1. My mother and I look astoundingly alike. Like putting our school pictures next to each other, the only way you’re able to actually tell the difference is because hers have that sort of 70s haze that falls over pictures from that decade. But other than that? Uncanny. Same face shape, same eyes, same jawline. If it wasn’t for my always present “need to be different” that convinces me to bleach the shit out of my hair every 5 weeks, we’d be identical. So because of this twin-like deal we’ve got going on, I fundamentally have NEVER been able to play the, “We’re so different I have to be adopted!!” game.
But for two people who not only share DNA, but essentially share a face, we really are so different. She’s incredibly sensitive about 97.4% of things and I literally don’t care what people think about me or anything I do or my choices. She’s an optimist, I believe the glass is almost always half-empty. She’s spiritual, I’m more scientific. She’s more reserved with people, I will tell basically anyone my life story, especially if they hand me a glass of wine which my mother rarely drinks.
So it really does baffle me that two people who are essentially opposites can be like puzzle pieces. Even though we clash in so many ways, we’re still part of each other.
2. Closure is a concept, but I’m not sure if it’s an actual thing. I think closure might be a term some therapist invented hoping it would latch onto a patient placebo effect style and they’d finally feel better. But since then, whenever we’re wronged or hurt or feel jilted, we seek out closure like it’s the only fix that will make the next step.
There have been times in my life when for all intents and purposes, I was entitled to some muthafuckin closure. Times when my existence and stability were thrown all around and I wasn’t given an explanation or even a discussion and of course no say in the matter. And even months later, even when things got worse and worse and worse and then hey, a little worse, I was never really given that oh-so crave-worthy closure. I was just there. Alone. Existing. Fumbling around with my arms metaphorically outstretched looking for a door or an escape or just something.
But that something, that closure, never came. And so I had to move to the next stage regardless. I had to heal without it, move on without it, be okay without it. And more importantly, be okay with the fact that it was simply never going to come. I had to find acceptance in the lack of this thing that I not only felt entitled to, but was told I deserved and should get.
And so it makes, kind of, no sense that here I am, closure-less, and I’m okay. I pulled myself up with no help and with no explanation and just chose to move forward. Sometimes I don’t know how it happened, sometimes I’m not sure it actually did. But then I look in the mirror and see my own reflection and feel my heart racing too fast like it usually does and I remember, even though I didn’t do things in line with the track I was told I should, I’m here.
3. It makes no feasible sense that I was raised in the deep Midwest and I’m lactose intolerant, go to therapy, advocate for therapy, don’t like corn, don’t have an accent, didn’t get married before 25, moved away and haven’t gone back, don’t own mittens, have never cross-country skied, have never seen the movie Fargo, say “soda” and not “pop”, and don’t consider cream of mushroom soup a cooking staple.
4. It will never make sense to me that we are blessed with animals, and shown what true, unconditional and pure love is like when you experience it from them, and they die so soon. Maybe “make sense” isn’t the right the phrase. But it’s absolutely one of the most unfair things that’s a fact. I have such a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that in a few years my dog, who is one of the things on this planet I truly, truly love, will be gone. And that I won’t get to spend 15, 20, 30, 40 years with her. It breaks my heart. And, like I said before, it’s just not fair.
5. My super senior year (or as I like to call it, my victory lap) of college, my best friend started texting a guy he’d literally been on one date with. This guy lived over 8 hours away in the Pacific Northwest, and my bff and I were super set on moving to the opposite coastline come graduation. This guy wasn’t really “meant” to work out if you looked at the situation on paper. Chalk it up to whatever—timing, circumstance, or what have you, they shouldn’t have worked out.
And yet, 3 days ago, I stood up beside them as they married each other. 3 days ago, I gave a speech reminiscing about what it was like to watch them fall in love and have them both in my life, and why I loved them and their relationship so much. 3 days ago this couple who really “shouldn’t have” been able to make it work proved that fate can be real and timing can be damned. 3 days ago, they vowed to make it work forever.
And that may never make sense. But maybe things aren’t supposed to make sense all of the time, even if we so desperately wish they would. Maybe you’re just meant to accept things and realize that you’re never going to have the answers and come to terms with the fact that sometimes life works out and sometimes it’s weird but that’s what makes it life.
And that’s number 6 on my list of things that don’t make sense. But I’m working on accepting that too.