Dear Darling Ones,

Something I forgot to mention in all my whininess yesterday is how very okay I am with being single and alone. I’m pretty self-sufficient. I can pay my bills, feed myself, pleasure myself, and most importantly, amuse myself.

I legit find myself hilarious. I crack me up all the time. I’ convinced I will die by choking while laughing at a joke I told myself in my head. I’ve come close before. Today I made a joke about being unable to get out of bed and how at my age it could mean physically even though I meant it mentally. It might have been funnier in my head.

There are, however, times where it’d be nice to have someone to share things with in a more intimate way than shouting them into the anonymous, faceless void. Ideally that someone would know a lot of the things about me and so I wouldn’t have to provide all the backstory. Anonymous, faceless voids tend to not remember my entire history. So hurtful.

Because I have no one to share these things with I have emotional support cookies. The cookies remember the past. They too think I’m hilarious. Best of all, they totally understand everything I mean to convey. I am kidding. I don’t talk to the cookies. I eat the cookies while thinking about whatever it is that’s on my mind.

Today the emotional support cookies were celebratory. I don’t talk about work here too often, but after getting some particularly rough feedback I was a little down. I don’t often totally miss the point on what I write for my clients. This time I did and it threw me for a loop. I figured out how I messed it up so much and today I had a meeting with the clients. At the end of the meeting the CEO reminded me that even though the feedback was tough that they loved my writing. “We chose you,” he said.

I thanked him for both the constructive criticism and the compliment. Then I shared with the group how as a veteran of fiction writing workshops I’m familiar with harsh feedback.

After the meeting I ran right to the emotional support cookie and basked in how good it was to hear the words “we chose you.” It made the cookie taste extra good.

Crummily yours,
Jodi

P.S. In the eight minutes of free time I had before aforementioned meeting I randomly went in search of this guy I hooked up with a few times in college and dude has six kids now. SIX! That blew my mind.