a weird thing to care about.

so…where do we go from here?

Posted on by shirindawna

all of my enemies started out friends.

this is the story of a horrible person. i worked with her at a fitness studio and she was so filled with hate and spite that it physically pained me to be near her. i learned exactly how miserable of a person she was as i was mourning the loss of my dad. she seized the opportunity to take advantage of my sorrow and grief and used it to try and advance her standing at the fitness studio. honestly, good for her. she was a terrible instructor so get ahead how you can, loser.

my friends and i still laugh about the time she posted a gorgeous scenic photo of her hometown in the pacific northwest and i left a comment saying “you should move back there.”

she immediately blocked me.

i’m still not sorry. i regret nothing.

(maybe someday, after i stop laughing about it, i will share about how she threw herself at my ex ~ after we split ~ and he was not at all interested in her)

Posted on by shirindawna

queens.

somewhere deep in the colorado rockies, the second group of people arrived. i was part of the first group whose flights had come in earlier in the day.

she burst into the room. she was loud. she was funny. she was furious that we had to take turns showering – she exclaimed that she needed two showers a day and this proposed schedule simply wouldn’t work for her. when asked to choose a nickname for the week, she demanded we call her “queens.” i loved her immediately.

we were at cancer camp. where they fling a bunch of strangers together for a week in the wilderness and make you do outdoorsy things (rock climbing, in our case). group dynamics can be so strange. but for us, it was magic. we all fell in love. some love stories went deeper than others, like ours.

i don’t remember the first words we exchanged. i don’t recall what we initially connected over. i won’t ever forget those late nights of talking. playing games. and the most inappropriate (and vulgar) things i’ve possibly ever heard. the years of text exchanges after that first magical week. the trip to nyc where i was recovering from a devastating miscarriage and she was about to go in for her latest scan. there was a longstanding joke about dicks & feet and i’m no longer sure where it originated, but i think it was one of those late nights in the mountains. there was so much laughter. there were so many tears. we lost friends. i made a person.

she loved her people so well. and if you were lucky enough to be in her orbit, she would tell you how special you were, all the time. she had no ego, she just loved. even in some of my darkest and brattiest moments (infertility is hard, and hearing about others getting pregnant did not result in me being my best self or handling the news with grace), she let me carry on and just loved me. and when the moment called for it, she commiserated.

including this next image because she sent it to me in our text thread.

i still can’t wrap my head around her being gone. it will never make sense to me. i can’t fathom visiting new york and not seeing her. who else is going to try and convince me that all the bread at the bakery is gluten-free (when it very clearly isn’t), milkshakes make a pregnancy stick, and that dating rappers is a good idea?

i scroll through our messages every few months (i can’t bring myself to delete them). gosh, she was funny. and wild. in all the best ways.

her death broke up the band. we lost others over the years, but she was the glue holding us together. she’s the one who arranged the video calls. she’s the one who forced me out of my bubble. she’s the one whose death i can still barely talk about, let alone accept.

nyc won’t be the same without her. and neither will i.

🤍
Posted on by shirindawna

marriage has a nice ring to it.

once upon a time (like, 10 months ago), i was hanging out in a local coffee shop with my good friend.

she asked the dreamy blue-eyed boy next to me about his beverage.

he said something snarky.

i was intrigued.

four hours after talking non-stop and annoying everyone in the coffee shop (including my friend), he left with my phone number.

and now…

Posted on by shirindawna

the eternal optimist.

once upon a time there was a boy (or several boys…) i used to write to. this morning i read some old heartfelt emails. it made me nostalgic. not for the boy, but for the writing…

and for the encouragement he gave me. he pushed me to write. all the time. an excerpt: ‘you crack me up, and you make me sad, and that is what a storyteller does. stick with it boots. everybody has bad days. but the good days are the ones that matter more.’

there are so many things I want to be doing: writing, reading, resting, romancing, relaxing (apparently anything that starts with an ‘r’ and I’m there.)

i am doing some of these things, and waiting for others to come along, and dreaming about the possibility of the impossible, but it’s a tough place to be.

dreaming.

it reminds me of a night out with my boy bestie (the details of which i will not share…because of man code. or bestie code. or whatever means i won’t blab on a bestie)

he was talking about how he was unable to carry a conversation with a certain very pretty girl… and we talked about how some people just aren’t good listeners. and we lamented about how it’s hard to meet good people. and then i looked up and to the right and saw the moon. it was no super moon, but it was still gorgeous. and i looked at him and said ‘well, at least the moon is still beautiful’ and he laughed at me and said ‘you really are the eternal optimist. we’re talking about how people are mostly shitty and you start spouting about how nature is pretty.’

it’s true though, isn’t it? there’s beauty in everything…and maybe a not-so-great boy drifts out of your life so a perfect one can walk in?

it’s a nice thought.