rebirth is hard work
hibernation diaries and a week of period outfits
My phone rings and I let it go to voicemail.
It’s Kaiser, telling me that I’m due for cervical cancer screening and didyouknow? earlydetectionisthebestway totakecontrolofyourhealth. At my old job, I was the person who crafted these text messages. I delete it and shudder at the thought of a papsmear—I’ll get to it when I get to it, ok?
It’s the day after Daylight Savings and I feel lethargic and hate everything. I’m on the tail end of my period (i.e. free bleeding in my tie dye print clare v sweatpants).
I thought I would be more excited about the extra daylight but somehow it’s just even more demoralizing. Yes, it’s 6pm and not dark out yet but it’s too cold to do anything fun anyways so what is even the point?? I think about ordering a dragon roll for dinner but my brain is too tired to make executive decisions so I’ll inevitably just eat something that fills the stomach…but not the soul. The dishwasher broke this week so I force myself to get up and wash a fork encrusted with dried avocado and eat a faceless leftover of a meal.
Why does the start of spring feel so hard?
Big Spring is a lie. Cadbury eggs and Peeps are toxic positivity. At Joanne’s they have Easter merchandise on display: carrot shaped serving plates (to transfer a clammy veggie platter onto, surely) and Easter eggs glittering with microplastics, dusty from the fluorescent store lighting. It felt so depressing.
I’m thinking about nature’s transition from winter to spring, how animals wake up from hibernating for months. Apparently, waking up from hibernation requires a lot of energy. Bears wake up disoriented, disheveled and hungry. Waking up is an enormous effort. It takes every single berry and fat cell stored from last fall to rouse from slumber. Why wouldn’t it feel the same way for us? The older I get the more I wish our societies were structured around our animal needs. Spring is supposed to be about rebirth. It’s guttural and violent and requires the strength of your entire being. A sprout screaming to break through the dirt, a bird breaking its whole world for the shell to crack and emerge into a bigger world.
If you’re feeling exhausted this week, just remember: being reborn is hard work.
A Week of Hibernation Diaries (and Period Outfits)
March 9: I want a lash lift. Should I, though? I’ve gotten lash lifts twice and both times it made my eyes crusty as a geode in the morning, no doubt from trying to expel chemical irritants. I said I would never get a lash lift again, but here I am. The idea of waking up 10% prettier without any makeup is intoxicating.
March 10: On my desk, next to a Sonny Angel and nail clipper, was a bottle of Golden Pineapple kombucha that had been sitting around for two days. It looked like a urine sample. Poar scoby! I take a little sip anyways.
It’s warm and fetid from the lack of refrigeration. An orchestra of sugar water and compressed air rushes into my head, Magic School Bus style. It’s like the IG Valencia filter for your insides. Everything is a little more bright and zingy. GT’s is the only kombucha that feels fizzy enough that it feels like my teeth are melting and it hurts in a good way when the bubbles go up my nostrils. It results in the most beautiful, eye-watering burps.
