I understand that look of tolerance all too well. I wonder often if people are just too nice to tell me I say too much, if I overshare and make things weird. My filters are faulty from one extreme to the other. They're either the overzealous power-hungry hall monitor (I've watched too much SpongeBob thanks to Cody), or they're sleeping disciples at the most pivotal time. I go for weeks posting nothing, barely able to answer messages, and then I make up for it by dumping too much. People continue to listen and hug me and then listen to the same stuff again. I struggle over what to put on my pages, if I should say anything at all, and then my journal doesn't feel like mine. I'm trying to make it mine, a safe place, but it's been a very personal year. Thankfully I've had a lot of good, but I need a space to work through the other, and I'm trying to find a way to incorporate that. I hope you know that even as readers who haven't met you, we care very much, and you're never too much. Your posts are always so powerful and thought-provoking, and so many times I feel you give my own thoughts a voice. Things I can't articulate. So thank you, and I hope the days ahead soften for you and that you always have a place where you can be unfiltered unapologetically. ♥️
Thank you, Susan. That there are ways writing the personal can help give voice to others is so much of the challenge, and I really appreciate that there is sometimes resonance for you. I have sensed that it has been a difficult year for you, and I know it has been a year with a lot of change, too. I laughed at your description of your filters, but yes, that’s it! I hope you find your journal a safe space - it really is a “for you” space. And if the illustrated journal doesn’t or can’t offer that safety, I hope you are journaling in another format as you continue to capture your days.
Beautiful lines from Gertrude Stein, thanks for sharing those. The scone sounds divine, I hope you can continue to find moments of small pleasure in life and the everyday. And I have been loving the b&w photos. You are never too much here Amy!
What did I do this week in the heat and humidity? Stayed inside lots. Watched many British series and did ICAD cards and other small projects. Seem to be constantly cleaning and tidying and feeding the grandkids. They let me talk but don’t really listen much. They are non judgemental. I realize we can talk to each other much better than I can communicate with other adults!
I know the feeling of saying to much and oversharing. I often comment out loud that I need some tape on my mouth. I also apologize for talking to much.
We are supposed to connect with others and talk, good for the brain, but somehow I get into the oversharing always! All the lessons I have in the art of listening don’t kick in. I am beginning to see my Dad in me and how I must have appeared to him as he shared and re shared stories of his life. Of course I wish he was still here so I can hear the stories again.
I have an amazing “twice baked” croissant place near me but I try to curb my desire for one as they are $7.50 and up. Plus the calories. The people who work there know me by name. It is so wonderful in this day. One place I am not “invisible”.
I have no roof expense but we did get a big carpet assessment for our hallways. I really do sympathize with you on those expenses. No matter how we try these things keep popping up. Lawyer fees for renewing my mortgage and much more to complete my tooth implant.
Why do I have a mortgage at this age? Why pay a lawyer when it is so simple? One giant bank purchased another. It makes things more confusing and complicated. Unfortunate things happened in my 50’s without warning. 20 years later still feel the ripple effect. No tax deduction on mortgage payments here.
Always looking……Just read new apartments being built for rentals and pets allowed. $2300 to start for a tiny “studio” and add rent for parking spot. Impossible as a senior unless you come from wealth. My mortgage and strata fees are much less. Hanging on for now. Can not make decisions these days.
Having a local shop where people know you by name is wonderful, even if it is somewhere you can’t or don’t go often. I am sorry that everything sounds complicated and, as you said, that new things keep popping up. It can be overwhelming. I am glad that your grandchildren are around. I am sure they love the stories and love the time you are able to spend with them.
You are not too much. You are safe with me. The bridge extends from me to you if you need it. Even if it is just to talk scones and vacuums. I need a new vacuum myself, did you pick a good one?
I have been giving myself pep talks. If I am going to make this huge, disruptive, and expensive move in order to find community, I am going to have to find some courage. While there is nothing as terrifying as losing my walls, there is nothing as terrifying as the consequences of keeping those walls stout and impermeable.
