It's Kind of a Long Story... about The King of Wands (Part II)
I took a break to avoid a breakdown.
I’m becoming more comfortable sharing personal details on this platform. I’m sure there will be times I write things I regret. That I will forget that everyone from my boss to my mom is reading and I’ll step in it somehow.
It’s a chance I’m willing to take. I will apologize when I should.
I’ve told my son that if I ever post anything that makes him uncomfortable or crosses a boundary, that he has a free pass to tell me, and that I won’t write about him without letting him read it first.
I’d like to extend the first part of that offer to you as well. If I write something that makes you go, “Oooh, Lara… maybe you shouldn’t have?” I would love to know. I will absolutely consider your perspective. I’m so up in my own head with this project I appreciate any and all feedback and comments (you can comment below!)
And… I also challenge you to consider who is served by staying silent. By keeping secrets. My experience is that we - especially women - are often counted on to stay silent and keep secrets to make things easier for people who haven’t earned that grace. At the expense of our own well-being.
Thank you so much for stickin’ with It’s Kind of a Long Story… and especially with this especially long two-parter.
New subscribers will want to catch up by reading The King of Wands (Part I)
I’m so glad you’re here,
-Lara
The Dragonfly Diaries…
Short story:
A tarot card reading was the kick in the pants I needed to take a leave of absence from work, re-weave my frayed nerves, and practice some kick-ass self care. It is both one of the easiest and hardest things I have ever done.
Long story:
At the end of the Sex and the City sequel And Just Like That, they said goodbye to Carrie’s studio apartment, but neglected to reflect on the reason she didn’t give it up when she moved into the massive Uptown pre-war with Mr. Big.
She kept the apartment because she wanted it to be available to all of her friends as a retreat from the demands of their lives, homes, husbands and children. The movie tapped into the truth that women need this. A room of one’s own. Peace and sanctuary.
When my friend Nicole read my tarot cards, pulled the King of Wands, and forcefully and kindly told me to “GET. ON. THE. OFF RAMP” and “DO. IT. TOMORROW” I was instantly overcome by a feeling of… maybe “excited calm” is the way to phrase it? I knew deep in my bones she was right. I wasn’t scared or unsure. A switch flipped. I needed this.
I didn’t wait or hesitate. I told my boss the next morning at the first opportunity that I wanted/needed to take a leave of absence.
She was immediately supportive and kind. Years earlier when she first took over our department, she told our team:
“I value rest. I value downtime. I value it for me and I value it for you.”
When I read that it hit me like a ton of bricks. I have literally never been told by anyone - including myself - that rest and downtime were valuable and necessary. I’ve worked since I was 15, for many years 7 days a week at two jobs + freelance projects and raising a son and tending to my marriage and maintaining friendships and I knew it was a lot but it never occurred to me that it wasn’t what I had to do to earn my living. Not just the money I earned, but that I had to make as much of my time as possible in service to someone or something in order to earn the right to live. Just to live.
I have often told told the story of how I gave a newspaper interview for my first cookbook from my hospital bed after Max was born. I thought, “I’m just lying here, there’s no reason why I can’t take a phone call.” When the reporter heard my voice he asked, “Are you OK?” I said, “Well, I may be a little tired. I just had a baby.” “Congratulations, when?” “Um… about six hours ago.”
And, it was an emergency c-section after a long labor.
I’ve told that story as a joke. I’ve flung it at authors who are less than thrilled with the early morning flights I’ve booked for their tours. “Oh yeah, you think that’s rough? Let me tell you about the time I… “
Now, I see that it wasn’t an example of me being fierce. Committed. A can-do kinda gal. It was me not feeling empowered to say no. It was me denying my body and mind the time it needed to rest and heal, especially in those few precious days at the hospital when there actually are people to do things for you. Before you take that baby home and it’s all on you and you won’t really rest again for a very, very long time.
After I asked for the leave, the wheels turned very quickly. By the end of the week the paperwork was in place and I was home.
I wasn’t sure how I would feel once I actually did it. I knew this was what I needed, and I also know that I’m an easily bored an antsy person. I’m not used to spending a lot of time alone. When Max went to college it was the first time I had ever lived alone. I remember once during that challenging transition that I was a Dollar Tree buying some junk I didn’t need and there was a long line and I thought, “Oh good! A line! that will kill another 10 minutes.”
Since then I’ve gotten more than accustomed to living alone. I really enjoy it. But with up to twelve work-free weeks ahead of me I was looking at a lot more time alone with my thoughts. That’s a scary proposition in the best of times. And I was not at my best at this time.
It’s hard to describe the dueling feelings of, “Yes. This is right. This is what I need. I’m feeling calmer and less anxious and I’m breathing more deeply,” and “What the hell are you doing, Lara? You can’t just not work. Who do you think you are? Suck it up, buttercup.”
Within the first few days I fell into the slow pace easily. Shockingly easily. Surprisingly easily. I don’t sleep in. I was awake between 6:00-7:00 every morning. But I took my time. I made coffee. Made breakfast. Lingered over the New York Times and did all of the games and puzzles. Except Spelling Bee. I’m terrible at that.
Every time I walked back to the living room I would think, “I can’t believe the whole day is stretched out in front of me.” I felt a huge rush of gratitude. Usually followed by a huge rush of guilt.
I thought of all of the people who need respite more than I do. Refugees. Survivors of violent crime and abuse. Mothers whose children are addicts or troubled. Cancer patients. Caregivers. There are people who navigate a lot worse things than I do and they power through it.
It was often really, really hard to believe I deserved this. I had a few moments of real panic, which I embraced as proof I really needed this leave.
