I want to live an ordinary life
Reflections & Resolutions
We moved into a new place last month and are still getting settled in.
I keep knocking things off the kitchen counter, breaking crystal glasses and my tea pot. I guess my body doesn’t have muscle memory for where things belong here, yet. I don’t mourn the loss of those items so much as I laugh at the inevitability of growing pains, even in situations that feel aligned.
There was a lot of pain in 2023 and not all of it was the growing kind, but there certainly hasn’t been a shortage of lessons.
I learned to give grace to those who were unable to show up for me as a result of their own suffering.
I learned that solitude and stagnation, while painful, are an opportunity to look inside and ask without interruption, “what is it that I really need?”
I learned that community is built by opening your heart to the people around you, rather than searching elsewhere for people you think might fit better.
And I learned that kimchi makes a great addition to grilled cheese.
But one lesson stood out as the most important learning from all the loss and pain of 2023, and that is a newfound reverence for the ordinary.
I went into the year longing for something extraordinary.
How will I make enough money to get the big house and afford the trips and buy the clothes and go to the best holistic doctors? How will I get enough followers to be able to quit my day job and only do work that is inspiring? How will I build a business and become an entrepreneur and be deemed a great success?
I’m well aware that “money doesn’t buy happiness” blah blah blah. But I’m sure I’m not alone when I say, my brain isn’t equipped to fend off the sheer volume of content I consume on a day to day basis, that promotes a fabulous lifestyle in various flavors of luxury.
No matter how many influencers are honest about their real life struggles, the allure of the cottage core girly’s vintage stove and Emma Chamberlain’s flawless LA home and the swanky parties that Sophia Roe is invited to and the manifestation guru’s perfect family still has a chokehold on my psyche.
The irony with my obsession is two fold. On the one hand, I’ve barely been able to keep a job in the past few years, so I haven’t exactly been paving the way towards financial success and freedom.
And on the other hand, I was born into such a privileged life that I have access to fancy vacation getaways in the mountains and the desert. I spent the last year living on the beach in one of the wealthiest areas of LA and I’ve never had to truly struggle because I’ve always had outside support to fall back on if I needed it.
And it still hasn’t felt like enough.
I’ve still, at times, been obsessed with having a life that is more aesthetic, more interesting and more beautiful, in the hope that it would make me finally feel worthy. I’ve subconsciously been ruled by that kind of capitalist conditioning that teaches us that enough is never enough.
It took a shit storm of a year (and a few years if I’m honest) for me to become hyper aware that clear skin and an important job title and a perfectly curated home are not going to end my suffering. Even if I know that my desire for those things is rooted in a valid yearning for security in a world that promises us less and less stability every day with the climate crisis, political corruption, a broken healthcare system, US funded genocide, etc. etc. etc.
It’s just that, when the people you love are dying, no amount of money or followers will make it hurt less.
When the people you love are dying, it’s not the highlight reel that you miss. It’s the ordinary everyday interactions that are the hardest to say goodbye to. It’s the text messages and the long lunches. It’s commiserating over bad days and watching your shows side by side. It’s the crooked smiles, wrinkles and quirks, the imperfections.
I know it’s a total cliché.
There are probably thousands of movies and books with the same conclusion. But it’s one thing to basically understand that life is about the little things and it’s another to be brought to your knees by the weight of human suffering and to look up at the sky and scream “what the fuck are we doing here?”
No amount of money or success or beauty will answer that question.
I want to live an ordinary life. To come home from an unglamorous job that pays the bills, to throw a ball for my dog, to eat my meals with the person I love, to sit side by side with a cup of tea. To pick at my skin and complain about the weather. To dance in my living room and order take out and bake a cake for my neighbors. And when the day comes, to die in my own bed, peacefully.
And if I do, I’ll consider it a privilege.
My New Year’s resolution is mainly to eat pescatarian, but I have a lot of other little aspirations like reading more, exercising more and spending more time outside.
I’ve decided this year that instead of trying to do a full pivot into a new career, I’m going to split my time between a part time retail job, pet sitting and freelance writing. It’s gonna be a hustle at first, to build a clientele and to be more proactive about writing outside of just this platform, but it’s the first time in years that I feel like I’m moving in the right direction career-wise and I’m excited!
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That’s all for now my friends. Happy New Year and thank you for supporting my work in 2023!
Thanks for sharing these thoughts, Jenny. I love this quote: "I learned that community is built by opening your heart to the people around you, rather than searching elsewhere for people you think might fit better." I feel like that applies to so much, not just community, but career, love, and lifestyle. The sentiment of starting and honoring where you are, instead of trying to escape, really resonates with me. Happy New Year!