In a Relationship

with ME. (and a goose)

“You single?” someone occasionally asks.

The answer, technically, is yes. But that answer implies available and I’m not available. The better answer is to say “I’m in a relationship.” Never mind that it’s just with myself.

I’ve been deliberately, adamantly, on my own for a few years now. It’s not that I’m post-menopausal, or because of past traumatic relationships, or trust issues. I’m just focused on my own healing, my own well-being. I’ve become fiercely protective of my energy. Not only in conserving it, but, crucially, not getting it tangled up with anyone else’s.

The last few years have felt odd, the last one in particular. After a lifetime of flimsy boundaries, it’s as if they’ve now just risen up on their own. Energetic boundaries. No one can cross. (Unless you’re a goose—more on that below). Like my aura’s been sealed off. For now.

I’ve lost the motivation to even explain myself. I sometimes get in bed at 8pm, when it’s not even dark yet. I love getting up at 5am. I’m starting to think about next moves, but pretty sure I’m no longer going to push or try to force anything again. If it sorts out, it sorts out. If the right people show up, I’m here for it. Maybe this will all change. This limbo phase is weird. The in-between phase. The “dark night of the soul” phase. Hanging out in the “waiting room,” with no clue what comes next. My sense is I’m about 3/4 of the way through.

It’s taken a while, but I’m feeling significantly better since my last post. (Writing that scares me a little since I’ve felt better before, only to plummet back down.) It’s NOT because it’s Summertime… I’m a weirdo with some kind of reverse seasonal affective disorder—I get annoyed at the pressure to be out and doing fun stuff. I generally prefer rainy days, snowstorms, coziness. I’d be thrilled if it was fall now, with crunchy leaves and winter coming. Anyway.

I’m currently living in Albany, NY. I left Manhattan at the beginning of this year because I needed to get out of the apartment I couldn’t afford—one in which I was originally placed within the context of a business deal that went south. Then, I stuck it out way too long. I’ve landed here in the Capital District, an odd town where I know precisely one person. I got lucky landing close to Washington Park. It was freezing and snowy when I got here, everything iced over. Once things began to thaw, I was blown away by how pretty this big park is—full of all variety of trees, and a lake—with ducks and geese.

One day I brought a baggie of oats to offer to these birds. One of the geese approached me without hesitation, and looked right at me. He has little white markings over his eyes, like eyebrows. None of the other geese have this. For whatever reason, I immediately fell in love with him. (I’ve gathered it’s a male, given the slightly smaller mate always with him).

I’ve named him Goostavo.

GOOSTAVO

I think Goostavo is healing me. I’m not sure how, but it feels that way. I visit him almost every morning, and usually later in the day too. I love his cute honking. And his feet. I love how he looks at me, curiously. I love Goostavo, and all the trees. Sometimes I sit under a tree and cry, not because of sadness, but just because… something I can’t explain. A feeling. Like I could be absorbed into the earth, or fused into the tree trunk and that would make sense.

Goostavo now eats directly from my hand. If you wonder if it hurts, it does not. Imagine someone gently pinching you with a pair of kitchen tongs. That’s what it feels like. His “wife” used to hiss at me, but now she’s used to me too. Another pair of geese just had babies, and they know I’m the lady with oats, so they come to me too, though not as boldly as Goostavo—and they still hiss at me sometimes. Understandable, with babies and all.

Goostavo will eat from my hand.

The other protective parents.

Nearly all my “story” posts in Instagram are videos of Goostavo, the other geese, and the fuzzy tennis ball goslings. I have really cute videos of Goostavo too, but for some reason can’t upload them here, or maybe I don’t know how to get the files here from my phone.

ANYWAY. Blah.

If you’re reading this… thank you. Thank you for reading my words.

I recorded a podcast last week that I’m excited about—it will be out in July. I’m recording another one next week. Still doing what I can from this limbo space to promote my memoir. A screenwriter, Kim Krizian, who’s sent me lovely DMs, gave my book a shoutout in a podcast. She wrote the movie Before Sunrise, with Ethan Hawke. STuff like this means so much to me. It’s on YouTube here, at exactly 1:10. I mean, it’s not like the podcast is Call Her Daddy lol, but still I’ll take it. She’s lovely and I’m so very grateful for this kind of support.

Thank you—I love you.