I am not suggesting you should let go of walls and filters, or judging you for doing or not doing so. Just saying…you aren’t the only one? Me too?
Thank you. I am glad that you have the opportunity for this move. Keep going with those pep talks! I hope you have a master list going to help you keep things lined up and checked off. We will all be cheering you on. I love your comment about giving up versus keeping your walls. The move is going to open up so many things for you.
I'm here and I read all the way through. Just wanted you to know. As for filters... Mine have been balanced, not too much not too little... but I know that could change any moment! XO
Thank you, Emily. I appreciate seeing you here. I am glad to here you have Goldilocks filters right now. That sounds like a good goal! I hope things continue to go well with the work you are doing.
This whole post read like poetry, Amy. I want to be bold and crass and say f*ck filters! There is no reason for you to confine yourself to what you think someone else can or can't tolerate. I think sometimes, it's like giving birth. You can't stop it even if you try, and whatever it is that's been gaining size and shape in there deserves to be brought into the world.
But then, I know how I feel when I feel I've shared too much, and I understand. For me, it's about wanting to feel balanced, and heard, and loved.
Thank goodness for good scones and [hopefully] good vacuum cleaners. I'm glad the roof is getting fixed, but I wish it didn't cost so much. I appreciate who you are, how you show up in your art, and on the page. I want to tell you it's all okay, even though I know it's anything but okay right now.
Thank you for reading, Elizabeth. I think the not being about to stop whatever is coming out is part of the awkwardness…. But also that whatever is coming out is probably not what I would choose. Even I’m puzzled. There’s just an oddness all around. But I have a healthy appreciation for bold and crass reactions — I tend to react from exactly that spot ;) — I hope you are settling into your new job and beating the heat.
How is it the end of the week? I have listened to this many times again, and read through, enjoyed your drawings and your photos. And your descriptions…so powerful, they linger with me and they say so much, so beautifully. I drew for the first time all week in a tiny sketchbook. Downsized for a moment. I liked it and it fit my life right now. Your downsized drawings are lovely, as your larger ones are. Thank you for sharing your words again this week.
Thank you for reading and looking, Erin. I appreciate your comments. I saw your smaller sketchbook in our coffee thread today, and I think that will be wonderful for you. Your portrait is great, and sometimes the change in size just feels right for a bit. Enjoy!
When the line stands up into the inflatable (for which I have great prior affection), this deft 2D to 3D sleight of (inky) hand is so surprising, so incredibly agile, I have to read it again just for the joy of lift-off.
And then you do it again.
I fall into an Edward Gorey-ish faint.
Oh! The dilemma of short declarative sentences that disintegrate into run-on lists of caveats and nuance. (We used to call this — with much hilarity, frustration, and ironic self-awareness — “Writing for a Complex World.” Now it consumes me. Exhausts me. When did I abandon my writing partners?)
Oh! The decision paralysis (the agonizing flip side of what I earlier extolled as an overthinker’s creative mind).
Oh! The snaking strands of a life lived, in and out of focus, buoyant and suffocating by turns — this I have experienced all my life, before I had a clear understanding of time unfolding or the words to grapple with it. (Do I now?)
Gaskets and grates and gates:
I burrow into your poetry (Vision. Word. Image. The sound of letters in my mind.)
The tape. The faces. The slo-mo horror of the tolerant listener. I police my filters, check the viability of gaskets.
But what about letting it all go, like that fleeting verse from another century (Rich? Cummings? Perhaps even Hafiz?), the one about doors slapping open . . . .Like a scene from To the Lighthouse, but with more liberation than decay.
Ha! The billowing inflatable grabs me now. That particular text captured an impossibly (how long ago? No!) young person’s struggle to hold the center; the connection here is simply the harrowing, healing power of wind through an open door (vs the alarming hiss of words flying through a cracked seal).
When asked a question, I check All of the Above. Parry. Hide. Blurt and regret. You are narrating my inner life.
I wonder about the scone and the vacuum and the roofer, tucked neatly among the ponies on the carousel, all circling together in the secret place of lost socks. Tell me their stories.