What turned it around for me was framing it as an experience I couldn't gift to anyone who needed it more than me. The best way for me to respect the privilege of this opportunity was to take it.
For only the second time in my life, I was in the unique and enviable position of having almost no demands on my time. The first was when I had COVID in 2021. I have often said it was one of best weeks of my life. I felt fine after a day or so, and it was during the Christmas break so I wasn’t missing work. I was living in a brand new apartment that asked nothing of me. It was a temporary place that my insurance company arranged for the first year after the tree fell. It had rented furniture and housewares, with just a few personal items to make it feel homey. There were no “someday maybe” projects that haunt you whenever you have time off at home. There was literally nothing else I should be doing.
The time flew. I had never felt so relaxed. So peaceful. So at ease and content.
When a friend told me that she takes mental health days a few times a year when she’s overwhelmed. I thought, “I should have been doing that for the last twenty years or so.” But, I not only didn’t, I couldn’t. A day off from work wasn’t a day off from my family or the house. There was no place that offered both solitude and the comfort of familiarity.
Now, I had no husband. No kid at home. No boyfriend. No best friend. No job. And my house was the best version of itself. After the repairs, it was spotlessly clean and perfectly organized. I could exhale and relax here like I never had before. I’d created my own Victorian Sanatorium for Nervous Women and I learned very, very slowly and not without a lot of back slides and side-steps, to embrace it and quiet the voices that told me I’m undeserving or overreacting.
Nicole, the friend who read my tarot cards that started this chapter of my life, said at one point she likened my spirit to that of a dragonfly. I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but it felt right. I’ve never been drawn to a particular icon before, like some people adopt hearts or moons or bees. And while I don’t need a ton of dragonfly merch comin’ my way, I decided to embrace it as a symbol of this transition.
I named my calm, soothing guest room Sanctuaire Libellule because I like things French and fancy. That room is the one that the tree damaged the most, and the one in which I can be the most calm. Sometimes I just go in there and sit. It’s got no memories or associations or vibes. It’s fresh. Clean. Calm. It can be anything. It’s story is yet to be told.
I started a journal I called “The Dragonfly Diaries” and I wrote day and night like I needed it to survive. I created a “Dragonfly” folder on my phone to capture memes and quotes that resonated with me, and which I have used to punctuate this post. I had big ideas about what I would do every day:
Exercise
Read
Write
Something creative with my hands
Connect with someone in some way
Make a fresh, healthy dinner
Of course looking back, that was ambitious. I don’t think I have had a single day where I have done all that. My friends Vanessa and Daphne implored me to do nothing. I literally didn’t understand what that meant. Other than a few minutes in the Sanctuaire, I couldn’t just sit there.
So what was I doing? When friends asked I said, “I’m doing everything slowly.” I was not bored for a second. No more getting into long lines to to pass the time. I knew I was on the right track when I was not just content with silence, I craved it. That is a complete one-eighty from my usual habit of having a constant stream of NPR or podcasts or music all day, every day.
And the risk of being woo-woo, as soon as I started the leave, the universe seemed to sense the void and fill it. I had time for long phone calls. I made deep and interesting and meaningful connections with people that I wouldn’t otherwise have been available for. A door closed and many windows opened.
I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to understand I need both time to rest, relax and reflect and a safe place to do it. I’m lucky I have it. I wish I weren’t. I wish we didn’t have to be “lucky” to be able to take care of ourselves and live a life in balance with our needs.
Before I took my leave, the image of a frayed rope kept appearing in my mind. Within a few weeks at home, I could feel the fibers starting to re-weave.
Unfortunately, the rope was cut in half. But that’s a story for another day…
Lara sez…
Listen!
80s deep cut of the week! You may know the Dream Academy’s hit “Life in a Northern Town” which is a great song, but I really, really loved all of the songs on their first two albums. I also have kind of a long story about the time I made my mom drive me in the pouring rain to a record store across town to meet the lead singer Nick Laird-Clowes.
Read!
My favorite of the many of Margaret Atwood’s books I’ve read. This haunting story of a young woman who may be a killer and may be a victim is engrossing, breathtaking, and unnerving in way that gets under your skin.
Buy!
My Reading Glasses! I get a lot of compliments on these. At first, I thought they might just be comments, not compliments, because these specs are very… obvious, and I wasn’t comfortable yet with such big frames. I’ve now embraced them as a signature look. They’re super cheap, only $16 for a set of four on Amazon, and if you order know, you’ll have them in time to make a Lara Starr costume for Halloween!
Watch!
The melancholy gem Midnight Diner on Netflix takes place in a tiny Japanese restaurant only open from midnight to morning. The stories of the diners and other denizens of the night are revealed in touching anthology style. The chef knows and prepares just what every guest needs, and breaks the third wall to offer a cooking tip to the audience after each episode.
Eat!
Awesome Bread! I made no-knead bread often when Max was growing up, and he dubbed it “awesome bread.” It’s a great gateway recipe to bread baking. If you’ve never made bread before you’ll be shocked at how easy it is to make a real loaf of bread! The crust is crunchy and the interior is tangy and it’s really good with butter.
Subscribe!
For many years I produced The Brian Copeland Show on KGO Radio. Alas, KGO is no more. The host, actor, author, comedian and TV personality Brian Copland always has a million projects going. He’s the author of the acclaimed memoir Not A Genuine Black Man, regularly performs hilarious one-man shows about serious subjects, like The Waiting Period, and will soon publish his first novel, a crime thriller!
He also has a weekly Substack called Copeland’s Corner with his perspective on current events as well as great recommendations for books, TV shows and more.