Simple Meals, Simpler Living: What Bread and Butter Can Teach Us

It was just a can of lentil stew I had sitting around. Just a little butter on a slice of sourdough from a loaf I bought the other day, plus a few walnuts and a slice or two of fresh mozzarella to round things out. (No meat, because it's Friday –– a Catholic tradition I adopted years ago and held onto because it still serves me.)

It was the simplest possible lunch I could have made for myself on a weekday afternoon while trying to figure out what was next for my day –– nothing special. But I felt like making it into something more than just scraps and leftovers with a dash or two of intention. Not a gourmet meal by any means, but a deliberate one.

So, instead of absentmindedly cramming my food into my mouth while I continued to work, I lit a stick of pine incense, put on an old episode of Outlander, and took a moment to appreciate the grey overcast cloudiness outside while I ate instead. That choice changed everything and helped the rest of my afternoon play out better.

Simple Doesn't Mean Lesser (or Lazy)

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about simplicity, and not just when it comes to food. But also my creative work and how I structure my days. I've been considering all the different ways people try to keep up with a world that never stops demanding more, faster, louder. There’s this pressure, especially online, to make everything into a big production. To over-engineer the sacred, over-style the beautiful, and turn even lunch into content.

But sometimes, the most nourishing thing we can do is return to something unremarkable instead, allowing it to be enough. 

Simplicity is so often mistaken for lack. A meal that isn’t Instagram-worthy is proof we didn’t even try. A short blog post means we didn’t give a shit. A walk taken without tracking our steps must mean we weren’t committed to our health that day.

But real simplicity takes presence and restraint. It takes the ability to know when something is already enough.

What I Wish I Believed About Money (And What I'm Learning Instead)

I've always had to worry about money and think about it way more than I'd like. It's also always managed to elude me, so it's never been the neutral force in my life that it should have been. 

Instead, the concept of money has felt loaded right from the beginning. Emotional. Moral. Personal. 

My potential earning power and job title were literally all that ever mattered about me to my parents, even when I was little. For that reason, it's always been hard to separate the number in my bank account from how I feel about myself as a human being. Not because I think money should define worth, but because the world around me often acts like it does.

I wish I believed instead that money was just energy, the way some people do. That it's normal for it to flow like breath or water — sometimes abundant, sometimes scarce, but never personal. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still working on that (and often failing miserably).

But I'm learning that when we stop viewing money as an emotional verdict, we can start seeing it as a tool instead. A neutral current. A resource to work with, not beg for and judge yourself because of. If you’re struggling to see it that way, too, you may relate to some of what I'm about to say.

I Wish I Felt Allowed to Want Money

Like many people raised without a safety net or a proper support system, I’ve been conditioned to believe there's something wrong with wanting money. Suffering, working yourself too hard for too little, and being satisfied with that is virtuous. Being unwilling to quietly settle for what life (and those around you) have decided you deserve is ingratitude and perhaps even entitlement.

But the truth is, I don’t want piles of money so I can lord it over other people while the world falls apart around me.

I want it so I can breathe easier, sleep more deeply, and give more freely. I want to be able to say "yes" to beauty, travel, generosity, and creativity without feeling guilty for doing so. I want to be that person who can afford to bless a waitress or an Instacart shopper with a $500 tip. And yes, it would be nice to finally stop white-knuckling life for a change.

If you’re also struggling with guilt over wanting more, ask yourself, “What would having more allow me to do, feel, or create?” If you're anything like me, a lot of what comes immediately to mind is probably pretty wholesome. Regardless, there's no shame in wanting your needs to be met. And there's no merit in denying those needs because someone else told you to at one point or another in your life, either.

The Sacred Work of Slow Days

For someone who craves a life that includes as much peace, quiet, and flexible downtime as possible, I'm horrible about handling slower days with grace when they do actually come around. 