The secret place of lost socks and the ever-spinning carousel hiding too much. Thank you for reading. I am sure you bring this poetry and uncanny ability to absorb, see, and mirror, although refracted and reassembled, to everything you read, but as the recipient of the comment, it’s amazing. It’s humbling. It’s gratifying. I see that you see. I can imagine writing groups shift or fall away with time, when looking at the big picture, but it sounds like it was good. Maybe the connections are still possible. Maybe everyone has continued to write, as you have? So much you said here grabbed hold of me when I saw the comment yesterday — please know that.
My thoughts have already voiced by those here, especially the reason I’ve been listening to/reading Amy’s words for years: “You are narrating my inner life”. Please continue to share.
When my life changing event happed my best friend listened to the unfiltered mess until they decided I needed to move on. That I was always saying the same thing. I was so confused, why ask how I am if they didn’t want the answer? Needless to say we weren’t friends for much longer. Ironically she reached out earlier this year (years later) to apologize for her lack of support. Apparently she is now in the same boat and fully understands.
So maybe we shouldn’t be so shamed in sharing what people deem too much; someone, somewhere, sometime just may need to hear it.
Thank you, Lee. I am grateful that you have continued to listen/read and that there is something of resonance. I am also really sorry for what happened with your then-friend. No one else should have a say in what your timeline should be for dealing or handling or processing something. I can imagine your confusion, and I know how hard it is to realize that often people can’t wrap their heads around something until (and if) it (or something very similar) happens to them. I hope you found support and continue to find the support or outlets you need. Thank you for commenting.
I understand that look of tolerance all too well. I wonder often if people are just too nice to tell me I say too much, if I overshare and make things weird. My filters are faulty from one extreme to the other. They're either the overzealous power-hungry hall monitor (I've watched too much SpongeBob thanks to Cody), or they're sleeping disciples at the most pivotal time. I go for weeks posting nothing, barely able to answer messages, and then I make up for it by dumping too much. People continue to listen and hug me and then listen to the same stuff again. I struggle over what to put on my pages, if I should say anything at all, and then my journal doesn't feel like mine. I'm trying to make it mine, a safe place, but it's been a very personal year. Thankfully I've had a lot of good, but I need a space to work through the other, and I'm trying to find a way to incorporate that. I hope you know that even as readers who haven't met you, we care very much, and you're never too much. Your posts are always so powerful and thought-provoking, and so many times I feel you give my own thoughts a voice. Things I can't articulate. So thank you, and I hope the days ahead soften for you and that you always have a place where you can be unfiltered unapologetically. ♥️
Thank you, Susan. That there are ways writing the personal can help give voice to others is so much of the challenge, and I really appreciate that there is sometimes resonance for you. I have sensed that it has been a difficult year for you, and I know it has been a year with a lot of change, too. I laughed at your description of your filters, but yes, that’s it! I hope you find your journal a safe space - it really is a “for you” space. And if the illustrated journal doesn’t or can’t offer that safety, I hope you are journaling in another format as you continue to capture your days.
Beautiful lines from Gertrude Stein, thanks for sharing those. The scone sounds divine, I hope you can continue to find moments of small pleasure in life and the everyday. And I have been loving the b&w photos. You are never too much here Amy!
Here here! I also liked the photos.
Thank you, Lauren. I appreciate that you are looking at the photos!
Your posts are always interesting.
What did I do this week in the heat and humidity? Stayed inside lots. Watched many British series and did ICAD cards and other small projects. Seem to be constantly cleaning and tidying and feeding the grandkids. They let me talk but don’t really listen much. They are non judgemental. I realize we can talk to each other much better than I can communicate with other adults!
I know the feeling of saying to much and oversharing. I often comment out loud that I need some tape on my mouth. I also apologize for talking to much.
We are supposed to connect with others and talk, good for the brain, but somehow I get into the oversharing always! All the lessons I have in the art of listening don’t kick in. I am beginning to see my Dad in me and how I must have appeared to him as he shared and re shared stories of his life. Of course I wish he was still here so I can hear the stories again.
