It's Cool to Care
The one about, well, caring.
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Yesterday was my dog’s 7th birthday. If we’re talking in dog years, she’s now officially older than me, which is a strange and sort of sad concept to wrap my head around even still. But hey, we love a birthday around here — human or dog!
We celebrated like we have most years since we adopted her — a special birthday “cookie” and some gifts (this time, all treats), and a photo or 23 of her in a bright pink birthday hat covered in tiny iridescent stars that she really hates. It was great.
I know there’s a lot of people out there who do not find it necessary to celebrate a pet’s birthday, nor think it’s any semblance of normal to plan their whole human day around said pet’s birthday, but I do. I care that it’s her birthday and I care that she feels special and loved… even if she may in fact have no idea why she’s getting extra treats and being forced to wear something ridiculous on top of her head.
The world is a vast and difficult place, always but especially lately, and sometimes it can be easy to get lost in it all. To numb yourself to the point of not needing to hope anything will go right, nor that anything beautiful will land in your path. Easy to become hardened to it all. But I think that caring, even *too* much, or about “silly” or potentially “frivolous”things — quotation marks because what may seem frivolous or silly in the eyes of others within society can be very satisfying or fulfilling or important to you, like workout personal bests, or perfecting your brownies recipe, or curating the best damn day for your aging dog — is an extremely important and special thing. Caring, in spite it all, is what makes society move forward and gives us faith that the good stuff is still there, or could still exist around the corner. Caring is the hard work, the sacred work.
As a human, I think I have always cared too much about certain things. About the seemingly small things. Or rather, more than the average bear. I have chalked it up to being a perfectionist, to being Type A, to being a Virgo, to growing up with a pre-existing health condition…. all the things. But really, it’s just who I am. I care about whether or not commas are in the correct spot in an essay. I care about whether or not the dessert I make a friend tastes like the most delicious version of whatever it is ever. When I ran regularly, I cared a lot about my mileage and my pace. I care about how I show up in this world, and it’s just engrained in my DNA.
This weekend, besides celebrating my dog, I also attended my first rally (/protest/march) ever. I was nervous (see: Type A Virgo) and not sure if it was really my scene, but it felt like the place to be as someone who’s caring a heck of a lately about the possibility of women’s rights getting shredded and the relevant news associated with that. I dressed like I was attending a 5K and didn’t make a poster or bring a megaphone but I was there, and you know what? It was nice to know there were other people out there who care a whole lot too.
If you care, about the little things, or the big things, or the seemingly silly things, keep at it. The world needs you, my friend.
Have the happiest Monday, everyone! Sending you lots of love and a virtual hug from over here in my neck of the woods. If you’re looking for a good book, I just finished this one and this one, and loved both. (Trigger warning: both have a dead parent mention/plot point.)
Thanks for reading,