I worry about money and the future a lot, so I'm used to keeping myself in a perpetual state of overwork, especially during the week. Not having spare productive time to think straight, let alone work on ideas of my own, becomes my default state. So, when things are slow at work for more than a day or two, I don't really know what to do with myself. 

It's easy to show up when things are happening, money is flowing, and there's tons to do. Much harder when things are just shuffling along. 

But I've also learned that the shuffly times are the best times to tackle key foundational work, as well as show up for myself in ways I often don't. But knowing that is one thing. Remembering it is another.

Some days, victory is lighting a candle instead of giving up

Regardless of what you do or don't have going on professionally at the moment, it's hard to exist in the world right now. Every morning, there's another headline to get upset about. Everyone's uncertain about the future. We're all afraid for friends and loved ones, as well as for ourselves. All of that makes even normal dips and rises in workflow harder to handle. 

It's easy to feel stuck or like your effort isn't landing. It's even easier to feel like nothing you're doing matters. But it does matter. It all matters. And wins don't have to be big or lucrative to qualify. Sometimes winning is as simple as blessing your day in small ways.

Choosing to get up and tend my garden on an off day instead of sitting around moping is a win. Lighting a candle and engaging in a few minutes of meditation, prayer, or quiet focus is a win. So is sitting down and choosing to spend a free afternoon writing something for myself instead of deciding that my writing only matters when a client is primed and ready to pay me directly for it the minute I'm finished.

On Mindfulness and Stress Management

Zihuatanejo - Shannon Hilson via Midjourney

I've been trying something a little different the past couple of days with my self-care routine, just to see how things go. Seth's brother gifted him a one-year subscription to Calm perhaps a month ago or so, and he's really been liking it -- especially the soundscapes and ambient sounds. So I had him send me a pass for a free one-month trial to see if it's something I might like, too.

I've struggled with issues like anxiety, recurring depression, and frequent overstimulation (due to autism and neuroatypicality) my entire life. Over the years, I've discovered lots and lots of ways to cope with those things and keep them in check so that I can actually function on a semi-normal level. But sometimes I wonder how good a job I'm really doing on a deeper level.

I often think I've reached a place where I feel OK about something but still wind up showing clear signs that I'm actually still pretty anxious about it underneath. 

For example, I was supposed to appear for jury duty last Monday. I knew about it a couple of months in advance, so there was this long period over the holidays that felt like some sort of doomsday countdown. And that wasn't too big a problem until I reached the point where it was maybe a couple of weeks away, then a week, and then just a couple of days.

I wasn't incapacitated by anxiety or anything, as I was definitely living my life and going about my business in every way that really mattered. And for that reason, I told myself, "Oh, I've got this totally under control and feel fine about it." But I realized that probably hadn't been the case when I checked in on the county court site the Friday before my Monday summons date to double-check the time.

On Life and What I've Been Up to Creatively Lately

Original Image by Shannon Hilson via Midjourney

I swear I don't know where the damn time goes when it comes to these blogs I still like to tell myself I maintain. I'll realize it's been a while since my last update, but when I finally make it over to the platform to type something up, I'll see it's actually been... like... months. So long in some cases that the entire posting interface is totally different, as is apparently the case with Blogger today.

I know I keep saying this, and I'll say it again (to whatever audience I still have left or might have at any point in the future). Don't take breaks when it comes to your personal writing. I don't care how many awesome clients want to pay you good money for your time, expertise, and labor. A week off so easily turns into a month, and that so easily turns into several months. Before you know it, you're back to wondering whether you even know how to write a decent blog post anymore and unsure of where to start figuring it out.

Instead, treat whatever type of writing you want to make sure you keep doing -- blogging, newsletters, journaling, fiction, poetry, fortune cookie sayings, what have you -- with the same seriousness you would your paying freelance work. Try not to worry too much about whether it makes you money because God knows that's my problem. I have a tendency to spend my time and writing energy wherever the money is at any given time, but self-expression is crucial, too, which you'll realize if you neglect it long enough.

