chill, it's just a cup of coffee

on the perpetual and inevitably exhausting habit of finding meaning in everything & the possibility of a healthy medium

my sister-in-law (who i’m still getting to know) is probably the most nonchalant person you’ll ever meet. the complete opposite of myself as you’ll soon find out.

she spent the last two months of her pregnancy staying with my husband and I and I really didn’t know what to expect. i mean, she’s pregnant, so.

nonetheless, i prepared myself to make sure she was extra pampered. breakfast on the table for us most mornings, coffee in pretty cups, gifts when she first arrived. the works.

to me, every cup of coffee or ‘how are you feeling today?’ was a deeper ‘i care about growing a friendship with you’.

to her, all was well and normal and she was grateful because that’s what family does.

i couldn’t fathom it. the simplicity, i mean. i grew up in a cultural household of extravagant thank you’s and expressiveness to no end and because of that i always sought out people who were similar in that aspect.

to her, a cup of coffee was just a cup of coffee, only made by me, and she was grateful for it. breakfast was just breakfast, only made by me, and she was grateful to have it. when the time came to ponder on the things she’s grateful for she would do so, but not every time something good or bad happened.

while she approached things in a composed way, i always added a dash of sentiment to every thing i touched. it sounds lovely and romantic and for the most part it is, but it gets exhausting after some time.

i thought for a while that she just didn’t like me very much. but i soon learned, with the help of my husband, that that’s how she is.

it wasn’t that she was nonchalant and distant or ungrateful, it was that she was so fully present and content in every moment and interaction in her life, that she didn’t give it any more meaning than it already has. and by living in that contrast with her, i soon began to wonder if the extravagance of expression i grew up in was merely a people pleasing habit disguised as bubbly-ness.

to her, joy was joy and sadness was sadness and anger was anger and whatever context they appeared in didn’t matter existentially. to her, some people are rude and some are kind and that’s just life so ride the wave i shall.

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in scenario, i was folding laundry one day. she was on the couch, i on the floor (i like to fold laundry on the floor) and i reached for one of my husband’s t-shirts. i immediately thought,

‘how insane. there’s a new mother right in front of me who is my age and i’m witnessing the days we hear our parents talk about as if they’re describing completely different people with completely different lives. and one day, her son is going to fit in a t-shirt this size but here he is in a bassinet.’

i looked at her and said, ‘can you believe that one day that tiny human is going to fit into this’

i lifted the plain t-shirt as if it were a signed jersey. ‘your tiny human’

she smiled shyly and looked down, ‘i know. it’s crazy. i’m trying not to think about it too much.’

a similar interaction happened right after she came back from the hospital. i had never met a woman my age, let alone a family member, who had given birth before and after 36 hours in labor i wondered, ‘they say women kind of forget the long hours and pain in a way, which makes us want to have babies again. do you feel like after seeing your baby now, finally, that you could do it again?’

thinking about it now, i’m not sure if this was a smart question to ask but it was a question i had and so i asked it.

‘to be honest i’m not thinking about it’, she said. ‘if i was to make a decision based on how i’m feeling now then i’d never have kids again, but i know in my heart that i do so i’m just going to take this one day at a time’

i felt confused and in awe and uncomfortable all at the same time.

if i had asked this to one of my close friends it would have opened up a large can of existentialism and nostalgia.

while my sister in law’s answers speak for themselves, my mind is as follows:

what do you mean you don’t think the way the light is hitting the water is magical? what do you mean being surrounded by your loved ones while the moon is out isn’t a reason to cry? what do you mean you’re going to be a mom and you’re not thinking about how your mom was once your age scared and confused and new to it all?

i had never met someone my age who simply existed. presently, calmly, with no thought to the next moment or the meaning of time and space.

she thought of the future, but it never haunted her. she remembered the past, but it never drew her in.

she still expressed care and joy. just in her own quiet way.

“dana, do you want me to count you in on a cup of coffee?”

“get away, i’m doing the dishes this time”

“this is delicious, thank you”

“oh this is lovely. thank you, dana”

all so simple.

myself on the other hand. a pile of random ‘i love you’ texts to friends, tears at the site of my dad’s shrinking height, ‘is any of this real’ thoughts when out on a dinner date, and standing in the rain to feel god cleanse my thoughts through my skin.

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i’m reminded of philosophy class in college. some philosophers argue that describing a moment while being in it means you aren’t actually living it. that the downside of the human experience is that we are conditioned to find meaning in the stars and the birds and the ocean because we cannot find meaning within ourselves.

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while i love the depth in which i enjoy and hurt over things and the wide scope of thought and imagination that accompany me throughout my days, i wonder how much of a slave i’ve become to my emotions that i haven’t allowed myself the privilege of experiencing a higher, more tranquil version of myself.

i pondered over that possibility all summer and it scared me. this version of me is all i’ve ever known and it’s what has attracted so much beauty, and yet so much pain into my life.

i asked myself necessary questions:

“if i learn to ‘manage’ my depth, am i changing myself for the sake of others?”

“what if i don’t like who i become? would it be too late to go back?”

“but who i’ve been hasn’t always served me when i’ve needed me the most. where do i even begin?”

being around my sister in law for a time made me feel like i had to be just like her in order to form a bond. every attempt at connecting with her felt short on the depth scale that i’m used to and i had never been in that position before. i was being challenged by one of my own. a woman.

while i began comforting myself in the thought that some friendships take more time and effort to form, i completely left out the possibility of being exactly who i am with no regard to being likable or relatable, but instead liking and relating and learning from her.

with time i found myself weaning off of this high that i’m always in. either high positives or high negatives. always so extreme.

i practiced simply being.

my goal wasn’t to change, but simply learn to be confident in every room i walk into and to ‘manage my depth’ so my depth doesn’t manage me.

after several breakdowns and tedious conversations with my husband, mom, friends, sister (i like to talk through things okay) i found that not every little detail in life deserves a standing ovation or jail time or permission to take the day away.

if i tear up at the feeling of the sun on my skin then so be it. i did. i don’t need to sulk in it for the rest of the day.

Alan Watts said, “a person who thinks all the time has nothing to think about except thoughts”

and so perhaps that’s the key to it all. to be in the present until you become part of it and to leave it there. to visit only in memory or conversation, and to know that some memories aren’t worth mentioning.

to feel god when the sun touches your palms and cry when things take a turn or when you’re really, really happy is not only human but your right. and so is the remembrance that you’re going to put your head on the pillow come night time and say ‘what a day’ and that’s that.

let it be there, just there and perhaps decide what’s worth lingering and what isn’t.

so, when the time to ponder comes, ask yourself:

if you’re thinking about the moment, are you really in it? if you’re thinking about life, are you really living it?