I have an amazing “twice baked” croissant place near me but I try to curb my desire for one as they are $7.50 and up. Plus the calories. The people who work there know me by name. It is so wonderful in this day. One place I am not “invisible”.
I have no roof expense but we did get a big carpet assessment for our hallways. I really do sympathize with you on those expenses. No matter how we try these things keep popping up. Lawyer fees for renewing my mortgage and much more to complete my tooth implant.
Why do I have a mortgage at this age? Why pay a lawyer when it is so simple? One giant bank purchased another. It makes things more confusing and complicated. Unfortunate things happened in my 50’s without warning. 20 years later still feel the ripple effect. No tax deduction on mortgage payments here.
Always looking……Just read new apartments being built for rentals and pets allowed. $2300 to start for a tiny “studio” and add rent for parking spot. Impossible as a senior unless you come from wealth. My mortgage and strata fees are much less. Hanging on for now. Can not make decisions these days.
Having a local shop where people know you by name is wonderful, even if it is somewhere you can’t or don’t go often. I am sorry that everything sounds complicated and, as you said, that new things keep popping up. It can be overwhelming. I am glad that your grandchildren are around. I am sure they love the stories and love the time you are able to spend with them.
You are not too much. You are safe with me. The bridge extends from me to you if you need it. Even if it is just to talk scones and vacuums. I need a new vacuum myself, did you pick a good one?
I have been giving myself pep talks. If I am going to make this huge, disruptive, and expensive move in order to find community, I am going to have to find some courage. While there is nothing as terrifying as losing my walls, there is nothing as terrifying as the consequences of keeping those walls stout and impermeable.
I am not suggesting you should let go of walls and filters, or judging you for doing or not doing so. Just saying…you aren’t the only one? Me too?
Thank you. I am glad that you have the opportunity for this move. Keep going with those pep talks! I hope you have a master list going to help you keep things lined up and checked off. We will all be cheering you on. I love your comment about giving up versus keeping your walls. The move is going to open up so many things for you.
I always feel like I talk to much and make everyone think I'm weird 🤪
Thanks for reading, Melissa. As a fairly quiet one (despite the broken filters right now), I always really appreciate those who talk a lot!!
This post read as a powerful soliloquy. I paused as I read it, am pausing now. Your honesty is breathtaking. Thank you.
Thank you for reading, Mary, and for leaving this comment. It really means a lot.
I'm here and I read all the way through. Just wanted you to know. As for filters... Mine have been balanced, not too much not too little... but I know that could change any moment! XO
Thank you, Emily. I appreciate seeing you here. I am glad to here you have Goldilocks filters right now. That sounds like a good goal! I hope things continue to go well with the work you are doing.
Thank you for your Sunday posts, Amy, I always enjoy reading your words.
Thank you, Tammy. I hope things are well. We missed seeing you in our drawing group.
This whole post read like poetry, Amy. I want to be bold and crass and say f*ck filters! There is no reason for you to confine yourself to what you think someone else can or can't tolerate. I think sometimes, it's like giving birth. You can't stop it even if you try, and whatever it is that's been gaining size and shape in there deserves to be brought into the world.
But then, I know how I feel when I feel I've shared too much, and I understand. For me, it's about wanting to feel balanced, and heard, and loved.
Thank goodness for good scones and [hopefully] good vacuum cleaners. I'm glad the roof is getting fixed, but I wish it didn't cost so much. I appreciate who you are, how you show up in your art, and on the page. I want to tell you it's all okay, even though I know it's anything but okay right now.
Thank you for reading, Elizabeth. I think the not being about to stop whatever is coming out is part of the awkwardness…. But also that whatever is coming out is probably not what I would choose. Even I’m puzzled. There’s just an oddness all around. But I have a healthy appreciation for bold and crass reactions — I tend to react from exactly that spot ;) — I hope you are settling into your new job and beating the heat.
Life feels like an ever exhausting battle of filtering between the too much info and not enough info.
I feel you have said more between the lines than we see. Those in between lines are murky. Keep on talking. Filtered or unfiltered.
Thank you, Car. I think I often wander right there between the lines, for better or worse. Thank you for your comment!