On Clients and Freelance Work

My original reason for taking a bit of a break from blogging and other types of writing (with the exception of the private journaling I do for the sake of my sanity and the creative writing I pump out every year during NaNoWriMo) was an abundance of well-paying freelance work that fell in my lap. It was mostly thanks to one client for whom I loved writing and still enjoy writing. But they've been revamping some things on their end lately.

Some of the revamps had to do with their reimagining their SEO strategy, which meant the blog project they had me working on became less of a priority. They're also going through some staffing changes. The editor I'd gotten to know and had been working with this entire time left last Friday, and I was honestly pretty bummed about that, as I genuinely liked the guy and enjoyed working with him. 

I don't yet know the new editor or her vision for that blog moving forward, and they're likely still figuring it out themselves. But for the immediate moment, I don't have a ton to do as far as assignments from that company go. That leaves me with a little free time on my hands after I'm done seeing to my other regulars. It feels weird to have time again, but I'm going to see if I can't use it to reestablish some sort of regular writing habit here.

On Summertime and Dining Al Fresco

Bison-Bacon Burger with Cheddar Cheese

Well, summer is definitely in full effect here, where we live in Monterey. I swear it's exactly as if the earth has a calendar and can tell when we're past the summer solstice. For a while there, I was almost enjoying the warmer weather. I was excited about wearing all my favorite summery makeup looks again and breaking out all my go-to summer jams. (Lana Del Rey, anyone?)

Now, it's just... hot. It's humid a lot of the time, as well. I'm not as miserable in the heat as I was when I was still super out of shape and not taking proper care of myself, but I'm still not liking it. Heat makes it hard for me to do just about everything worth a damn to me, including working out, keeping up with freelancing commitments, and being creative with the writing time I have leftover after taking care of my clients. 

One thing I have liked a lot lately -- dining al fresco. Seth got the little area around the side of the house where we used to barbecue all set up again so we could sit outside once in a while. At first, we just used it to have a beer or a soda and a sandwich after doing some weekend yard work here and there. But once it got too hot in the house for it to be pleasant to eat dinner in there anymore, especially when we've been running the oven, we started taking our dinners out there, as well. 

Strawberry-Feta Salad for Juneteenth

We've always liked eating together, but the fresh air and sunshine have made our dinnertimes into truly welcome breaks from our workdays lately. We sit out there for a while, catch up with each other about whatever's been going on, listen to music, and unwind a little bit before going back to our respective offices. It's really been giving me something to enjoy about summer, as much of the year, it's just too chilly, too windy, or gets dark too early in the day. 

The natural lighting is excellent for food photography, too, so I've been taking advantage of that. These are shots I've taken of some of the summery things we've enjoyed for recent dinners. We've had bison burgers and chili dogs. I made fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and strawberry salads for Juneteenth. We've done Chinese, and Mexican, and Italian. 

I love to cook, be creative, and make memories, so it's been lovely to get really into doing all three at one time. It feels great to be sharing food photos regularly again, as well. I used to be so good about it but have fallen out of the habit recently. Really, I'll take anything that makes summer a little bit more bearable, especially anything that's also creative.

On Fiction Writing and Beauty in Middle Age

I can't believe I'm once again over here staring at the tail end of another month. I genuinely don't understand where the time goes or why it goes so quickly. Maybe it really is just something that comes along with being older. This hasn't been my most productive month for various reasons, but I'm hanging in there regardless. 

Luckily, I haven't wholly spaced Camp NaNoWriMo after deciding on a whim to give it a try at the end of last month. I really enjoyed my little journey back into the wide, wonderful world of creative writing back in November. Still, I'd been feeling pretty guilty about not having gotten around to editing any of my work yet. Camp NaNo's been great for that, though, so I'm super glad I went ahead and participated. 

Say what you will about any of the NaNo events, but I've learned not to knock them at this point in my growth as a writer. Not only are they fun and challenging, but they help you cut right through your usual collection of excuses as to why you're not making time for writing projects you say you want to complete. They've shown me what's possible when I put my mind to making it happen, even if I'm genuinely busy.

