35 Giraffes

57: books, a comfort when people are not. stories, food I don’t need taste buds to enjoy.

Aug 10, 2024

“35 GIRAFFES?”

The last night of our Coronado trip, I fell ill. I tested negative for Covid and Strep, so it’s some other nasty flu/cold thing that completely took me down for a week. Do not recommend. Oddly enough, Oak only got a little coughy and Zach never got it at all. I do not understand germs. But, with a lingering cough and 3 days of antibiotics under my belt, I sit down to write my post for the week today.

So, what should I talk about?

I could definitely continue my love-bombing post about Hamilton. I could keep working on my essay about accepting my body as it is, hair and stretch marks and all. I could write my pride month post about how it wasn’t a happy one.

Or I could talk about something completely new, but not new to my blog: rejection.

And also books!

I have been reading a ton lately and I am having the best time! I used to read constantly as a child, wanting to spend much of my time in worlds so different than my own. For the last couple years, I have found it difficult to sit down and read a book. When Oak was born, I let audiobooks take over as I breastfed him 24/7, but I just didn’t feel the need to prioritize reading.

There are a few possible reasons my passion for reading waned the last couple of years:

Coincidence.
I wasn’t picking up books that were actually interesting to me.
My life didn’t require much need for mental escape.

I feel privileged even saying that. Because, on paper (especially in the pages of my middle school diaries), I have the perfect life. I am married to my closest friend, have a son that is so wonderful, in a house we love with a dog we love, with so much extended family who love us. But adult life is more complicated than my 8th grade self thought.

Share Gabbin’ Away Again

Lil’ Gab,

You may someday find yourself worried about making monthly house payments. You may find a stack of unpaid bills collecting dust near your entryway. You may find yourself being widely rejected for who you are by those who claimed to love you.

But

You are so grateful to have family that wants to take you to beautiful places. And a mom who can tell you how to manage those bills and who loves to take you to get pedicures. But most importantly— and possibly most insanely— getting rejected for being true to yourself won’t break you like you thought it would. It will solidify you, strengthen you, empower you. You are a force to be reckoned with. You’re etched too deeply for them to snub out.

But

It’s hard to stand alone. Your feelings are too powerful, even when you harness them into words. Maybe especially then. They have pierced a hole into your world, draining it of what you once thought helped you breathe. Resilience is a new feature. A sore lower back is one too. You’re nearing 28, and you’re ready to say yes to yourself, even if that makes others around you say no. You’re sad you didn’t consider your desires earlier, but you’re happy you have so much time to become who you always hoped you might. And it’s becoming increasingly apparent that a new, more complete version of yourself is on the horizon.

Hope is ever-present. Taking hold.

But

when hope takes time off— for a moment or a day or a week— I read. I read about communities that exist where people believe all sorts of things and still come together. I read about Greek mythology. I read about time travel. Stories, with novels like meals and articles like snacks, are helping to sustain me. I crave stories. Stories that prove there is more to life than where I am in this moment.

Thank God.

I hope you’re enjoying the giraffe-themed music in this episode.

So, I am going to reread one of my new favorite stories: the sweet little Greek Myth about Apple & Dorothy. I am half Columbian, part Italian, but definitely no-parts elephant because my memory sucks ass. I know that I love this book and I can probably grab the plot and specific lovely moments from my brain, but it would take some effort and— as those who read my movie reviews know— I have little summarizing ability. So, without making this post a poorly-written book review, I will attempt to communicate the plot of this novel through the lens of my life.

Dorothy is

a descendant of the goddess Pandora and was raised by her parents to see this goddess through a compassionate, understanding lens that the earth-bound town of half-gods never attempted to adopt. In fact, they judged her harshly. Even Dorothy’s mother’s closest friend and her daughter Apple judged them, but they loved them too much for those judgments to seep through. That is until Dorothy’s mother chooses to give up her immortality, an annual gift from the gods that Dorothy nor Apple— nor anyone on their Hill— had ever considered refusing. This angers the gods and changes everything on their Hill.

Did you know that Pandora actually opened a jar? Not a box? Oh, myths…

After Dorothy’s mother dies a mortal death unexpectedly, true feelings come to the surface. Dorothy is bullied for being the daughter of her mother, who had done what Pandora did before her: let her curiosity take her where no one had before. This was something everyone viewed as a terrible, traitorous thing, but— when faced with the decision to stay on earth and be human or spend eternity up with the gods and their rulings and their meddling— Dorothy slowly starts to understand what it means to be human and why her mother did what she did.

And so does Apple.

Everyone on their Hill wanted to please the gods. They followed their rules, no matter how inexplicable or ridiculous, because they were granted the ability to connect with the gods, to be one of them, to use magic, and to live forever. But no one on the Hill had ever even ventured out of town and, when they did, they made sure not to connect with the humans there. They viewed them as inferior, less-than, confused, and weak.

Without giving away the entire friendship arc of the girls— a heartfelt story of acceptance and understanding of each other as they are— I will skip to the end. There are not many near-gods that choose to give up their immortality. They can’t. They won’t. They want too badly to be gods. It has been their life’s purpose. But some— those who wanted to experience the beauty of life, who weaved a new view of Pandora as someone reaching for something beyond darkness, something worth risking it all for, something poignant, richer, and deeper— those people stayed.

Everything that once was how it had always been has now changed completely.

What is a life spent climbing an impossibly tall, rickety ladder to try to earn favor from people who don’t actually care who you are? Make one mistake, or more accurately, make one choice they wouldn’t make themselves and they’re hurling lightning bolts, they’re inspiring division, demanding compliance or else.

Is life more than conforming to stay safe? Is there more to hope for? To work for? To search for? Is freedom more than or completely different than what others have defined it to be?

Yes, I know life is easier with the ability to fulfill your basic needs instantly, to know what to expect day in and day out, and to have something to dedicate your life to and so many people who are doing the same thing. I almost wish I could choose easy.

But once that uncomfortable feeling settles in, it only grows. It’s unstoppable. Suddenly, my basic needs are not being met. You find yourself anxious about what the next ~~sermon~~ message from the gods will say, pinned into the grown by a flaming lightning bolt. You start to notice the pungent odor of something burning. You start to question yourself. What have I dedicated my life to? My money to? My family to?

And if you dare speak a word of this to anyone around you, their eyes widen and suddenly, they have you all figured out.

They’ve labeled you, put you in your box. They’re worried about you. And, of course, they care deeply for you, but they also can’t be around you. They’re uncomfortable that you feel uncomfortable. No one is as compatible with you as they once seemed. As if the foundation of your connection was believing the same things.

Everything shifts.

And you end up unemployed, with 35 giraffes, and nothing figured out.

But you’re smiling. You’re crying, but you’re smiling. And you get a call from a friend that’s trying to be really nice about how they can’t appear to be connected with you anymore so they can keep their job. And you hold your tears in until they hang up. And then you hear Natasha make a snide remark. She makes you laugh. And you laugh more when you realize you have created characters that feel like friends. And then Zach asks what you’re laughing at and you laugh again. And you cry more.

And you continue rewatching How I Met Your Mother, as you’ve done every time you’ve gone through a big transition in your life, ever since you first watched the show with your husband in high school. Now, you understand more jokes. You relate more in many ways and less in others. You see yourself in different characters than you did before. Especially when you realize how often Barney says…

There are some crazy things and questionable decisions made in this show, but the group always finds themselves back at McLaren’s, laughing and drinking and being together, for years and years.

I’ve experienced that before.

And I will again.

“Hello goodbye, I’m rather crazy
And I never thought I was crazy
But what do I know?
I let myself go.”

✧