Perfect?

Thank you Mayor Maya Sanchez, for leaving a comment on my website to the 1.5 year old blog post I wrote entitled "Miscarriages."

Not only did I read your comment with amazement and curiosity and a heightened sense of how small the world is, I re-read that post about my fourth miscarriage and remembered so many of the feelings that I completely forgot. Probably a good thing I'm not a person who dwells. That was a pretty sad time.

Thank you for inspiring me to respond to your comment on my blog -- nearly 4 months since my last post. I have been ridiculously not proficient and lame. One thing investigative reporting absolutely kills is my blogbido--any desire to be open with the public. Everything is held thisclose to the vest and all my bandwidth is pretty much used up thinking about my stories and juggling long term projects about bad people who do bad things. It's the complete opposite of what inspired this blog -- the wonderment of new life and babies and sharing the experience of parenthood with the world. But twatever, I'll get over it and figure out a way to jot down my thoughts without getting fired. I hope. I mean yeezus, people are getting fired for everything these days.

But really Maya, wow. The comment was so thorough and detailed and candid...and out of nowhere. Like here's me, doo da doo, just put the girls to bed and checking my blog stats for the first time in weeks and suddenly I'm knee deep in this really intense comment from a fellow USF Don saying, "I remember thinking you were a doll but why the heck did you get so lucky in the game of life?! Now don't get me wrong, I never wished you ill, you were nothing but kind... It was just one of those situations where you just knew you'd never have as "perfect" a life as Vicky."

Snapalappa-dingdong!? (Pronounced SNAP-uh-lap-uh-ding-dong)

First, I was kind? That's a relief. Because I mostly don't use that adjective to describe myself. Like ever. 

Second, "As perfect a life as Vicky?"

You thought in college I was going to have some perfect kind of life? You saw me eating my snacks in class with God knows what kind of outfit on with my sunny yellow back pack and thought that to yourself? It's just so crazy but awesome but mind blowing all at once. Like in 2015, someone can easily randomly find me, scroll through my blog, and write me a very personal note that makes me stop in my tracks. Plus anyone who says they're trolling me is just funny. 

A few things went through my mind. 

Yes, I have a freaking crazy fortunate life. Fa realz. Like if I complain in any serious manner, you can shut me down. Immediately. Too many things have gone right in my life. Starting with my parents' decision to get on a boat and come to this country, followed by the incredible kindness of strangers who helped us start our lives here, followed by a host of positive turns including my education, the mentors who took me under their wings, the family I married into, and the gift of two curious, hilarious, pure-hearted daughters. The list is, as you know, ridiculously long. 

But I appreciate so much what you wrote. Not because it's a back patting, but because I also want to remind people THE INTERNET IS NOT REAL. It is CURATED. Especially the social media stuff. People share what makes them look their Sunday best. They paint better than real pictures of their lives. They humblebrag the bejesus out of their accomplishments. There would be a lot less misery and envy if people had any clue how lame some other people really are. I'm thinking of 17 millennials at this moment who look uh-meezing online. In real life? Shallow, fragile, self-centered ninnies.

It's exactly why I wanted to write an unvarnished blog with insights and vulnerabilities and to talk about some of the really crappy things we go through. Like miscarriages. We are bound by our humanity, and to be human is to feel a range of emotions, including sadness and hopelessness and self-pity and jealous rage. Ahem.

I binge-watched some Real Housewives of Orange County on a recent flight cross country--thank you Virgin America for the unexpected free upgrade to business class it was UH-meezing--and one of the housewives says during the show open "No one's life is perfect, but mine is pretty close" and I thought to myself, I'm not a gazillionaire with no worries in the world and $10K gold sinks but I can dolphinitely relate. 

So I'm writing to say you saw something or predicted something way back in our good ole days at USF that is mostly very true. That I'm beyond grateful for. And that I try not to curate. I try to reveal what I can about the frustrations of working in a back-stabbing, highly competitive industry that's not really woman-friendly beyond a certain age. I try not to sugar coat the boring and repetitive parts of parenthood. I try to expose all the less than perfect parts of my life and all of our lives because that's our common ground. That's how we get through things. I've been through plenty of financial ups and downs and family dramas and personal screw ups and whenever it's my story to tell, I try to tell it. 

So many people, now you included, Maya, have written me emails or posted comments that just show me how small our world is and that at every turn, there is generally goodness in your fellow human being. Thank you for your incredibly well-written and kind note. You moved me and you re-energized the part of my soul that started this blogging exercise in the first place. When we can relate and connect and share, we learn and grow and feel less alone. 

Congratulations on your success and more importantly, on finding happiness. May it be deep and sustaining.

That's my wish for everyone. Except millennials. May you rot in your pools of smug ignorance.