On that note, I can't seem to stop thinking of even more ideas for wonderful stories I'm sure would be a blast to write. Like NaNo, I thought creative writing was something I'd outgrown over the years and no longer truly enjoyed. This is quite simply not true, and I can tell I'm going to want to start doing it more regularly. I just wish I had somewhere to publish some of these where I could be sure they'd be read and enjoyed. 

At present, I'm playing with the idea of floating a couple out there on Medium here and there just to see how they do. I know P.S. I Love You has a Fiction Friday thing they do, so there must be someone over there who enjoys reading the occasional story along with their daily dose of self-help articles and personal essays. I'm just very excited about rediscovering this side of myself as a writer, and I'm dying to share it with the tiny handful of people who like my things. I suppose it can't hurt. You never know when something will unexpectedly find a larger audience.

The Peace and the Stillness of It All

Things slowly appear to be drifting back into "normal" territory as far as all the quarantine measures go. This is although COVID-19 hasn't actually gone anywhere, nor have people stopped contracting it or dying from it. No vaccine has been developed, nor has any concrete plan been put in place to avoid a second wave. It's almost like the government and everyone else more or less decided to shrug and go "oh well". 

That makes me nervous. You'd think it would be making other people nervous too, especially if they work outside their homes or have to interact much with the general public to earn a living. I am exceedingly grateful that I don't have to and, to be honest, this whole pandemic has shown me just how right I've always been to simply be my naturally reclusive self to whatever extent I can. At this point, something about me others have always thought of as a personality flaw might literally mean the difference between life and death.

This has given me some food for thought in regards to how other people's minds work as well. I don't think I realized just how dependent others are on being highly interactive with the rest of society. They apparently count on others for everything, so not being able to go out and consort adds up to a complete disruption in their lives.

For instance, I don't think I realized just how many other people -- especially other women -- don't manage their own grooming routines. I knew I was unusual for insisting on cutting and coloring my own hair, but I don't think I fully realized everyone's also paying people to do their nails (even if they don't wear acrylics), groom their eyebrows, extend their eyelashes, keep their bodies free of unwanted hair, and so much more. No wonder everybody complains about being broke all the time.  

On Knots, Meatloaf, and Paprikash

It feels nice to be back in the groove as far as super regular prayer and Bible study go. I just plain feel better when I'm making a little time every day to talk to God the way I know I should. Happier, better adjusted. More balanced. Even the worst of my worries and problems seem at least approachable, if not exactly solvable, and that's honestly good enough for me most days.

Earlier this week, I finished a new novena I'd always liked the sounds of, but never actually taken for a spin -- the one to Mary, Undoer of Knots. I really do feel I have issues in my life that I can't seem to overcome no matter how hard I try. Knots that I need help untying. Some of them stem from personal issues, but others have more to do with running themes in my life that I've never been able to escape or even figure out.

The hardest ones for me to deal with are honestly the ones to do with other people, because I have little to no control over what other people think, feel, or are ultimately going to do. So much about the way other people behave and treat others is hurtful to me, and it's made it very hard for me to stay invested in most of my personal relationships on a long-term basis. All someone has to do is hurt me to make me at least consider jettisoning them from my life for good, so I've got a lot of burnt bridges to show for my 43 years on earth. With friends. With partners. With family. If I keep going at that rate, I'll wind up just like my mother by the time I'm her age -- fresh out of people and pretty much alone in the world through my own doing. A person can only get by on their good looks for so long.

Demons, and Thoughts, and Demons, and Thoughts

I do not, and likely never will understand people. In particular, I don't understand how two-faced they can be. How they can tell you they feel one way about you to your face and then cut you up behind your back when they talk about you in private to others. I used to feel like this was simply a running theme in my own life for reasons I didn't understand -- attracting unusually disloyal people who talk shit about people whenever it suits them, but now I'm beginning to wonder if maybe this is just a problem with everyone, every person.