How is it the end of the week? I have listened to this many times again, and read through, enjoyed your drawings and your photos. And your descriptions…so powerful, they linger with me and they say so much, so beautifully. I drew for the first time all week in a tiny sketchbook. Downsized for a moment. I liked it and it fit my life right now. Your downsized drawings are lovely, as your larger ones are. Thank you for sharing your words again this week.
Thank you for reading and looking, Erin. I appreciate your comments. I saw your smaller sketchbook in our coffee thread today, and I think that will be wonderful for you. Your portrait is great, and sometimes the change in size just feels right for a bit. Enjoy!
When the line stands up into the inflatable (for which I have great prior affection), this deft 2D to 3D sleight of (inky) hand is so surprising, so incredibly agile, I have to read it again just for the joy of lift-off.
And then you do it again.
I fall into an Edward Gorey-ish faint.
Oh! The dilemma of short declarative sentences that disintegrate into run-on lists of caveats and nuance. (We used to call this — with much hilarity, frustration, and ironic self-awareness — “Writing for a Complex World.” Now it consumes me. Exhausts me. When did I abandon my writing partners?)
Oh! The decision paralysis (the agonizing flip side of what I earlier extolled as an overthinker’s creative mind).
Oh! The snaking strands of a life lived, in and out of focus, buoyant and suffocating by turns — this I have experienced all my life, before I had a clear understanding of time unfolding or the words to grapple with it. (Do I now?)
Gaskets and grates and gates:
I burrow into your poetry (Vision. Word. Image. The sound of letters in my mind.)
The tape. The faces. The slo-mo horror of the tolerant listener. I police my filters, check the viability of gaskets.
But what about letting it all go, like that fleeting verse from another century (Rich? Cummings? Perhaps even Hafiz?), the one about doors slapping open . . . .Like a scene from To the Lighthouse, but with more liberation than decay.
Ha! The billowing inflatable grabs me now. That particular text captured an impossibly (how long ago? No!) young person’s struggle to hold the center; the connection here is simply the harrowing, healing power of wind through an open door (vs the alarming hiss of words flying through a cracked seal).
When asked a question, I check All of the Above. Parry. Hide. Blurt and regret. You are narrating my inner life.
I wonder about the scone and the vacuum and the roofer, tucked neatly among the ponies on the carousel, all circling together in the secret place of lost socks. Tell me their stories.
The secret place of lost socks and the ever-spinning carousel hiding too much. Thank you for reading. I am sure you bring this poetry and uncanny ability to absorb, see, and mirror, although refracted and reassembled, to everything you read, but as the recipient of the comment, it’s amazing. It’s humbling. It’s gratifying. I see that you see. I can imagine writing groups shift or fall away with time, when looking at the big picture, but it sounds like it was good. Maybe the connections are still possible. Maybe everyone has continued to write, as you have? So much you said here grabbed hold of me when I saw the comment yesterday — please know that.
My thoughts have already voiced by those here, especially the reason I’ve been listening to/reading Amy’s words for years: “You are narrating my inner life”. Please continue to share.
When my life changing event happed my best friend listened to the unfiltered mess until they decided I needed to move on. That I was always saying the same thing. I was so confused, why ask how I am if they didn’t want the answer? Needless to say we weren’t friends for much longer. Ironically she reached out earlier this year (years later) to apologize for her lack of support. Apparently she is now in the same boat and fully understands.
So maybe we shouldn’t be so shamed in sharing what people deem too much; someone, somewhere, sometime just may need to hear it.
Thank you, Lee. I am grateful that you have continued to listen/read and that there is something of resonance. I am also really sorry for what happened with your then-friend. No one else should have a say in what your timeline should be for dealing or handling or processing something. I can imagine your confusion, and I know how hard it is to realize that often people can’t wrap their heads around something until (and if) it (or something very similar) happens to them. I hope you found support and continue to find the support or outlets you need. Thank you for commenting.
Wow. Where have your writings been all my life? This was yummy to read.
Thank you so much. I hope you enjoy your morning!