And if it is -- that this kind of disloyalty is just human nature -- how seriously should I take it? How much do people mean the things they say about someone they care about when they're busy complaining about them and shitting on them to others? Are they just venting their frustrations to avoid taking it out on the person, or should it be taken as evidence that they don't actually care after all?

To me, that has always been such a serious thing, as well as one of the first signs I felt I had that someone in my life is probably not there for the right reasons and that I should reconsider their continued presence in my life. In many cases, it was the end of my trust in that person, not to mention the beginning of the end of my love for them. I tend to feel like that sort of thing -- how you're discussed when people think you can't hear or won't find out -- is a window into how others truly feel about you, and that you would do well to pay attention to what you learn.

I rarely like what I learn about others when I become privy to such information. I rarely catch them sticking up for me, defending me, or telling others how grateful they are for all I do for them the way they claim to do. It always turns out to be them complaining about me, bitching about the way I am, whining about how much they feel they have to put up with because of me.

Not Just Another Bloody Mary

"Sea of Thoughts" -- Lindsay Rapp

Why do I do this -- forget about regularly hashing out my thoughts and recording my life in a format more substantial than a tweet or a Facebook status update? It's my knee-jerk reaction to say I've just gotten too lazy about my personal writing, but there are other times where I'm aware that maybe I just don't "need" journaling to the same extent I used to. I may finally be growing up in a way I once thought I never could or would. A possibility that is both wonderful and sad all at the same time.

Since I last updated this past March, my life has continued along the same path for better or worse. Things are still very much the same with my mother, her health, and her apparent lack of desire to regain her independence. That depresses me deeply, if I'm going to be very honest. So many people would have loved to receive the second chance she got, but will never get it. Meanwhile, she's just wasting hers. Growing fatter, lazier, and more complacent by the day. No effort made to repair anything in her life, including all of her broken relationships.

I'm still working very hard to be different from that. When I was a little girl, I used to look forward to summer vacations just like every other kid. However, I loved spending mine improving myself for some reason. Summers were a time for me to see how many books I could read, draw all the pictures I could, learn new symphonies on the piano, and undertake all sorts of fun little personal writing projects. Lately, I feel like I'm that little girl again, only all of the time, as opposed to just over the summers. I'm voraciously hungry for self-improvement again, and I am loving every second of it. Especially since I can finally tackle all these little challenges I set for myself with the focus of a 40-something. It's a really interesting combination of energies and one that is very new to me.

"I'll See You Again in 25 Years..."

Romy and Michelle were my spirit animals back then.

My 25-year high school reunion is apparently coming up. How that could be, I don't know. On the one hand, high school really does feel like a lifetime ago, but on the other, I truly don't feel like it's a literal quarter-century in the past. Part of me wishes I could say that I'm going, but I'm pretty realistic with myself and with others these days as far as what can be expected of me socially.

Years ago, after I'd graduated but while high school was still really fresh in my mind, I used to fantasize about going to one of these damned things at some point and just blowing everyone right the fuck away. (Think Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion, but without the best friend.) But then my 10-year rolled around at a point where, much like Romy or Michelle, I was really worried about how my life might look from the outside looking in. I looked really good and I wasn't saddled with a million kids the way so many other people from my graduating class were, but I was still working retail -- something I was very ashamed of at the time, especially considering how smart I was always considered to be. Plus I was still married to Greg, not to mention profoundly unhappy with the marriage by 2004 or so. The person that he was embarrassed me deeply, and I was ashamed of myself for settling for a relationship that didn't meet a single one of my personal needs.

I didn't want to have to face these people and tell them that. That the smart, creative "whiz kid" everyone thought was going places ultimately wound up selling shoes at Macy's and was married to some weird, boring man who was old enough to be her father. Not only did I skip the reunion entirely because of those things, but I remember living in constant fear of running into people I used to know around town, because I didn't want them to see how my life had turned out.